Chapter 7 James
Forget love at first sight. Is cum at first sight a thing? ‘Cause this guy, this Twinkie Bear Bear, is unbelievably attractive.
A young, bespectacled Matt Damon was my first thought, and while there is a remarkable resemblance, a second name sits in the tip of my tongue as I stand aside and let this sexy stranger in.
He’s lean, but muscular, shortish, under six foot anyway. Easy to toss around.
I’m so lost in the contemplation of his finery, that I don’t realize I’m still standing in the open doorway. Still staring. “Sorry. I … um, you’re distractingly beautiful … In the most manly sense of the word, of course.”
“Oh, of course. That goes without saying.” His cheeks color, the confidence exuded in our messages all but vanishing in a puff of modesty.
It’s a shyness that has me overcome with a barbaric desire to get him all hot and bothered.
Not only because I want to touch every inch of him, but to see if I can get those glasses fogging up.
Only problem is I have no idea how to make the first move.
A myriad of things run through my mind, but then he drifts closer, eyes roaming over me as he licks his lip, and every intelligent thought I’ve ever had evaporates. All I can think of is getting naked and wet.
Oh. Liquid.
“Can I get you a drink?” I offer, motioning, then walking backwards to the kitchen, purely so I can keep watching him work that lip.
“That would be great, thanks.” With a smile that takes my breath away, he turns and bends to remove his shoes.
A good sign, I think to myself, he’d be unlikely to take them off if he was planning to run.
Since it’s mild out, he’s only wearing a faded Red Sox tee and a pair of gray sweats stretched to the point of oblivion over his glorious ass and thighs.
I’ve worked on plenty of swimmers in my time, a fair amount of hockey players too, and this is no swimmer’s body. I know a hockey butt when I see one.
For a moment, I simply watch that ass jiggle as he navigates his laces, then remember what I’m supposed to be doing, and turn away, reaching for a glass into an overhead cabinet.
“I’ve only got water from the faucet. Hope that’s okay?
” Behind me I hear the gentle pad of his feet, then feel him warm against my back.
“Water’s good. Can I give you a hand?” Exhaling a shuddering breath, the glass I’d just taken possession of, slips from my grasp when two fingertips brush over my hip. The old goalie reflexes kick in and I twist to catch it. “Nice save. Ever played hockey?”
Looking directly at him feels too daunting, so I remain facing the tiled splash back. They really are nice tiles. Good quality. “I’ve dabbled, yeah. And you’re a swimmer? If I had to guess, I’d say you have a hockey build.”
He huffs a laugh and steps closer, fingers brushing the sliver of exposed skin on my side. “I do enjoy swimming, yeah. And hockey, and lots of other things. Sex for instance.”
“Oh … that’s a … coincidence. I … too … enjoy sex.” I pause and clear my throat, hopefully removing the robotic overlord that’s possessed my voice box. “It’s been a while for me, but you know what they say. It’s like riding a—”
“Big, hard dick?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
His grip tightens, nails digging into my skin as he attempts to twist me towards him. Being so much bigger, I could easily resist, but I don’t.
“Hi.” He smiles once our eyes meet. “I’m Cory, and since I heard nothing at all embarrassing through the buzzer, can I ask your name?”
“Jimmy,” I say after regaining a little composure. “My name’s Jimmy.” Why I chose that, the name only my late dad ever called me, is a mystery. Judging by the breathtaking smile that lights his face, Cory approves.
“Like Jimmy Olsen. You’re not a photographer for The Daily Planet are you?”
A DC comics joke. It’s weird how much that turns me on. “Not the last time I checked, no.”
“Well, Jimmy. Why don’t we save the water for later. There’s something else I’d rather swallow.”
Hansel and Gretel would be proud of the trail of discarded clothing we leave behind us.
Bumping off each wall we pass, when we make it to my old room I’m down to my briefs, and he’s in his tee and a fetching pair of boxers featuring Spider-Man’s face.
Should this be a date-date I would be thrilled by the prospect of spending time with a fellow superhero nerd, but that’s not what this is.
This is sex.
Just sex.
And I want it.
Having climbed me like a pole, apt analogy, Cory is in my arms, his insanely muscular legs wrapped around my waist, his perfectly plump ass in my hands. His roam my chest, tweaking my nipples as he sucks at my neck. “God dammit, Jimmy. You are such a man.”
“A good thing, I hope.”
“A very good thing.” My dick throbs, goosebumps igniting as he drags his tongue over my Adams apple, then up until he reaches my chin. “Can I kiss you, Jimmy? Please say yes. I think I might die if you don’t.”
In reply, I crash my mouth onto his, a heady moan escaping as my tongue traces his bottom lip, before forcing its way inside. His tongue is smooth, wet and warm. Lips plump and soft. I want them all over me. Sucking me. Drinking me down.
Mouths entwined, I’m only cognizant that we’re in the bedroom when the back of my legs press against the mattress, causing me to lose balance.
Rolling with it, with me, Cory presses his palms into my chest and we topple onto the freshly laid sheets.
“Do you remember what I wanted to do to you,” he pants between kisses.
“Are you kidding? I think I’ll remember it ‘til the day I die.”
“So can I?” he asks, breathless. “Can I ride your face while you play with my nipples and suck me off?”
Before I can reply, he’s reaching for the neck of his tee, tugging it over his head to reveal pale skin, a consolation of freckles dusting his shoulders, and the two prettiest, pinkest nipples I’ve ever seen.
“Holy … Cory. They’re even more perfect in real life.
” Wasting no time, I grip his waist and hoist him over my stomach, until his ass hovers above my pecs.
While there, he obligingly lowers his boxers, freeing a disproportionately large, hard, weeping cock.
“Put me down, Jimmy. I need to ride you.” I nod, ‘cause what the hell do I say to that, and do as she pleads, lowering him until he straddles my chest. Once seated, he folds forward, lips ghosting over mine. “God, I’m so hard.”
“I know. Let me take care of that for you.”
Muscle shifts deliciously beneath flesh as he leans back, allowing me to run my hand over that patch of freckles before taking grip of his ass and shifting him forward, stopping only when his leaking dick taps my cheek.
All it takes is a slight drop of my chin and, yes, that big hard dick is against my lips.
This. This is what I needed.
Cory blinks down at me, unfairly long lashes fluttering.
Fuck, he’s stunning. “Suck me, Jimmy. Suck my fucking brains out.” And needy.
I groan my agreement, nuzzling, breathing him in. “You smell so good.”
As much as I want to take him hard and fast, it has been a while, so I start small, using my tongue to glide over the soft, velvety underside, teasing his slit, before wrapping lips around him and giving an exploratory suck.
Seconds later, his hands are in my hair, he’s rocking into me, my nails are digging into that ass, I’m opening wide, taking him all the way to the back of my throat.
“Jimmy. Your mouth.” I’m already so lost in his panted, shaken breaths, and his filthy sounds, that when the sweet and salty taste of him hits my tongue and slides over my pallet, I lose it.
I release my grip on his ass and slap my palms over his chest, molding the muscle before coasting my fingertips over those insane nipples.
“Cory,” I whine around his girth. “You’re fucking perfect. ”
Of course, it’s then, right as I apply my first moan inducing, cock pulsing nip-twist, that my phone rings.
Discarded somewhere between here and the lounge, it rings then rings again.
And again and again. Since I’m currently attached to a hot man like a 1950’s phone operator, I’d rather not figure out its exact location, but then I remember.
Gone is the somewhat carefree James of a year ago. I’m now one half of a team responsible for the health and happiness of another human.
Fuck this.
I release Cory’s nipple, slide my hands up his smooth chest, and allow myself a brief moment tracing shallows of his clavicle, before cupping his face. “Cory—”
“No, no, no,” he whines. “You’re kidding me right? Ignore it. Please.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” Shaking my head, I grip his waist and roll him off my chest. “I’ll just be a second.”
On all four, I forage, the phone ringing out three more times before I feel it buried inside my jeans pocket, beneath his tee, behind the sofa. It’s silent as my fingers slide inside the denim, but rings again as I pull it free. This isn’t going to be good.
Head cast down, fingers pinching the bridge of my noise, I answer, “Faithy, what’s wrong? Is Dyl okay?”
“No, he woke not long after you left and he’s really heightened, Jamie. I’ve tried everything but I can’t settle him. He just smashed a mirror. Can you come home?”
“Absolutely, sweetheart. Sit tight, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” Before I can even disconnect the call, a pillow lands squarely in the back of my head.
“Guys like you make me sick. You’re fucking around in your rented sin-shack, when you’ve got a wife and kid at home.”
“What?” I turn in the direction of the bedroom just as a shirtless Cory hops by, one leg in his sweats, my red hand prints visible on his pecs. “Sin-shack? What does that even mean?”
Clearly flustered, his waistband snaps against his abs as he hastily rushes to the door. “It means you should be ashamed of yourself, asshole. Consider yourself blocked.”