Chapter 9 #2
“Oh shit.” The reaction jumps out of my mouth, startled free by the sight in front of me. “Are all penises that big in real life?”
I could swear Butch stands a little straighter, his chest puffing the tiniest bit as one hand grips the base of his penis. “Cocks come in all shapes and sizes, but they’re usually pretty proportionate to the guy who owns it.”
I nod along with what he’s saying even though my eyes are glued to his... Cock. I think I like that word much better than penis. “I don’t see how that could fit my mouth.” I wiggle a little against the mattress. “Or my vagina.”
Butch’s cock jerks a little in his grip, a tiny bead of wetness leaking from the slit at the tip. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it. There’s no reason to worry about it now.”
I mean, I’m a little worried about it now.
Worried and interested at the same time.
There’s an odd clenching in my lower region, and I don’t quite know how to remedy it.
I know what it feels like to have something inside of me.
Technically, I have something in there right now since I’m still on my period.
But a tampon and Butch’s cock are quite visibly two very different things.
Releasing his length, Butch lowers his big body onto the bed next to me.
Like me, he props up against the headboard.
Once he’s in place, I scoot closer, wanting to be sure I see exactly what happens.
The tip of one of my breasts brushes against the skin of his arm and I suck in a breath at the way sensation zings from that spot down between my legs.
Interesting.
I shift around so it happens again. But this time, the zing is amplified by the groan Butch lets out.
“I’m not sure how much of a show you’re looking for here, but if you keep rubbing against me like that, it’s going to be real fucking short.” Butch’s eyes fix on my breasts, his hand gripping the solid line of his cock tight. “I can’t believe no one has tried to get their hands on you before now.”
“They might have. I just wasn’t interested.
” I lock in on the way his fist strokes along his length, the corded muscles of his forearm flexing with every move.
“Plus, I’m not sure I’d be able to tell someone wanted me unless they came right out and said it.
” My brows pinch together at the way his wrist flicks at the end, twisting his grip just a little when he reaches the head.
“And for some reason people don’t just say what they want. ”
I’ve never understood why. How in the world are you supposed to get something if you don’t ask for it? It’s pretty freaking common sense.
“That’s one of the things I like about you.” Butch’s voice is even deeper than usual. “You say exactly what you mean.”
“Why would I say something I didn’t mean?
” I lick my lips, because maybe it’s not as weird to think about my mouth being on Butch’s cock as I initially believed.
I don’t know that I’ve collected enough information to be prepared to do that just yet, but it’s not a totally unappealing thought. “Can I touch you?”
I thought I would be content to watch and assess, but my fingers feel twitchy, and I’m intrigued by how he’ll feel.
Butch gives me a jerky nod, and I inch a little closer, my breast fully pressing against his arm as one of my legs props against his. There’s so much of him on display, and I’d like to put my hands on all of it, but the thickness of his thigh reels me in for some weird reason.
I spread my hand across the thickest point, squeezing the hard muscle there. I continue watching him work himself, paying close attention to how fast he goes. How tight he grips. The way his breathing speeds up, making his chest rise and fall faster and faster.
I bring my hand higher, lured in by how he seems to be enjoying what he’s doing.
And as much as I’m enjoying the opportunity to familiarize myself with an act I’ve never witnessed in person before, I suddenly also want to be at least a little bit involved in it.
So I move my fingers from his leg to his testicles, carefully cradling the surprisingly mobile sac.
Unexpectedly, the skin against my palm becomes tighter.
Firmer. The constriction forms a labyrinth of tiny wrinkles across the surface, and I trace against them with the tips of my fingers.
“Fuck, Becca.” Butch groans out my name as semen spurts from his cock, shooting a surprisingly far distance up his chest and across his stomach.
The fluid is sort of a cloudy white, and I can’t stop myself from sliding a finger through it, collecting some on the tip before rubbing it against my thumb to test the viscosity.
Then I bring it to my mouth, curiosity driving my actions as I take a taste.
“Jesus Christ, B.” Butch’s head drops back but his eyes never leave my face. “Did you just taste my cum?”
“Yes.” I tip my head, considering. “I can’t say that it’s my favorite.” My eyes find their way to where his cock is laying heavy and still slightly hard against his stomach. “But it wouldn’t stop me from putting my mouth on you.”