37
Courtland
I'm usually a little wiped out after coming, but that? That was something else entirely. That was on par with how I felt after my trip from hell returning from Africa. Completely dead tired.
But it's funny how quickly I got over it this time. Happened right about the time I ran my tongue along the underside of Buzz's cock. What a joyous coincidence.
No way was I not going to return the favor.
Buzz has a nice, solid dick. It's thick and covered in veins I am loving tracing with my fingers and tongue. He's on his back on the bed, and I'm between his legs. From this position, I have a clear view of his face, and I'm able to map what I'm doing with my mouth with the exact facial expression it elicits from him.
I doubt I'm as good at sucking dick as he is—come through hidden talent—but I'm determined to do as many things that make his eyes roll back and his tongue hang out the corner of his mouth as I can.
I still can't believe that this is really happening. I'm having sex with my best friend. And not just any sex. The best sex of my whole damn life.
"How am I doing?"
I ask, plopping his dick out of my mouth and stroking it lazily as I glance up at him.
"Please remember I have a very fragile ego."
"How could I ever forget?"
he replies with a smirk, his voice so deep and somehow extra sexy it's getting me hard again, despite only coming moments ago.
"Any requests?"
He folds his arms behind his head and spreads his legs a little wider on the bed.
"Nope. Everything you're doing is absolute perfection."
"My fragile ego thanks you,"
I say with a smile before getting back to work.
I take him as far as I can before pulling all the way out, tickling the underside of his crown, and plunging back down, setting a pace that's hopefully pleasurable for him.
After a few minutes, he squirms beneath me.
"Gettin' close,"
he mutters out the side of his mouth.
I pull away, jerking him off instead. I've never been a huge fan of swallowing—something about the texture of cum is so off-putting to me—but this is Buzz, so if he wants me to, I will.
"Did you want me to swallow?"
He lifts his head, his blue eyes boring into me with a fierce intensity.
"Why did you say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you'd rather not do but are asking out of obligation."
I grin.
"Way to read me."
"Am I right?"
"I'm not the biggest fan of it."
"Then don't. Come up here and kiss me instead."
I crawl up the bed and snuggle into the side of Buzz's body, my hand working overtime stroking his dick. He runs his fingers over my cheek then brings his lips to mine. It doesn't stay a chaste kiss for long as our mouths open and our tongues tangle.
"I'm almost there,"
he whispers hoarsely a few moments later.
Barely a second or two after that, he bites his lip, lets out an almighty groan, and my hand gets coated with his release.
I keep stroking but ease off once he finishes coming.
He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead and smiles at me, his blue eyes twinkling in the soft light.
"You were great. Thank you."
I grin.
"Just repaying the favor."
Buzz rolls onto his side, tucking his arms into his chest adorably, and blinks a couple of times.
"You wanna sleep in here with me?"
"I'd love to."
I lift my hand.
"Let me just get washed up, okay?"
He nods, and I can see him struggling to keep his eyes open. I practically run out of bed and clean myself up in record time.
"You still awake?"
I ask, slipping under the covers a few seconds later.
"I am,"
he murmurs, forcing his eyes open to look at me.
"Come 'ere."
I motion for him to snuggle into me, and he does, clinging to my body as he lays his head on my chest.
My fingers tangle lazily in his hair.
"I really enjoyed what we did,"
I say to him.
"Yeah. Me, too."
"And I'm sorry I keep making things worse with Zane. I don't know what gets into me, but I will try and do better."
"I know you will, Court."
A few seconds pass by, and then his breathing evens out. I reach over with my free hand and turn off the bedside light, sending the room into pitch blackness.
I don't know what I did to deserve what happened tonight, but as I listen to Buzz sleep in the dark, his body nestled against mine, I know I'm the luckiest guy in the world.
I’ve experienced several life-changing moments in my life so far.
Leaving Clovelly with Dad after Mom cheated.
Walking onto the college campus to pursue my medical career.
Delivering a baby on my own for the first time.
Arriving in Africa with no idea what I was in for.
All big moments that deeply affected me and changed the very fabric of who I am.
I can now add another experience to that list—daily blow jobs. Perhaps not as profound, but life-changing nonetheless.
It's been a week since my successful debut as a life model, a week since the night my best friend and I blew each other for the first time.
Seven subsequent blow jobs later, and I think it's safe to say it's become a daily habit. An apple a day may keep the doctor away, but a blow job a day keeps the doctor coming…and that's a way better health outcome if you ask me.
Best of all, things still feel easy and natural between us. Nothing feels off or awkward. If anything, it's actually made things better, injecting a low-key flirty vibe into our friendship I am very down with.
"Hey,"
Buzz says groggily, sleepwalking into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. A morning person he is not.
"Mornin'."
I hand him his coffee without looking up from the newspaper.
"Thanks."
He takes it and hops up onto the counter even though there are three perfectly good stools at the breakfast bar. I stopped pointing that out after the third time he did it.
I flip the page, knowing he's staring at me, like he does every day. In fact, this whole me reading the paper while he sits on the counter and looks at me has kind of become our morning thing.
It's nice and all, but it doesn't hold a candle to our night thing.
I skim through the community notices to get to the police blotter. It's a little more interesting than reading about garage sales and community events. That's more Zane's speed, and since art class night, that name hasn't been spoken around here, which I am perfectly fine with.
Taking a sip of coffee, I angle my face up to be greeted by Buzz's warm, friendly smile. He's wearing a navy-blue cut-off tee with Clovelly Fire Department printed along the front, black sweatpants, and nothing on his feet.
That's another new thing I've learned about him since living together. Even in the middle of winter, the guy pads about barefoot. No socks, no slippers, nothing. I've stopped pointing that out, too, but I keep a watchful eye on the thermostat, always making sure the heater stays cranked.
"What?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Nothing."
"Then why are you looking at me?"
"Because you're cute in the morning."
Let the low-key flirting begin.
I grin.
"Aren't I always cute?"
He chuckles that low, deep chuckle of his, and it reverberates throughout my entire body.
"You are. But you're extra cute in the mornings."
"And why is that?"
"Think it's the messy hair and the glasses. I never knew you wore glasses."
"I never knew you were allergic to footwear around the house."
He chuckles again.
My body vibrates again.
"Well, there you go,"
he says as a beam of sunlight shines through the window, lighting up his face in a pale, wintry light.
"After all these years, we're still learning new things about each other."
"I only use them for reading,"
I say, taking off the tortoiseshell frames and folding them shut carefully.
Dad got them for me for Christmas since I'm always losing mine. They're Cutler and Gross. Handmade in Italy. Very expensive. He made sure to point that out in a misguided effort to make me not misplace them as often. Bless his heart.
Buzz slurps his coffee.
"Well, I think they make you look even cuter."
"I think wearing glasses is a sign of aging and bodily deterioration."
"You always been so pessimistic?"
"Always,"
I say, taking a step toward him and putting my coffee down so I'm free to run both hands up and down his legs.
"I'm not so sure about that…"
Buzz puts his mug down and brings his warm hands to the side of my face.
"I distinctly remember a time when you were hopeful. Optimistic, even."
"People grow up, Buzz. They change. They look around and find more reasons to be disappointed that the world isn't what they were brought up to believe it is."
He places his hands over mine, halting the movement, and gives them a squeeze.
"Change doesn't always have to be a bad thing. Look at us. We're changing. And things are only getting better…right?"
"Of course,"
I reply, staring into his big, blue eyes, sensing there's a deeper, more personal layer to his question. He needs assurance, so that's what I'm going to give him.
"What we're doing is great."
He stares at me intensely for a few more seconds before breaking out into a massive grin.
"It really fucking is, isn't it?"
I lean in and press my lips to his.
"I wonder if this is what married life feels like for real."
"I sure hope so,"
he murmurs, low and husky.
I remove my hands from under his and slide one toward his bulge when his alarm clock starts blaring from his bedroom.
"Shit. I need to get ready for work."
"Ugh. Real life."
He kisses me on my nose and hops off the counter.
"It's the worst,"
he says, striding toward his bedroom to turn off the alarm. He glances back with a grin.
"Still got time for you to make me pancakes, though."