10. Anders #4
“I need…” His lips open and close, and it’s clear he’s trying to decide how to articulate what he wants.
“What do you need, Kitten?” I coax.
“More,” he finally says.
“Do you need to come again?”
“No,” he blurts. “Well, yes, but that’s…”
“Tell me what you need, Boy,” I growl, coating my words in dominance.
“Can I…” Swallowing against my hand, he glances down my body, then back to my face. “Can I…”
“Can you what?” I soften my voice.
“I want to touch you,” he finally admits, speaking so quickly the words almost mesh together.
“You can touch me as much as you want,” I purr, leaning forward and capturing his lips with mine again.
Reluctantly releasing my hold on his throat, I let my hands drop to my sides, allowing him the freedom to do whatever he wants to me. Mimicking my actions from earlier, he fills his palm with soap and starts to explore, running his hands over my shoulders, arms, and abs.
After a moment his touch becomes bolder, braver, and his hands roam over my ass, my thighs, then down my legs to my ankles.
I thank God for endless hot water, because instead of bending over, my sexy, timid boy lowers himself to his knees and tentatively runs his palms from my ankles all the way up the inside of my legs until his fingers are barely an inch from my heavy balls.
I’m not hairless, but I’m neatly groomed, so I watch clearly as his fingers curl, cupping my sack, testing the weight before he carefully runs his fingers over my cock. When he’s tiptoed along the length of my dick, he rubs the pad of his thumb over the slit, and I groan.
Tipping his head back, he looks up at me from his position at my feet and licks his lips. I don’t think he has any idea how tempting he looks right now, but somehow that makes his innocent seduction even more tantalizing. “Can I?”
“Can you what, Boy?” I ask gruffly.
“Please, can I touch?” he asks.
“You want to play with my cock, Boy?”
He nods.
“Yes, you can touch.”
Wrapping his fingers around me, he slowly slides his fist from the head down to the base, then back up again. A silent groan falls from my parted lips, and I fight the urge to demand he open his mouth and choke on me.
“Do you?” Sliding his fist down to the base again, he pauses, using his pinky finger to stroke over my balls.
“Do I what?” I demand, my tone getting rougher, the closer I get to the edge.
“Do you want me to do what you did to me?” His cheeks bloom red, and I smile. He’s fucking adorable.
“Are you asking if you can finger my ass?” I ask, deliberately making my description crude.
He nods.
“I’ve bottomed in the past, but I prefer to top. If that’s something you want to explore, we can talk about it, though,” I tell him softly. “Although the majority of the time, I’ll be the one sinking into your tight ass, not the other way around.”
“I don’t…” he mutters. “What about…” His pink tongue pokes out of his mouth as his gaze drops to where his fist has slid back to the head of my dick.
“Are you asking if you can taste me?”
He nods again.
“I can’t think of much that I want more than to feel your wet mouth around my cock. But if you want to suck me, there are rules.”
“Rules?” His eyes flash wide with the sexiest innocent curiosity I’ve ever seen.
“No teeth, and when I come, you swallow everything I give you.”
“Teeth?” he questions.
“Wrap your lips over your teeth. If you bite me, I will make you regret it.”
“I’d never,” he insists.
“I know. You’re a good boy,” I praise, dropping my hand to the top of his head and running my fingers through the wet strands of his hair.
Looking at me for a long moment, he swallows, then lowers his gaze to my cock. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he licks his lips, then he leans forward and swipes it over the head of my cock.
Groaning, I spread my fingers wide over the top of his head, fighting the urge to grab a handful. Soon I won’t have to hold back, and I’ll use his hair to guide his movements while I fuck his face. But for now, I need to let him lead, even if I don’t want to.
He spends a few moments toying with the head of my cock before licking along the length and innocently teasing me.
“Open your mouth, Kitten. I want to feel your lips wrapped around me.”
He follows directions beautifully, parting his lips and barely pausing as he sucks me into his mouth. The hot, wet feel of his tongue as he tentatively moves it over my length makes my balls ache with the need to come.
“You feel so fucking good, Kitten. I can’t wait to coat your tongue with my cum.”
Sucking me in an inch deeper, his inexperienced touch is awkward and uncertain, but it doesn’t matter. I can teach him how to please me, how to swallow me down and still be desperate for more. How to take me into his throat and breathe through his nose while I fuck his face hard and rough.
“Can you take more?” I question. “Take me as deep as you can.” I don’t mean for it to come out like an order, but the desire to dominate him is so strong that I don’t even realize I’m doing it until he obeys, bobbing more fully onto my cock until I feel him gag around the head.
“Jesus-fucking-Christ. Your fucking mouth,” I groan.
Like my praise encourages him, he takes me deep over and over, making himself gag on me as my balls draw up tight, and I know it’s only a matter of moments before I blow my load.
“I’m going to come, and you’re going to swallow every drop. Do you understand?” I snarl.
His eyes lift to mine and he nods, mumbling his understanding as he sucks my cock with unskilled exuberance.
Grabbing hold of his head, I push him down onto me, then hold him in place as the first burst of cum explodes from my dick. I come so hard it makes my stomach ache, but just like I told him to, Henry slurps me straight down his throat without a single protest.
The moment I’m empty and the shock has ebbed from his gaze, I pull him off my cock, smiling at the watery look in his eyes and the strings of saliva that drip from his puffy lips.
“That was perfect, Kitten,” I praise, cupping his cheek and bending down to kiss him, uncaring that his mouth tastes like my cum.
When I pull away, his eyes are wide, but there’s a small smile gracing his full, pouty lips that are even more tempting after being stretched wide around my dick. He looks…proud of himself.
I love giving head. I always have, and there is a sense of pride that follows making someone lose control that way. I imagine I probably look similar to the way Henry does now, like the cat—or in this case, the kitten—who got the cream…my cream.
Pulling him to his feet, I curl my arm around his back and drag him into me until our naked bodies are pressed tightly together. “I need to wash my hair. Do you want to stay in here or get dry?” I ask, stroking my thumb across his cheek.
Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze moves from my face, then higher to where my hair is piled on top of my head in a man bun. “Can I…”
Instead of prompting him, I wait, watching as indecision races across his face.
“Can I wash your hair?” he finally asks.
“You want to?” I ask, surprised. I love my long hair, some days I feel like Samson, like all of my strength and resolve comes from my unruly locks.
Nodding enthusiastically, he cautiously reaches up and starts to untwist the hair tie that’s holding my hair in place free. The moment he loosens it, my hair unwinds, falling messily around my face.
“It’s so thick,” Henry murmurs, more to himself than to me.
“It’s a pain, but I like it.”
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never grown my hair long.”
“Most guys haven’t. Yours is a beautiful color, you could grow it if you liked.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think it would suit me. Do you ever leave yours down?”
“Not often,” I tell him, relaxing into his touch.
His hands move reverently, coating the long tresses in shampoo and taking care to work the suds all the way to my scalp.
When he drops his hands to his sides, I move under the shower spray, and instead of letting the water do all the work, he runs his hand through my hair, making sure all of the shampoo is gone.
He does the same with the conditioner, being so careful and meticulous that by the time all of the conditioner is out of my hair, I want to take him straight to the courthouse and make him officially mine.
Everything about him entices me. His innocence is endearingly sweet. He’s a beautiful soul and I want to own him in every sense of the word, but that’s why I can’t—because I won’t allow myself to consume his purity and make it into something ugly.
Taking my time and allowing him any space feels painfully hard, but for him, I’ll do it. I have to.
I hand him a towel once we both step out of the shower, and he wraps it around himself, his cheeks pink like he’s suddenly become shy.
Not commenting or pointing out that he had my dick in his mouth a few minutes ago, I surreptitiously watch him from the corner of my eye while I pretend to allow him some privacy.
Once he’s completely mine, I won’t let him hide himself from me, but for now, I’ll allow him the illusion of modesty.
Rubbing the water from my own body, I throw the towel into the hamper and stride naked into the bedroom.
Flopping down onto the bed, I ignore my semi-hard dick as it bounces against my thigh.
I don’t have a monster cock, but it’s above average, thick, and I’d like to think fairly pretty.
It curves slightly to the right, but so far no one has had any complaints.
“Why don’t you take a look at the things I got for you?” I suggest, tipping my chin toward the pile of bags that are littering the end of the bed.
“I…” His eyes go haunted, and I wonder what he just remembered that has put that look in his eyes. Growing up in foster care must have been tough, but some of the families he stayed with must have been good people…right? I mean, not everyone is bad…are they?