Chapter 7 #4
I stare out at the view, know that anyone in the nearby flats could be watching me right now.
My cock begins to fill and rise. Interesting.
Apparently, I have an exhibitionist kink.
In fact, as I observe Cormac coolly gazing at me, with my wide-open legs, and then at the open window, I’m starting to worry I’ll come way too quickly.
I’m showing him everything, the mounds of my balls now drawn tight and my cock red-tipped and urgent looking.
“Good boy.” His own cock is stiff and throbbing against his flat belly, belying his cool voice, and he leans back against the sofa casually. “Touch yourself.”
I gulp, and the sound is loud in the hushed room. Then I slowly lower my hand and cup my balls. I roll them gently, biting my lip to keep my moan inside, and look up at him.
His jaw is set and his mouth is a firm, hard line, but his eyes are greedy. “That’s it. What does it feel like?”
“Good.” I catch my breath as I squeeze. “ Really good.”
“Use your other hand and pinch your nipple.”
My hand moves before I can think, and my head falls back against the chair as I do as he ordered.
“Harder,” he says hoarsely.
“ Fuck ,” I breathe. It isn’t as good as his touch—what is? But the thought that he’s watching me makes it nearly as good. I twist the little nub harder than I would usually and my reward is a sting that seems to race through my body to my cock. My hips arch up involuntarily, and I hump the air.
“Leave it now and lick your finger,” he says hoarsely.
I comply, sucking on the digit while our gazes meet, clash, and hold.
“Good boy. Suck it harder. I want you to make it really wet.”
Fellating my finger eagerly, I make it so sloppy that saliva drips onto my chin. I go to wipe it away and stop when he shakes his head.
“I didn’t tell you to do that. Now touch your hole.”
“Oh god,” I whisper and immediately obey. The first touch makes me groan and shove my crotch towards him.
“Open your legs wider. Hook them over the chair’s arms.”
I bite my lip and do as he says.
His smile is humourless and full of a dark lust that seems to beat through my own body. “Look at you, Wes. Like a little slut with your legs spread where anyone can see.” I moan, and he steps closer. “Finger your hole.”
I trail my finger over my pucker, and the nerve endings spark and sizzle.
“Now slide it in.”
Despite the copious amounts of sex we’ve been having lately, my finger stings and burns as I insert it into my dry hole. But somehow the sensation is just what I need, and Cormac knows it. And he can see that I’ve become harder than ever.
The cool air from the open window drifts across my balls and hole, as my finger begins a slow thrust and retreat at my hole, while I continue to pinch my nipple with my other hand. I spread my legs a little wider, enjoying giving him a show, feeling slutty and so fucking good .
Within moments, I’m humping my finger in earnest and my nipples are becoming red and sore. I hear a sharp intake of breath and my gaze flickers to Cormac.
He shakes his head. His expression is disapproving, but his eyes gleam.
“Someone in that flat over there is probably watching you right now,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.
“They’re watching you fuck yourself on your finger, your hair wild and all that golden skin gleaming in the sunshine.
You look like you’re dusted in gold.” His face is set and hard, red flags of colour rising across his sharp cheekbones. “Another finger,” he commands.
I hasten to do as he says, pushing another finger in and bearing down against it, the burn lighting me up.
“Gently,” he adds. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Maybe I want to.” I bite my lips.
He stands still for a second, and then he moves, walking behind the chair where I’m sitting. I try to turn but he snaps, “Face forward,” and I obey.
I shove my fingers in and out, crooking one to feel the swollen nub of my prostate. Fireworks spark behind my eyes, my balls tingle, and I whine. It’s good, but it’s not enough. There’s the click of a cap opening behind me, and I sob out something—a plea for him to help me, to take over.
Then he’s bending over me. “Stop touching yourself,” he orders.
I’m close and chasing the feeling, so I hump into my fingers again. He smacks my fingers away, and I cry out, the sting on my cock lighting me up inside.
“Naughty,” he chides.
“I need it,” I gasp. “I need?—”
“I know what you need.” One arm wraps around my shoulders as he leans over me. His hair tickles my cheek, and I watch as his other hand skims down my chest, caressing the skin. His fingers are wet with lube, leaving sticky trails that gleam in the sunshine.
His hand cups my balls, and I arch into his touch.
One finger dips, tracing the skin of my perineum.
The damp, hot touch makes me freeze, and then I cry out as he slides two fingers into me.
As his fingertip brushes my prostate, I no longer care what I look like to the outside world.
I don’t care what anyone thinks. Fuck anyone who judges me, because I’m the lucky one who’s naked, legs forced open, being fingered relentlessly by his dream man.
My cock jumps and bobs, leaving sticky precome on my belly and pubic hair.
He pushes another finger in, and I grunt.
His head is next to mine, and he’s looking down, focused on the movement of his fingers.
He catches me off guard when he looks up, and our eyes meet.
I lean in, and our mouths connect instantly and deeply.
We eat at each other’s lips, saliva coating them and hot breaths clogging the air between us.
And all the while he continues to finger me—teasing strokes where he brushes my prostate, coupled with harder thrusts that stretch me open.
“Please,” I whine unashamed to beg. “ Please , Mac. I need it. I need it so bad.”
I’m practically sobbing by now, and he gives a sudden snarl.
“Get up and lean over the chair,” he commands, withdrawing his fingers.
I’m up in a flash, leaning over the back of the chair, feeling the fabric rub my aching, neglected cock. Sweat dampens my hair and skin.
“Fuck,” I say, rutting in a fast rhythm. Then I cry out as he slaps my arse. “God, do that again,” I breathe, and he does—three quick slaps before rubbing the hot skin, turning the sharp pain into a blossoming ache. “I love that,” I slur and wriggle my arse impatiently. “Fuck me.”
“Are you in charge?” he says silkily.
I gulp. “No.”
“You don’t sound certain. Maybe I should leave and let you do your own thing.”
“Oh god, please don’t. I need you so bad, Mac.”
He slaps my arse again, and I arch into him, begging for more, but he doesn’t give it this time. Instead, there’s the sound of a cap opening and the slick slide of his fingers moving on his cock. Then he grabs my cheeks, spreading them open in his sticky hands.
“Shit,” he says. “Look at your little hole. I can’t believe I’m going to be bare in that.”
I shudder at the first kiss of his naked cock against my opening.
He groans, a startlingly loud sound for Mac. “ Fuck !” He shoves inside me.
I throw my head back, shouting out at how good it feels and how I need him to fuck me. I don’t care who hears me. In fact, I hope they do. I hope they hear the sounds we make together. He rests against me for a second, rubbing his face into my sweaty back.
“Oh my god.” He sounds stunned, his voice thick and heavy with lust. “Shit, you feel like heaven on my cock. God, I can feel everything .” His hands tighten on my hips. “I can’t go slow.”
“I don’t want you to,” I gasp and shove back against him demandingly.
He grunts and then starts to move with a fast rhythm, and then I’m blind to everything but him.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I imagine someone watching us.
They’d see him bent over me, our naked bodies writhing as he fucks me with hard deep thrusts that send me into the chair.
They’d see his buttocks clenching and moving.
I wish they could see my hole stretching around his cock.
And suddenly I feel the tingle in my balls. “I’m close,” I slur.
“Don’t come,” he orders.
“No,” I whine. “ Really ?”
“Do as you’re told,” he snaps.
His thrusts increase in speed, and I feel him swell inside me, and incredibly, I realise he’s going to come.
He never comes first. It’s so hard to hold off when my cock is begging for me to touch it and bring myself off, but I focus on him—his sweat on my back, the harsh grunts as he bottoms out.
Suddenly, he freezes and gives a mighty shout.
A moment later, I feel a warm gush of liquid deep inside my body.
He rides out his climax with short jerks of his hips, fucking himself into me. Finally, he collapses, his sweaty chest sealing itself onto my back. After a few seconds, I wriggle. My cock is throbbing like a toothache, and I feel utterly crazed with the need to come.
“Please,” I whisper. “I need it. Let me touch myself.”
I cry out in displeasure as he pulls out, but then his hands come down on my cheeks and he spreads them. I feel cool air on my sore hole.
“Push out,” he orders, kneeling behind me.
I hesitate. “What?”
“Bear down and push my come out of you.”
I might be scandalised, but I don’t have time to consider that novel thought, because all my attention is on what we’re doing.
I bear down as he asked, and feel the come trickle out of me, wetting my inner thighs. “You have no idea of how sexy that is,” he groans. “It’s creamy white against your red little hole.” I moan as I feel his finger run through it.
“Taste,” he says holding up his finger.
Without thought, I suck his finger into my mouth. It’s tart and the moment feels so sexy and hot and dirty. I’ve never had sex like I do with Mac. It’s incredible.
“Yes,” he says.
Releasing his finger, I crane my neck and look down at him. He’s flushed and sweaty, his hair messy, and his eyes very blue.