Chapter 9 Pumpkin Patch Disaster #6
Fingers dug in, holding me still, as he spat again, this time directly on my cock where it jutted up, slick and eager.
The sight—the sheer filth of it—sent a wave of heat crashing through me.
His hand wrapped around me, smearing the spit, pumping me slow and tight, thumb rubbing the head with practiced cruelty.
But he wasn’t done. He pressed the head of his cock against my mouth, smearing precome across my lips, then slapped it against my tongue, watching it bounce, heavy and obscene. “You know what to do. Get it wet, make it sloppy.”
My tongue flattened, tracing the veins, circling the head, lapping up every drop, every taste. I sucked him in, cheeks hollowing, drool spilling down my chin, dripping onto his hand. Derek’s hips rolled, shallow at first—just the head, just a tease, just enough to make me whine.
“Don’t tease,” I begged, voice wrecked, mouth stuffed full, spit trailing down my chest.
“You want rough? I’ll give you rough.” His voice was low, savage, a promise and a threat.
His grip tightened, both hands in my hair, and suddenly he was fucking into my mouth with merciless rhythm—deep, hard, relentless. The world shrank to sensation: the drag of his cock across my tongue, the bruising stretch at the back of my throat, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air.
Tears pricked my eyes, spit pooled under my chin, but I never looked away from the mirror. I wanted to see myself ruined, wanted him to see how desperate I was, how much I needed this. My hands flew to his thighs, holding on, bracing myself as he used my mouth for his pleasure.
“That’s it, take it, take all of me,” he growled, hips snapping, cock pounding deeper, faster, hitting the back of my throat again and again.
His hands controlled every angle, every thrust, dragging me down, holding me there until I thought I’d pass out, then pulling back just enough for me to gasp a breath before shoving back in.
The mess built between us—spit, tears, precome, sweat—all of it mixed, slicking my face, my chest, my cock.
Derek’s praise came relentless, each word driving me further into surrender.
“So fucking beautiful like this. Look at yourself. Look at the way you drool for me, the way you take every inch. You’re made for this—made to be on your knees, made to be filled. ”
Every thrust sent shudders through me, my cock aching, balls tight, the need overwhelming. He paused only to spit again, hot and wet, right into my open mouth, then pushed back in, deeper than before, groaning at the way I swallowed around him.
My knees nearly gave out, breath ragged, vision a haze of spit and need.
Derek didn’t let me catch a second—his hands clamped hard on my shoulders, manhandling me up, pressing my back to the cool expanse of the mirrored wall.
The glass trembled under the force, every nerve sparking where he held me in place.
The thrill of being seen, being shown off, only made it worse—made the ache sharper, the hunger absolute.
Fingers hooked in the waistband of my underwear. One hard yank, the fabric snapped, baring my cock and hole to the hungry air. My thighs were forced apart, wide and helpless, and I watched my reflection blush dark with shame and arousal.
“Can’t believe how perfect you are,” Derek breathed, voice trembling, jaw shadowed with the threat of losing control.
His eyes roved over me, drinking in the flushed skin, the bare curve of my ass, the hungry throb of my cock.
“This pretty pink hole—fuck, Miles. Been dreaming about ruining it since the day we met.”
Large hands spread me wider, thumbs digging into my ass, holding me open for the mirror, for him, for anyone who might walk in and see what I was letting happen.
My hole clenched under his gaze, hungry, aching, slick with spit and sweat and raw want.
I arched, shameless, tilting my hips to show him everything, wordless invitation pouring from my body.
Tongue flicked out, hot and wet, tracing a filthy line up my thigh. Teeth grazed the crease where leg met ass, lips planting bruising kisses up to my rim. My body jolted when he spit directly onto my hole, a hot shock that made me shudder and moan, forehead thunking softly against the mirror.
“You want to be filled, don’t you?” Derek’s tongue teased my rim, swirling, tracing, lapping up the mess he’d made. “Want me to breed you, fill you so deep it leaks down your legs. Tell me, Miles. Tell me what you need.”
“Need you to eat me out,” I gasped, shaking. “Need your mouth on me, need your tongue inside. Want you to fuck me—breed me. Make me yours.”
A groan, dark and helpless, vibrated against my skin before his mouth descended, devouring me with filthy reverence.
Tongue pressed inside, slow at first, then harder, faster, twisting and curling until I was gasping, begging, clutching the glass to keep from falling.
He alternated between lapping and fucking me, spreading my cheeks wider, sucking my hole, letting spit drip and pool, tongue plunging so deep my legs trembled.
My cock leaked, pulsing against my belly, untouched but aching. Derek pulled back, chest heaving, lips and chin slick with spit and arousal. “Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he commanded, voice rough. “Want you shaking for me—want you to know I own this body.”
His mouth moved up, tongue lapping a stripe up my taint, dragging wet heat over my balls, sucking one into his mouth, rolling it with obscene, practiced ease.
Each sound I made drove him harder, tongue relentless, worshipping every inch, as if he could imprint himself on my skin from the inside out.
Without warning, he dropped to his knees, face buried in my ass, tongue fucking me, while one hand finally gripped my cock, stroking slow and cruel. I wailed, the tension so sharp it hurt, pleasure so bright it bordered on pain.
“Fuck, Derek, please—please don’t stop,” I babbled, breathless, desperate, pressing my hips back into his mouth.
He alternated sucking my rim, then my cock—mouth moving back and forth, tasting, teasing, ruining me for anyone else.
Every time his lips closed over the head, he sucked hard, swirling his tongue, swallowing my cries.
Then he’d dive back, tongue plunging into my hole, fucking me open, making me slick and ready for anything he wanted to give.
“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, voice gone hoarse and shaky. “Sweet and filthy, made for me. Can’t get enough—could spend all night eating you out, getting you ready to take my cock.”
Hands hooked under my knees, lifting my legs higher, nearly folding me against the mirror. I watched the entire filthy scene reflected back—my body spread wide, cock swollen, hole gaping, Derek’s broad shoulders wedged between my thighs, beard slick with spit and need.
“You ever seen yourself like this?” he asked, pausing to nuzzle the crease of my thigh, licking a fat, wet stripe over my rim. “So fucking wrecked, so open, so desperate for my tongue?”
My answer came out broken, trembling. “Never—never wanted anyone like this. Never let anyone see me like this. Only you.”
That did something to him. His hands tightened, squeezing my thighs hard enough to bruise, mouth devouring every inch, sucking and licking and biting, switching between my hole and my cock.
He worshipped both—no shame, no hesitation, as if he could never get enough, as if he’d starve if he ever stopped.
Teeth grazed my shaft, tongue swirled over the slit, lapping up every drop of precome, humming in approval as I jerked and moaned. Then he dove back, tongue spearing deep, fucking me open, stretching me with nothing but spit and need and the promise of being ruined.
“Gonna make you mine,” Derek promised, voice shaking with the force of it. “Gonna eat you, fuck you, fill you until you can’t take any more. No one else gets this—just me. Just you and me and this fucking mess.”
Warm hands cupped my face, pulling me up into a messy, claiming kiss.
Derek tasted of spit and salt, tongue pressing past my lips with a hunger that left me dizzy.
My head spun with the weight of his need, the way his body blanketed mine, muscles taut and trembling, cock grinding heavy and wet against my hip.
A slick click echoed through the room as he flipped open the lube, the sudden cold a shock against my thigh.
He poured too much, letting it drip down my ass, catching the mess with his palm before stroking it over his cock—slow, rough, all business, no pretense of patience left in him.
I could feel the heat of him against my skin, the swollen head sliding through the mess at my rim, teasing but never quite pushing in.
Fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me up for another kiss.
Teeth scraped my bottom lip, his other hand guiding my legs wider, opening me so completely there was nothing I could hide.
“Want to watch you take it,” he whispered against my mouth, breath ragged, every word a promise and a threat.
“Want to see you fall apart on my cock.”
One long, slick thrust split me open. Pressure gave way to burn, then to a fullness that nearly knocked the air from my lungs. My head fell back, a broken moan torn from my throat as his hips pressed in, filling me until I thought I might tear.
Derek gripped my thighs, pushing them up, pinning me open to the mirror and the ceiling, giving both of us the best possible view.
His eyes locked on the place where our bodies joined, jaw clenched, pupils blown wide with hunger.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, grinding deep, rocking slowly just to make me feel every inch. “Could stay buried in you forever.”