Three Arya #2
Ben chuckled as he reached into Arya’s boxer briefs and pulled his own cock out.
Arya was pretty average, length-wise, but he had a bit of extra girth that had served him well in life. Ben thumbed a bead of precum off his thick head and spread it around.
“You too,” Ben murmured.
Arya kissed him again, swallowing the moan Ben let out as Arya began stroking him.
Ben’s hand slipped off Arya’s cock for a second before finding it again and starting up a matching rhythm, but without foreskin, Ben’s hand was chafing him.
Ben had tiny calluses on his left fingertips, and they were a bit scratchy.
If Arya had condoms on him, he might’ve suggested they blow each other instead, but Arya had a strict no-fucking-on-the-job policy, so he’d left them all back at the hotel.
But the job was done, so this didn’t count.
Hell, Ben was so hot, Arya wasn’t sure he could’ve stopped himself even if he was still working.
Hands were fine, though. Arya liked hands. Hands were sexy. Hands reminded him of his first experiences in college. Of learning what he liked, what a partner liked, of all the ways his body could bring pleasure, to himself and to others.
So he basked in the way Ben throbbed. The way his foreskin moved. The leaking warmth against his fingertips.
He basked in the excitement of doing this in public. Even if it was dark, even if they were alone in the quiet night, the thrill of it still danced across his skin, set the hairs on his forearms to standing, made the back of his neck prickle.
The smacking, shifting sounds of their sex—skin and breath and lips and grunts—filled the vineyard. Arya felt his orgasm rising, the fire behind his belly button, the clenching of his pelvic floor.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” he groaned.
Ben’s dick flexed in his grip at that. Arya pressed his smile against Ben’s mouth, opening into another all-consuming kiss, as his pleasure crested.
He grunted in Ben’s mouth. Ben got the signal, because his angle changed, bending Arya’s dick to the side a bit, and he assumed he was unloading onto the ground and not onto Ben’s sweats.
He groaned with every pulse, half wanting to cry out, half wanting to swallow the sounds, keep them for him and Ben alone. But he finally came down from his orgasm and released Ben’s mouth.
“Wow,” he said.
“That was hot,” Ben murmured.
Arya’s heart thumped hard. Yeah it was.
He glanced down for a second, just long enough to find his load shining silvery-white on one of the nearby grapevines.
“Oops.”
“Don’t worry, no one will notice,” Ben assured him. “It’ll wash off when it rains.”
Why did that sound so hot?
“Then I’m gonna add yours to it.”
Ben laughed as Arya gripped his dick again, stroking faster. Ben leaned in and rested his forehead against Arya’s, licking his lips, breathing hard. Arya drank in every huff, every moan, every shudder.
“I’m—” Ben choked, and Arya shifted them so Ben’s dick was pointed at the grapevine, too.
He slowed down his strokes, tightened his grip just a bit, stretched Ben’s foreskin to its limit as he watched Ben’s load join the mess, hot and white and wet.
“Mmm, sexy,” Arya muttered into Ben’s ear, and was rewarded with a full-body shudder. Arya squeezed out the last few drops of Ben’s cum, shook his hand off, then released Ben so they could put themselves back together.
The night air felt cool against his burning skin. His heart, hammering in his chest, was finally slowing down. Ben gave a low laugh.
“What?” Arya looked at Ben, but he couldn’t make out much except for the shine of his eyes.
“That was…”
“Good?”
“Unexpected. I don’t usually do things like that.”
Arya waggled his eyebrows. “I do. And to be fair, you started it.”
Ben laughed, his hand reaching for Arya’s in the darkness. Arya let Ben lead him out of the rows of vines, back toward the house. “So… uh…”
Ben abruptly stopped. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Arya. Arya Nazeri.”
“Ben Liu.”
“Liu…” Arya’s chest tightened. Fuck. “Like… the Lius?”
The owners of Phoenix Mountain Vineyards?
Holy shit, Arya could not have picked a worse person to hook up with.
He clapped a hand to his head. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
He didn’t fuck on the job and he certainly didn’t fuck clients.
Granted, Ben’s family weren’t clients, they were vendors, but still…
“Don’t worry, I don’t work here,” Ben said. “I’m just visiting my family.”
Arya shook his head. That didn’t make it better. Well, much better.
“I shouldn’t have—”
“You should have,” Ben said, voice firm and smooth. “I wanted it, remember? I promise it’s fine.”
He took Arya’s hand again. “You want to come inside and get cleaned up?”
Arya stared at the house. Part of him was screaming to run for the car, gun it down the hillside, and not look back until he made it to the hotel.
The other part of him was aware that he had splinters in his pants and pollen on his jacket, and he needed to check his shoes for cumstains.
Also, if they did go inside, there was every possibility for round two. Once Arya recovered.
Maybe Ben had condoms inside.
“All right.”