Chapter 15 #2
Suddenly, Miles pushes off my chest and sits back on his heels, still bracketing my hips with his knees. He starts clawing at his belt, his breathing ragged and loud.
“Fuck’s sake... move, you piece of shit,” he says, his shaking fingers struggling with the buckle.
He’s so wired he can barely coordinate the movement, cursing under his breath as he finally rips the leather strap open and yanks his zipper down. His log springs out weeping a heavy bead of pre-cum.
Miles’ cock always looks delicious, all juicy and flushed a pretty shade of red. I wish he would shove it in my mouth, to be honest, but even before he makes a move, I already know what he’s planning.
He crawls up my body, his knees dragging over the mattress until he’s hovering right over my chest. Leaning down, he grips the base of his shaft and drags the swollen cockhead over my raw nips. The friction of his hot, wet skin against my puffy peaks is crazy.
Insane.
God, it’s good.
He paints my nipples with his prefuck, circling the buds with the crown of his dick until I’m practically vibrating with the need to break character and moan.
Fuck, have I ever been this turned on?
Miles is usually a laid-back guy, but right now he’s acting way far from that. He pushes down harder, forcing his wet piss-slit right over the stiff peak, sliding it back and forth like he’s trying to force my nip to fuck its way inside his dick.
He lets out an unhinged moan, and a violent jolt shoots straight down to my crotch. My dick throbs miserably against my denim, and I smash my teeth together, desperately swallowing my own groan.
“Look,” he groans, his voice a total wreck as his slit mashes against my nip. “You’re straight-up fucking my dick with your tits, man.”
I think he’s completely losing his mind, and I find myself wondering why the hell he’s never done that before.
He gets frustrated with the fabric of my tank top at some point, so he fists the hem and yanks it all the way up, bunching it under my chin until my torso is completely bared to the cold air.
Miles lets out a sound that’s half-growl, half-whimper, kneading my pecs like a pair of tits and squeezing them together until they compress into a tight, muscular sleeve around his shaft.
Then he starts to thrust.
It’s a titjob. It’s a fucking titjob.
This is ridiculously hot.
“I really love these, Kit,” he pants, and when I feel wet heat hit my chest, I realize he’s drooling all over me. “So soft...”
He drives his cock back and forth between my pecs, a little too clumsy with horniness, sure—but the feeling is peak filth. I can hear the loud, wet and sticky slaps of his groin slamming against my sternum.
“Fuck, yeah...” he gasps, his spit flying onto my neck. “Squeeze it for me, Kit. Hold my dick right there.”
I stay perfectly locked in doll-mode, fighting the absolute crisis happening in my pants. To be fair, I think I could even blow just from Miles treating my chest like his personal playground, with his heavy balls slapping against my upper stomach with every shove. It feels so good.
“Fuck, I’m gonna lose it. I’m gonna blow my load all over your tits, man.”
But sadly, he doesn’t.
He gives up on the titjob after a few more messy thrusts and slides his body lower, dragging the weeping tip of his dick down the center of my abs until I feel it press right into my belly button.
Miles starts fucking it.
He’s literally trying to drive his cockhead into the shallow dip of my navel. It’s degrading and hot as hell. He’s treating my stomach like a spare hole, another place to shove his dick inside. The thought makes my toes curl inside my socks.
He’s crazy from the heat, and so am I.
He slaps his hard cock on my stomach a few times, and I can hear the smacking sounds of his pre-cum being smeared over my skin. Then he leans down to suck on my neck again while grinding against my navel. His lips catch on the sweat-slick skin, sucking before biting down gently.
“Fuck, you’re so—” he mutters against my skin, his breath hot and uneven. His teeth scrape over my jaw, his tongue lapping up my sweat and drool. “Your body is so perfect. It makes me so horny.”
Dragging his tongue lower, he traces a slow stripe down the center of my chest. I stay still, but holy fuck his mouth feels so good.
And not only that. His words feel good too.
He’s praising my body, and that’s great.
But it’s not just the way it feels objectifying that gets me going.
His voice sounds dead honest, not just standard dirty talk.
He isn’t just playing his part in the scene, saying the things they all know I like to hear.
He’s completely breaking down, letting his real, buried thoughts slip out.
It feels weird. But I’ll ignore it because I’m weak, and it feels fucking good.
“Sometimes I jack off thinking about this,” he admits.
“Coming all over your stomach. Painting your abs with it.” He pauses, his leaking tip circling my navel, smearing a thick trail of pre-cum over my skin.
“I’d be in my bed, totally torched, just picturing you lying here like this. .. letting me use you.”
This is a wild thing to hear when Miles is usually one of the guys who will always bury himself deep in my ass just to cum. Right now, though, he’s totally captivated by the surface of my body.
His eyes track the mess he’s left behind, tracing the thick trail of pre-cum running down the dips of my abs and pooling around my navel.
Bending low, he presses his lips against my skin and licks a massive stripe right through the goo on my belly. When he swallows it down, he lets out a deep groan from the back of his throat.
Miles likes the taste. Miles absolutely loves it.
The realization seems to make him even more frantic, and he starts working his way back up my body, his tongue lapping up every single drop of his own slick mixed with my sweat.
I’m not surprised when he targets my nipples again, which are completely swollen and dripping. He lingers on them for a while, licking the excess goo off until they’re spiked and throbbing again.
By the time his mouth drops down toward my waistband, I’m practically vibrating. He licks right down the center of my lower abs, his tongue catching on the faint trail of hair leading straight into my jeans.
“Would you let me?” he asks, his fingers trembling as they trace the sharp lines of my V-cut. “Just use you like that? Let me drop my load right here on your stomach?”
He knows the answer to that is an absolute, unquestionable yes.
“You’re making me so fucking crazy. I’m in so much trouble.”
He pops the button of my jeans, his knuckles brushing against the hard outline of my cock, and his breath hitches when he finally yanks my zipper down.
His hands are trembling as he palms me through my boxers, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the cockhead, smearing the pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
“You’re so wet,” he mutters, looking dazed.
Miles stares at my cock for a long second, his lips parted, his breath coming fast. Then, like he can’t help himself, he dives in and licks right up the underside, catching the sensitive slit with his tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans, his mouth closing over the head, sucking down on the crown. He swirls his tongue around the tip, lapping up the leakage before burying my shaft even deeper into his mouth with another sloppy suck, letting out a broken moan.
Fuck indeed.
I’m trying my best here, okay? But he pulls more of me into his mouth, his tongue swirling.
I bite my lip.
Holy fucking God, it’s too much. None of the guys have ever gone down on me.
No, scratch that. No one has ever gone down on me like this, just straight-up devouring my piece while I’m lying here helpless.
He slides his lips a fraction lower, wrapping tighter around the shaft, and it feels so fucking incredible—holy shit, my hips flare up on their own when his throat clamps down for one more hard suck and—
Fuck, I’m blowing.
Way too fast, and way too hard.
My cock jerks violently, firing a heavy shot of cum straight into the back of his throat before I can even try to hold it back.
My spine arches off the mattress, every muscle locking hard as I paint his mouth, pumping load after load right down his neck.
Miles chokes around the volume, his throat working frantically as he swallows every single bit of it, a total moaning mess.
When he finally slides off the head, his lips are dripping with cum and he slowly licks them.
“I’m really in trouble, Kit.” He looks up, and the exact millisecond his dazed eyes lock onto mine, I see reality hit him. “—fuck!”
And then he’s scrambling back.
Not, like, gracefully. He goes from draining my dick to practically launching himself backward, nearly eating shit off the mattress, arms pinwheeling before he catches himself on the nightstand.
“Fuck. Fuck, Kit, I—” His voice cracks. He’s staring at my chest like he just realized my pecs are landmines. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That was—fuck. That was completely unhinged, right? Like, super fucking weird. Not the doll thing. The—me. Me saying all that shit about you and doing—fuck.”
His hands flap uselessly in the air like he’s trying to physically push the words back into his mouth.
His dick is still completely out of his pants, pulsing and weeping against his lower stomach, so he hurriedly snatches a pillow to block it from view.
A heavy smear of my cum glazes his chin, and he wipes it with the back of his hand, looking entirely out of his mind.
“You’re probably so weirded out right now. Fuck. I’m gonna—” He twists toward the edge of the bed. “I’m just gonna—”
The mattress dips hard as I lunge upright and snap my fingers around his wrist before he can bolt.
Miles freezes.
Because that’s not a thing that happens.