Zeke #3
Charles leans in and presses his face to my hard cock. I’m begging for him to take me out, but all he does is run his tongue over the material, teasing me, testing my patience in a way I fucking love.
“Getting impatient, here,” I grit out.
His soft laugh answers me, then he tugs my boxers down in one go. My cock springs back against my abs, leaving a sticky spot behind, and just as I’m about to whine at him to hurry up, Charles’s hand closes around the base, and he sucks my cock into his mouth.
My head thunks back against the wall as I grunt, trying not to thrust forward and make him take more of me. It’s like every feeling, every nerve, every thought has pooled in my dick, and nothing else exists apart from the mouth wrapped around it.
He works himself up to a steady rhythm of sucking, licking, and stroking. My balls twitch every time his tongue hits that sensitive spot right under the tip, and my grip on his hair is growing tight. Maybe painful, though it’s hard to tell with the sounds he’s making.
His moans are deep and content, loud in the otherwise quiet room.
My cock is sloppy with spit, easing each stroke of his hand, and Charles increases the speed as he bobs up and down.
The noises he’s making have taken on a desperate edge that mirror the need running through my veins.
Fuck, his mouth is hot, the suction so tight.
I crave the feeling of him wrapped around all of me, the heat reaching my balls, and completely on instinct, my hips snap forward.
Charles gags so violently his body jolts.
“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” I say as he coughs.
“It’s okay,” he gasps. “I’m fine.”
Then he sinks down on me again.
I’m at war between sinking into the bliss and checking on him. “You sure?” I manage to get out.
“So, so sure. Just … maybe don’t do that again? Apparently I’m not so great at the deep-throating. Sorry.”
I groan. “Don’t be sorry. Everything you’re doing is fucking perfect.”
I feel his smile as he sucks me down again. And again. It’s hard to keep myself under control, but I manage. I let Charles go. Let him take over and make me feel good. And godfuckingdamn do I feel good.
My head is back against the wall, both hands in his hair as I guide him faster and faster. The pressure is building in my balls, addictive zaps running up and down my spine, head fogging over with my impending orgasm.
“Urg, motherfucker,” I grunt. “I’m gonna … I’m close …”
Charles pulls back, sucking the tip, hand jerking me hard and fast, then he lets out a long, deep moan.
The gravelly timbre makes my balls pull tight, and then my orgasm is crashing into me before I can warn him again.
My cock twitches through each spurt, straight into his mouth where Charles greedily swallows me down.
I hold on for as long as I can, wanting it to draw out as long as possible, but too soon the happy, tingling feelings dull and I slump back against the wall.
The sound of Charles panting heavily and indistinct movement in the dark clue me in to him jerking off. I’m about to offer to take over when he grabs my thigh, fingers digging in as he bites back his gasp.
Too fucking late.
I stand there, completely useless, while he shivers his way through his orgasm.
“That was …” I have no words. No words to explain to him that I’ve never been with a man before, and that even though I’m bi, I’m more interested in men than women. Shutting that side of myself down for so long, ignoring it, pushing it into the background … it’s been too much for too long.
I feel free.
Charles made me feel free.
He pulls my underwear and shorts up as he gets to his feet, and I hurry to take over refastening them. “Thank you,” he whispers.
He’s thanking me? Clearly the idiot has no concept of what he’s just done for me.
My fingers trail over his cheeks, and he leans into the touch like a cat after affection. I can’t make out his features, not clearly, but the twisting in my gut as I picture how soft his expression must be is a warning.
I snatch my hands back. Block the image. But even as I fight against it, I can’t help asking, “We can do that again, right?”
“Whenever you want to meet, just text me.”
I nod even though he can’t see it. I’ll be texting him all right, but before I do, I need to get my head on right. Charles is the uptight, flustered guy I meet during the day; this guy is nothing more than need and warmth. A willing mouth. A cock I’m desperate to touch.
I don’t know him.
He doesn’t know me.
That’s all I need to remember.
Pretending this is anything more than that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
I know I need to leave, but my feet are rooted to the spot, my body overly aware that he’s still so close. It would be too easy to fall back into a second round, but it’s late and I have too much to sort out in my head.
The overwhelming drive to be closer has me stepping in and pressing a kiss to his head. The sweet, caramel scent is all around me, his hair soft under my lips, and I linger, just for a second, before I wrench myself away.
“I’ll text you,” I say, lump in my throat as I haul ass out of there.
The second I’m in the hall I break into a jog, and I don’t stop fighting myself the whole way home.