Cameron #3
I try to nod, but the motion is limited by his being stuffed into my mouth, and I squeeze my thighs together to give my own pulsing length some relief. For a moment, I’m startled by the realization that I might come in my pants just from blowing him.
Lifting my gaze once more, I meet his eyes, taking in the small beads of sweat on his hairline and his parted lips. At the sight of me staring up at him, Atticus’s hips stutter once more, and he grunts.
“How much can you take? I want to feed you all of me.” He pulls out of my mouth, giving me room to speak.
But I don’t want questions. I don’t want to answer them. I just want him to use me however he wants and let me forget about the consequences.
“I’ll take whatever you give me,” I say instead, hoping that’s enough.
It is more than enough if Atticus’s reaction is anything to go on. He growls, moving his hand to grip the hair at the top of my head and dragging my head forward. His head shoves back into my mouth, the length of him sliding over my tongue until I choke, taking more this time.
I ignore the choking, the desire to spit him out, and suck him, lick him, taste him. More of his precome floods my mouth, making me delirious with desire as I swallow it down.
“Cameron,” Atticus moans, and his hips shove forward, pushing the head of his dick past the tight seal of my throat and burying himself all the way inside of my mouth.
I can’t breathe. Suddenly, my airways are closed off, and I can feel him everywhere. No thoughts, no fears, just this. Just his skin and his smell and the sound of his ragged breathing.
Tears leak from my eyes, my face no doubt darkening as I stare up at him, my hands falling limply to my lap. But as I watch the fire in his eyes, I can’t seem to control myself. One hand moves to grip myself through my shorts, squeezing painfully.
“Off,” Atticus snaps. “No touching.”
My hand unclenches, and I let my arms fall to my sides as he grinds against my face, his heavy balls slapping my chin.
His hand that is not clutching my hair lies flat against my throat, palm rubbing over my Adam’s apple.
“I can… I can feel myself here,” he breathes. “You look so good crying for me, sweetheart. Do you want to eat my come? Do you want me to feed you, mark you from the inside out?”
He pulls back just enough to let me take in a deep, choking breath, then plunges down my throat once more. Instinctively, I swallow around him, trying to clear my airway.
“Fuck!” Atticus shouts. “Gonna feed you. Gonna fill you up now, Cam.”
A muffled, desperate sound leaves me as I dig my tongue into the skin of his pulsing shaft. It swells, filling my mouth even more, and his grinding turns frantic and rough.
“Here you go, baby. Take what you need. Swallow it all.” He’s panting harder now, words rushed and rough as he suddenly explodes in my mouth.
And it tastes like heaven.
I’m mostly certain that it has nothing to do with actually enjoying the taste of come and everything to do with knowing that I pulled it from him. That I’m sucking him dry.
Atticus releases a deep, sated groan, his hips slowing to a steady, invasive grind as he fucks his come further down my throat, feeding me just as he promised.
The hand on my throat tightens slightly, massaging my skin, feeling himself there.
As if he’s helping me, rubbing himself through my straining neck.
And as he comes down, he pulls out gently, allowing me to sputter and cough. The edges of my vision have gone dark at some unknown point, and the realization that I would have let him knock me out with his dick, suffocating me, and I would have done it happily, hits me like a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Good fucking job, sweetheart,” Atticus praises, petting my hair. “You felt so good around me, looked so pretty.”
A soft cry leaves me, and I lean into his touch, nuzzling his thigh. Like a pathetic little bitch. But I can’t think about that, not with his taste on my tongue and his smell crowding my senses.
“Now stand. On your feet,” he demands, and his hands wrap around my biceps as he helps me up.
Oh. It’s over.
Disappointment crashes over me in waves, alongside the realization that I haven’t thought about my shitty morning once since he shoved his hard length in my mouth.
It worked. He got me out of my own head. Now, will I have to return to it?
Only Atticus doesn’t send me away. Instead, a greedy smile forms over his lips as he peers down at me, rubbing his thumb over my cheek to collect my tears.
“Let’s fix this now, hm?” he asks, his other hand falling to squeeze me through my shorts.
“S-shit!” I sputter, tilting towards him and covering his hand with my own.
Atticus leans down and whispers into my ear, “Turn around. Hands on the tree, legs spread.”
Pleasure and terror shoot through me, my dick jumping in his hand, but my mind suddenly reeling once more.
“W-why?” I gasp out, my eyes fighting to stay open.
“Because,” Atticus explains, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of my ear and causing me to shudder. “Now I want you sobbing.”