Chapter 20 #2
His lips twitched. “Cock on the cob?”
“Corn on the knob?” I countered.
The absurdity of it finally broke us. First a snort from him, then a full-on cackle from me, and suddenly, we were both howling. The tension dissolved in an instant. It was what made sex with Ryker so different. We could laugh together, even in the most intimate moments.
He tilted his head, considering another approach. “I’m guessing sideways like a harmonica isn’t the way to go?”
“Are you stalling? Because I was serious before. We can do something else.”
“I’m strategizing,” he protested, his cheeks flushed. “You made this look so easy in the shower at my parents’ house. And that guy I saw you with didn’t seem to have any trouble.”
The memory of Ryker looking down at me in the shower while I sucked his dick sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. But I stayed focused. “Maybe start with your hand first?” I suggested gently, not wanting to rush him.
“Right. Hand first. I knew that. This is going great already.”
His fingers tightened around my shaft, stroking experimentally. I let my head fall back with a soft groan, encouraging him without words. His grip grew more confident with each stroke, finding a rhythm that had me breathing harder.
“Is this okay?”
“More than okay. You’re doing great.”
He glanced up at me with a sarcastic snort. “Great. We’ve established I know how to hold a dick. I’m clearly a natural talent.”
I chuckled, running my fingers through his hair. “Hey, everyone starts somewhere. Besides, you’ve had plenty of practice with your own.”
“It’s not the same,” he muttered, his eyes focused on my erection with an intensity that made my breath catch.
Before I could respond, he trailed his tongue along the full length of my shaft in one slow, experimental lick. To my surprise, he burst into laughter, sitting back on his heels.
“What?” I asked, both amused and slightly concerned.
“I’m sorry,” he said between laughs. “I feel like I’m licking a meat Popsicle.” He dissolved into another fit of snickers.
I joined him. “A meat Popsicle? Really? That’s the sexy description you’re going with?”
“Well, what would you call it?” he challenged, still laughing.
“Maybe a love rod or a pleasure pole?” I suggested with an exaggerated wiggle of my eyebrows.
“How is that even worse?” Ryker snorted, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Once our laughter subsided, he leaned forward again to concentrate on the tip. His tongue circled the head tentatively, testing and exploring. The gentle, curious touch was maddening in the best possible way.
Gaining confidence, he parted his lips and slid my cock into his mouth. But almost immediately, he pulled back with a huff. “Am I supposed to feel like a snake unhinging its jaw?”
“Maybe a little.”
“How do people fit these things in their mouths?” he grumbled.
“Practice,” I said, stroking his cheek. “And lots of spit helps. Try getting me nice and wet first.”
Ryker nodded determinedly and leaned forward again. He licked around the head of my cock, trying to generate more saliva. After a few attempts, he stopped with a frustrated expression.
“I feel like a dog slobbering all over you,” he complained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Good boy,” I cooed as I scratched him behind the ear like a puppy.
He shoved my thigh. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I didn’t sound apologetic at all. “But hey, at least you’re making me laugh. That’s a big part of good sex.”
His expression softened. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Sex should be fun. And this is definitely fun.”
He offered a wobbly smile before he got me wet. He took me into his mouth again, sliding a little deeper this time. His confidence grew with each bob of his head, and he started getting more ambitious, taking me a bit deeper each time.
Then suddenly, there was a sharp graze of teeth.
I hissed involuntarily, my body tensing.
Ryker pulled back, his eyes wide with horror. “Shit, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I was trying to—fuck, I’m sorry!”
I cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs to calm him. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I almost castrated you with my teeth!”
“You’re such a drama queen. I didn’t even bleed,” I teased him to lighten his anxiety.
He laughed despite himself.
“Relax. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
He took a steadying breath. “You’re right. Let me try again.”
With renewed determination, Ryker returned to his task. He was more careful this time, focusing on keeping his teeth covered. He established a rhythm, using his hand in tandem with his mouth, which felt amazing.
After several minutes, though, I noticed his movements becoming less fluid. He pulled back, massaging his jaw with a scowl.
“Ugh, I think you broke my jaw,” he complained, working his mouth from side to side.
“First rule of blow jobs is they’re called ‘jobs’ for a reason.”
He snorted in amusement, but his frustration was evident. “I’m definitely getting fired for this shitty performance.”
His kicked-puppy look gutted me. “No one’s getting fired here. You’re doing great for your first time.”
“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” he muttered, still rubbing his jaw.
“No one starts out as an expert.” I stroked his cheek to calm his nerves.
His determination returned, and he dove back in with renewed vigor. But in his enthusiasm, he took too much at once and gagged, pulling back with watery eyes.
I helped ease him off, rubbing his back. “Easy, easy. Breathe.”
Ryker coughed a few times, blinking rapidly as tears formed in his eyes, not only from the physical reaction but from embarrassment. “The irony of me sucking at sucking dick,” he said miserably, wiping them away before they could fall. “How do people make this look so simple?”
“By starting in high school with smaller men and fucking it up a lot at first before getting good at it.”
“That doesn’t help,” he grumbled.
“It should,” I countered. “It’s not your fault your first boyfriend is equipped with what can only be described as God’s personal apology for male pattern baldness.”
It drew a laugh from Ryker before he heaved a defeated sigh. “Damn it, none of this is going how I planned.”
“Sex rarely does, snookums,” I consoled him, my voice gentle.
“But I want to be good at this for you,” he admitted, looking up at me with such earnest disappointment that my heart melted.
“I promise it felt great.”
Ryker pulled away with a scoff. “Thanks for the pity compliment, but we both know that was about as sexy as someone trying to slurp soup with a fork.”
“I’m not lying. Your enthusiasm alone is a huge turn-on. Knowing that you want to be good for me feels amazing.”
He remained unconvinced. “You get the best blow jobs from guys who treat your orgasm as if it’s an Olympic gold medal they’re determined to win, and now you’re stuck with a shitty boyfriend who acts like getting a participation trophy is the same skill.”
“Ryker.” I used his name, so he knew I was being serious. It was important for him to really hear me. “I’d rather have you and no blow jobs than be with anyone else and have endless blow jobs.”
His eyes widened at my vehemence.
“I mean it,” I continued, softening my voice. “This isn’t only about physical pleasure for me. It’s about being with you. You wanting to try this at all means more to me than you understand.”
“Really?” he asked in a small voice.
“Yes.” I guided him up from his knees to sit beside me on the bed. “Besides, this was your first attempt. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and learning to handle a monument like mine isn’t mastered in one try.”
That got a genuine laugh out of him. “I’m sorry, are you comparing your dick to the Roman Empire now?”
“Well, it has caused the downfall of many who got too ambitious too quickly. Figuring out how to conquer Mount Dicksuvius takes strategic planning. You need proper training before attempting to scale those heights.”
He was fully cracking up now, shoulders shaking.
“Plus, much like the Roman Colosseum, my Cock Colosseum is an architectural marvel that leaves tourists in awe of its sheer scale. Both are tourist attractions that people travel miles to see, both make people’s eyes widen when they first behold them, and both have a reputation that sounds exaggerated until you experience them in person. ”
Ryker was doubled over laughing now, tears in his eyes. “Oh my god, Mount Dicksuvius! And the Cock Colosseum,” he wheezed, wiping at his eyes. “I feel like I just showed up in Rome on a student visa to study abroad and accidentally wandered into the advanced architecture course.”
“I’m happy to play tour guide or provide souvenirs to commemorate your visit to my fine city.”
His next laugh ended with a snort. “I’m amazed you didn’t compare it to Trajan’s Column for being so tall and thick.”
“That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said about my dick.”
Ryker tilted his head suddenly, a new thought occurring to him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wait, so if your dick is a Roman monument, does that mean when you come, it’s like Trevi Fountain spraying everywhere? Just shooting jets of white liquid while tourists cheer and take photos?”
The comparison delighted me. “Well, now that you mention it, the comparison is pretty accurate. Famous for its powerful water pressure, impressive range, and the way it makes viewers gasp in surprise at how much liquid can shoot out of something so beautiful. Though unlike the actual fountain, the ‘make a wish’ part usually happens before getting soaked, not after.”
Ryker was still catching his breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t handle the full Roman Empire experience on my first foray.” His amusement faded into a self-deprecating smile. “I’ll keep practicing, though.”
“Don’t put that much pressure on yourself.” I took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Do you know what’s better than a skilled blow job?”
He gave me a wary look. “What?”