12. Chapter 12 #3
Breathing hard through his nostrils, Frankie pushed Sam off of him and slid his fingers between his cheeks, edging around his entrance and letting Sam’s needy fucking ass bear down on his fingers.
He squeezed the thick base of his cock, feeling him pulsate, and he knew he was close.
Frankie edged his thick finger into his tight hole, and Sam let out a litany of curses and groans, tensing against his finger as he pushed deeper inside.
“Fuuuuck,” Sam moaned, back arching, forcing his finger past the knuckle, inviting him to fuck him.
It never felt like this. It never felt this fucking intense.
“So fuckin’ needy, Sam.”
“Fuck…” Sammy panted out between breaths. “You…”
Frankie growled, slipping another finger in. Sammy stiffened and began shaking, his cock leaking messily all over his hand.
“I wanna milk you dry, baby…” he whispered hoarsely. “Maybe I should use my tongue…”
“Frankie…!”
And he did. Slipping his fingers out, he pushed his ass cheeks apart, dropped to his knees, and pushed his entire face into Sammy’s ass and licked him.
Sam’s whimpering moan was pure fucking sin.
“Oh my God… oh my God…” Sam chanted over and over, trembling violently against him as Frankie used both hands now to spread his ass while he swirled his tongue over his entrance.
He finally pushed his tongue inside and Sam stilled, letting him probe and lick and…
“I’m gonna…!” Sammy yelled, and jerked so hard against Frankie’s face that he crushed his nose and he moaned, liking the feeling of being smothered.
He suddenly imagined Sam sitting on his face, fucking his tongue, and Frankie’s cock, already tremendously hard, tightened and leaked, smearing the inside of his briefs.
He tongue-fucked his ass while Sam fisted a hand over his cock, beating himself off as Frankie devoured him.
He wanted to keep Sam on the verge of climax for as long as he could.
He wanted to do this for hours. He wanted to devote an entire afternoon to this, listening to him moan, and gasp, and fuck his face.
He never thought in a million years that something like this would turn him on.
But it fuckin’ did. And he was one breath away from cumming in his fuckin’ pants.
Sam tensed, “Frank!”
He let out a throaty cry, breaking apart in his hands and bucking against his face, his free hand gripping the patio table.
Frankie hung on, riding out the violent storm that was Sam’s climax, nipping his inner cheek before biting the fleshy outside.
He wanted to destroy him—wanted Sam to know that only he could do this to him.
Frankie speared his finger back inside his ass, and Sam let out another cry as a second wave of his orgasm crashed over him.
“Give me everything. I want it. C’mon… that’s it… you’re doing so fuckin’ good. Keep going… I can’t wait to fuck you and watch you do this again… and again… yes…”
Hot, sticky cum spewed messily on the ground, and Sam collapsed onto the table, shaking uncontrollably.
Frankie withdrew and quickly got to his feet. He freed his cock from his jeans, and with a firm hand on Sam’s back, he stroked himself over his delicious ass, staring at the bite mark on his cheek and the ruined mess Sam had become. Fire coated his insides.
He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. He was so close.
“Cum on my ass,” Sam murmured in that begging tone.
The beast inside his body growled as he beat his meat over his plump ass, and he practically howled when he came. He bucked in his fist, spewing thick, jetting streams of cum all over him.
“Fuck…” Frankie moaned, staring at the creamy bliss all over Sam’s cheeks.
And without thinking, without understanding why, he slapped his ass.
It was sticky and sexy and his. Sam groaned, and he gritted his teeth at the needy sound and did it again, watching the reddening print of his hit on Sam’s pale, wet cheek.
“Frank…” Sam hissed. “My legs are gonna fuckin’ give out.”
He smiled, slipping an arm around his waist and dragging him up, nuzzling his neck from behind.
“Do you cum like that with the other men you’ve slept with?” Frankie heard himself ask, not knowing why he needed to know this. But he did.
Sam reached for the water glass and took a long drink. Frankie released him and helped him pull on his sweat-damp running shorts, concealing the red mark on his ass and Frankie’s bliss. Sam turned and handed him the glass of water, which Frankie drank down in two gulps.
“Tell me,” Frankie commanded.
Sam’s lips tilted upward. “Make me.”
Fuck.
Frankie was on him instantly, pushing him back into the table, hand collaring his throat.
Sam hummed, grinning slyly. “You like being teased. And you like manhandling me.”
It was Frankie’s turn to shiver.
“Admit it,” Sam whispered.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“I like the fuckin’ teasing. And I like it… rough.”
Sam’s pupils dilated.
“Your turn,” he ordered. “Tell me—you cum like that with all your fuckin’ men?”
“No.”
That answer wasn’t enough.
“How many men have fucked you?” Frankie asked, a possessiveness that he couldn’t explain rearing angrily in his chest.
“Five.”
“That’s it?”
“I also fuck, Frankie…”
He growled. “How many have you fucked?”
“A few.”
“Mikey?”
“No.”
Thank fuck.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Frank?”
The beast inside his chest mewled a hungry groan, and he stared.
“I think you do. And I think you want it so much that you’ll beg for it.”
Frankie smirked, “You first.”
Sam, for the first time, laughed.