Chapter 16 #2
I bite down a little harder on his nipple, and he hisses, his hips punching forward, dragging the long, hard shaft of his cock against my chest, leaving a sticky streak of precum clinging to my skin.
Callan’s fingers tangle in my hair, and I wrap one hand loosely around the base of his thick, throbbing erection.
My dick pulses, twitching against the warmth of his leg.
I give his nipple one more lick as I stroke him, too slow and with too loose of a grip to be anything more than a tease as I gather the words I need.
“I want to suck your cock.”
Callan groans, his head tilting back just a little and his fingers tightening in my hair.
“Jesus, Fergie, you’re too fucking much.”
I look down at his cock, taking it in up close now in a way I’ve obviously never done and never even considered doing with another guy before.
He’s cut, his smooth, shiny cockhead glistening, another pearl of precum already drooling from his slit.
His shaft is just a little bit thicker than mine but not quite as long.
For some reason, I find myself fascinated by his heavy balls, wondering what it would feel like to run my tongue over them or lightly squeeze them.
It always drove me wild when a woman wasn’t afraid to play with my balls when she was going down on me, I just never thought I’d be the one on this end of things.
I’m still waiting for it to feel wrong, but it doesn’t.
If I let myself think about what the guys on the team might say, I can feel anxiety churning in my gut, the familiar need to prove that I’m every bit the badass, manly dude I’ve always been.
But just the two of us, here in my bedroom, where we don’t have to justify shit to anyone else?
Not a damn thing feels wrong about this.
“Is that a ‘no’?” I ask, giving him another light, teasing stroke, watching his cockhead swell in my hand and that bead of precum drip down in a long, clear strand that stays attached to his slit just long enough for me to have the wild, passing thought of catching it on my tongue before it breaks free.
“It’s definitely not a ‘no.’” He lets out a gruff chuckle and thrusts into my grasp. “It’s just not what I expected you to ask for. But you can do anything you want to me, Fergie. Suck me, fuck me, eat my ass, lube us both up and frot until we’ve absolutely wrecked these fancy sheets of yours.”
I’ll have to ask him what the hell frotting is later but, fuck, the rest of that list sounds hot.
And the best part is, there’s time for all of it.
I think there is, anyway. We have over two months of training left before the season starts up, and, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason to stop having fun together until then.
He punctuates each suggestion with another thrust, fucking lazily into the loose tunnel of my fingers, his cock close enough to my face that all I would have to do is lean forward and open my mouth. And I could waste time overthinking how to suck a dick, or I could do exactly that.
Callan cants his hips again, and this time when his cock slides through my fingers, I go for it and wrap my lips around his tip.
He goes still immediately, letting out a low, throaty moan that thunders through me like the rumble of a summer storm, rattling my bones and raising goose bumps all over my skin.
His cockhead is thick and hot and surprisingly silky between my lips.
I give an exploratory flick of my tongue along the sensitive little V on the underside where his head meets his shaft—a spot that always makes my toes curl when I’m playing with my own dick.
He moans again, louder, needier, and his grip on my hair tightens, tugging at my scalp until there’s a light sting.
He doesn’t force my head down though or thrust again, and a small part of me wishes he would, that he would get just rough enough with me that we might end up tussling, testing each other’s strength, letting things get primal in a way that would never cross my mind with a woman.
But there’s something surprisingly sexy about the way his body is vibrating with restraint too, his thighs quaking with the effort it’s taking him to keep himself from forcing his cock deep into my throat, his grip tight on my hair to hold himself in check.
He’s right on the edge of losing his mind, and I only have an inch of his cock in my mouth.
How wild can I drive him if I take a little more?
I test that question, bobbing my head forward and taking another few inches. The weight of his cock on my tongue is surprising, solid but flexible, twitching between my lips with an eager spasm.
“Fuck, Fergie,” Callan gasps, his hips jerking unintentionally, forcing his cock deeper.
He bumps against the back of my throat, and my muscles instinctively convulse, tightening around him with a gag that unexpectedly sends a horny throb through my own cock.
“Sorry,” he says through gritted teeth, pulling back carefully.
I grab his hips and tug him closer again.
Not all the way to the back of my throat, but as deep as I can take him before I feel that tightening reflex again.
As soon as I have the basic up and down motion mastered, I start to explore, stroking him with my tongue, testing how fast or slow I can take him, how shallow and how deep, accidentally making myself gag a few more times before I start to get used to the feeling of something filling the back of my throat.
Before long, I’m lost in the rhythm of it, savoring every filthy, desperate, pleasured sound I manage to drag from Callan’s lips.
I run my hands over his body, everywhere I can reach without letting his cock slip out of my mouth, digging my fingers into the hard muscles of his thighs and teasing my thumbs over his nipples.
I playfully pinch his ass and muffle laughter around his cock at the yelp he lets out that turns into another moan, and then I slide one hand between his legs and weigh his heavy balls in my hand.
My body heats and precum drools from my own cock, running down my shaft as I gently roll his sac in my palm, feeling his balls clench and tighten as a strangled sound catches in his throat.
The longer I touch him and suck him, the more the balance inside me shifts from finding his self-control sexy to wanting him to fucking manhandle me already.
I pull back from deep, long sucks with his cock filling my throat to teasing slurps just around his crown, flicking the tip of my tongue into his slit and teasing his sac with just the pads of my fingers.
Callan lets out a frustrated whine in the back of his throat but holds himself still, muscles tense, fingers trembling in my hair as he fights the urge I know he’s feeling to force me to take him deep again.
I smirk and ease off a little bit more, taking my lips out of the equation so I’m only teasingly flicking my tongue up and down, left and right, back and forth against his cockhead.
“Fergie,” he groans.
“What?” I ask tauntingly, my eyes locked on his face, watching the twitching struggle for control, his eyes hazy with lust and teasing, not-quite-enough pleasure.
“You know what,” he says gruffly, jerking my head just the slightest amount, forcing my lips to drag against his drooling cockhead again. “Don’t you like sucking my cock?”
“I like it.” I’m surprised by how hoarse my voice sounds, how much I already miss the feeling of his cock filling my mouth.
“So, suck it, then.” He jerks his hips this time, bumping his damp, swollen cock against my lips again with the slightest hint of a whine in his voice, the tether on his self-control fraying.
I rub his tip against my bottom lip, then smirk up at him. “Make me.”
It only takes a second for the haze of lust in his eyes to give way to the spark of playful challenge.
“You asked for it,” he growls, and his hold on my hair gets even tighter.
I’m expecting him to force my mouth open and shove his cock back inside, but instead, he uses his grip to tug me backward until I’m on my back on the bed with him on top of me.
The weight of his body pinning me down makes me pant and my cock spasm without so much as a hand on it.
He shuffles up until he’s straddling my shoulders, and only then does he force his cock back between my lips.
“Fuck,” he groans, thrusting into my throat, but stopping short of making me gag again. His balls press against my chin in this position, and all I can really see is his hairy belly button and thighs.
He grunts with satisfaction and starts to rock his hips, finding a steady rhythm thrusting between my lips.
I’ve never felt so helpless. I’ve never felt so wanted.
I’ve never felt so fucking horny in my life.
I moan around his cock and reach down to stroke mine.
As soon as I wrap my fingers around my shaft, my hips jackknife off the bed, and I bob my head to purposefully choke myself on his cock again so I can feel that spasm that ran through my dick the last time it happened.
Sticky precum spills onto my fingers, and I whimper and pant with a full mouth.
The sounds Callan makes get more primal.
Grunts and growls and muttered words that sound like my name over and over again, but I can’t be sure over the sound of my pulse thundering in my ears and my own harsh breathing.
He moves faster and I match his strokes, thrusting into my fist as saliva runs from the corners of my lips onto my chin and his cock gets even stiffer against my tongue.
“Fuck, Fergie, I’m so close. Can I come in your mouth?” he pants.