5. Lennox #3
Thrusting my hips up, I pressed my hard cock against his face, and Oliver parted his lips around it, wetting the fabric of my underwear.
To be perfectly honest, my underwear was bound to be soaked already, and I had a suspicion that Oliver knew that.
His tongue pressed hard against the tip of my cock and pressed my ass harder, lifting me off the back.
His fingers slipped up, yanking the waistband of my underwear in one smooth motion.
That was the word for Oliver. Smooth. Everything he did was like that, from the first nosedive I saw him perform at the community pool to the careful way his gaze swept over the cabin upon entering to the ease with which he undressed me.
My underwear slipped over my cock, and he pulled the briefs down to my ankles, returning to his previous positions as soon as I untangled my feet free. He didn’t wait, and the impatience turned me on more than any careful foreplay could have.
Oliver’s lips caressed my inner thigh, tickling me into madness worthy of a Hellenic tragedy. He teased me as he moved up and buried his face in my groin, devouring me in the strangest ways. His fingers wrapped around my throbbing dick and I could sweat the fucked let out a soft chuckle.
In response, I pressed my head against the back of his head and forced his face deeper between my legs.
My balls settled down the bridge of his nose, and he moved his lips madly against my taint, slowly dragging his hand along my cock, tormenting me with just enough intensity to the thrusts to make me crave more.
When I relaxed my hand on his head, he lifted it and wrapped his lips around the precum-slick tip of my dick, taking me into his mouth in one brave swing of his head.
It ruptured something in my chest. It freed my heart to grow larger and lighter until it wanted to float away from me, from the cabin, from the Milky Way.
I heard myself cry for God, for more, and for Oliver. I heard the moans ripping free from me and filling the snow-blanketed house.
The light of the fireplace danced along the wood-paneled walls as Oliver bobbed his head up and down, rubbing the roof of his mouth against my aching cock on purpose.
My voice rose, stretching the definition of a moan, as Oliver pulled his head back and angled my cock away from me, then dipped down and took me into his throat. Fuck, but he was good at this. And no, it wasn’t jealousy that raced through me when I realized that. It just couldn’t be.
He lifted his head and let my dick fall with a wet slap against my body. “Don’t want this to end too soon,” he said.
“Make it last,” I said, my voice distant, like an echo in a dream. Make it hard. Make us work for it. I guided his hand away from my thigh and under my balls, letting him feel the warmth of my hole.
“You better have some supplies in that duffel,” Oliver said. “I didn’t bring any.”
“Always do,” I told him, my throat closing hard on the last word as he thrust his hand forward and applied sudden pressure on me. I could feel the pleasure spilling through me, welling into my skull, filling my eyes.
“Mm, emergency kit,” Oliver observed. “Do you want to use it?”
“Hell yeah,” I said, out of breath and out of my mind. “Can’t let it go to waste.” I got out of bed, dizzy with all the testosterone rushing into my bloodstream. I rummaged through the side pocket of my duffel and produced the goods, then tossed them onto the bed before returning.
Oliver lay on his side when I joined him, lying down so I could face him. He slipped his left arm around my waist and pulled me in, kissing me while my scent still lingered on his lips.
It was my time to shine. I leaned into him, rolling him onto his back, and did all that he had done to me, hoping it would drive him at least half as crazy.
He slipped his hands under his head and watched, firelight dancing over his sharp cheekbones and perfect nose, eyes glowing with the flickering light. He must have tensed his muscles for me. I had never felt anything so hard under my lips.
As I moved down, feeling the hills and valleys of his body, I felt his thick cock under my chin, pulsing once as I reached it.
My greedy fingers curled under the waistband of his boxer briefs and lifted it over his cock, yanking the fabric down his legs just enough to bare his crotch.
Unlike me, with my happy trail and cropped pubes and legs covered in fine, pale hair, Oliver was all smooth. A swimmer cliche, perhaps, but one I longed to feel under my lips and fingertips in its entirety. The velvety feel of his skin didn’t feel like he’d shaved.
I put the questions well out of my mind as I pressed my lips against the base of his cock and moved them along its length.
He tasted like sweet and salty cream, all soft with a zing I couldn’t put into words.
The mixture of scented soap and the natural muskiness of his body lit fire inside my chest as I took him deep into my mouth.
I had a few tricks, too, and I’d been with guys before. Let him think about that. Where could I have possibly learned to do this? Let it fluster him.
My throat relaxed quickly by the sheer force of will and a little bit of practiced technique.
I took him deep in, my lips stretching down to reach his flesh and failing.
He was just a little too big for me now, but it was something to look forward to.
Perhaps if he let me lie on my back, head hanging over the edge, we could make magic together, but I was too desperate to offer new ideas.
I sped up, sucking him harder so he would see just how maddening it could be to be held on the edge.
And by the sheer rigidness of his dick, I could tell it was working.
His grunts and little moans were further proof.
But my victory came when he let out a growl and pulled his hips deeper down into the mattress, pushing my head away.
“You’re crazy,” he said, the first truly cheerful words I heard from his sexy lips.
“Now you can fuck me,” I told him, tossing him a condom and reaching for the lube.
“Wait,” Oliver said, his tone allowing little debate.
I didn’t think for a second he was debating whether we should go for it. Still, I hesitated as he got up. “Lie down like that,” he said, pressing the small of my back.
“Oh.” The sound came from me with an odd amount of surprise. Somehow, this felt more intimate. Too intimate for a hookup. Or maybe it was my twisted mind confusing rimming with romance. Either way, I relaxed and surrendered to the deep and thorough pleasure of Oliver’s tongue.
He didn’t spare anything. He didn’t hold back.
Easing his tongue between my cheeks, he exhaled hot breath over my skin and sank his face into me.
The warmth and wetness jarred me for a moment, making my entire body tighten in response, but what my physical shape perceived as a threat in one instant revealed itself as a much-needed pampering.
I relaxed.
He kissed and licked, he sucked and even grazed with his teeth, making me nervous and giddy with excitement.
And he kept doing this for what felt like the entire night.
The mattress under me turned into a fluffy cloud.
The night was a warm blanket. The hands holding my ass were tethers to this world and this reality like nothing else could be.
Oliver’s fingers moved closer to the middle, parting my cheeks and giving him space to lick me harder. A finger slipped closer still, adding pressure just under the spot the tip of his tongue played with.
I didn’t protest it. My body relaxed, knowing what to expect from years of doing that much to myself, and I let him sink into me.
Oliver was careful the first time his finger broke into me.
He was gentle and slow, letting it slide just enough to feel me, feel the tightness of the first attempt.
But after the first, came the rest, and I curled my fingers around the comforter, biting a crease of it as I made myself relax for him.
His finger worked me slowly, deliberately, with the focus that was on display in everything he had done around me this entire day. I suspected it was the same kind of focus that defined all his waking hours, and probably some of the sleeping ones.
“God,” I groaned into the comforter, gritting my teeth harder.
He loosened me and stretched me with purposeful movements, his finger probing me deeper and circling me until my eyes rolled back, and I lifted my head off the bed, craning my neck as far as I could and letting a raspy growl from my tight throat. “Fuck. Yes. Please, Oliver…please…”
“You like that?” he asked, his voice mildly amused, deep and smoky.
“God, yes,” I whispered, or hissed more precisely. “More, Oli…” Though I’d meant to say his name, air hitched in my throat, and the V only formed on my lips when all the sound ceased coming from me.
His fingers slid out of me, and he reached for the lube, pouring generously down the middle of my ass and using his slick finger to spread it, to rub it in, to tease me until I wanted to cry with frustration. Fuck me, dammit, or I’ll die right now.
I failed to remember when someone had rendered me this brain-dead with little more than his lips and his finger. Hell, I hadn’t felt this good with anyone before. The magnitude of the difference scared me.
Was I somehow going to walk away from this and be happy with the next anonymous hookup? Or was I ruined for good?
Oliver slipped the condom on skillfully enough to make me jealous again. He was having tons of sex, I could tell. He must have been.
I reached around my back with my right hand, folding my left arm to rest my head in its crook. As Oliver towered over me, I held his cock in my hand, stroking it easily with the lube covering the condom.