Chapter 23 #2
“Good, now open wide,” John instructs, and I do. “Don’t move.”
John guides himself to my eager mouth, rubbing the head of his cock against my lips, smearing precum across them. The taste of him only turns me on more, and I moan as I lick as much of it as I can without disobeying his instructions.
“Tongue out,” he demands next, and he slaps his cock against it a few times before sliding into my mouth, just the head first, teasing me as I feel his Jacob’s Ladder gliding over my tongue.
I told him I’d let him lead, and I will.
If this is all that I get of him tonight I’ll be happy.
But I also really hope he fucks me tonight.
The ribbed sensation of those barbells inside of me was incredible, and I can’t wait to experience it again.
Sitting still is really hard. I want to take more of his cock in my throat, want to swallow him down, want to know I’m making him feel good.
But I force myself not to move, to let him control the pace.
Because as much fun as it would be to really show off my newly acquired blowjob skills, I know this is even better.
The anticipation of not knowing what he’ll do next, the way I don’t have to overthink what to do or if he’s enjoying it because I already know he is, it all makes this experience so amazing.
“Fuck, Chad,” he groans, pushing in deeper. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
I hum around him in response, and his grip in my hair tightens. He starts to move, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, hitting the back of my throat. My eyes water, but I breathe through my nose, relax my throat, and take him as deep as I can.
“That’s it,” he praises, his voice strained. “Take it all. Show me how much you want this.”
I take everything he gives me, letting him use my mouth and fuck my throat while all I can do is focus on breathing.
Drool runs down my chin, and I don’t care.
My own cock is straining against my pants, desperate for friction, but I keep my hands on my thighs, staying still as he uses my mouth for his pleasure.
After what feels like both an eternity and not nearly long enough, he pulls out, his cock slick with my spit. I suck in a deep breath, looking up at him with watery eyes.
He smiles down at me, and earning that smile combined with the heat in his gaze makes me feel so accomplished. I can’t help but mirror his expression as he commands, “Stand up. Strip naked. Now.”
I scramble to my feet, my fingers fumbling as I tug my clothes off as fast as I possibly can.
He watches me with those intense eyes, stroking himself slowly with my spit as lube.
When I’m finally standing in the middle of his kitchen completely naked, he steps forward and spins me around, pressing my chest against the cool tile countertop.
“Stay just like that,” he orders, and I hear him moving behind me. He must’ve stripped out of his pants, but I don’t turn my head to look.
He smacks my ass hard. The sharp sting is a surprise more than anything and quickly fades away to a pleasant feeling. “That’s a reminder to come to me if you want to try any new kinks, not Blake.”
I nod, still bent over the counter. “Yes, Sir.”
He smacks the other cheek. “And that,” he practically growls, “is a reminder to stay away from motorcycles.”
“Yes, Sir,” I repeat easily. Next thing I know, his hot, wet tongue is licking a stripe over my hole. “Fuck,” I gasp, body flinching from delighted surprise. I love this feeling. “Can I move yet?”
“No,” he growls against my skin. “Stay still and let me taste you.”
I’m giddy as he spreads my cheeks wider, his tongue working me open, licking and teasing until I’m trembling against the counter. I want to push back, want to grind against his face, but I force myself to obey, to stay still like he requested.
“Wider,” he grunts, tapping my thigh as he pulls back just enough to speak. I widen my stance and arch my back more, giving him full access to me.
“More, please,” I beg, despite my promise that I’d let him fully take the lead. I’m about to start fucking myself against this counter with how horny I am. With how good this feels.
Instead of giving me more though, he pulls away from me, and I whine. “John?”
“Be right back, don’t move.” I listen, forearms planted against the counter, my legs spread wide with my hole on display. “You okay if I use olive oil as lube? Or I can run upstairs to get some.”
“Oh, let’s use the olive oil! Sounds scandalous,” I tease, but really, I’d let him fuck me with any lubricant at this point. I just need him inside of me as soon as possible.
His hand grabs my ass before I feel the cool drizzle of oil sliding down my crack. It’s so slippery and some runs down my inner thighs. John’s finger drags it back up and circles my hole with it before pushing inside.
“Fuck,” I breathe as my forehead drops to the counter. I love the feel of him inside of me. He quickly adds a second finger, scissoring them and stretching me open. I can’t do it anymore, I need to move. I push back against his hand, moaning for more as my cock leaks onto the kitchen floor.
“So eager for me, huh, Princess?” he murmurs.
“Yes, need you,” I whine. “Please, fuck me.”
“Soon,” he grunts as he adds another finger. “I can’t wait to be inside your ass, but we need to make sure my piercings don’t hurt you before this greedy hole swallows my cock.”
I moan in response, his words sending a rush of heat through me.
Finally, after far longer than I like while John stretches me and fucks me with his fingers, he confirms, “You’re ready.”
My body is humming with need for him. He takes a second, the wet sound of his hand over his cock stealing my attention, before his head is nudging my hole.
He must know how desperate I am because he doesn’t tease me.
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, and I force myself to breathe, to relax, to take him.
The stretch burns in the best way, that perfect edge between pleasure and pain that I love so much as he works his cock past my ring of muscle.
The metal of his Prince Albert piercing breaching me lights up my nerves followed by the drag of each Jacob’s ladder barbell as he slides deeper inside of me.
“God, you’re so tight, so greedy,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. “So fucking perfect.”
He takes his time, slowly sliding in, and when he’s fully seated inside me, he pauses, giving me another moment to adjust. I’m panting as I stretch around him, my entire world narrowed down to the feeling of him filling me so completely—his thick cock and the hard metal piercings creating a texture I can feel with every breath, every tiny shift of his hips. He’s everywhere.
“Color?” he asks after a moment, still not fucking me like I’m desperate for.
“Green. Oh fuck, so green,” I moan.
He pulls almost all the way out, and every single piercing drives me wild as it drags against my rim, the metal catching slightly before sliding free.
Then he slams back in, making me cry out as the piercings punch back inside me.
After a few slow starter strokes, he sets a brutal pace, fucking me hard and deep, the sound of his balls slapping against mine echo through the kitchen.
I’m a mess of moans and gasps and incoherent pleas for more.
“This what you wanted?” John pants out the question as he drives his hips into me against the counter, likely leaving more bruises on my hips. I can’t wait to see what they look like tomorrow. “For me to use your perfect body however I want?”
“Yes!” I cry out. The desire to stroke myself is so strong, but I don’t want this to be over yet. I don’t want to come too soon.
John must be able to tell how desperate I am though, and he moves one of his hands to grip my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. I nearly sob with the intensity of it all. I’m so close, teetering on the edge, every nerve ending on fire.
“Don’t come until I tell you to,” he reminds me, and I whimper because I don’t know if I can hold back much longer.
This exchange might not have involved anything too elaborate, there are no blindfolds, wax, or restraints, but it’s never really been about all of that.
It’s fun, and I’ve loved everything we’ve done, but more than anything, I just want the connection with him.
After what we went through today, I’m more desperate for John than ever.
I want to come, and I want John to be the one who gets me there.
“Please,” I beg. “Please, Sir, I need to—”
“Not yet, Princess.”
Fuck, I want to do this right. I want to be good for him.
I need to distract myself so I don’t disappoint him and come before he wants me to.
Don’t think about John or how hot he is with his tattoos and piercings.
Think about… fuck. My mind is mush, pleasure is overwhelming me, and I can’t even think of something off-putting with how much I’m loving this.
I’m getting so close; he’s stroking me in tandem with his thrusts, each one hitting that amazing spot inside of me that drives me absolutely wild. It’s impossible to think of anything else as he fucks me harder, faster, his hand working my cock with just the right amount of pressure. I’m shaking.
“John, I can’t! Please!”
He moves his hand from my hip to my throat, squeezing as he leans in to speak right into my ear. “Come for me, Chad.”
I let go, my orgasm crashing over me in waves so intense I nearly black out. I’m vaguely aware of myself crying out, of my cum painting the cabinet below the counter, of John’s grip tightening as he fucks me through it.
“Fuck, that’s… uhng.” He groans as his hips falter. He slams in deep one last time, pulsing inside me, the warmth of him filling me up. He collapses against my back, both of us breathing hard, sweaty and spent.