Page 68 of Full Service

It’s when I finally cave and whisper “please” that he takes more of me into him, an inch, just a fucking inch. So I just chant that word over and over, pleading with him.

He finally takes pity on me and swallows me whole, his nose pressed into my neatly trimmed pubic hairs. He holds me there, his throat constricting around my hard length, making my eyes cross, making my breath come out in pained whimpers.

My fingers curl under my legs, and I try like hell to keep them off his head. He wants to control this, which is hot as fuck, and I can tell he’s getting off on edging me. He brings me right to the brink over and over until I’m a sweating, sobbing mess.

“Silas,” I moan, my eyes screwed shut, my abdomen flexing tightly, trying to stave off my orgasm. The flat of his tongue slides along my cockhead as he sucks on my tip like a lollipop.

“Hm?” he hums, and I blink my eyes open. The room swims, the only thing constant is him, kneeling before me. His lips pink and puffy, his cheeks flushed red.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” I rasp.

His eyes sparkle and he sits up, leaving my spit-covered dick to nearly weep.

“No,” he says as he grabs me behind my knees and tugs me forward, my ass nearly off the couch now. I’m slouched down, my hands slipping behind my back.

“Better,” he says, wetting his lips and then pushing my knees up against my chest, exposing me fully.

Fuck yes, I think as he pushes my balls up and swipes the tip of his tongue across my hole. He moans as he does it, telling me how much he enjoys eating ass. It’s a rare find, not many people would want to do this.

Not many people have done this to me, which makes Silas a fucking gem.

He slides his tongue around my rim, pushing in gently and making me arch my hips up, wanting to give him better access. He’s really fucking good at this, his mouth making me sloppy and wet.

“More. Please,” I moan, but of course he makes me wait, rimming me gently until I’m panting and whining. It’s only when I’m nearly crying in frustration that he pushes his tongue all the way inside of me.

I cry out, my body shaking with need. And he continues his assault, making me a writhing, moaning mess, my cock leaking profusely, precum dripping down the sides, needing to come and yet unable to touch myself to do so.

If only I could come untouched like Silas.

Fuck, has he come already?

If he has, that is so hot.

His tongue suddenly leaves me, my hole open and gaping, and then his finger slides inside of me, crooking and finding my prostate. I cry out again, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

“Not yet, Mr. Winslow,” he grumbles as he takes my cock back into his mouth, sucking up all the precum with one swallow and making me bow up off the couch.

I’m chanting nonsense now, just jumbled words as he continues to work my prostate with his fingers and my cock with his mouth.

He really is good on his knees.

When he slides two fingers inside of me, my hole constricts, and I let out a pained moan. Not from being stretched open, but from being unable to find my release.

But Silas doesn’t give in, he just continues the assault until I’m nearly blacking out from the pleasure of it.

“You can come now,” he finally says, and I blink my eyes open as he swallows me down once more, his hand bobbing furiously on the base of my cock, his fingers working in and out of me, brushing blissfully against my pleasure spot.

I come with a shout, my vision whiting out as ropes of cum shoot into his mouth and down his throat. And he doesn’t stop sucking until I’m wrung dry. It’s only then that he pulls his fingers from me and his mouth off my dick. He crawls up on the couch, straddles me, pulls his own cock out, and slides it between my open lips.

I take him, eagerly, letting him use my mouth as a fuck toy until he too is spilling his seed onto my tongue.

When it’s over, he slouches over me, his body shaking, his cock softening in my mouth. I keep him inside of me as long as he lets me, and when he finally slips from my opening, he falls to my side and presses a hand to his eyes.

He’s wrecked, disheveled. The same as me.

“Dr. Sinclair,” I rasp and lean over, pressing my body against his. I’m half-clothed and his pants are around his thighs, but neither of us makes a move to fix ourselves up. We just hold on to each other while we come down from the high of it.

“Mr. Winslow,” he replies after a deep inhale. “We have a few more hours.”

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