Page 11 of No Pucks

He beams under the praise. “You taste so good, it’s easy to want more.” He shoves my slacks down to my knees then pushes me back to a seat before climbing into my lap.

My knee thanks him for it, the ache returning to a dull thud. I kick off the rest of my clothes, leaving us both naked, revivingmy dick in a way I don’t expect. I’m half hard again already, something I thought impossible for my age.

He takes my hand and wraps it around his cock, watching as I stroke him. He lifts onto his knees to fuck himself into my fist. “I could watch your hands on me forever.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever had a dick in my hand, and it’s almost as good as him touching mine. He’s silky smooth, long and thick, with a massive vein curving down his shaft. I’m mesmerized, and my mouth waters.

Do I want to suck his dick? I’m really taking this from zero to a million. “I want to get you off.”

“I want to come with you inside me.”

“I don’t know if a second time is in the cards.” I might be half hard, and my dick wants it, but I have limits. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.

“I can make you come again.”

I lift my brows. “Really sure of yourself, aren't you?”

He wraps his hand around me, and I’m fully hard again in seconds. “That’s what I thought.”

“Cocky fucking bastard.” I mirror his strokes with no idea what I’m doing, though the sounds coming out of him tell me I’m doing something right.

“I know what I’m good at.” He leans down to kiss me, cupping my face, thumb stroking over my jaw. “You’re going to make me come.”

“I thought that was the idea,” I murmur.

“Not for most “straight” guy types. They want to come and leave.”

I pull back to stare at him. “Why the fuck would they do that?”

He laughs. “Because they probably think me coming makes them gay.”

I’m speechless. “That’s some fucked up math. I’m pretty sure I crossed that line when I came down your throat.”

“You’re telling me. I think if a man makes them come, it counts, but people love to do mental gymnastics to justify their fragile mental state.” He purrs his words into my mouth, licking my tongue between them.

“I believe that.” Hell, I’d seen it. Hockey is full of toxic masculinity bullshit, and I guess I’d played into it by denying myself this. “Do you enjoy those types of guys?” I say before kissing him again, slowly this time. I want this second round to last longer. He feels too good in my lap to let go so soon. I want this night to last forever.

“I like being used, but I’d rather it be mutual.”

“I want you to come.” I twist my hand over his cock, branching out a little by using what I know I like doing to myself.

He moans, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. “On your chest?”

“If that’s where you want.”

He nods, fucking himself into my hand more aggressively. But I don’t give into him so easily, knowing he likes to win. I have to play with him a little. I earn another whimper when I slow my strokes and grab his hip so he can’t control the pace.

“You’re mean.”

“You like it.” I bite his lip, reminding him who’s in control.

“Only until it hurts.” His breath hitches, and I slow down even further.

“It doesn’t hurt yet.”

“It’s about to.” There’s desperation in his tone.

I love it.

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