Page 85 of Gross Misconduct

“I’m into yours.” Despite a snarky tone, there’s a seriousness to what Griffin says, a warmth that coats his words. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re fucking calves.”

“I like your muscles. I like how strong you are.” Griffin’s hand rides up to my quad, pulsing and tense to keep me up. My ass twitches, greedily wanting more. But as Griffin’s fingers circle through my leg hair, eliciting goosebumps, I realize he’s discovered a new erogenous zone.

“Griffin,” I squeak out as his hand goes higher on my thigh, squeezing it until it reaches my ass. I cry out in want. His tongue goes back inside me. “Yes. Yes.”

I stroke my aching cock, delirious with lust. Wanting Griffin. Not wanting this night to end and wanting him inside me so bad it hurts.

He spreads me wider, plunging two fingers inside me. I imagine his thick, rough, calloused hands, spending all day fixing planes and playing hockey, his manly hands plowing inside me, making me his. I rock back and fuck his fingers.

I nearly collapse when he pulls his mouth back. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to function after that.

“If I ever become a millionaire again, I’m hiring you away from the airport to do that to me full time.” I sink to my knees. His dick tents his pants. “My turn.”

Griffin stands up and leans against the truck bed as I take his fat cock in my mouth. Tasting his musky scent on my lips. I can’t wait to feel him inside me. Griffin pushes me down, then pulls me back, controlling me by my hair. He’s rough but gentle at the same time, my trust completely in his hands. I want to be his toy.

He gazes down at me, and I get the feeling he’s been looking at me this whole time. There’s a purity to his smile, like he’s watching something of beauty, and not some horny jock slobbering all over his dick.

I stroke him while playing with his balls in my mouth, loving the unmistakable scent of Griffin.

“You better have lube in this garage,” I say.

I stop mid-suck when a dog-ate-my-homework look crosses his face.

“What about lube in your bedroom?”

He shakes his head no.

“Lube in your secret doomsday shelter?”

“No lube.” Griffin sits up, the lust vanishing from his eye. “I need to tell you something.”

Oh shit. Guys who need to tell me something during sex is never good news. This is where it happens. The flip. Again, I let myself trust someone, and then they do a one-eighty and cast me aside.

“What is it?” I ask.

Griffin exhales a deep breath. “I’ve never had sex with a man.”

My reaction is the obvious one. I laugh. Because this has to be a joke. Something to lighten the mood before bringing down the hammer.

“Right.” I pull up my pants. “Okay, what did you actually want to tell me?”

“It’s true. I’ve never had sex with a man.” There’s a sheepishness to him in that moment, something innocent and almost childlike that informs me that yes, this was the something he needed to tell me.

“You’re a virgin?”

“No. I’ve had sex with a woman.”

“Right, right. The kids.” I scratch my head. “But you’re like in your forties.”

“I came out later in life.” He shrugs.

I feel like an asshole. Griffin is being real with me, and I’m still in disbelief. Everyone has their own journey. I squeeze his hand, bring it to my mouth for a supportive kiss. “Well, I’m honored that I get to pop your gay sex cherry. The good news is that you won’t have boobs smacking you in the face during it.”

He lets out a small laugh, but I can tell he’s still embarrassed by the admission.

“There are guys who’ve had lots of sex and are still terrible at it. If you can fuck half as good as you can rim, you’ll be okay.” I clap his shoulder, trying to think back to how a coach would give me a pep talk. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

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