Page 107 of Tagging Bases

“Or something,” I snort.

Charlie’s brow furrows in thought before his eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying…”

I nod, my smirk widening. “Yup. I popped his cherry in the shower. Bent him over and showed him what a graffiti artist can really do.”

Charlie’s mouth falls open in shock, but I don’t miss the way his khakis suddenly tent. “Wow. That’s, uh, that’s really hot.”

Daniel flushes, ducking his head bashfully. I reach over and tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet my gaze. “And you wanna know something else?”

“What?” he breathes, pupils blown with desire.

“That I want to pop Charlie’s cherry next. Can you imagine it? Me sinking into his tight, virgin hole, making him scream my name…”

I trail off suggestively, delighting in the sharp intake of breath from Charlie and the obvious bulge now straining Daniel’s pants. They’re both incredibly turned on and desperate for it. I can practically smell their arousal mingling with the scent of grass and summer air.

Chuckling, I lean back and spread my arms across the back of the bench. “You know, if you boys cover your laps with your jackets, I’d be more than happy to lend you each a hand.”

“Here? Now?” Charlie sputters, eyes darting around the deserted area. “What if someone sees?”

“That’s half the fun,” I purr, sliding my hand up his thigh until my fingers graze his zipper. “The thrill of getting caught.”

Daniel swallows audibly. “I don’t know, H. It sounds risky.”

“Risky? Says the guy who walked the streets of New York in a hot pink mankini.”

“That was different,” Charlie grumbles.

“How so?”

“We weredared.”

“All righty then,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Idareyou to let me give you hand jobs right here, right now.”

“I don’t know,” Daniel says yet again, even though he’s visibly throbbing.

“Yeesh, live a little, Hollingsworth. When’s the last time you did something as wild and reckless as New Year’s Eve? Let me take care of both of you.”

They exchange a heated look, silently debating. After an excruciatingly long moment, Charlie shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over his lap. Daniel follows suit, and I grin lasciviously at the erotic sight before me.

Daniel and Charlie, two grown men, sit on either side of me on the park bench, their jackets draped provocatively over their laps as they manspread shamelessly. Their eyes are dark with lust, boring into mine, silently begging me to touch them.

With deliberate slowness, I reach for Daniel’s zipper first, tugging it down tooth by agonizing tooth. His breath hitches as I slip my hand inside and fish out his straining erection. It’s hot and heavy against my palm, the skin velvet over steel.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly as I give him a few firm strokes.

Keeping my left hand wrapped around Daniel’s cock, I turn my attention to Charlie. His zipper parts easily, and soon I have his impressive length in my other hand. He’s as thick as I remember, but not quite as much as Daniel. He’s definitely longer, though, and the contrast is delicious.

As I stroke them in tandem, their jackets rise and fall with the motion, the fabric brushing against my knuckles. Charlie and Daniel throw their heads back, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Their hands grip the armrests of the bench, knuckles turning white.

“Just like that, H,” Charlie pants. “Don’t stop.”

Oh, I have no intention of stopping. Not when I have them both deliciously at my mercy. I vary my technique, twisting my wrist on the upstroke for Daniel and rubbing my thumb over the sensitive crown for Charlie. Their low moans and bitten-off curses spur me on.

Daniel is the first to crack, his hips bucking up into my fist as his orgasm crashes over him. He spills over my fingers with a guttural groan, coating his jacket and my hand with his release. The sight and sound of Daniel coming undone is enough to send Charlie over the edge.

With a choked cry, he pulses hotly against my palm, adding to the mess.

I work them through the aftershocks until they’re both spent and trembling. Carefully tucking them back into their pants, I sit back with a satisfied smirk, admiring my handiwork coating my fingers.

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