Page 21 of Spencer's Satisfaction
“Not enough,” I tell him honestly, grinding against him deliberately. I grin when he moans and his hands knead my ass.
“You sure?”
“Very,” I insist. “I…oh, God…” he’s started undulating his own hips now, rocking up to meet me thrust for thrust, and it fries my brain for a moment. “I want…Spencer, Ineed…”
“Tony…” I open my eyes, idly wondering when I shut them, to find him looking conflicted.
“I’m not asking you to fuck me,” I tell him, even though there’s a part of me that really, really wants to. “But…I’m not fragile either, Spence. I’m a hornier-than-I’ve-ever-been man who is asking his boyfriend-” because he said we would be exclusive and I trust that “-to put me out of my misery and help me come.” I take a moment to close my eyes again and enjoy the sensation of our denim clad erections still stimulating each other. “I’ll safe word if it’s too much. Just…please…oh…”
“Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay. How do you want…ungh…”
Hearing and seeing him just as affected as me is as much a turn on as it is a relief. “I…I don’t really want to come in my pants but…ah!” I cry out as one of his hands shifts around to the front of my jeans and fumbles with the fly. “Spence…Spence, I’mclose…”
“Have you…has someone done this for you before?” He asks, having just undone the button above my zipper.
“What? Given me a hand-oh,fuck,Spencer!”
He’s wriggled his hand into my briefs and has pulled my hard, flushed, leaking dick out from its confines.
“Answer the question, Anthony.”
Jesus Christ.How am I supposed to think straight when his hand is wrapped around my cock and he’s usingthattone?Andmy full name?
“I…Once…I…” My balls are already drawing tight and I don’t want this to be it. “In high school. I…” My chest is heaving with the effort of trying not to blow my load so soon. “Sp-spencer…not…not here. Bed. Please.”
I almost sob when he releases me, and my cock throbs angrily as I struggle to climb back off his lap.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks me again, and I can see his own desperate arousal tenting his jeans, but he only seems to care about me and my needs right now. That’s a heady realization and it cements my determination.
Yes, this is only our second date (shut up; I’m counting it as a date, unconventional though it might be), but if I’ve learned anything from the past couple of days, it’s that I should definitely not let a good opportunity slip through my fingers.
“I’m sure,” I tell him, looking him in the eye as I do. “Please, Daddy?”
Chapter Nine – Spencer
Whatever vestiges of control I still had over myself disappear when Tony makes his needy plea. I swallow roughly, reminding myself that he made a valid point: he’s almost thirty and he knows what he wants. It’s not my place to judge whether it’s too soon for him or not. If he changes his mind, all he has to do is safe word and I will stop.
“Oh, angel,” I bend down to kiss his swollen pink lips tenderly, “of course.”
I don’t even know if he’s realized yet what he’s done. The honorific seems to have slipped out without meaning, but he doesn’t stammer, apologize, or even blush as he takes my hand and leads me down the short hallway towards the farthest of the two poky bedrooms. It’s almost like his resolve has turned off his inhibitions. I kind of love it.
His room is tidy and spartan, with a solid-looking queen-sized timber bed frame pressed up against the far wall, a bedside table next to it and a timber wardrobe along the wall to the right of the doorway.
Once I’m fully inside the room, Tony closes and locks the door behind me, then hovers awkwardly in front of the bed, his confidence seemingly receding.
Even though I told him he was setting the pace, it’s apparent that I need to take charge here.
“Traffic light?” I prompt as I reach for the waistband of his jeans.
“Green,” he answers without hesitation.
“Okay,” I nod. “I’m going to undress you, then I want you to lie on the bed while I get undressed, too. Do you have anything?” When he frowns in askance, I jut my chin in the direction of the bedside table with its single drawer. “Lube? I don’t think we’ll need condoms unless you’d prefer them for easier clean up.”
“Oh,” he nods, cheeks pinking, “yeah. Lube’s in the drawer.”
“Good,” I say, then help him out of his jeans and briefs first before pulling his shirt up over his head.
Tony looks a lot younger and more vulnerable than his twenty-eight years when he’s finally standing naked in front of me. He’s on the shorter side, with smooth olive skin, a surprisingly hairy chest accenting an average build, and maybe just a tiny bit of extra softness around his middle and thighs. His cock is short and thick, too, straining proudly for my attention. It looks almost painful, with its deep purple head glistening with pre-cum.
