Page 19 of Grease & Grips
“Size queen?”
“You sheltered Southern boys,” He laughs, warm and full of sin. “Don’t worry. It’ll fit.”
He leans in to brush his lips against my neck, when I feel him nip at the sensitive skin. It’s not hard, but enough to make me suck in a breath. His clothed body drags against mine, grinding slow against my bare cock knowing exactly how needy I am for friction.
“The bigger, the better,” he whispers into my ear.
The noise that escapes me is something I’d never admit to. My hips buck against him seeking more, needing anything. He hums, pleased, and presses down harder.
“You’ve got more than enough to ruin me,” He says as he licks a slow, deliberate path from my collarbone to my ear where he sinks his teeth in and gives a playful tug.
My hands twitch at my sides unsure where to land.
“You’re gonna let me ride it.” His words hit me a second before his hand does. Trailing slow over my stomach until he’s got a fist around my cock and I’m gasping. “You’re gonna let me sit on this fat country dick and take what I want.”
A whimper slips out of me and his smile turns feral.
“Good boy,” he says while each button of his shirt comes undone one by one. He shrugs out of the sleeves and drops the shirt to the floor.
His chest is smooth and golden, carved up like the men I’ve dreamed about. The kind I used to get off to in secret with their perfect bodies you don’t just wanna fuck, but wanna crawl inside and live in. The kind of men we wanna be if we could.
One piece at a time he strips down ‘til it’s just some navy blue boxer briefs. There’s no hiding anything in those. The shape of his cock is bold and unapologetic against the fabric. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. His hair is wild.
So’s the look in his eyes.
I sit there, still as stone, staring up at him like he’s some kind of miracle. Because how did I end up here? How did a nobody from the middle of nowhere get a man like this? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve him. I don’t know if I do. But right now, none of that matters.
I’ll give him whatever he asks of me.
6
“Stand up.”
It’s not a suggestion. There’s command in his voice now. The quiet kindness we’ve been dancing with all night has shifted, giving way to something more firm.
I rise slow, feeling every inch of skin come alive under his gaze. We’re just two men standing in the middle of this dusty shop. Stripped down and staring like we’ve got all the time in the world to learn each other by heart.
His eyes take me in cataloging my soft belly and scattered freckles. The places I usually try to hide.
I let myself look, too. Really look. The neat crop of dark hair between his legs. The mole on his right hip. His heaving chest as it rises and falls with each quiet breath. His dick, heavy and uncut, rock hard and pointing right in my direction.
There’s no rush or shame between us. Only admiration.
He moves to close the distance between and sinks down onto the shop floor between my legs. His palms glide up my thighs until I’m shuddering above him.
He looks up at me, eyes blown wide, lips parted, like he’s ready to pray.
“You’ve been real good for me tonight,” he says, voice husky but clear. “Now let me take care of you.”
There’s no permission check, only the quiet certainty of him leaning in and brushing his lips over the tip of my cock. The second his mouth opens around me, my name, my breath, and sweet God almighty… my whole damn sense of self disappears into the heat of him.
His jaw stretches wide as he works to accommodate my size to take me deeper. Breath ragged through his nose, he pushes forward slowly until his lips are pressed against the base of my cock, nestled in the mess of my rust-colored hair.
A low hum rolls through him straight into me and my knees threaten to give out right then and there.
Movement starts with one hand twisting at my shaft, his mouth sliding up and down with practiced rhythm. I can see him working his own dick in his hand. There’s a pool of pre-cum gathered in the slit of his foreskin and with each controlled stroke the skin drags over the head, spreading it everywhere. It’s soaked and glistening.
The sight of it has me shaking, fists clenched, trying so fucking hard not to blow too fast, but it’s nearly impossible.
