Page 13 of Play With Me
He’s making out with me just like he did with all those girls at that party, tongue and spit and teeth.
It’s the kind of kiss that makes you lose all reason, all motivation.
All you want to do is sit there and take it.
I moan, and so does he as his fist works our cocks in tandem. Sensation blooms inside of me—pleasure. Pleasure from another guy. A man.
Oh fuck, why does this feel so good?
I thrust my hips up, and he threads his free hand through my hair, tilting my head just the way he wants it.
Oh god, I’m totally the bottom, aren’t I? I’d totally let him do whatever he wants with me. He was right.
He’d be the one fucking me.
The thought of it—of him pushing inside my ass—makes my hands leave the lockers and wind through his hair, tugging on those strands roughly, holding his head in place as he plunders my mouth.
I should stop this.
I’m not gay.
But I don’t.
And neither does he.
Suddenly, the sound of voices permeates the space, indicating that others have entered the locker room, but that doesn’t stop him. Instead, he rips his mouth from mine and holds a finger up to his lips as he continues to stroke us, his movements growing more frantic, more intense.
His forehead lands on mine, and I can feel the puff of his breath against my lips.
“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he whispers. “I fucking knew it.”
I bite my swollen bottom lip, and he leans forward and sucks on it, pulling it between his lips and making my eyes flutter closed.
He pulls away again and licks up my neck, making me arch into it.
“Come,” he whispers into my ear. “Come on. Come, Witkoff.”
Pleasure zips through me, the feeling radiating down my spine and settling in my balls. My cock twitches, and I feel my release barrel through me.
He kisses me again, swallowing my breathy moans as he erupts as well. It’s a mess. It hits our abdomens, our thighs, and some even splashes onto the floor. It’s a tsunami, complete and utter destruction.
Colton’s strokes eventually slow, and he leans away from me, his eyes taking it all in—my blushing cheeks, my cum-soaked cock.
His lips quirk up as he peers at me. His tongue slides across his front teeth, and his hand finally leaves my dick.
“You made a mess,” he says softly.
“So did you.”
He laughs darkly and then leans forward, kissing me once more, our tongues tangling briefly before he pulls away.
“Till next time,” he says, reaching down and grabbing his towel, wiping himself up as he strides away. I watch him go, shocked and confused.
What the fuck just happened? Why did he kiss me like that? And why do I want to do it again?
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Paulie says on our morning run. It’s cool out, but the fall leaves are changing colors, leaving the horizon vibrant. It’s my favorite time of year. That and spring. I like mild temps and changing seasons.
“Yeah, just a lot going on,” I murmur.
