Page 69 of Bobby Green
He couldn’t look at Bobby as he ate—but Bobby was sitting next to him, eating his own sandwich too.
After lunch Reg went upstairs to clean up V’s meal and make her take her night meds. She’d finished her sandwich, but she threw the plastic plate at him as soon as he walked in the door.
He thanked her for it cordially and declined to escort her to the bathroom. She had the bucket. If she wanted to use a toilet so bad, she could not be so damned awful.
When he got back downstairs, Bobby had lunch cleaned up, and Reg realized itwaslunch, and only three o’clock in the afternoon.
He sighed and flopped onto the couch. “TV?” he asked, feeling drained.
“Sure,” Bobby said, a little smile on his face that seemed to be saying something the opposite. Reg started flipping through the channels listlessly, feeling as though his entire day had been ravaged. All the good times the two of them had been planning had been taken over and destroyed by his sister’s mental health issues, and he dreaded Bobby bringing up the subject again.
So he was really surprised when Bobby didn’t sit next to him on the couch.
Instead Bobby grabbed a cushion and threw it on the ground between Reg’s spread thighs and sank slowly to his knees, regarding Reg with a tiny quirk to his lips.
“What’s this?” Reg asked, bewildered and stunningly aroused.
“Just kick back,” Bobby said, his lip quirk growing into a playful smile. “I haven’t done this for fun before. Let me play.” He went after Reg’s belt and the riveted buttons on the 501’s with great concentration.
“Pl—ay?” Reg’s voice shot up when Bobby grabbed the waistband of his jeans and tugged down. Reg was sitting on his own couch, bare-assed naked.
“Yeah,” Bobby murmured, kissing the insides of his knees. Reg sucked a breath in through his teeth.
“Why play?” he asked, his voice gravelly with sudden, surprising want.
“’Cause you need to play,” Bobby said, his eyes sober as he pushed up to kiss Reg’s inner thigh. “I’ve been taught to kiss here and touch there and penetrate this way—but I’ve never had a chance to just… play.”
“Ahhh….”
Bobby’s idea of playing included using the tip of his tongue to taunt Reg’s inner thighs. Reg struggled with the legs of his jeans, and Bobby helped him kick them off so he could prop his feet on the edge of the couch and leave all his body—all of it—spread out for Bobby to play with.
He nibbled. He nuzzled. He tasted.
When he was done with Reg’s thighs—enough to leave Reg tingling and squirmy and sweating for something more direct, more aggressive, more arousing, if that was even possible—he placed both his palms on Reg’s asscheeks and spread them.
For a moment Reg couldn’t catch his breath. He loved a good rim job—he’d showered thoroughly, and he thought… maybe…. But Bobby blew softly and then licked Reg’s crease to his taint. Reg moaned slightly and tangled his hands in Bobby’s hair, resisting the impulse to hold him there until he tongue-fucked Reg to orgasm.
Bobby was exploring. Reg’s job was to be Bobby’s playground, to abandon any sort of illusion that he could control what was going to happen and have faith that whatever it was, he’d enjoy it.
Bobby’s tongue hit the base of Reg’s dick, a particularly sensitive spot that Reg usually pushed at with his thumb when he was stroking off.
Bobby’s tongue was a tease, a delirious, tingly, half-kept promise of a tease, and Reg grunted, “Harder… right there… please—oh God. Yes.”
He was so good. He wrapped his hand around Reg’s cock and stroked, pressing that spot and then teasing his head, licking it a little and blowing on it and licking it, using the faintest hint of his teeth on the bell of it before soothing by taking the whole head in his mouth.
Reg lost words.
It was like he left his body on a glow of sensation and floated above them, Bobby with his green-brown eyes big, fixed on Reg’s face, Reg’s cock stretching his lips, and Reg, half-dressed, splayed, and shameless on his couch.
He spurted precome just when Bobby was tongue-teasing again, and Bobby caught it across the cheek.
Reg suddenly wanted to lick it off, to taste his mouth, to grind up against him.No kisses yet. We ain’t had no kisses.
But Reg couldn’t voice that—he could only shove his palm in his mouth and scream, bucking his hips. He wanted to be penetrated, wanted his asshole stretched and his taint rubbed, and though he’d never had trouble asking for what he wanted before, this—this was too much. He reached down with one hand and pulled his cheek aside, begging without words, and Bobby’s chuckle against his cock reassured him.
“Want something, Reg?”
“Nungh!”
