Page 8 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“I want to.” I lick my lips, coating them in minty saliva. “Like, really want to.”
I massage him through his khakis, thankful the fabric is thin and soft.
“I showered before our date,” he blurts. “Before the cat pill fiasco, not after, but still, I’m only a few hours from sparkly clean. If you wanted me to jump in here, say the word, do you have guest towels?”
I unbutton his khakis, grab the waist of both his pants and his boxers, and push them to the ground in one fell swoop. Kent’s beefy cock pops up, and he wobbles for a moment. He steadies himself on the sink, and before I have a change of heart, I lower myself to my knees and take him in my hand. It’s been a while since I’ve held someone else’s dick, and Kent’s is a beauty. Long, thick, and cut, the pink tip taunts me.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Um, yeah. Definitely.”
He’s looking down at me, watching me stare at his beautiful cock.
“Could you … talk to me?”
The music. The harmonies. The crispness. It’s almost enough. He’s been babbling until now, and his voice will seal the deal.
“Talk to you?”
“Yeah. Tell me what you like, what I’m doing well. If you could tell me, I’m”—if I’m doing this, there’s no reason not to ask for exactly what I want—“good. A good boy.”
Ten years ago. In the sauna. A quick blow job. I barely remember him, but I’d seen him shower-scrubbing like there was no tomorrow. While he was using me, fucking my face, he called me a “good boy,” and bliss washed over me. I felt safe. Cherished. Comforted. I’ve only had a couple of hookups since. Nobody’s called me that, and I haven’t had the guts to ask. But with Kent, I’m at ease. And why not? I won’t see him after tonight.
He reaches for my face, cups my cheeks, and rubs my ears with his fingertips. The music swells as his cock stiffens. Lindsey Buckingham’s sweet voice fills my head, singing about being secondhand.
“Vincent. I’ll do whatever you want.” Kent bends over and kisses the top of my head. “I’m happy to talk to you.” He stands, and the tip tempts me. “Now, please suck my dick like a good boy.”
And with that, my entire body eases, and I take Kent’s gorgeous cock in my mouth. Only the head first, and yup, he definitely showered recently. The mountain spring smell of his soap enters my nose, and the crispness, mixed with a tiny tinge of sweat, makes my dick expand in my pants.
“Vincent,” he whispers and tips my head up, his cock slowly sliding deeper into my mouth. “Please let me know if anything doesn’t feel good. Or if you want to stop.”
I move off him for a second. “More talking.” That’s all I’ve got. He’s showing concern about my comfort, my needs, even as his thick dick stretches my lips. Hearing his deep voice while I suck Kent off might be all it takes to elicit my orgasm.
“Taste those balls,” he coos as I lap at them. “Good boy. Nice long strokes. Get it nice and wet.”
I reach around and grab his ass. It’s fuzzy—thank you, Jesus—and carefully guide him to thrust into my mouth. As Kent takes over, slowly picking up the pace, plunging deep down my throat, he grabs on to my head, rubbing and massaging the dome. I reach down and free my cock, palming it with my right hand while my left continues to assist my mouth in swallowing Kent’s delicious dick.
“Vincent, you’re such a sweet cocksucker. So good.” His fingers brush my forehead, and when I close my eyes, his thumbs sweep my eyelashes. “You look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth.”
For someone who hasn’t been with a man since high school, Kent’s verbal game is on point. His words deliver a tingling pleasure through me. “Mmmh,” I mutter, and then pull off, spit dripping from my lips and his tip to say, “Your cock is fucking delicious. It’s perfect.”
“You like sucking it?”
“I do.” I gobble him up again, doing my best to take as much of him down my throat as possible.
“Oh, damn,” he gasps. He rests back on the vanity. “Legs. Tired. Fuck, Vincent, you suck so well. You take my cock like a good boy.”
His words splash over my entire body, and my dick throbs in my hand while Kent fills every space in my mouth, creating a shockwave of intense pleasure. Finally, I’m able to deepthroat him, the furry salt-and-pepper fuzz on his belly tickling my nose, and I’m done for. My balls tighten, and I know I’m about to make a massive mess. Right now, I don’t care.
My small groans must tip him off because Kent asks, “Are you close? Do you want to come while I’m in your mouth?”
I peer up at him, his cock filling my mouth, and nod.
“Be a good boy, and come for me, Vincent.”
I jerk myself faster, using both hands now, and Kent takes charge. He’s fucking my face like a champ, and my orgasm rises, taking over, and I whimper as he slams his cock into my mouth. Moans sneak out of my lips as I shoot thick ropes all over his shins and onto the floor.
I lean back and rest on the tile, the cool surface shocking my skin. My dick, still dripping, slowly softens and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my current situation. What have I done? Something about Kent overrode the intrusive thoughts. It was fucking glorious. Until now. The marked wave of shame washes over me. The heat of the moment over, I’m tempted to flee, but we’re in my bathroom. My condo. Kent stands before me, still hard, and embarrassment surges through my veins. This isn’t me. I don’t do this. Kneeling on the floor. Where we’ve walked. I don’t even know this man.
