Page 83 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“For my smoothie.”
Scooting down, I rest my head on the back of the tub, and strumming guitars fill the room. The sound is small, only slightly louder than the shower, but when the flute joins, and Christine’s voice arrives, “Oh Daddy” covers me like a weighted blanket. Fuck yes.
With my eyes closed, the sound of water and Fleetwood Mac takes me away, and when I open my eyes, Kent stands naked before me.
“I think I dozed off,” I murmur.
“Good.”
He steps into the tub, and peppers my head with kisses, migrating down to my nose until I let out a small whimper when his lips brush mine. He lies at the opposite end of the tub and clasps onto my legs. With closed eyes, he lays his head back, completely relaxed, as he massages my calves.
Kent’s fingers press and push, and when I pull my legs up a few inches, they slide down to my ankles and feet.
“Oh, fuck, yes,” he moans. His thumbs press into my arches, and I spy his cock stiffening under the still water.
With both hands, he gently massages and caresses my right foot, focusing on each individual toe. I ease my left foot to the base of his dick and glide the ball of my foot up and down his shaft. Kent releases a tiny sigh, followed by more moaning. I slide the foot in his hand up to his chest. My toes tangle in his thick chest hair, and he grabs my ankle, pulling my foot up and kissing my big toe before taking it in his mouth and softly sucking.
“Kent?”
“Mmmh,” he mutters, with my toe still lodged between his full lips.
“My mood,” I say. “It’s, um. Peak.”
His eyes pop open, and without removing my toe from his mouth, he mumbles, “Fuck yeah.”
Laughter pours out of me. The sound of him attempting speech with my toe in his mouth tickles me more than his tongue lapping at my foot.
Removing it, he says, “Come. Sit.”
Kent places a small, white towel on the ledge, smoothing it out with a few soft pats. I push myself out of the tub and do as I’m told, relishing relinquishing control.
He lowers himself between my legs, glances up at me, and smiles, his goofy grin driving me wild.
“My handsome boy.”
Now, I’ve just turned forty, for god’s sake, but also, when Kent calls me his boy, every ounce of blood rushes to my groin to celebrate.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Sir.”
Calling him this, something I’ve never done but flies out of my mouth like a T-shirt in one of those silly cannons at sports events, just clicks. Surrendering myself to Kent, letting him praise me, have his way with me, and be submissive to him is the ultimate act of power, and my body vibrates with arousal.
My shoulders shudder as he licks the tip of my cock. He pushes himself up and places his hands on my chest. Cupping and massaging, his fingers find my nipples, stirring up more heat in my center.
“Lean back,” he says, and when I do, I’m startled by the warmth of the wall. “Heated tiles.” He gives me a sultry half smile and then takes the top half of my dick in his mouth. He begins to guzzle and slurp, his beard—damp from the shower—quickly becoming soaked with spit and precum as he makes a thorough mess of sucking me off. I fucking love it. My core gurgles with pleasure, and I think about what I can do for him.
With his attention elsewhere, I hoist my right leg out of the water and place my foot on the ledge. Inches away from my cock, which is currently down his throat, my toes are now within reach.
“Fuck, you’re my best boy,” he says, saliva dripping from the whiskers on his chin. “Letting me suck every inch of you.”
He licks my first few toes, covering as much surface as he can, before returning to my cock which is waiting patiently. He creates a pleasant rhythm, alternating between my foot and dick. Feasting on me, he grunts and groans, occasionally glancing up at me with his bright, beautiful brown eyes.
“Kent?” I say when he’s moving in between my foot and shaft.
He looks up at me with an adorable toe-filled grin. “Yeah?”
“My mood. I want your cock in my mouth now. Please, sir.”
He laughs and gently sets my foot back in the tub.
