Page 38 of Missile Tow
We yakked for hours on end, placed kisses on each other’s noses, and shared continuous warm hugs. I felt like I’d known him forever. Nothing seemed forced with Chip, as if we were long-lost friends who were also quite handsy. Pooch was at the end of the bed, content with me as an additional person. I didn’t remember falling asleep.
* * *
The buzzing of Chip’s cell phone woke us up on Sunday morning.I’d been in his home for more than thirty-six hours, and this was the first time he’d touched his phone.
“Hello,” he answered groggily. A pause as he listened intently. “Mm-hmm. When did it go out, ma’am?”
I heard a voice on the other end of the phone. Definitely an elderly woman, from what I could hear. Chip was so respectful and patient as she droned on and on. He placed his arm under my neck and pulled me closer.
“I can and I will, Mrs. Hatfield. Just give me an hour or so.”
A bit more conversation and then Chip tapped the screen to end the call, rolling over to face me. I could tell the idea of getting out of a warm bed and into the chill of the cabin was a dreadful thought.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“You ever been on a snowmobile?”
“No,” I answered, not expecting his question. “You have a snowmobile?”
He jumped out of bed unexpectedly, his rock-hard ass on full display. He had a dimple on each healthy ass cheek. Thicker thighs than mine balanced a more muscular frame than I possessed. Chip was a one-hundred percent outdoorsy, nature-built hunk of a man. A total dude who looked like sex on a stick. If we hadn’t kissed and played with each other’s dicks, I wouldn’t believe this man was gay.
“Yep. I do have a snowmobile. I’ll need to use it to get to Mrs. Hatfield’s in this snow, but you can stay here if you’d like. She needs my assistance right away.”
“She lives in Missile, I take it?”
“She does,” he confirmed. “An all-alone widow whose power went out, and now her generator won’t start. Probably out of gas, so I’ll stop by the mercantile on my way.”
“I wanna go with you,” I said. “We can grab my luggage out of the X5 while there.”
Chip turned to face me and gave me a thumbs-up. “Great idea.”
His cock hung thick, my eyes eating him alive from my position on the bed. Oblique muscles, sharp enough to cut diamonds, pointed at his juicy tool. I wanted to suck him dry. The animalistic need to please him assaulted my mind, pushing me out of my usual comfort level regarding sex. I’d ignored my desires all night but was finding the craving almost too much at the moment.
“I’d like to suck your cock,” I announced.
I was certain he’d say we didn’t have time, or he’d insist on reciprocating, also taking more time, but I was wrong.
“You want me back on the bed, or should I stand near the edge?” he asked, his cock responding.
I watched as the thickness doubled, the mushroom head swelling fast. “Just get over here,” I ordered. “I want that fat cock in my mouth.”
The language coming out of my mouth surprised me. I was usually passive in these situations, depending on my partner to tell me when to suck him off. But I felt comfortable with Chip and verbalized whatIwanted.
“Yes, sir,” Chip growled, moving toward the bed.
I sat on the edge and waited for him. He gripped the sides of my head and guided my mouth to his cock. I spent several moments swirling my tongue over the tip, slobbering and teasing the angry head.
Holding his balls in one hand, I slowly took him inch by inch until he was knocking on the back of my mouth. He pushed the back of my head until he was buried down my throat, holding me there, testing my nonexistent gag reflex.
“Fuuuccckkkk,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good, baby.”
His masculine growl had me delirious with passion. I wanted him to know I knew my way around a dick and could suck awatermelon through a straw. Every dirty fantasy I used to keep to myself during sex was now on exhibit. I may never see this man again after Christmas, so I intended to act like I’d always envisioned I would if ever given the chance with a stud like him.
Evan and I had vanilla sex. He was on top—exclusively—and never wanted input on the activity. Perhaps I’d felt lucky to be having sex with him, so I never made any attempts to change a thing about it. Oral wasn’t a priority for him, and he never seemed interested in whether it was for me.
I held Chip’s hips and moaned, encouraging him to face-fuck me. I loved being manhandled, but I also wanted to be an active participant. His cock was rock solid as he fed me, caressing my face with one hand while the other remained firmly on the back of my head, pressing and maneuvering me to his liking.
“You know how to suck dick, boy,” he growled, spreading sexual lighter fluid on the fire within me.
