“Take those things off,” he said. “Take them off, then take mine off. It’s gonna take all my self-control not to bend you over this bed right now.”
He could have. I would have pressed my chest to the comforter and lifted my hips for him in a hot minute. Instead, as he rested his hands on my shoulders, I pushed the elastic down and kicked my underwear in the direction of my hamper. They’d gotten in my way long enough. My shaft sprung free, upright and reaching for contact.
I used more care with his underwear. Black, tight, straining with a cock I could now see didn’t lack for size. It too leapt free as I pushed the fabric down past the base of his shaft, thick and hot and incredible. I couldn’t help but lick my lips at the sight of it, because I had dreamed for more than a decade of feeling a cock between my lips and his waitedright therefor me to suck on.
Jackson caught my expression. He chuckled, warm and wry. “I want that in your mouth, too, Bastian,” he said. “God, I want to blow my load in your mouth. But not yet. We’re gonna torture ourselves but good before I watch my cock disappear between your lips.”
I looked up at him, past his shaft, up his chest with its light path of hair, to his fiery green eyes. Then I leaned forward, deliberate and defiant, to place a kiss on his flared head.
A groan tore out of him. His cock twitched, and his hands tightened on my shoulders. “Bastian…” he moaned. “You get your ass on that bed before you undo my plans.”
My turn to chuckle. I almost did it. Almost sucked his cock into my mouth and damn the consequences. But I didn’t, though it half killed me to turn away from that gorgeous shaft. He’d asked me to get on the bed, and I complied, shoving the top blankets down so we both had new, soft sheets to lay on. My cock pointed inexorably toward the ceiling in the hope he would put his lips on it.
He didn’t. Instead, Jackson lay down beside me, his own cock rock hard and pointed at the sky when his back hit the sheets. He rolled again, toward me, so he could circle a fingertip around one of my stiff nipples and down the dark path of hair that led down my belly.
“Know what makes a good lover, babe? Knowing what each other like. That’s today’s lesson. We’re gonna lay here together, and we’re gonna touch ourselves. You show me what you like, you see what I like, and we’re gonna come right here, next to each other.” His fingertip followed the path of hair down my stomach and lower, lower still, until it stroked up the top of my shaft.
A shameless moan escaped me. That was the first time a man had touched my cock. It was new and forbidden and wonderful, and I wanted more.
No more came. Neither did I, not then. He rolled over to his back and his hand went with him. It rested on his own cock, just the fingertips, and stroked up and down the shaft. A breathy gasp forced its way out of him, and another, as he worked his fingers up and down his cock.
“Touch yourself, Bastian,” he said hoarsely. “I want to watch you.”
Shyness tried to encroach. I’d met this man hours before. Now he wanted to watch me get myself off, the most private action I ever took. There is more intimacy in performing for a lover, in letting them see what you do when no one is watching, than in the act of sex itself. Sex is a landslide that carries you along and no one stops to notice the way you moan or the particular manner in which you touch yourself.
Jackson could see it all. The way I spread my legs out. The way I caressed my cock, stroked my balls before I worked my way back to my cock again. He watched me place my thumb along the seam on the bottom of the shaft, took in how I stroked it while my fingertips teased the top of it.
But I could see him, too. I could hear his moans, his gasps, the hitches in his breath as he touched just the right spot. By then, my hips had started to lift with my strokes, grinding up to meet my hand with a voracious need to come. His did, too, and the bed rocked beneath us as we caressed and stroked and moaned our way towards climax.
His hand found mine beside him. Our fingers tangled. “Come for me, Bastian,” he moaned, and the sound of his need felt better than my hand on my cock.
My climax roared out of me. I came in a blinding wave of sensation, his name gritted out between clenched teeth as the heat tore through me. Imagining that the pulsing, twitching cock that spilled seed over my hand was his intensified it, until the pulses felt almost unbearable.
Beside me, Jackson’s climax slammed through him. He howled my name as he came, hips bucking to push his shaft through his now-slick fingers. His hand clutched mine and squeezed hard with each wave of his orgasm. His muscles stood taut as he bowed upwards and pulled every last pulse of pleasure from his cock.
It was the most gorgeous, erotic thing I have ever seen. My cock tried hard to rally for a second round at the mere sight of him. But we both collapsed back onto the bed, breathing hard, hands clenched together as if we never intended to let go.
I certainly didn’t.
9THE UNWASHED SOCK, AND AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE OF NEWLYWEDS
We cuddled together,naked and tentative, until the light outside the bedroom shifted from bright, to gold, to the dimness that would claim the day in the end. Neither of us intended to, I don’t think, between the “we’re taking it slow” edict and the negotiations of intimacy between strangers. One of us would roll to talk to the other, then he wouldn’t move back over. The other would roll to answer, and wouldn’t move back over. The first would scoot a bit, the other would shift to get more comfortable…
I didn’t recognize the moment I became the little spoon. I justwas, and the contentment that blanketed me felt normal and right and wonderful. Signing up for a lifetime of this was definitely the best decision I’d made.
After the sky had darkened to a dim twilight, Jackson murmured, “I need to do my laundry or I won’t have anything to wear tomorrow.”
“Don’t do it on my account,” I said. “I’m happy for you to go naked.”
He chuckled. “Not sure they’re going to let me into anywhere with my dick in the wind.”
“I know one place you could get into.”
Playfully, he swatted my flank. I wondered if my cock would ever stop reminding me that hey, it wasstill thereand please, sir, could it have some more? Jackson turned me into a thirsty teenager with his very existence.
“Not yet,” he said. Warm lips and gentle teeth nibbled my ear. “Soon. Now, laundry.”
Laundry is not sexy. No matter how many movies try to sell you on steamy loving while on spin cycle, laundry has no arousal value. I got up and found a pair of my workout shorts to pull on. “Want a pair? I’ve got spares.”