[ the half moan, half yell may as well have been punched out of keith. up until a second ago, he'd been convinced he was fully in control, in charge and dictating the terms of his orgasm, but all it takes is for a tight wall of smooth muscle convulsing around him for keith to realize how utterly mistaken he is.
the stupid tryst in the library had made it pretty clear that it'd feel good. even without the experience of it, logic and porn made that obvious. when it boils down to it, sex is just about thrusting into a soft, squeezing column of heat and obviously that's what a throat is. not that keith's thinking rationally on any level. he slams his hips into the door, grimacing a little from the impact, but goes right back to stifling a moan when rhythmic pulsing around his cock makes his vision blur. eyes squeezed shut, he claws at the balsa wood, feverish in his need to grab onto something and remembers belatedly that he needs to let this guy fucking breathe.
panting heavily, he reluctantly pulls out and hisses at the loss of pressure. what is this anyway? one real thrust and he's mindless with his own pleasure? well, if nothing else keith is determined to at least one up this guy and not blow his load on the spot, so he grits his teeth and pulls out nice and slow, groaning as he watches his dick slip back into his line of sight, all reddened and slick with spit. words burn in his own throat -- nothing eloquent, just a chorus of fuckfuckfuck but they're not supposed to be talking. he pulls out until just the tip is left in the mystery man's mouth, and keith shivers uncontrollably as his balls go tight and pre continues to leak.
not yet, not yet.
keith holds, breathing labored as he impatiently counts off another silent three seconds. it's barely audible over the sound of his own gasping and the heavy beat of his heart, but there's a wet slippery noise coming through the other side that drives keith's imagination wild with possibility. there's a rhythm to the wet smack and squelch that makes it all too easy to picture a fat dick getting pumped and pumped.
keith gives himself a pinch at the base of his cock, shudders and drives his hips forward for a second thrust. what's the expected etiquette here anyway? slow thrusts? can he do what he wants? even if that effectively means using this guy's mouth like a sleeve? is keith setting the tone here and giving implicit permission to have his own throat fucked raw?
keith moans, then slams his hips hard into the door. yeah. yeah fuck it, the guy can fuck him back just as rough if he wants. he drives his cock one, two ridges deep, muffling a scream by biting down on his wrist, holds the position for another three seconds of paradise before drawing his hips back and going right back for another taste. he doesn't last long; in his fervor he can't stop thinking about the guy pumping furiously at his thick cock and it's with another muffled yell that he comes apart and shoots once down the man's throat and twice in his mouth before finally pulling out completely and collapsing back on his chair, chest heaving. ]
i don't know why these novels keep happening
[ the half moan, half yell may as well have been punched out of keith. up until a second ago, he'd been convinced he was fully in control, in charge and dictating the terms of his orgasm, but all it takes is for a tight wall of smooth muscle convulsing around him for keith to realize how utterly mistaken he is.
the stupid tryst in the library had made it pretty clear that it'd feel good. even without the experience of it, logic and porn made that obvious. when it boils down to it, sex is just about thrusting into a soft, squeezing column of heat and obviously that's what a throat is. not that keith's thinking rationally on any level. he slams his hips into the door, grimacing a little from the impact, but goes right back to stifling a moan when rhythmic pulsing around his cock makes his vision blur. eyes squeezed shut, he claws at the balsa wood, feverish in his need to grab onto something and remembers belatedly that he needs to let this guy fucking breathe.
panting heavily, he reluctantly pulls out and hisses at the loss of pressure. what is this anyway? one real thrust and he's mindless with his own pleasure? well, if nothing else keith is determined to at least one up this guy and not blow his load on the spot, so he grits his teeth and pulls out nice and slow, groaning as he watches his dick slip back into his line of sight, all reddened and slick with spit. words burn in his own throat -- nothing eloquent, just a chorus of fuckfuckfuck but they're not supposed to be talking. he pulls out until just the tip is left in the mystery man's mouth, and keith shivers uncontrollably as his balls go tight and pre continues to leak.
not yet, not yet.
keith holds, breathing labored as he impatiently counts off another silent three seconds. it's barely audible over the sound of his own gasping and the heavy beat of his heart, but there's a wet slippery noise coming through the other side that drives keith's imagination wild with possibility. there's a rhythm to the wet smack and squelch that makes it all too easy to picture a fat dick getting pumped and pumped.
keith gives himself a pinch at the base of his cock, shudders and drives his hips forward for a second thrust. what's the expected etiquette here anyway? slow thrusts? can he do what he wants? even if that effectively means using this guy's mouth like a sleeve? is keith setting the tone here and giving implicit permission to have his own throat fucked raw?
keith moans, then slams his hips hard into the door. yeah. yeah fuck it, the guy can fuck him back just as rough if he wants. he drives his cock one, two ridges deep, muffling a scream by biting down on his wrist, holds the position for another three seconds of paradise before drawing his hips back and going right back for another taste. he doesn't last long; in his fervor he can't stop thinking about the guy pumping furiously at his thick cock and it's with another muffled yell that he comes apart and shoots once down the man's throat and twice in his mouth before finally pulling out completely and collapsing back on his chair, chest heaving. ]