Page 39 of The Cult

I stepped backward, admiring the vision of ecstasy in front of me, but I hesitated to continue. I shouldn’t proceed. This was a colossal mistake; one that I could never come back from. But his pull was too strong for the push coming from the last ounce of rationale from my brain.

Abel’s pants at his ankles, with his hands around the nape of his neck and a fully erect cock, was the most erotic sight I’d ever seen. He took my breath away. The ridges of his hard muscles and soft skin were driving me insane, and he smelled fucking incredible—hints of mint and pine mixed with bad decisions. I thought I’d freak out because it wasn’t the sweet floral fragrance I’d come to know. But I couldn’t get enough of it into my lungs.

I swallowed hard and began teasing his cock, gliding my hand from base to tip, twisting whenever I reached the head of his swollen dick. I mixed up my speed with swift jerks and painfully slow caresses, and the way Abel’s body reacted to my torment was enough for me to keep going forever.

“I’m getting close,” Abel hummed, peering down at his cock with his mouth wide open.

I released my hold on him and slapped his dick instead.

“Ahh!” His cock bounced a couple of times against his lower abs. He bucked his hips as if begging me to continue. Short, rapid breaths escaped his mouth. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

“Not yet,” I said. Waiting for his breathing to slow, I played with his balls, squeezing and tugging. Torn from playing with his balls or jacking him off, I pinched his nipple instead. There was too much to explore and very little time. I wanted this moment to last because it would never happen again.

I resumed edging Abel when his trembling subsided. Ignoring my stiff cock and need to release, my attention homed in on his dick once again. I spat on his shaft for more lubrication. I wonder what it tastes like?

The incoherent sounds coming out of Abel were intoxicating. His eyes rolled back, hiding his baby blues. His muscles were tense, causing the veins running across his well-defined obliques to pop. “I’m so close …” His legs started to quiver. “Very close.”

I again loosened my grip on his length, tormenting the undershaft of his cock with feather-like caresses.

“I wanna come. Please let me come,” he begged.

“Not until I say.” I leaned closer to him, our chests almost touching. The humid evening made his skin glisten. “Do you like that?” I whispered, biting the lobe of his ear. Beads of my own sweat dripped down his shoulder. I had complete power over him, yanking him between pleasure and agony.

The pre-cum leaking out of the slit of his head doubled at each stroke. “Yes. It feels so fucking good,” he murmured. “So good.”

I was incredible at pleasing my lovers. Making sure they were satisfied—multiple times on several occasions—was my priority. Mind-blowing orgasms were something I could provide. Beyond sex, I lacked anything of value to offer. They would abandon me sooner or later, but they would not forget how I made them feel. How I made them beg for pleasure. How I took them closer to the edge over and over again before they screamed my name in euphoria.

“Lemme come,” Abel pleaded. His sweat-covered face contorted. I didn’t have to order him to look at me when he came because his languid eyes were already trained on mine. He would finish with the image of only my face. In this moment, he was mine.

Finally taking pity on him, I stroked his cock with a steady rhythm using more of his pre-cum and my saliva. “Come for me, boy!”

“Tobias,” Abel moaned. Three seconds and two pumps later, he hit my leg with his massive load. He continued to spew, soaking my hand with his release. “Daddy!” He rested his head on my chest. “That was fucking insane.”

It was the hottest thing I’d ever done. I’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“We need to go,” I said when Abel’s breathing had steadied.

“What about you?” He lifted his head and met my eyes.

“What about me?” I asked, taking a couple of steps back. I picked up his shirt from the ground and tossed it to him. I couldn’t even remember him taking it off.

“Let me finish you off,” he said.

“No!”

“But—”

“We have to go.”

Eighteen: Abel

Iwas high on lust. With my pulse still rising from my Tobias-induced euphoria, I steadied my breathing to ground my body. I had a purpose for being out here, after all, and I would worry about the implications and my unanswered questions later, but damn. I really needed to know. He owed me that, didn’t he?

“Are you …” I trailed off, still a bit unsure whether I should ask the question that had invaded my mind since Tobias grabbed me. “Gay?”

Tobias stepped away from me, shaking his head repeatedly. He’s not one of those closet homophobes, is he? He agitated his hair with his hand then, pulling, tugging, and gripping at the short strands. I braced myself; assaulting his scalp like that, who knew if he would direct his anger toward me. He was clearly distraught, pacing the ground.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he murmured. “What have I done?” Tobias looked up at the sky with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s a fucking dude,” he whispered. He was barely audible, but I didn’t miss his words. Was this the first time he’d done something with a guy?

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