Page 35 of Father Figure

“Let’s go,” I demanded, sliding my arm around his shoulders. “I think we’ve had enough fun for one night.”

Nicky dropped his hand to my ass and squeezed, then giggled, and I didn’t say a word. Again, there was no point while he was still this intoxicated. “I think I’m gonna start calling you ‘Tricky Nicky’ because that was a clever trick you pulled, running off and joining the circus like that, while my back was turned.”

His other hand, the one that wasn’t squeezing my butt cheeks, draped across my chest. “No, you should call me Philip McCrack,” he slurred, “‘cause I want you to fill up my?—”

“Okay, Nicky, I get it.” Jesus Christ. How did I not know the boy was a lush? Of course, Sam was no help, not even trying to hide his laughter as we ambled back to the boat.

“That’s a good one, kid. I’m definitely going to call you Phillip from now on.”

“Nooo,” Nicky pouted, swatting Sam’s ass. What the hell? “I like it when you call me little Nicky.”

Since when had he started calling him that?

“We should get a room at that meat market hotel with all the naked gay men,” Nicky suggested.

Like fucking hell. He was horny enough without adding fuel to the fire.

Sam laughed. “That’s a great idea, Philip.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve had it with the both of you tonight.”

“Help me get him to bed,” I urged Sam as soon as we boarded the boat. He helped me get Nicky down the narrow stairs and into the bottom bunk—My bunk—because that was easiest. Fuck it, it wasn’t like I didn’t have other options. I could take his bed, or one of the guest cabins, or even sleep up on the deck. One by one, I pulled off his shoes and then covered him with the blanket.

“Good night, Philip McCrack,” I murmured, placing a kiss on his forehead. He was already dead to the world.

“I’m gonna hit the shower. Want to join me?” Sam asked.

Yes, and no. “I’ll be right there.”

Sam hadn’t allowed me into the shower with him, or his bed, or anything else in days, not since he stood his ground and said he wouldn’t be Nicky’s replacement. Not that I could blame him, but my desire had built to unmanageable levels, and I needed him.

Then again, was it really him I needed?

When the water ran hot enough to fill the tiny bathroom with steam, I squeezed into the stall with Sam, our bodies practically flush in the cramped space. Awkwardly and not without a good laugh, we managed to soap each other. The slippery slide of his body against mine, his cock pressed against mine, reminded me how many days it had been since I last shot my release.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I hissed, grabbing both our cocks in my grip.

“Hell, yeah. Stroke me.”

Sam stared down at our cocks joined in my hand, licking his lips, as both engorged heads popped out of my fist, and then disappeared into my palm again. The easy glide made my already desperate need unbearable, and I could feel my heart pumping harder and faster, and my breath coming shorter as my desire heightened. The faster I stroked, the louder Sam moaned, and the sound drove me wild. He had the thickest cock. It was fucking mouth-watering, and I could barely get my fingers wrapped all the way around both of us.

“Coat my knuckles,” I urged, gripping him tighter.

“Fuck you, you owe me. You want my load? Suck it out of me.”

It was extremely difficult to drop to my knees in the minuscule stall, but I managed. Sam gripped the back of my head, forcing all seven thick inches down my throat. I had to breathe through my nose, my fingers digging into his ass as I held on tight while he abused my throat.

“Are you ready to swallow?”

With my mouth stuffed full, I couldn’t answer beyond nodding my head—not that Sam was looking for an answer. He was ready, and he was going to force his load down my throat, whether or not I was ready.

I gagged on his thick white seed as it clogged the back of my throat, struggling to swallow every drop without spilling any. The taste took me over the edge, and I pumped my shaft harder, gasping as I shot my load down the drain. Sam helped me to my feet, using his tongue to cleanse my mouth with his kiss.

“We’ve got about two seconds left before the water runs cold,” he warned, reaching around me to shut it off.

Drying off together in a bathroom designed for one person at a time was more of a challenge than showering together. There was just no space for us to bend down to dry our lower halves, so we had to get creative. Sam shimmied down my body, towel in hand.

“Spread your legs.”

---