Page 87 of Man On

"Two taps," he reminds me. I nod again.

"Good boy. I'm going to fuck your throat the way I plan to take your ass, hard and deep."

Before I can process what he just said, his thick cock plunges into my mouth, battering the back of my throat. I let my jaw go slack and breathe through my nose, relaxing my throat for him to use as he pleases. Now I really am just a toy. The idea excites me more than it should, and I slip firmly into that floaty headspace that only Noah can bring me to.

My hands roam over his thighs and ass, and I marvel at how much of him I can hold in my big hands. Enough that when I grip both of his cheeks, the jostling of him riding my face makes my fingertips fall into dangerous territory, sliding between his ass cheeks. I quickly move them, but Noah quickly corrects me, moving my hands back. My excited fingertips find their way back to the warm crevice of his ass. I don't touch anything specific, too afraid and unsure of what to do, just run my fingers up and down while watching his eyes roll back a little farther with each thrust. Every sound he makes drives me further into a headspace where nothing exists but need and pleasure.

Then he pulls out, replacing his dick with his fingers, wetting them in the copious amounts of drool and pre-cum that dribble over my lips. I have just enough time to stretch out my jaw before he slips his dick back between my lips. His wet hand disappears behind him, and then he lifts one of my hands off his ass and towards his mouth. To my horror, because those fingers were just skimming his ass crack, he holds my middle finger up and closes his mouth around it, sucking gently. I mimic his suction, my dick twitching at the reminder of what his mouth does to me. Then he releases my finger, dribbling more spit onto it, before returning my hand to his ass, except this time he keeps his hand over mine, directing my wet finger between his cheeks.

"Touch me," he rasps, and I know what he's asking for.

Fear and searing arousal mix into a dizzying adrenaline that pumps through my veins, sending heat to every inch of my body. My finger finds his hole, and I circle around it while swirling my tongue around the crown of his dick. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I watch him closely for instructions or some clue as to what feels good. I want to make him feel good. He pushes back against my hand with each slow thrust, my finger teasing the tight rim of his most forbidden boundary.

"Do it," he says. "Put your finger inside me."

God forgive me, please.

With a little more pressure, the tip of my finger breaches the tight ring. Noah hisses, whether in a good way or not I'm not sure, but he pushes back a little more and it feels like my finger is being sucked inside. He jerks, and I lift my head to take him deeper, swallowing around his head while I experimentally move my finger. I start by thrusting in and out in time with my mouth, and then swirl it around before pushing in a little deeper, just to the second knuckle. The pad of my finger brushes against something warm and spongy, and Noah cries out, slamming a hand on the wall. I rub against the spot again and he loses it, thrusting with abandon and moaning gutturally. His hot cum sprays the back of my throat so forcefully I almost cough it up all over him again, but I manage to swallow down every drop before Noah all but collapses on the bed next to me.

“Holy fucking shit, you have to try that,” he says as he’s catching his breath.

CHAPTER 27

NOAH

I'm boneless, trying to recover from the most intense orgasm I've ever had in my life, babbling absolute nonsense for what feels like hours. It’s late, and now that we’ve come down from the high, Lane is mostly relaxed, laughing at me being out of my mind as I describe what it felt like to have his finger in my ass. I'd heard of the prostate, knew I had one, spent a very curious month watching prostate play videos almost exclusively and trying to do it myself with no luck. I just thought it wasn't my thing.

It's definitely my thing. It was intense in the most inexplicable way. I’ve never had an orgasm make me see colors before. Is that why rainbows are a thing?

Could I be a bottom? I'd always imagined myself as a top when it came to Lane—because yes, I've absolutely imagined it. Many times.

Lane's finger was thick and burned at first. But his entire cock? I don't know about that. I look at it, innocently laying off to the side like it isn't menacing. Even half hard, it's fucking massive.

"Have you ever measured that thing?"

Lane chokes out a laugh. "What?"

"That fucking python you call a cock. Have you ever measured it?"

"No." A flush creeps up his neck that makes me want to crawl on top of him. Why is it so sexy when he's flustered?

"Don't you dare try to cover it up. I'm not done looking at it yet."

I might never be. It's the most interesting cock I've ever seen. Not that I've seen a lot of cocks. I mean, I've seen my fair share in the locker room and watching porn and stuff, but I've only ever seen my own up close and personal. But his is so different from mine. The foreskin is different, obviously. It's my current obsession and I’m jealous of it. I'd probably play with it all day if I had it. I'd play with his all day if he let me.

"I think if we folded your dick in half, it would be almost the same size as mine," I observe.

"It's not that big," he says shyly, laughing when I smack his hand away when he tries to cover himself. "Do you have to make this weird?'

"Tell me any part of this that isn't already weird," I point out. His face falls, and I cringe, worried that he'll start freaking out at the reminder that he's doing gay stuff with his stepbrother. Repeatedly. And enjoying it. Begging for it, even. "Hot as fuck though, amiright?"

Lane rolls his eyes and sits up. "I'm going to go clean up," he says, staring down at his hand like it doesn't belong to him.

"Oh, no you don't," I tell him, pulling him back down on the bed. "It's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

"Give you the gift of knowledge." I smirk at my biblical joke, but I'm not sure he appreciates it. His eyes are wide with what might be terror as I crawl over his legs and settle between them. Ignoring his obvious trepidation, because he knows how to tell me to stop if he wants me to, I hook my forearms under the back of his knees to pull him down so he's laying flat on the pillows again, with his knees bent on either side of me.

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