Page 32 of Breakneck Hockey

Laughing, I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick and take him all the way in again. He fucks my mouth slowly but with hard thrusts that hit the back of my throat. So much saliva. A little choking. Tears run freely.

He cums down my throat with long cries, and I swallow him without spilling a drop, wiping the back of my arm against my lips.

“Come up here,” he says. Sutter kisses me some more with the taste of himself on my tongue. “Yep, I still taste watermelon.”

I roll my eyes. “Did that take the thorn out of your paw, dude?”

“No. Get on the bed. I’m not done with you yet.”

At least he admits there’s a thorn in his paw.

“I fucking hate you, Sutter,” I say, as I do what he says. Because I just know he’s gonna use his tongue somewhere and his tongue is better than watermelon Jolly Ranchers.

Yeah, I said that. Don’t tell him I said that.

I’m right. He spreads me wide, gripping under my knees, and his tongue slots into my pucker. Oh, sweet Jesus. It swirls over the wrinkles and tries to fit inside. All my nerve endings heighten. It’s a lot but not enough. Only enough to turn me needy and writhing.

“Don’t make me wait tonight, Sutter, please. You got off.”

He smiles against my asshole. “Doesn’t mean shit, Alderchuck.”

“You fucking sadist.”

“But what if you fucked me tonight?”

“Say what?”

I’m usually a proud power bottom—I’ve often been known to top from the bottom—but I’m not that way with Sutter, and I don’t want to give it up. It’s our exact power dynamic that I crave like sugar. I can let go enough with him to allow it, for some reason. I don’t even prefer to be in charge of sex or anything really. But I’ve never found someone, well, like Sutter, who seems to effortlessly dominate the fuck out of me.

Fucking, Sutter. Why does it have to be Sutter? It’s a grand universal prank.

“Don’t worry, I’m not handing over the reins to you. Being fucked feels good and I like it. I’ll still be owning your ass.”

Wow. Fuck, yeah. Don’t think I’ve tried that before.

Crack!His hand connects with my ass. “Good talk, Alderchuck. Now shut the fuck up.” He returns to eating me out. I would ask him what the fuck he’s doing if I’m gonnabe fucking him, but it’s pretty damn obvious. He’s enjoying his work, delighted to take me apart.

Well, mission accomplished. That tongue. It’s something else. Wet. Hot. Knows just the right rhythm. Every sensation buzzes through my dick. It strains, leaking, getting ready to slide between Sutter’s greased-up cheeks. Fuck, that’s gonna feel good. Sutter has a nice ass.

His tongue’s gone. I whine. But it’s quickly replaced with a hand and a condom. He strokes and rolls the rubber down my shaft. Then there’s lube—so much lube—and my cock’s at his entrance.

“No prep for you?” I arch a brow.

“Your dick’ll open me. It’s how I like it.”

I shrug. Alright.

“Besides, it’s not like you’re me in the dick department or anything.”

I punch him in the ribs for that. He laughs. Yeah, yeah. My dick’s not the fat zucchini his is, but it ain’t small either.

He takes his time, working himself down my dick, slowly splitting himself on me, opening himself with my dick instead of fingers. Once he’s all the way on me, he pauses there, pressing his monster hands against my chest, looking to the ceiling for … something.

I’ve lost him. He’s somewhere else.

In the spirit of me, I thrust my hips. That brings him back, along with a murderous glare.

“No,” he says. “Hold fucking still.”

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