Page 30 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

That only seems to turn him on more as I mouth his length again, eventually sucking the head into my mouth. I rub my tongue along the tip and down the sensitive underside, and his tentacles wrap around my body like a hug. I reach a hand up to grip the base of his dick, and I begin moving up and down along him, letting my spit slick the way.

“Dean,” he whispers, and I can’t help smiling around his cock. I love making him lose my last name.

Giving Art a blowjob is fun, and I love having a hard dick in my mouth. Art’s responses are even better. His thighs quiver, his tentacles gently caress my back and neck, and his breathing gets rough. I love making him feel this good, and I want to taste his cum in my mouth.

I let my tongue dip into his slit on my upward glide, and he barely suppresses another moan. One of his tentacles slides down my body, and I feel it grab onto my dick. It suctions on, and… holy shit. It pulsates and sucks where it’s attached, and I can’t help the moan that comes out.

The vibration must feel good to Art, because he starts moaning, and I can tell by his clenching thighs that he’s getting close. I speed up, moaning softly and letting the tip of his cock slide into my throat, where I swallow around him.

He comes with a long exhalation, and I swallow as he pumps into my mouth. He’s salty but not bitter, and I’m reminded again of the ocean as I drink him down. I slow my movement and milk the last of his seed, and then I gently pull off, resting my head against his thigh, breathing heavily.

His tentacle is still wrapped around my cock, and I’m hard as a rock, but I’m also satisfied that I got to taste Art. I smile into his skin and press a kiss to his thigh.

“That was amazing, Dean Miller. I did not last long, but you did state that I would get my turn,” Art says, and I look up to see him staring at me. His tentacle is still softly wrapped around myhard dick, and it gives a squeeze, making me groan. Art manages to lift me to my feet as he stands up, and he places me in the chair and kneels in front of me. It’s so sexy when he moves me around with his arms and tentacles.

He stares intently at my cock as his tentacle uncurls and pulls off of it.

“You look hungry, Art,” I laugh. “ShouldIbe worried about cephalopod mating practices?” I ask.

Art chuckles—a sound I love to hear, since he so rarely laughs—and says, “I am hungry, Dean Miller.”

His mouth is on my cock in the next breath, and god, it feels good. He’s sloppy and wet as he twirls his tongue around my length, and he moans a little as he licks. That’s only more of a turn on—I love knowing that he’s enjoying himself, and it feels amazing to have his mouth on me.

He pulls off, licking at the precum on the tip of my cock. “You are very tasty, Dean Miller. My mouth enjoys your flavors.”

I groan as he sucks me back down. The juxtaposition of his serious words and his sexy actions always get me fired up. But lately I find nearly everything Art does sexy as fuck.

His tentacle slides along my thigh, and I groan, saying, “Yes.”

Art takes the hint, and he’s probing at my ass with one slick tentacle. I willneverget over the self-lubing thing, and as the tip slips into my ass, I moan again. His warm, wet mouth is bobbing along my cock, and his tentacle is sliding deeper into my ass, and I can barely contain the sounds that want to come pouring out of me. Thank god we don’t share walls with another break room or lab.

Another tentacle comes up and gently presses a sucker against my nipple, and then it pulls ever so slightly.

“Fuck, Art,” I pant.

I like when Art fucks me deep and hard, but that doesn’t seem to be his goal right now. His tentacle finds my prostate,and the tip flicks against it, causing my entire body to shiver. I gasp as he continues to rub against my insides, pluck at my nipple, and lick around the head of my cock. As much as I want this to last forever, I feel the pressure building in my body. I was already so fired up from sucking his dick, and the things he’s doing to me feel insanely amazing. There's so much sensation everywhere.

I go rigid, barely containing my orgasm, panting for breath and trying to hold on to the pleasure. I look down and see Art staring up at me, and it sends me over the edge. My hips are bucking up into Art’s mouth, my legs are spasming, I’m groaning loudly, and I feel like there are sparks shooting throughout my body.

It goes on and on, and eventually Art’s tentacle gently slides out of my ass, and his mouth gently releases me. His tentacles wrap around my entire body like a hug, and he gently kisses the tip of my softening cock.

“Dean Miller, I have enjoyed tasting you, and I think we should do this again,” he comments.

I can only shakily laugh. “Yes. Definitely on the to do again list. Just wait until we try sixty-nining,” I answer.

He looks up at me quizzically, and I pull him up, hugging him. I will absolutely explain what sixty-nining is, but not right now. We have cookies to bake, a tree to decorate, and hopefully all the time in the world to explore the sexy things Art hasn’t done yet—and the many sexy things we have done and want to do again.

I can’t wait.

Art

Walking through the city with my hand intertwined with Dean’s feels natural now. We move with a familiar rhythm that’s as easy as weaving through the foot traffic on my own. He talks about the sugar cookie recipe we’re about to make as we walk. It’s his aunt’s, so he tells me about her too. I love the way he shares his memories with me, never pausing for a specific kind of reaction, the way other people do. He just talks until he’s done with his train of thought, and he only expects me to say something in return if I want to.

His apartment smells of cinnamon when we enter. It’s the scented pine cones we bought at the grocery store a few days ago—another one of his many Christmas traditions.

“We got too many pine cones, Dean Miller. Your apartment smells like a strong cup of tea,” I say.

He inhales deeply through his nose. “Mmm. I disagree. That is exactly the right amount of scented pinecone goodness.” He unzips his coat and bends down to peel off his boots. I shamelessly stare at his ass. He’s mentioned on more than one occasion that I’m allowed to stare as much as I like, so I intend to.

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