Page 132 of Wrath

“Need it,” he rasps. “But you might be sore from the floor.” His eyes search mine, looking concerned, even as they’re glazed and sagging shut.

“Shut the fuck up, Millsy.”

I laugh and pull off my shirt, ball it up and hand it to him. “Lie on your back. Pants down, knees up like agood boy.”

Despite the slight discomfort of being on the floor, my dick and brain have never felt so good. I want to help him feel this good, too.

I feel my dick perk up again as he pulls his cock out, works his briefs and his shorts down to his quads. Goddamn, those balls. That whole fucking package.

“You’re hung like a horse, Josh Miller.” I get on my knees between his legs, pulling my boxers and my shorts back up over my boner.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“It got its turn.” I smile. Then I run my hands over his long legs—such thick muscle, such soft skin…his little fine hairs, gold from being in the sun…and when I trace a finger up beside his heavy ball sac, Miller fuckingshudders, and he makes this soft gasp sound.

Nearly makes me come again the way his cock juts higher as his balls draw up before my damn eyes.

“Oh, baby. I’m about to suck you dry. You’re gonna come so hard you can’t see straight. I can give you a finger, too.”

His cum-buzzed face stills, as if he’s thinking on that, and I start to lick my middle finger. “Only if you want it.”

He nods, holding my gaze, and this warm burst spreads through my chest—because he’s mine. This perfect boy is all mine. His cheeks flush, and I realize he looks almost guilty.

“Do you want it?” I murmur, and he nods.

“Before us, did you ever practice with something?” I whisper.

His cheeks flame up so damn red. My dick throbs and my balls tighten as he rasps, “My finger. A time or two.”

“Oh Jesus, Mills. You wanna do it yourself?” I would fucking love to see him fill his bottom with one of those nice, thick fingers.

“You,” he whispers. He’s shut his eyes and now he’s stroking his cock slowly. “Fuck, Ez—it’s like I’mbuzzing…”

“Yeah, you’ve got a cum buzz. Lemme in here…” I scoot closer, urging his knees wider. I cup his balls, tickle my fingertips over his big sac. That makes him shudder again.

“Fuck,” he whimpers.

“Sensitive, are we?”

“They got sore.”

“You get hard blowing me?”

“So hard.” He flexes his legs, which makes that round ass flex. I lean down and gobble back his fat erection. I suck him in deep, until my throat hurts like hell, and he moans and his hips buck.

“I’m sorry,” he slurs.

I suck my cheeks in around him as I lift his balls out of the way. I let my finger tease his crack as I swallow him past the point that I think I can take him, deep enough so that I’m almost choking and saliva’s flowing. Then I close my eyes and really focus, blowing him the way I think would feel good to me.

I’m proud of how fast I’m able to get him close—too close. He’s writhing around and gripping the back of my head, saying, “oh fuck” over and over like a drunken sing-song.

I suck once more, gentle, and ease him out of my mouth.

“Not yet,” I rasp. I wet my finger again, and when it’s dripping and he’s started rubbing his own dick, peeking his eyes open to find out why I stopped the party, I pull his cheeks apart. I trace around his hole, just teasing, making an effort to jostle his balls around.

Then I bring my finger up to my mouth and spit one more time, to be sure it’s nice and slick.

“I didn’t—”

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