Page 18 of View From the Bottom

Frankie eased the door shut behind him, leaving it slightly ajar, and kicked off his sneakers. Trent knew his way out. He’d be fine. Frankie’s bag was dropped, and he stared into my eyes for a moment before glancing down at my lean frame. Waiting for him.

To take control.

To take advantage.

To take… anything he fucking wanted.

He noticed my growing erection and licked his lips. “Marco.” It was said as seductively as I’d ever heard my name pronounced.

He immediately approached me, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans before shifting to sit on the edge of our king-size bed, spreading his legs wide.

Fucking tease.

I crawled between them and buried my face in his crotch. Warmth radiated from beneath the fabric of his navy briefs. The bulge that was housed in them, the one that always seemed to protrude no matter what Frankie wore, shifted and grew at the sensation of my touch. A stifled moan fell from his lips as his neck rolled back on his shoulders, his head falling behind them.

“It’s been a long day, babe. Our flight was kind of rough, and traffic was a disaster in the tunnel. I could really use your throat to help me relax.”

Jackpot.

His jeans fell to the floor as he shifted his weight to allow me to yank them from his frame. The briefs remained in place… for now.

In an instant, my nose was buried in the gap between his hairy thigh and the pouch of his underwear, nearly overflowing with the goodness trapped inside. I inhaled deeply and took in the masculine scent of a man who’d been working hard, a man who’d showered that morning but spent the rest of the day working up a frustrated sweat in cramped and uncomfortable forms of transportation.

Frankie smelled incredible as I thrashed my face around in his crotch—natural and comfortable with an easy, spicy finish. My eagerness was unhidden, my desire for his body apparent. My watering mouth covered the bulge in his briefs, pulling the weighty mound into me. His length firmed up and stretched at the fabric as my mouth ran circles around his manhood, licking at the cotton, attempting to devour him through his underwear as he moaned. Low, heady grunts dripping with sexual need filled the empty space in the room.

Standing at full attention, my cock sprouted pearlescent beads of precome that dripped down my length and pooled on the hardwood floor between us, creating a clouded puddle ofliquid sex. It flowed more freely as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of Frankie’s briefs and pulled them down his legs, finally exposing him—all of him—to me.

The only article of clothing remaining on his frame was his T-shirt, which I couldn’t be bothered to remove just then.

His growing cock, so commanding, so proud, quickly found its way into my warm mouth. Frankie grunted a long sigh as I took his length into me, as I enveloped him, as I tasted his warm, salty, goodness. My tongue traced its way over the thick vein that forged along the bottom of his length, the length that carried his urethra, the one that spasmed and throbbed in heat when he delivered his loads.

The tip of him pressed against my throat, goading me, and I easily opened for him so he could slide further down, so he could feel a grip much warmer and tighter around him. I’d trained myself to be able to take him as deep as he needed me to years ago, and it was one of my greatest points of pride. Sometimes, I would simply milk him with my throat muscles, pulling his load into me using nothing more than my pharynx. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those times, though.

I massaged the head of his cock, inviting him into me as deeply as he felt like going, enjoying the feeling of his firmness in my mouth, relishing the warmth of his flesh, frolicking in the seasoned forest of his pubic hair.

My nose inhaled his scent, his masculinity, his reckless ruggedness, which made it easier for me to open myself even further to his welcomed intrusion. I swallowed and took him all the way into me. Frankie moaned. I gulped again. And again. And again. Until he pulled himself from my throat and removed his length from my mouth, grasping the back of my head with his strong hand.

“I don’t wanna come yet, babe,” he announced between deep breaths. “That throat of yours feels too good.”

My eyes roamed over his body: his perfect proportions, his tight definition, his hairy thighs and even hairier balls. His full, shimmering cock that dripped with my spittle. In his lounging position, with his weight resting on his elbows behind him, his dick rested firmly against his abdomen, his T-shirt acting as a barrier, becoming damp under its weight.

Frankie sat up and tore his T-shirt over his head, tossing it to me as he smirked. I caught it, brought it to my face, and inhaled his scent deeply: his sweat, the vibrant notes of his cologne that danced on the fabric.

“Fuck, Marco,” he moaned. “That’s so hot.”

I breathed in his scent again, my dick throbbing and leaking another bead of precome. “I’m so fucking horny, babe. I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“Good,” he laughed. “I love knowing that I have that effect on you.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“Clearly,” he chuckled, alluding to the fact that I’d abstained from getting off for three whole weeks.

“No,” I corrected. “Yes. I’ll do that for you. But here… now… I’ll do anything you want me to. I’ve been so hard… I’m aching for you. For your cock. I need it. I need you. And I’ll do anything you want me to.”

I knew my pleading would turn him on, but there was a sincerity behind my need. An overwhelming truth to my admission. I’d do anything he wanted me to because his sexual control over me was so intense. I reveled in my submission. I basked in the glow of his dominance. I’d get him off tonight without coming if he wanted me to.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to fucking come. More than almost anything. But I would surrender to his wishes. Frankie had me in a sexual vise, and I loved it. I loved him.

---