Page 92 of Dean

Our eyes meet, our noses touching.

“Kiss me, please. I haven’t gotten my fill,” he whispers.

I descend on him, loving the simple directions he gives me through all of this. I love that he’s a bossy bitch.

I kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulders, slowly moving my way down his body.

“More?” I ask.

“More. Yes, please. Always more.”

I suck on his nipples, licking my way across his ribs that protrude with each inhale before dragging my mouth down to his stomach, to that little belly button I’m obsessed with. My tongue peeks inside that small dip, and Avery arches up into my touch.

He’s mewling, making the cutest sounds as I continue to explore him.

And when I make it to his dick, I run my nose up the length of him, feeling the smoothness of his cock against me. A shiver runs up my spine, anticipation and anxiety mixing together. I don’t want to fuck this up. I want this to be perfect.

But how can it be perfect when I’ve never done it? How can it be when I’m so out of practice?

But Avery doesn’t seem to care. He’s grabbing on to the sheets, his fingers curled tightly near his sides as he holds his breath. Without saying a word, he’s telling me he wants this.

I hope I don’t fuck this up.Don’t fuck this up, Dean.

The tip of my tongue peeks out and slides up the side of his dick, causing Avery to expel a low moan.

“Oh fuck. Is this happening? Am I dreaming?”

“No. No dreaming. Stay awake for this,” I reply, and Avery holds his breath again as I swirl my tongue across the tip of his dick. I can taste him, the small bead of pre-cum hitting my tastebuds.

Hm. It’s not bad at all.

I could do more. I could do so much more.

So without overthinking it, I take the head of his cock into my mouth, and Avery lets out a curse as I suck on him, my hands holding on to his hips as I experiment with sucking a dick. To be honest, I’m not good at it, terrible actually, but the way Avery is moaning you’d think I was performing some kind of miracle, like this is something I’m being paid to do.

No one would pay for this, I think.

But I carry on. Slowly, I pull him into the back of my throat, gagging before pulling off and peering up at him.

“You don’t need to do this,” he whispers, his eyes wide.

“I want to.” So I do it again to prove it. I know I don’tneedto do this. But Iwantto. My cheeks hollow out, each downward thrust an opportunity to try different things. I’m getting a feel for what he likes. For what I like. Never in my life did I think I’d be doing this, and yet here I am.

The slide of my tongue across his cock, the way he feels tunneling down my throat, the taste of him.

And the entire time I experiment, Avery is a mess of noises.

“More—nghhhh—yes—oh fuck.”

The sounds spur me on, my own dick hard between my legs. Reaching my hand down, I stroke it, getting myself off as I work him toward the edge. The sight of me jerking myself seems to light him on fire. His moans grow louder as I work his length. His breathing grows frenetic, patchy. I think he may expire from this.

“Dean. I’m going to come. I’m so close. Pull off—oh fuck—pull off it—you don’t want?—”

I only suck him harder, my fist working my dick into a frenzy. And when his cock explodes in my mouth, it throws me over the edge, messing up the sheets between us.

I hold him in my mouth, keeping the taste of him on my tastebuds before finally pulling off him and spitting his cum into a tissue.

Avery is watching me with hooded eyelids as I take some tissues to the mess I made between his legs. When I’m done, I toss them onto the floor and fall to my side. Avery wiggles over to me, his chest still heaving, his eyes closing.

---