Page 72 of A Small Town Spring

My own recently spent cock is straining against the sheets, which I’m practically humping as I keep jacking his cock.The first splash of seed on my tongue is so shocking I almost lose my rhythm, but I hold it together as Kingston unloads, coating the back of my throat.He’s panting and groaning, his eyes shut tight, and I take my hand off his cock, let it slide out of my mouth wetly, then I swallow everything he’s given me because I don’t have time for anything else.I flop over on my back, still swallowing, and touch myself, pumping my own length dry, feeling the echo of Kingston’s grip on my shoulder, in my hair.I need that grounding to get there.

I lick my lips, salty and hot, and beg, “Touch me, anywhere, please.”And then his big, strong, gentle hands are on my torso.“Harder.”

He pushes me into the bed, holding me down while I strip my cock in a blur, the orgasm bursting through me, out of me, all my cells singing in pleasure radiating from where Kingston’s hands are pressing me relentlessly into the bed.I vaguely register wetness on my belly, breathing too hard to care.Then Kingston’s above me, pressing me into the mattress not just with his hands but with his entire body, his lips on mine, kissing with the same desperation I’ve felt since the very first time.

“Toby,” he says between kisses.“Toby, how did you do that?You’re unbelievable.”

“Sorry, I just got really turned on,” I say, catching my breath.

“What the fuck are you apologizing for, honey?”He kisses me again.“What did I tell you?This mouth is your superpower.”

“Glad you liked it,” I say.“I saw it in a porno once and always wanted to try it.”

His chuckle is warm and deep.“You can try anything you want on me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”We lie there, halfway down the bed, naked and sticky, and I’m so happy I feel like I could cry.But I don’t, because there’s a scratching at the door, and a mournful meow from the other side.

“Your cat wants attention,” Kingston says, splaying his hand on my chest, making me feel owned in the best way possible.

“Our cat,” I correct.“She’s half yours now, mate.”

“Really?”It’s cute how excited he sounds about it.

“She and I are a package deal.”

“Excellent,” Kingston says.“Now, about that coffee you mentioned?”

Thirty-Four

Kingston

It’s spring at last—again.

The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and this morning it’s even warm enough to eat breakfast on the patio.Toby and I pull the heavy outdoor chairs close together, his feet in my lap as I read through a manuscript and sip my coffee, while he pages through a thick art supplies catalog, circling various paints and brushes with a permanent marker.It’s a lot like a dozen other breakfasts we’ve shared over the past year, only this time I’m allowed to absently stroke the thin skin over his ankle as I read and he can playfully rub my soft dick through my sweatpants with the sole of his foot when he gets bored.

“You planning on giving me an actual foot job?”I ask finally, when I’ve chubbed up substantially and had to reread a paragraph three times before giving up.

“Huh?Oh, not really,” Toby says, looking mischievous and guilty at the same time.“I was actually thinking about?—”

“What?”I’ve come to learn that Toby has wonderful—if sometimes surprising—ideas about what to try in bed.He wants to give everything a fair shot.I thought I was over experimentation, but it’s different when it’s with him.Everything’s new.Everything’s better.

“I really want to draw you,” he says, like a confession.

“Anytime.”I don’t mind being Toby’s model or his inspiration.It satisfies some primal instinct that wants his attention on me—and only on me—always.

“Naked, though?”he says carefully.“On your green velvet chair.Erect.”

That gives me pause.“You want to draw me… hard?”

“Just for me.Not to share.Unless you’d be okay with that.”

“One thing at a time, honey.”

“I’m kind of obsessed with your body.And your cock.And you, obviously,” he says.“And it’s something I need to get out of my system.”

“You’re saying you need to draw me naked and hard for your creative process?”

“Exactly.I need to do this to free up my creative process,” he agrees, nodding vigorously.“It’s all about the art, I swear.”He bites his lip and looks at me hopefully.

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