Page 73 of Hot Doggin'
“Betty told me I could make a killing! Being a homeowner is expensive. Shit adds up fast!”
“Have you gotten naked in any videos?”
“No! I swear. I always keep my boxers on.”
“How manyloyal viewershave hit you up for extra side work?”
“A few, but it’s not like that! I told them there’s no extra content available.” He puts his hands up to my chest, smoothing them over my pecs soothingly. “You’re the onlyloyal viewerwho gets to see thefinished product.”
Jackass. “I’m warning you, if you don’t quit with the knitting innuendo, I’m seriously going to kick your ass.”
Mac tweaks my nipples through my T-shirt. “I bet if we make out for a few minutes, you would feel considerably less angry.”
“Maybe if you suck my dick, I would feel considerably less angry.”
“That’s an excellent idea!”
He drops to his knees, not an easy feat, considering he has his prosthetic on, and works my zipper open. Mac pulls out my cock, which is still hard from watching that stupid video, and without teasing and fanfare, sucks me to the back of his throat. I choke at the sensation, the heat, and the incredible suction of his mouth. Mac hollows his cheeks and goes to town on my cock, slurping noisily, working my shaft with his hand, massaging my sac. Gripping his bald head, I guide him down my length, holding him prisoner at the base of my cock until he gags and taps my thigh for mercy.
“Fuck, Stiles,” he gasps and coughs when I let him up.
“Get up.” He struggles to his feet. “Turn around.” Spinning him roughly, I yank his ridiculous boxers down his legs and split his cheeks wide. I gather a mouthful of saliva and spit down his crease. It dribbles down and coats his hole.
Mac glances back over his shoulder, looking a little panicked. “You’re not gonna…?”
“You’re fucking right I am.”
I spit again, coating my shaft, and slide the tip through his cheeks.
“No! Wait.” Mac shuffles awkwardly with his boxers around his knees, to the fridge, grabs the jar of mayo, and removes the lid. He sticks his fingers in the jar and swipes a huge dollop.
“Seriously? Mayonnaise?”
“It’s greasy and works a lot better than spit.” Mac spreads it between his ass cheeks, reaches back, and slicks up my shaft. “Okay, I’m ready.”
It’s a little bit nasty, but I’m turned the fuck on all the way. Instead of working him open with my fingers, I press the tip of my cock against his hole and softly thrust my hips, working him open slowly. Mac has a death grip on the counter, white-knuckling it, legs braced wide. His breathing picks up, coming out harsher, more rapid, and he squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s waiting for the pain. Embracing it, even.
“Go easy on me,” Mac pleads.
“Just pressing until your ass opens for me. Relax. Push out.”
“Easy for you to say,” he chuffs. “No one’s trying to shove a baseball bat up your ass.”
“Is that what my cock feels like? A bat?” The muscles give way, and the swollen head of my cock pushes through his tight rim. Mac gasps. “Are you trying to sweet talk me?”
“I’m serious. Go easy on me.”
Maybe at first, but I’m gonna tear his ass up as punishment. The next time he makes a porn-tastic knitting video, I hope he remembers this.
I push in another inch, and grip his hips for leverage. “Don’t be showing what’s mine to the rest of the world.”
“Oh yeah?” It sounds like he loves my possessiveness.
“This ass belongs to me.” I snake my arm around his hip and grab his cock. The tip is wet with pre-cum, and I smear it over his cockhead. “This dick belongs to me. Not the naughty knitters. Not fucking Betty Beasley. Me.”
“Yeah,” he babbles, pushing his ass out further. “It’s your dick.”
“Every time I pound into your ass balls-deep, I want you to say that out loud.”
