Page 60 of Royal Fling
August, naturally, tried to follow, but I stopped him in his tracks and shook my finger in his face.
“If you join me now, we’ll never get ready, and we’ll be late,” I said.
“I don’t give a shit,” he replied, and I gasped.
“Mr. Prince! It seems I’m a bad influence on you. ‘I don’t give a shit?’” I gasped.
“Maybe you are. Maybe you’re not. What I do know is I’m getting in that shower come hell or high water!”
Well, when he put it that way…
So I succumbed. Of course I did. If for no other reason than because at least when we were fucking, I wasn’t worrying about our future.
The water poured timidly over us from the entire ceiling like rain and washed the day’s woes away. August took hold of my cock, wasting no moment, and squeezed while he used his other hand to fondle my balls.
His lips attached to mine until I was pinned against the tiled wall, completely at his mercy.
He stroked me slowly, painfully so, as his tongue danced fearsome in my mouth, drinking me in. His moans vibrated into my body, making my cock pulse in his hand.
He seemed to notice because he tugged at me faster, tightening his grip. His own dick throbbed under my taint, and I couldn’t help myself when I closed my eyes and let out a wild groan. I was so close to release and ready for it.
But before I did, August dropped to his knees and reintroduced his lips to my crown, taking me slowly in his mouth.
My hands, up until now plastered on the wall, came to rest on his head, grabbing handfuls of his hair and urging him on. Not that he submitted to my will.
He took as much of me as he could and let go. His hands came up to the front of my thighs and pressed while he sucked me.
Slowly, his fingers crept up to my taint and to my hole. My muscle clenched in response as he pushed a finger inside.
“Oh, August,” I moaned, my whole body tensing under his rule, the orgasm clawing at my insides and threatening to spill any moment now.
“Call my name,” he huffed, pulling off enough to speak and then going back to the task at hand.
“August,” I said. “August. My August.”
He choked on my cock but didn’t yield. He kept going, and so did I.
“Yes, my prince. Please keep going, my August.”
My toes curled and breath caught as I shot into his mouth.
August remained unaffected by the change and kept going, drinking every last drop of me and continuing to suck me until I was soft in his mouth and completely out of breath.
I inhaled and exhaled, trying to compose myself, and after a few tries reached for his cock, but he just batted my hand away.
“I can wait. Let’s get clean so we can get going,” he said, bringing his forehead to mine and piercing me with his gaze as if he was marking me with his entire being.
I didn’t like the suggestion. I wanted to reciprocate, to have him in my mouth, to taste his sweet nectar, but he seemed determined, so I let it go even though his dick was still hard and remained so throughout the duration of the shower.
He left me to get ready in the bedroom and went into another room, so I took the opportunity to take the tuxedo apart and feel every piece.
It consisted of dress pants and a jacket, in shiny black, made from a material that felt like a cross between wool and silk, a cummerbund in the same color and material, a white shirt, and a black bowtie.
There was even a pair of shiny leather shoes to go with the tux.
I stared at myself in the mirror once every piece was on and could hardly recognize myself. The thing was snug and moved perfectly with me. I felt like a million bucks. It was hard not to. I couldn’t imagine any person not feeling rich and proper in a suit like this.
Was this me? Was this the Luke that lived in a small town in Virginia, worked as an elementary school teacher, and took life one day at a time?
