Page 18 of His Dirty Obsession
Pressure was building in my balls. I was close myself, dick on a hair trigger!
“Touch it. I want to see you come now.”
He did as I asked, his hand moving rapidly up and down his shaft, his body tensing. He had to be close, his abs taut. And, God, what abs they were.
I released his throat, removing my cock, and he closed his mouth, clenching his jaw. Yeah, any minute now and I’d see him come, watch as the creamy white spunk shot from his thick cock.
My hand worked my dick, my release closing in on me.
“Come on my face; that’s so fucking hot.” His breathy words, full of want and need, pushed me over the edge. A shout of pure agony and ecstasy left me, and I twitched and jerked as I came.
“Oh, fuck. That’s so good,” I grunted, muscles clenched, as spurt after spurt painted his beautiful face, his cheek, mouth and eyelids.
He licked his lips, tasting me, and the first rope of come left him, hitting me in the stomach. That fucker had some force behind it, and I watched as each pump of his fist released more.
Tasting him was the only thing on my mind, and I bent down, taking his cockhead in my mouth, swallowing the spunk as it spilled from him. Not once had I ever imagined doing this with him, but now I’d started, I knew I could never stop. He was an addiction.
His flow eventually stopped, and I reluctantly pulled away from him, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. There was no doubt he’d wanted that as much as I had, and I remembered what he’d said to me last night, about how he’d let me watch him. He’d known I was watching him, and he’d still let me.
I felt dirty, but why should I? He’d said it before. We were both consenting adults, both fully aware of what we were doing.
I looked down at him to see a grin and sparkling eyes, spunk covering his face.
“Fuck, that was so hot. Why did we wait so long to do that? Help me up, though. My neck’s killing me.” Xavier struggled to sit, and I quickly helped him up as he massaged his neck.
“I…er…I’m sorry.” I felt bad. Lust had completely taken over, and I’d used him, used his throat like a cheap Fleshlight.
“Why are you apologising? That has to be the hottest thing to have happened to me in forever. I loved dominant Ben, and just for the record, anytime you want to feed me that dick, you’re most welcome.”
“You were OK with that?”
“Are you fucking kidding? It’s one of my fantasies, and you coming on my face? Why do you think my skin is so soft?” He grabbed my arm as he stood, wavering on weak legs. I’ll admit mine felt the same.
“We should shower, get rid of this sticky mess,” I said, then paused. Dare I ask him? “Do you want to shower with me?”
“Damn right I do,” he said, making his way to my en-suite. “You can scrub my back.”
He looked back at me, a flirty smile on his lips. Was this the start of something new, or was I just scratching his itch? I didn’t think my itch would ever be scratched enough with this man. Like an insect bite, it’d gnaw at me, demanding my attention.
Stepping into the bathroom, I heard a baritone voice booming out of the steam, singing some random song. Of course he could fucking sing. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. He was an expert at many things, it seemed.
“Come on in, Ben. There’s plenty of room, and the water’s hot.”
Standing for a moment, I watched as he languished beneath the spray, rivulets of water washing away the evidence of our sex. He was fucking gorgeous, and I couldn’t help but admire his body. I’ve no doubt he could have gone with any guy he wanted, yet here he was, in my shower, having come so hard his spunk had hit my stomach. That had to mean something, right?
“Are you just going to stand and stare or join me?”
His words jolted me out of my trance, and I stepped into the shower, squeezing past him to get under the water. Showering together always sounded like such a sexy and sensual thing to do, but in reality, one of you was always cold, and trying to manoeuvre without falling over was tricky.
We managed, though, somehow, and emerged from the en-suite in a billow of steam. I half expected him to go back to his room, the deed done, but he stripped the bed of the sheets, piling them in the laundry basket in the corner.
“If you think I’m sleeping in the wet patch, you’ve another think coming. Where are the clean sheets?”
I pulled out a drawer from beneath the bed and handed him more crisp white sheets.
“Puritanical white, eh? You’re no angel, Ben.”
I wasn’t where he was concerned. That was true.
