Page 92 of Gym Bros
I let the “angel” glide by this time, wanting him too much right now to get hung up on what he wants to call me. Sucking him is pretty amazing, all told. He’s rock hard, long, super responsive, and he’s not trying to leave bruises on my esophagus. He’s letting me go slow and play, and I don’t hate the way he keeps clenching my ass in his big, strong hand either.
Yeah, I want him to fuck me again. I’m still a little sore from yesterday, but like yesterday, I’m too turned on to care. The hip thrusts I had him doing at the gym tonight had the predicted effect on me. I got hard watching him, and a little obsessed with making him keep going for longer than I probably should have. I’m amazed he didn’t call me out on it.
But I swear, I didn’t planthis.
I’m not sure that statement would hold up under cross-examination, but I didn’t go to the gym tonight thinking, hey—I’ll invite him home and blow him.
I was trying to give him an out if he wanted one by not bringing up yesterday, but I think we can both see how well that worked. It would seem he didn’t want the out, and that’s a turn on, too. But not half as much of a turn on as the way he listened to me earlier. I feel like I owe him a really good orgasm forthat.
A pulse of precum coats my tongue, and I pull off him, not ready for that orgasm quite yet.
With my hands on his thighs, I push myself up to press my mouth to his. His lips part instantly.
“Mmm…” I moan as he pulls me across his lap to keep kissing me. One of his hands is in my hair, angling my head the way he wants, and the other is moving up my thigh, between my legs. When he palms my crotch, I practically stick my tongue down his throat.
He rubs me gently and parts our lips. “What’s in here?” he asks.
“See for yourself,” I say, spreading my legs for him.
His fingers slip beneath the hem of my pajama shorts and find the front of my satin thong. “Feels pretty,” he murmurs.
“Pretty basic,” I tell him.
He grins and strokes my cock through the thin, silky material. “You want to watch another movie, or can I take you to bed?”
“Bed. Please.”
Hecarries methere. With his hands under my ass and my arms wrapped around his back, and my mouth frantically seeking his, he carries me up the stairs to my bed and deposits me on my back. While he pulls down my shorts, I unbutton my top.
“Jesus, you look amazing,” he says.
“You should try complimenting something other than my looks,” I say.
“I know. I know. I’m working on it, but it’s kind of overwhelming. If it helps, you feel pretty fucking good, too,” he says, from his knees with his mouth on my inner thigh.
“Better,” I sigh, letting my head drop back as his lips and tongue trace paths over my sensitive skin. Fine, I admit it. He’s sexy. He’s not elegant. He’s not polished. He’s definitely not sophisticated or worldly, but goddamn, he knows exactly what to do—how to exist—to turn me into a bitch in heat.
I’m touching myself because he hasn’t made it to my dick yet, and I need it. I’m already remembering the way he drooled all over my balls yesterday—how was that yesterday?—the way I’d come with a shattering sense of urgency. Once wasn’t enough.
I meanobviouslyas evidenced by the fact that I threw myselfat him once again on the couch. That I’m opening myself up once more for all manner of business.
With his mouth remaining on the softest spot of my thigh, two fingers skim lightly over my hole. “I’m very interested in this spot right here,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm…”
I lift my sac as I stroke my dick so he can get a better view. He makes a low noise—the way a wild animal might warn you away if you get too close. It’s the sound Siva makes when she catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror—and that makes me smile.
I’m no stranger to feral men—take a guy out of a suit sometimes and an entirely different person emerges, but the raw need in the noises they make never gets old. Samuel replaces his fingers with his tongue, and I whimper with pleasure. His licks are light around my rim, barely penetrative, but wet like his blow job yesterday.
His stubble on my ass cheeks adds an extra special sensation that has me bracing my heels on the mattress to give him full access.
“You like that, angel?”
“Yes,” I say.
“You’re fluttering.”
