Page 4 of The Minotaur's Maze
His tongue flicked out, tasting the chlorinated water on my skin. "You can call me whatever you want," he murmured against my leg. His breath ghosted over my cockhead, making me gasp. "Names don’t matter anyway. Just focus on how this feels."
When his lips finally closed around me, I gasped aloud. It had been so long since anyone had touched me like this, since I'd allowed myself this kind of pleasure. His mouth was perfect, warm and wet and eager. He took his time, exploring me with his tongue, learning what made me moan and what made my hips buck involuntarily.
I gripped the edge of the pool, my knuckles white as he worked me over. Around us, I caught glimpses of other men watching, some stroking themselves as they enjoyed the show. The Kraken had taken notice too, two of his tentacles strokingthe cocks on either side of him. The attention should have made me self-conscious, but instead it heightened everything. I was on display, vulnerable and desperate, and I loved it.
He pulled off with a wet pop, his hand replacing his mouth. "You taste good," he said, pumping me slowly. "I like that."
I wanted to respond, but coherent thought was becoming impossible. Every nerve ending was focused on his touch, on the building pressure in my balls, on the way he looked up at me with those dark, knowing eyes.
"Please," I managed to gasp. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it." He dove back down, taking me deeper this time, until I felt my cock hit the back of his throat.
My back arched as pleasure shot through me like lightning. His expertise was obvious, the way his throat relaxed to accommodate me, how his tongue pressed against the sensitive underside of my shaft. I was helpless beneath his worship, reduced to nothing but sensation and need.
"Fuck," I groaned, one hand moving to cup the back of his head. Not pushing, just resting there, feeling the rhythm of his movements. "That's... incredible."
The bathhouse around us seemed to fade into a blur of steam and shadow. I was vaguely aware of eyes on us, of the Kraken's tentacles writhing in pleasure as he watched, of other men drawing closer. But none of it mattered compared to the wet heat of this stranger's mouth.
He hummed around my cock, sending vibrations that made my toes curl. When he pulled back to focus on just the head, swirling his tongue around the sensitive ridge, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.
"I'm close," I warned, my voice strained. "If you keep that up?—"
He responded by taking me deeper, his hands gripping my thighs with bruising intensity. The message was clear. He wanted everything I had to give.
The pressure built at the base of my spine, my balls drawing tight. I was teetering on the edge, every nerve ending alive with electricity. When he moaned around me, the vibration was the final push I needed.
"I'm cumming," I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair.
My orgasm crashed through me in waves, each pulse more intense than the last. He didn't pull away, swallowing everything I gave him, his throat working as he drank me down. Even as I began to soften, he continued to suckle gently, drawing out every last aftershock until I was shivering from overstimulation.
When he finally released me, I slumped back against the tile, boneless and spent. The tension that had been coiled in my body for months seemed to have drained away with my release.
"Thank you," I whispered, not caring how vulnerable I sounded.
He smiled up at me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "My pleasure. Truly."
His own cock was still hard, jutting proudly from between his legs. I reached for him, wanting to reciprocate, but he caught my hand.
"Not necessary," he said, his voice gentle. "This was for you."
I frowned, confused. "But I want to?—"
"Another time, perhaps." He pressed a kiss to my palm before releasing it. "You looked like you needed that more than I did."
Before I could argue, he was pulling himself out of the pool. Water cascaded down his muscular back as he stood and reached for a towel. I watched him, still dazed from my orgasm, as he walked toward the door on the far side of the room, the one that led to the dungeon full of sex swings, crosses, andstockades. Whatever he needed, he was going to get in there. And if I wanted to follow, I could.
However, now that I was finally feeling a bit less tense, I figured it might be a good idea to head to one of the private baths downstairs. There I could just focus on myself and not have to worry about being approached again. The blowjob was great, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted just a little time to myself.
I made my way down the familiar tiled steps to the lower level where the private baths were located. The hallway was dimmer here, lit only by soft blue lights that cast everything in a dreamy glow. The sounds from upstairs, the splashing, the murmured conversations, the occasional moan, faded with each step I took.
The private baths were smaller, meant for one or two people at most. Each was enclosed by frosted glass doors that provided just enough privacy while still allowing shadowy silhouettes to be seen from outside, another subtle tease that I'd always appreciated about this place.
I chose the last bath at the end of the hall, slipping inside and closing the door behind me. The small room was filled with steam, a single recessed light illuminating the square tub sunken into the floor. The water was perfectly still, reflecting the light like a mirror.
I eased myself in, sighing as the hot water enveloped me again. This bath was hotter than the communal one upstairs, and scented with something earthy and masculine that I couldn't quite identify. My muscles, which had tensed up again during the walk downstairs, began to relax once more.
Leaning my head against the edge of the tub, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift. The stranger's mouth on me, his dark eyes looking up at me, the way he'd seemed to know exactly what I needed, it all replayed in my head. But instead of arousal, what I felt now was a strange melancholy.
