Page 45 of The Dead Don't Talk
For them both to care about me enough to risk everything come tomorrow.
I hope it all works out.
But if it doesn’t?
At least we’ll have tonight.
Gripping Moros tight, I tug him closer and earn myself a hiss as I take Wilson’s cock deep enough to make me choke.
He groans deep and pets my head, even as I lean back. Swirling my tongue over his foreskin then beneath it to the sensitive head.
A string of saliva connects us as I look up at them both. Two strong men standing over me. Cocks hard because of me. Eyes blazed and focused right on me. Lips parted and breaths panting.
It’s all a dream, isn’t it.
Well if it is, I’m not wasting any more time not having them both.
Grabbing their hips, I pull them together until Moros’s cockhead slicks along Wilson’s and I dive in. Stretch my lips around the tips of them. Slip my tongue along their undersides.
“Oh, fuck,” Wilson murmurs faintly, fingers curling in my hair.
“Thirsty cumdump,” Moros grunts out and thrusts against my lips, stretching my mouth wider. “I’ll give you a fucking drink.”
“Pretty baby with his mouth stuffed full.” The hand in my hair moves to the back of my head, steadying me as they find a rhythm and thrust over my tongue in tandem.
My lip splits from the volume of it but not even the taste of blood stops me from wrapping my hands around them both and stroking their lengths I can’t reach with my tongue.
“He wants it so bad.”
My own cock pulses.
“Needs us to coat his tongue.”
I’m too lost in the sensation of them, the plushness of their heads fucking into my mouth, the occasional scrape of Moros’s ring over my tastebuds.
My lower stomach clenches as the tightening of fingers in my hair on both sides of my head.
“Slutty little … cum …dump—”
Hot spurts cover the roof of my mouth, and I swallow hard. It’s thick and salty and coats my tongue just like they said it would.
“Shit,fuck. I’m coming!”
I choke on the next rope of release shot farther back, my throat constricting hard to work it down and fuck … it makes my eyes roll back.
The taste ofmen. The salty tingle. The hard grip on my hair and lack of breath.
My cock flexes, rubbing the inside of my pants just right and I cry out around their shafts, my release flooding my crotch.
I suckle, and moan, and hump at the air until my balls are empty and their heads are shining with nothing but my spit.
“Did you just come in your pants?”
I nod, uncaring of how inexperienced that makes me seem and release Wilson to suck Moros back. He groans deep and flexes his hips, his fingers pressing me deeper into his length until he steals my breath.
“I would have, too, if my dick wasn’t already in his mouth,” Wilson breathes out beside us. “Fuck, that was so hot.”
“Good.” I gasp when Moros backs off, tucks his cock back into his pants and points at Wilson. “Then you get to clean him up.”
