Page 12 of Uncharted Desires
When I move to stroke his cock again, sliding my hand along his long thick length, Blake lets out a quiet curse I almost miss.
I stretch my neck to look at his face. His mouth hangs open, and he's breathing heavily. He no longer pays attention to the two guys getting it on the sofa in front of us.
Watchmy ass.
“Open your eyes, Blake,” I say in his ear.
He does so reluctantly. And even though his gaze now lingers somewhere around the scene, I'm not sure he sees a thing.
Intensifying my efforts on his cock, I alternate between squeezing and pulling.
His breaths come out raspy, and he bucks his hips back and starts rocking them, grinding his ass against my aching cock.
Jesus. I'm not even sure he realizes what he's doing.
My dick throbs and I move my hips back, but he follows, and his ass presses against my cock again.
Blake fucking Jacobs. I wonder if he finally accepts it.
His whole body moves against mine now. I decide he's no longer in danger of collapsing, so I move my other hand to thread my fingers in his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to open his eyes that have fallen closed again.
“Why are you here, Blake?” I repeat, my voice thick.
He answers with a groan, just like I thought he would.
“Why are you here?”
He alternates between bucking into my fist on his cock and grinding his ass against my groin. “I don't know. I really don't fucking know.”
And I believe him.
The whole scenery fades in the background as I stroke him, drinking his moans and enjoying his body falling apart against mine.
It's really obvious he's close.
I pull his hair again. “Open your eyes.” He does. “Watch.” His gaze lands on the men in front of us, and mine is on the sloppy blowjob they both seem to enjoy.
Blake whines. I'd give a lot to get inside his head right now and find out what he’s imagining.
But it's too late to contemplate that. Blake's body shudders violently and he reaches back to grab my hips for support. His legs tremble and he lets out a series of high-pitched moans. His cock swells in my hand, the underside vein working overtime. And finally, he lets go as the first rope of cum shoots out of him, landing in my palm and the fabric of his boxer briefs.
I bite the inside of my cheek to ground myself as he still rocks against me, his body convulsing.
His orgasm lasts, and lasts, and lasts, and finally, his hips stop moving. He pants like he’s just run a marathon, his eyes still closed. As if he's afraid to open them.
Now that the dust has settled, I'm not sure he's ready to face the reality yet.
When he finally turns around, he doesn’t look at me, fumbling to close his pants, not minding he’s covered in cum.
He stares at the floor between our feet as if something interesting is written there, his cheeks and neck dark-red, looking out of place.
I step back to give him some space and wait. Not out of the goodness of my heart. He just seems so lost that even though I’ve just given him an orgasm, I almost feel sorry for him.
Finally, with the speed of a sloth on holiday, he lifts his chin until his gaze lands on my very hard cock.
He shudders like it scares him, and when our eyes meet, it’s more than clearIwon’t be getting any action tonight. Not that I expected it.
He holds my stare for a few beats before looking away. Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles to the floor, “Thanks.”
