Page 8 of Gift of You
I doubled down on my efforts, applying suction as I bobbed my head up and down, hoovering him for all I was worth. His hips punched forward reflexively, causing me to choke. “Shit, sorry!” he said, trying to pull back, but I kept hold of him, swallowing him back down once again.
What would that feel like? To have a cock heavy on your tongue, hitting the back of your throat?Jesus. Why was I thinking about that? It was a thought that had literally nevercrossed my mind, but damn if my dick didn’t jump at the idea. As my balls drew up tight, my orgasm imminent, I shoved that thought aside in favor of chasing my release.
With my free hand, I reached up and cupped his sac, massaging his balls gently with my fingers as I picked up the pace with my mouth. He grunted, his thick thighs tensing up, and I knew he was close even before he said, “Sam, I’m gonna... If you wanna pull off, you gotta do it now...”
I kept going, wanting the full experience of giving head. I wanted to know what his cum tasted like, wanted the satisfaction of bringing him to completion entirely with my mouth. And as that first spurt landed on my tongue, I swallowed him down, knowing that while this might be my first blow job, it wouldn’t be my last. I was officially addicted.
I dropped the book as my orgasm ripped through me, spurt after spurt landing on my abdomen, some even making it up to my chest and shoulder. When I was finished, my cock softening in my hand and my breath coming in pants, I marveled at the intensity of my orgasm. I hadn’t come like that inyears, and certainly not from a hand job.
Looking down at the mess I’d made, I sighed, then got out of bed and headed into the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Once I’d cleaned myself up, I returned to bed, sliding beneath the covers, leaving my underwear on the floor. The orgasm left me feeling wrung out to dry, so I set the book on the nightstand, too tired to finish the chapter. Then I turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and moments later I was asleep.
9
LOUIS
December 25
“Is it on?Can you hear me? Natalie!” Mom leaned back, tipped her chin up, and hollered for my sister. “Come help me with this thing!”
“Mom,” I said, raising my voice in an attempt to make myself heard over her yelling. “I can see you, and I’m pretty sure my neighbors can hear you too.”
We should have gone for a regular phone call, but I’d wanted to see my new niece, and though it had been my choice not to fly out to spend the holiday with my family, that didn’t mean I didn’t miss spending Christmas Day with them.
“Oh, you can hear me? Good.”
“Mom, half the neighborhood can hear you. People three counties over can hear you. It’s a good thing Louise sleeps through everything just like her father. Merry Christmas, Lou!” Natalie’s smile filled the screen as she sat in the chair next to Mom, my newborn niece sleeping in her arms. I still couldn’t believe she’d named the baby after me.
“Merry Christmas,” I said, smiling through the ache in my chest while trying not to second-guess my decision to stay back. “How’s my beautiful niece doing?’
“Sleeps like the dead unless she’s hungry, in which case, she yells the whole house down. But I can’t complain too much because at least sheissleeping. Lauren’s baby—you remember Lauren from St. Cecilia’s?—her baby’s nine months old and still isn’t sleeping through the night.”
“Wasn’t Lauren the one who married the eye doctor who collected trains?” Mom asked.
“No, you’re thinking of Lorena. Lauren married her high school sweetheart and moved to Denver last year. They own a yoga studio in Vail.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I always liked her mother. Such a nice lady.”
Natalie gave her a look that clearly saidyou’re full of shit. “Oh really? Is that why you went on and on about how much eyeliner she wore every time we ran into her?”
“What do you want me to say? The woman looked like a raccoon. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t nice.”
“You wouldn’t let me go over to Lauren’s house until I was sixteen because you said a woman who wore makeup like that was surely trying to tempt the devil.”
I snorted, picturing Mom saying something just like that. We’d been raised Catholic, attending parochial school through the eighth grade, so our entire childhood had been immersed in Catholic guilt with a heavy side of Catholic judgment. I’d been terrified to come out, sure my family would disown me due to their strict religious beliefs, but Mom had hugged me, told me God hadn’t made a mistake when He made me, and hadn’t set foot in a Catholic church again. Still, some habits were hard to break.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Mom said with a harumph.
“You have the most selective memory of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“This is the thanks I get for flying down here and helping with the baby, changing diapers, doing the laundry, making dinner...”
Natalie rolled her eyes, but leaned over and kissed Mom on the cheek. “You’re right. And I do appreciate you.”
“That’s better.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “And you? How’s my baby boy, all alone on Christmas?”
“I’m forty-two, Mom. I’m hardly a baby.”
“I still can’t believe you chose to spend Christmas alone instead of coming down here with your family.”
