"If i do ever get married, it won't be to a girl.
A stolen punchline.
-Omar’s POV-
The sight of his erection was too much, I had to walk away. But now there was nothing stopping me from counting the ways that I could pleasure him. I had gotten all the way up to 37 before I realized what everything that had just happened meant. Why would he kiss me if he didn’t like me at least a little bit? And what did his boner mean? Was it just the friction, or was he really honest-to-God aroused? I stood in my doorway, contemplating these things, when I saw Billy walking towards the front door, carrying his skateboard in front of him to hide the bulge in his pants. And, was it just me, or did he look sad? You know I can’t stand it when he’s sad.
And then, I can’t really explain what happened next. Forget your “he lovingly took the other boy’s hand and lead him into the room.” No. In a second, I had grabbed his hand, yanked him into my room, pushed him down on my unmade bed, straddled him, and shoved my tongue down his throat. There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it.
I could feel his erection sticking into me as he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down to him. The heat from our grinding hips made the jeans I had on feel deliciously too warm, so, breaking our kiss, I moved my hands to his zipper, intending to take his off first. I could tell the friction was getting to be too much for him: his face had turned pale and there was a thin line of blood trickling down his chin where he had bitten his lip. I dipped my head to lick it away, teasing his throat with the tip of my tongue. He moaned quietly, as if he didn’t want to break the spell. He thought he was ready for anything. But is he ready for what I’m about to give him?
I raised myself to hands and knees above his shaking body, with my pants unzipped and hips hanging low.
“Does Billy want it up the ass?” I asked, in the sugary-sweetest voice I could manage. He nodded in reply.
“I can’t hear you, Billy-boy.” I teased, moving my hips lower.
“Y-yes.” he gasped out.
“Yes what, my love?” The zipper of my jeans was lightly trailing over the tent in his boxers and I could tell it was driving him mad.
“Y-yes, I w-w-want it.”
“Want what, sweetie?” With that, I sat down- hard- on top of him and his erection, and I had to allow myself to gasp: it felt good.
“I want you t-to fuck me. Fuck me, Omar.”
And that’s how we ended up…Well, making love isn’t what I’m looking for.
But
You
Get
The
Picture.
The sight of his erection was too much, I had to walk away. But now there was nothing stopping me from counting the ways that I could pleasure him. I had gotten all the way up to 37 before I realized what everything that had just happened meant. Why would he kiss me if he didn’t like me at least a little bit? And what did his boner mean? Was it just the friction, or was he really honest-to-God aroused? I stood in my doorway, contemplating these things, when I saw Billy walking towards the front door, carrying his skateboard in front of him to hide the bulge in his pants. And, was it just me, or did he look sad? You know I can’t stand it when he’s sad.
And then, I can’t really explain what happened next. Forget your “he lovingly took the other boy’s hand and lead him into the room.” No. In a second, I had grabbed his hand, yanked him into my room, pushed him down on my unmade bed, straddled him, and shoved my tongue down his throat. There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it.
I could feel his erection sticking into me as he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down to him. The heat from our grinding hips made the jeans I had on feel deliciously too warm, so, breaking our kiss, I moved my hands to his zipper, intending to take his off first. I could tell the friction was getting to be too much for him: his face had turned pale and there was a thin line of blood trickling down his chin where he had bitten his lip. I dipped my head to lick it away, teasing his throat with the tip of my tongue. He moaned quietly, as if he didn’t want to break the spell. He thought he was ready for anything. But is he ready for what I’m about to give him?
I raised myself to hands and knees above his shaking body, with my pants unzipped and hips hanging low.
“Does Billy want it up the ass?” I asked, in the sugary-sweetest voice I could manage. He nodded in reply.
“I can’t hear you, Billy-boy.” I teased, moving my hips lower.
“Y-yes.” he gasped out.
“Yes what, my love?” The zipper of my jeans was lightly trailing over the tent in his boxers and I could tell it was driving him mad.
“Y-yes, I w-w-want it.”
“Want what, sweetie?” With that, I sat down- hard- on top of him and his erection, and I had to allow myself to gasp: it felt good.
“I want you t-to fuck me. Fuck me, Omar.”
And that’s how we ended up…Well, making love isn’t what I’m looking for.
But
You
Get
The
Picture.