2

Jesus, the thought of him sitting on a stuffy plane all day, then idling in heavy rush-hour traffic in the back of a rideshare on a hot day had my wheels turning. He’d probably be frustrated. Maybe he’d want to take out some of that stress on me. Maybe he’d need me to help him relax in some way. And he’d probably smell amazing. Like a hot, well-traveled man who had had a long day at the office: masculine, rugged, and slightly musky. I didn’t know why that was turning me on, but there was hardly anything that wasn’t in my current state.

In the shower, my dick stood at attention as I rinsed the day off my body. The piss flowed from me again, ran down the length of my cock and covered my chest and abdomen, trailing through my pubic hair and dripping down my thighs. I threw my head back from the sensation of freeing myself without an orgasm. Finally, I washed my hair and scrubbed myself down with a bar of natural soap, rinsing one more time before drying myself off.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, my swollen cock still in a state of arousal, I heard a key enter the lock on the front door and the knob turn. Two voices talked and laughed as they entered the apartment, so I quickly covered myself with a towel and ducked into the bedroom. It could’ve been Trent, and I had nothing he hadn’t seen before, no hole he hadn’t filled, but it could’ve been someone else with Frankie, and that possibility called for a bit more modesty.

“Babe?” Frankie’s husky, cheerful, commanding voice called from the front door.

“In the bedroom.”

“Trent’s here. He just needed to stop in and take a piss before heading back to Jersey.”

“Hey, Trent,” I greeted from the bedroom. “Hope you guys had a nice flight.”

Trent responded. “Hey, Marco. Wasn’t too bad. Sorry for the intrusion.”

“No worries. Just getting dressed.”

I heard them bid their farewells, Trent closing the bathroom door behind him, before I dropped my towel and fell to my knees in the bedroom. I needed Frankie’s dick immediately.

He stepped into our bedroom looking as hot as he possibly could with a noticeable stubble covering his face. He must have not shaved this morning. He wore sneakers, jeans, and a fitted T-shirt—his traveling outfit, he called it. The subtle ruggedness that crept from the crevices of his frame and graced the fabrics of his casual, athletic outfit was not lost on me.

Frankie eased the door shut behind him, leaving it slightly ajar, and kicked off his sneakers. Trent knew his way out. He’d be fine. Frankie’s bag was dropped, and he stared into my eyes for a moment before glancing down at my lean frame. Waiting for him.

To take control.

To take advantage.

To take… anything he fucking wanted.

He noticed my growing erection and licked his lips. “Marco.” It was said as seductively as I’d ever heard my name pronounced.

He immediately approached me, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans before shifting to sit on the edge of our king-size bed, spreading his legs wide.

Fucking tease.

I crawled between them and buried my face in his crotch. Warmth radiated from beneath the fabric of his navy briefs. The bulge that was housed in them, the one that always seemed to protrude no matter what Frankie wore, shifted and grew at the sensation of my touch. A stifled moan fell from his lips as his neck rolled back on his shoulders, his head falling behind them.

“It’s been a long day, babe. Our flight was kind of rough, and traffic was a disaster in the tunnel. I could really use your throat to help me relax.”

Jackpot.

His jeans fell to the floor as he shifted his weight to allow me to yank them from his frame. The briefs remained in place… for now.

In an instant, my nose was buried in the gap between his hairy thigh and the pouch of his underwear, nearly overflowing with the goodness trapped inside. I inhaled deeply and took in the masculine scent of a man who’d been working hard, a man who’d showered that morning but spent the rest of the day working up a frustrated sweat in cramped and uncomfortable forms of transportation.

Frankie smelled incredible as I thrashed my face around in his crotch—natural and comfortable with an easy, spicy finish. My eagerness was unhidden, my desire for his body apparent. My watering mouth covered the bulge in his briefs, pulling the weighty mound into me. His length firmed up and stretched at the fabric as my mouth ran circles around his manhood, licking at the cotton, attempting to devour him through his underwear as he moaned. Low, heady grunts dripping with sexual need filled the empty space in the room.

Standing at full attention, my cock sprouted pearlescent beads of precome that dripped down my length and pooled on the hardwood floor between us, creating a clouded puddle of liquid sex. It flowed more freely as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of Frankie’s briefs and pulled them down his legs, finally exposing him—all of him—to me.

The only article of clothing remaining on his frame was his T-shirt, which I couldn’t be bothered to remove just then.

His growing cock, so commanding, so proud, quickly found its way into my warm mouth. Frankie grunted a long sigh as I took his length into me, as I enveloped him, as I tasted his warm, salty, goodness. My tongue traced its way over the thick vein that forged along the bottom of his length, the length that carried his urethra, the one that spasmed and throbbed in heat when he delivered his loads.

The tip of him pressed against my throat, goading me, and I easily opened for him so he could slide further down, so he could feel a grip much warmer and tighter around him. I’d trained myself to be able to take him as deep as he needed me to years ago, and it was one of my greatest points of pride. Sometimes, I would simply milk him with my throat muscles, pulling his load into me using nothing more than my pharynx. I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be one of those times, though.

I massaged the head of his cock, inviting him into me as deeply as he felt like going, enjoying the feeling of his firmness in my mouth, relishing the warmth of his flesh, frolicking in the seasoned forest of his pubic hair.

My nose inhaled his scent, his masculinity, his reckless ruggedness, which made it easier for me to open myself even further to his welcomed intrusion. I swallowed and took him all the way into me. Frankie moaned. I gulped again. And again. And again. Until he pulled himself from my throat and removed his length from my mouth, grasping the back of my head with his strong hand.

“I don’t wanna come yet, babe,” he announced between deep breaths. “That throat of yours feels too good.”

My eyes roamed over his body: his perfect proportions, his tight definition, his hairy thighs and even hairier balls. His full, shimmering cock that dripped with my spittle. In his lounging position, with his weight resting on his elbows behind him, his dick rested firmly against his abdomen, his T-shirt acting as a barrier, becoming damp under its weight.

Frankie sat up and tore his T-shirt over his head, tossing it to me as he smirked. I caught it, brought it to my face, and inhaled his scent deeply: his sweat, the vibrant notes of his cologne that danced on the fabric.

“Fuck, Marco,” he moaned. “That’s so hot.”

I breathed in his scent again, my dick throbbing and leaking another bead of precome. “I’m so fucking horny, babe. I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“Good,” he laughed. “I love knowing that I have that effect on you.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“Clearly,” he chuckled, alluding to the fact that I’d abstained from getting off for three whole weeks.

“No,” I corrected. “Yes. I’ll do that for you. But here… now… I’ll do anything you want me to. I’ve been so hard… I’m aching for you. For your cock. I need it. I need you. And I’ll do anything you want me to.”

I knew my pleading would turn him on, but there was a sincerity behind my need. An overwhelming truth to my admission. I’d do anything he wanted me to because his sexual control over me was so intense. I reveled in my submission. I basked in the glow of his dominance. I’d get him off tonight without coming if he wanted me to.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to fucking come. More than almost anything. But I would surrender to his wishes. Frankie had me in a sexual vise, and I loved it. I loved him.

“Come here,” he commanded with a curl of his index finger, a beckoning wish.

My knees carried me to him, between his legs, where I gazed up into his eyes, those deep brown irises that danced in hazel flames.

“Look at me,” he directed with a sly smile as he pulled his arms back and locked his fingers behind his head, seductively exposing his body to me, begging my attention to his defined biceps, to the dark hair that dusted his arms and coated his pits. “Tell me what you like. Tell me how much I turn you on.”

My boyfriend’s body was perfect to me. His frame was lean, his chest almost flat but defined, small brown nipples that always seemed to be hard, just waiting for my tongue to lick over them, for my teeth to lightly nip at them. Dark hair grew thick on his legs and under his arms, and sprouted from his crotch like a flourishing crop in a fertile field during a warm, wet summer. His chest, however, was nearly smooth, only a thin trail of fur burrowing through the crevice between his pecs and wisping circles around his nipples. His abdomen was smooth too, faint lines of definition visible under his tanned flesh. The only hint of hair there grew denser as it sprouted under his navel and traveled to the treasure normally buried beneath layers of superfluous clothing.

Frankie felt no need to conceal any part of himself from me. He was sweet but direct, and as natural as he wanted to be. As natural as I always wanted him to be.

I could hardly put my response to his request into words. There was too much about him that I found attractive, that I found undeniably appealing. So much so that I drop to my knees to worship him when he arrives home after long work trips.

“Everything. Your strong hands, your body hair, your masculine scent, your virility. The way you move, the way you sit, the way you speak. The way you take advantage of my weakness for you. How much you fucking love me.”

“I do, Marco. Don’t ever fucking forget that. But right now, tell me what about me has your dick so hard it’s pointing to the ceiling. Tell me what has it dripping like a leaky faucet and forming a fucking lake on our bedroom floor. Tell me what you’ve been dreaming about for the last few weeks.”

So. Fucking. Much.

“Your cock.”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“How firm it is. The way it fills out your briefs. How the hair grows thick around the base, thinning out as it travels up your length.”

“And?”

“The weight of it. How it seems to be so heavy and full sometimes. So full that you don’t even get all the way hard. Almost like you haven’t come for days and the weight of it is just too much.”

“Maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’ve been building up a big load for you, Marco. I know how much you like it when I do that.”

“Fuck. I want it.”

“Where?”

“In my mouth.”

“Soon, babe. What else?” He flexed his biceps at me, knowing I couldn’t resist his charm. Frankie wasn’t overly built, but he was in shape, and so fucking defined that every muscle on his body had a clear contour that had been imprinted on my memory.

“Your balls. How they’re so full and covered with that thick, dark hair. I love the way they smell after a day of hard work. I could fucking pick you out of a crowd by that smell alone. The way they tighten when you’re about to come. The way they hang lower on a hot day or after you’ve been at the gym. The way they taste when I kiss them.”

“Good.”

“Can I kiss them? I really want to taste you.”

“Not yet. What else?”

“Your pits.”

“Yeah. I know you like these,” he huffed, flexing again.

“They’re perfect. The way the hair travels through them—thicker in the middle. The way they smell when you rub my face in them.”

“When do you like them best?”

“After work, when you’ve gone to the gym but you haven’t put on deodorant. When you’re natural. When you smell like you.”

Frankie turned his head to the left and inhaled the scent from under his arm. “I haven’t been to the gym today. But my deodorant’s worn off. You want a taste?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Not yet.”

Fuck, he was going to kill me with this teasing.

“Anything else? Anything specific?”

I was almost begging for a piece of him as the words fell from my mouth. “Your hole. The way your sweat mixes with your soap to make this intoxicating scent. The way you taste when I lick you deep. The way your thick, dark hair trails up your crack and lightly coats your cheeks. The fucking shape of it.”

“Fuck, Marco. You’re getting me going.”

“The way you look like a man. The way you act like a man. The way you treat me when we’re out. The way you treat me when we’re in. Like now. Like a little boy that’s here to worship you. A real man.”

Frankie’s dick grew even firmer and leaked a bit of precome as he brought his arms down and rested his hands behind him on the bed.

“Come lick my balls. I haven’t gotten off in a few days and they’ve been aching. And I know you’ve been aching for them too.”