Page 39 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

That first glide of our bare cocks took my breath away. We held eye contact as we rocked experimentally at first…back and forth, back and forth.

We froze with our dicks pressed close, our noses brushing, and lips hovering without quite touching. Anticipation, need, and desire coalesced into a pinpoint of atomic energy waiting to be unleashed. One move was all it would take.

He darted his tongue across his bottom lip and smiled up at me. Andboom…that was it.

Our mouths crashed, our bodies collided, and the gentle rocking from earlier gave way to a primal needy exchange. We were on a mission to touch and rub and suck and grind. There was no pretense of finesse. We were too greedy, too excited to go slow. You’d think we were novices, the way we groped and clawed in between passionate kisses and manic humping.

Precum wasn’t my favorite form of lube, but our combined output was epic to say the least. I remembered the way he tasted and damn, I wanted more. I rose above him and took us both in hand. We groaned in unison.

“I gotta taste you again, Lorenzo,” I grunted, mashing my mouth to his. “Let me suck you.”

“I won’t—I won’t last,” he panted.

“That’s okay. There’s always round two.”

I kissed his swollen lips once more, grazed my light beard along his smooth torso, and made a beeline for his cock. I got right to business. I gripped him at the base and teased his slit with the flick of my tongue before going down on him like a fucking pro. I took him to the root, breathing in his scent as I swallowed around his length.

He tugged my hair and bent his knees. I thought he called my name too, but sound echoed and bounced in my ears. I bobbed my head, lost in the pleasure of giving pleasure. I loved this.

I loved his fingers in my hair and the sexy noises he made. And I loved it when he let go, holding my head still as he lifted his hips and fucked my mouth.

I opened as wide as possible and relaxed my throat muscles, stroking my aching dick while he took what he needed from me. It was the sexiest fucking thing…ever.

“Stop. I’m gonna—I’m gonna…”

I didn’t stop.

No way.

I took everything he had, milking him dry while I jacked myself to the finish line. I sat up, licking my lips, and steadied my hand on his knee. Lorenzo lay spent, gasping for air, his mouth open, his arms spread wide—so beautiful.

My release would have knocked me to my knees if I wasn’t already there. I emptied my balls, shooting jizz across his stomach, trembling like a leaf before collapsing beside him.

I didn’t attempt speech for a few minutes. I tried to even my breathing out and ideally, not fall asleep. His bed was so warm, and he felt so good next to me. It would be so easy to drift off and forget there was a world outside his window.

And I did.

I woke sometime in the middle of the night with a vague memory of cleaning up, drinking water, and maybe even talking. I couldn’t remember what was said, but I doubted I’d been very articulate. I’d been wrung out and incapacitated—blown away by a blowjob…given, not received. Go figure.

We kissed again, sweet and tender. Soft petting gave way to groping and grinding. We held each other through a second orgasm, mopped up the mess with the towel he’d supplied earlier, and fell asleep like an old married couple, his head on my chest, my hand on his hip.

Fuck, it was so…nice.

But I couldn’t stay.

Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to pull the covers tighter to us and sleep till dawn, but I couldn’t do that to him. Someone might notice me, speculate about who I was with, and he hadn’t signed up for that.

So I carefully slipped out of bed and hunted for my clothes as quietly as possible. He rustled, murmuring a greeting in the dark.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered.

“It’s okay.” He turned on his bedside lamp and sat up. “Better?”

I smiled apologetically as I dressed. I buckled my belt and perched on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes and socks. My shirt, jacket, and helmet were still out there—in his living room or kitchen. Pieces of me strewn about like I belonged there.

Lorenzo got out of bed and padded to the nearby dresser. He stepped into a pair of basic tighty-whities and a pair of leopard-print pajama bottoms, then moved to the door.

“Hey, you don’t have to go anywhere. I can see myself out.”