Page 61 of Forbidden Hockey

As he stands, I tug down his jeans, which are already open, and I’m hit with the urge to kiss him, licking the cum—my cum—off his lips. I lift while I devour him, setting his bare ass on the copper bar top. I swallow his dick without warning. His hand raps the counter.

“Trav, Trav! Fuck.”

I pop my mouth off his cock. “I’m sorry, you want me to stop, baby?”

He’s gonna murder me.

“You fucking prick.”

“What was that? Ask me nicely, like a good boy.”

“Please,” he whines.

“Please what?”

“Suck my cock. Let me come in your mouth. Oh,god, please.”

I swallow him again, but it’s just to get him wet. This time, when I release his shiny red cock, I yank his ass closer to the counter, forcing him to lean back on his elbows and unhook his jeans and boxers from one of his legs. It requires removing a shoe.

This is a place I can leave a few marks that no one better fucking see.

My tongue darts inside him just enough to tease.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit, Trav,” he pants.

Then I bite. I bite right beside his asshole hard enough that there should be marks. His cry echoes off the walls.

“This is mine,” I tell him. “I can’t fuck it like I want to tonight,” I explain, sinking a finger inside until he moans, “but I will. I’m gonna bend you over and claim this ass, erase anyone who’s ever been here.”

I suck more places, leaving little bruises, raising the skin. He’ll feel nice and sore and used. Then I proceed to eat his ass. I lick and suck some more, thrusting my tongue in and out, over and over. He makes to squeeze his thighs together, aiming for friction, but then remembers my head is there and backs off. All he can do is writhe on my tongue, begging me to take pity on him and finally let him come.

The head of his cock’s nice and purple, and his hole’s so wet. He’s gotta be sensitive as fuck. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Please. I can’t take it anymore, Trav. Please.”

That last please breaks me. It’s a desperate plea coming from the hollow of him. A hoarse gasp from the throat I fucked so thoroughly. His eyes meet mine, and I give him a wicked smile.

“Okay, pretty boy. I wanna see you come for me. Show me how much you love my tongue in your ass,” I say like a threat. A subtle warning that if I’m not pleased, I’ll make it even more torturous for him next time.

Using one arm, I trap his left thigh against my shoulder while I tickle my tongue deeper, faster. My other hand grips his cock, wet with my saliva, and I stroke nice and slow, dragging it out for him. He’s right there, on the edge, trembling, knuckles white as he grips the counter with one hand for dear life, his other sinking into my hair.

He lets out a raw cry that opens a crack in the world as he grinds against my face, not caring how desperate he sounds.

“Love your tongue. I love it so much. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna come.”

And he does. All over his shirt, a sound I’ve never heard before, ripping from his lungs, and fuck, it almost makes mehard again. His body contracts and convulses as he sighs and hums, coming down from the highest of highs.

“That was the fucking orgasm of a lifetime,” he says, breathless. He’s such a goddamn mess, all sweat and cum, and red in the face. I must be something close to that, and I’m still in a lust haze. Scooping some of his cum from his shirt, I swirl it around my fingers and shove them into his mouth. It makes me want to stuff his ass with my cum even more.

Patience, Travis. Soon. Fucking soon.

I pull him up and attach my lips to his, tasting him while he tastes himself on both our tongues. I take my time, owning his mouth for as long as I fucking want to. We don’t get many of these unrestricted moments to do whatever we want.

“Well, that counter’s gonna have to be disinfected,” he says when I release him a long time later. He toys with the lapel of my plaid shirt. A little smile spreads onto his lips. “For two people moving slowly, we’re also moving fast. I’m gonna leave stuff at your place when I haven’t even slept there?”

I shrug. “We run on logic and necessity.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” He groans. “I don’t wanna leave, but I should. Don’t you have a restaurant emergency for me to get me out of tomorrow with?”