Page 42 of Home Grown Talent
“First things first, though,” Owen said, muscling him over to the bed. “I need to taste you. Get on the bed, petal.”
While Mason lay down, Owen quickly stripped his own clothes off, enjoying the obvious desire he saw in Mason’s eyes as his body was revealed. He might not have model-worthy chiselled abs, but he was a fit guy with an attractive body and a more-than-decent-sized cock. And yeah, Mason obviously liked the look of him. There was no faking the expression he wore now, eyes hazy with lust, full lips parted.
Owen got on the end of the bed and knee-walked towards Mason, settling himself between Mason’s spread thighs, his eyes eating up every delicious inch of smooth skin laid out before him.
Leaning over, he lapped the very tip of Mason’s cock, collecting the fat bead of sticky fluid gathered there, making Mason gasp. Then slowly—very slowly—he circled his tongue over the plump head, before beginning a languorous, downward circling that had Mason arching up in an effort to force Owen to swallow his dick.
Owen chuckled, pinning Mason’s hips down before beginning his slow teasing again, adding a little more suction, a little more pressure, as he gradually took more and more of that delicious cock.
“Fuck, Owen.”
And then Owen took him deep, right to the root, making him cry out with the pleasure of being thoroughly blown, of having his dick enthusiastically worshipped.
“Fucking hell,” Mason stuttered out at last. “If you don’t let me suck you soon, this is all going to be over before I even get my mouth on you.”
Owen pulled off his dick with a rude slurp. “Can’t have that,” he said. He moved up over Mason, shifting his knees to straddle Mason’s lean chest. Then he paused, just gazing down at him for a moment, admiring his beauty in an uncomplicated way.
“Come on,” Mason pleaded. “I need your dick.”
Jesus.
Owen took his rock-hard shaft in his hand and brushed it over Mason’s plump lips. “Kiss it then,” he said hoarsely.
Mason gave a stifled moan of pleasure, pressing his lips to the glans, then swiping his tongue over it, his hands sliding up to grip Owen’s muscular thighs
“Fuck,” Owen breathed. He shifted his position again, bracing himself against the headboard so his cock was angled at Mason’s open mouth. “Now suck me.”
Mason made a guttural sound of approval, opening his mouth wide, and Owen pressed inside, pushing his hips forward, careful not to cut off Mason’s air. Not that Mason seemed to care about that as he greedily swallowed Owen down, his tongue stroking the underside of Owen’s dick with maddening skill.
Fuck, it felt amazing, and Mason was obviously loving it, his fingers digging into Owen’s thighs as he worked his shaft.
After a few minutes, he pulled off, gasping, “Sixty-nine?”
“Yeah,” Owen agreed. “I need your dick in my throat. Shift down a bit and get on your side.”
Mason began to wriggle down the mattress. “You know, you’re pushier than I’d have imagined.”
Owen lifted a brow. “Do you want me to stop?”
Mason grinned. “No, I fucking love it,” he said, and Owen grinned back.
They moved onto their sides and, after some frantic shifting around, Owen got his mouth back on Mason’s lovely cock, relishing the faint burst of salt from the precum gathered on the tip. Moments later, Mason took Owen into his mouth too, and they fell into the mad mind-fuckery of sixty-nining. One minute, Mason’s mouth would be greedily working Owen’s cock, and the next, it would be going slack and inattentive as the pleasure of Owen blowing him made his brain melt. And God, it was just as bad—or good—for Owen, the synapses of his brain firing in twenty different directions as pleasure built and overloaded, built and overloaded.
After a while, Owen tore his mouth off Mason’s cock and shifted further down to lap at his tender balls, gently at first, then a little more firmly as Mason responded with noisy appreciation, shifting his thighs to give Owen more room to work. Owen went lower still, lapping at his perineum with the flat of his tongue, loving the hoarse cry that ripped from Mason’s throat.
“I want to rim you,” Owen growled. “That okay?”
“Oh, fuck,” Mason almost sobbed. “Yeah, do that. Rim me while you shove your cock down my throat.”
Owen shifted onto his back. “Come on then,” he said. “Get on top and wrap your lips round my dick.”
Mason’s face was flushed, his eyes glittering with lust as he followed Owen’s orders, turning around to face Owen’s feet, then settling his lean frame in place, a knee on either side of Owen’s torso. Owen smoothed his palms over the perfect mounds of Mason’s absurdly gorgeous arse, gasping as Mason’s lips glided down the length of his dick, enveloping his throbbing shaft in hot, wet heat.
For a minute or two, he allowed himself the selfish luxury of just letting Mason expertly blow him. But eventually, he tugged at Mason’s hips, drawing him closer. Close enough to lick a slow, wet stripe from his balls all the way to his tight hole.
Mason tensed, crying out with each stroke of Owen’s tongue, and then again, more loudly, when Owen began to tease at the delicate edges of his hole with his tongue. Tease and then probe and then, gradually, open him up.
Christ, but he was perfect. He was fucking perfect, and damn, but now his mouth was back on Owen’s dick, and that was about as amazing as anything got. Somehow, it was easier to keep rimming Mason while Mason blew him than it had been to keep sucking Mason’s dick. Maybe because Mason was rocking back onto Owen’s face, practically demanding his tongue. Yeah, that might be it.