Page 91 of Puck Your Feelings

Before I can fully register what's happening, his fingers are at my waistband, deftly unbuttoning, unzipping.

I'm plastered against the wall, frozen, unable to move, to breather, to do anything other than watch as he tugs my pants and underwear down in one swift motion.

My cock springs free, already embarrassingly hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

I should feel exposed. Vulnerable. I'm literally standing with my dick out while fully dressed from the waist up, but all I feel is a desperate, throbbing need.

Becker looks up at me, holding my gaze as he leans forward. My breath catches in my throat as he extends his tongue and runs it slowly over my slit, collecting that drop of pre-cum. The warm, wet pressure of his tongue against that spot sends a jolt through me so intense my knees nearly buckle.

"Fuck," I gasp, one hand flying out to brace against the wall behind me.

Becker makes a humming sound that vibrates against me, and then—

Oh God.

Yes.

No.

Yes!

He's taking me into his mouth, his lips stretching around my cock as he slides down, and down, impossibly far down until I feel the back of his throat.

The wet heat of his mouth is almost too much to bear. I've never felt anything like this—never even imagined it could feel like this.

My entire body is trembling, every nerve ending lit up like I've been struck by lightning.

He starts to move, establishing a slow, lazy rhythm. His tongue swirls around the head on each upstroke, flattening against the underside as he takes me deep again. One hand grips my hip, steadying me, while the other cups and gently squeezes my balls.

The dual sensation—his hot mouth sliding up and down my shaft, his fingers rolling and massaging my balls—has me gasping for air. My head falls back against the wall with a thud, but I barely notice the pain. All I can focus on is the building pressure at the base of my spine, the tightening in my balls.

I have to force myself to look down again, because it’s fucking dangerous.

The mere sight of his lips stretched around my cock, his cheeks hollowed as he sucks, his eyes now closed in concentration—it's picturesque. Addictive. The most erotic thing I've ever witnessed.

I should not have looked.

The pressure builds faster than I can control. It’s fucking embarrassing, but I’m powerless to stop it.

I want warn him, tell him I'm already so close, but I can't. I can’t even form words, or do anything other than gasp andtremble as the sensation spirals tighter and tighter. Then, he uses his teeth, skillfully, gently, in a way that should yield pain instead of pleasure but doesn’t, and I lose the fight.

It hits me suddenly, violently. A sharp wave of bliss rolls through my body, my hims jerking forward involuntarily as I come, too fast, spilling into his mouth without asking permission.

Becker doesn't pull away. If anything, he takes me deeper, moaning around my cock as he swallows everything I give him, every last drop, his throat constricting around my pulsing cock as he does, milking me dry.

He doesn’t stop even after I’ve finished, my knees on the verge of giving out, lucking and sucking, gentler now, wiping my cock clean with his tongue.

The sensation borders on painful but in the best possible way, like pressing on a bruise.

Finally, he releases me with one last, soft kiss to the tip.

I'm boneless against the wall, struggling to catch my breath as he tucks me back into my underwear and carefully zips up my pants.

When he rises to his feet, we're face to face again. His lips are red and swollen, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark with lingering want.

There’s a massive bulge in his sweatpants. I reach for him instinctively.

But before I can touch him, Becker catches my wrist.