Page 20 of Taste Test

Dash practically bounced on his heels before sprinting towards the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. The moment he disappeared around the corner, I pulled out my phone and dialled Jared’s number.

“Casey! How’s work, mate?”

“What the fuck did you tell Dash?” I hissed into the phone.

Laughter, then a pause.

“I told you what I said to him. That you’re a legend at giving head.”

“That’s not all you said though, is it?”

“I can’t remember. Refresh my memory.”

“Don’t play dumb, Sutherland. You know exactly what you said. Thanks to you, I now work with someone who thinks I spend my weekends deep-throating you while you play video games! He thinks I follow you into showers fully clothed!”

Jared snorted. “That’s not far off.”

“It’s not remotely accurate.”

“Meh. Artistic licence. Makes for a better story.”

“He thinks I call your sweaty post-rugby dick ‘extra flavour.’”

“That is accurate.”

“You are unfucking believable,” I said, but there was no heat in it.

“So what happened? Did you sort him out?”

“He’s currently jogging around the block to work up a proper sweat for me.”

Jared absolutely lost it, laughing so hard I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “You’re telling me he’s out there marinating his balls for your dining pleasure?”

“Yes, thanks to your elaborate bullshit story!”

“Dick’s dick, mate. And you’ve said yourself you’ve wanted his for a while.

Now, thanks to my story, he’s letting you dine out on it.

” I could hear him settling back, the way he did when he was about to enjoy a story.

“Just so you know, I’m expecting a full report.

Size, cut or uncut, pube situation... I’m picturing him with one of those patchy teenage beards but, you know, down there. ”

“You are genuinely disturbed.”

“You’re about to suck off a bloke running laps just to give you saltier balls. Who’s the disturbed one here?”

Even I had to laugh at that.

“Seriously though,” he said, “I want to hear all the dirty details when you get home. Weight in the mouth, how far you can get it down, ball taste... everything.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, wait! Make sure you swallow. I want to know if he tastes better or worse than the Sutherland Special Blend. That’s part of your assignment.”

“Would you like the feedback as an essay or a PowerPoint presentation, Professor Pervert?”

“PowerPoint. With pictures. So make sure you’ve got your phone handy.

” He must’ve heard the snarl in my throat, because he quickly added, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Just enjoy yourself. And make sure you give that boy the blowjob of his life.

But remember, I’m still your number one cock provider.

So don’t go falling in love with his indie boy dick. ”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me and my superior cum.

Which reminds me, I’m home for the afternoon and I was thinking of having a little Pornhub marathon.

Probably knock out a couple of loads. Want me to save them for you?

I know you like it fresh, but I can leave it on the kitchen bench for later if you want. ”

The way he offered, like he was asking if I wanted him to save leftovers, made me shake my head even though he couldn’t see it.

“Yeah,” I heard myself say. “Yeah, alright.”

“Brilliant. Right then, go enjoy your indie boy appetiser. I’ll have your main course ready when you get home.” Click.

Fifteen minutes later, Dash and I entered the stockroom, ready to take our working relationship to a whole new level. He stood in the middle of the cramped room, looking rather uncertain, like he hadn’t thought past getting me to agree to suck his dick.

I could smell him from where I stood—that mix of exertion and nervous energy, sharp and salty. He’d definitely delivered on his promise to work up a sweat, though I suspected he’d run harder than necessary, partly from enthusiasm and partly from nerves.

“So,” he said. “How does this work?”

“However you want it to work.”

He laughed nervously. “I mean, do I just... stand here? Or do I sit down? Do I have to kiss you first or can we just—”

“Dash, relax. It’s not a performance.”

“Right. Relaxing. Good advice.”

Instead of staying on his feet, he dropped onto an empty milk crate. I sank to my knees in front of him.

He hooked a finger into the gap between his fly’s buttons, popping them open one by one, then reached inside and pulled out a still-soft dick.

It unfurled into the air, dusky brown against the dark denim, the skin darker near the head, lighter along the shaft.

His balls followed, smooth and compact, a warm reddish-brown as if they were blushing.

Like the cock-hungry slut Jared had painted me as, I leaned in and swallowed the whole lot—dick and balls together—in one greedy mouthful.

Salty. Musky. The taste of sweat and skin.

I couldn’t cage it all for long, not once the blood started rushing in, but for that first minute I savoured the knowledge that I had every soft inch of this punk’s package locked in my mouth.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, the words shaking out of him.

I held on as long as I could until his cock stiffened enough that his balls slipped wetly from my lips. I pulled back, licking spit off my chin, taking stock of what I had to work with.

Okay. So. Not exactly a showstopper.

But not the baby dick I’d half-expected either.

Skinny, sure, but longer than I’d expected.

The shaft was a smooth shade of light brown, tipped with a darker crown.

It carried a jaunty upward curve, like it was custom-designed to nail a prostate.

I almost sniggered, wondering if this pussy-mad breeder had any idea he was packing a cock tailor-made for fucking other men.

I took him back in my mouth, working him with purpose, making sure he felt in charge. Normally, I loathed the idea of acknowledging his authority at work. But here, on my knees, with his cock in my mouth? This was the one time I’d gladly make him feel like the boss.

“Yeah… that’s it,” he said, voice low and shaky—trying to sound confident, but not quite getting there.

I looked up, just enough to catch the flush spreading up his neck. His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to grab my hair but wasn’t sure if he should.

This was virgin cock. Of that I was sure.

You could taste it in the awkward way he shifted, the way his breath kept hitching like he didn’t know what was coming next.

Which meant this wasn’t going to take long.

It also explained why the idiot had been gullible enough to swallow Jared’s tall tales whole, and why he’d let his sexuality bend in my direction without too much resistance.

I slid up and down his cock, using my hand to keep it steady. With my other hand, I played with his balls.

“Dude, your mouth feels amazing,” he said. “You have no idea.”

“I’ve had a blowjob before,” I mumbled around his cock. “So I have some idea.”

“Yeah, but you’re a real good cocksucker.” His hands found my hair, not pushing, just holding on. “How are you so good at this?”

“Practice.”

“Well, keep practicing. Don’t stop.”

I didn’t stop. I used everything I knew, every technique I’d learned over the years, partly because I wanted Dash to enjoy it and partly because I had something to prove. Jared had built me up as some kind of blowjob legend, and I wasn’t about to disappoint.

But suddenly, sucking him off wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Needed more. I wanted to see him— all of him. Wanted to strip him down, spread him out, memorise every inch.

My hands slid down to his sneakers, tugging at the laces with impatient fingers.

“What are you—” Dash started, laughing as I wrestled one shoe off, then the other. His tiny little no-show socks clung stubbornly, damp with sweat and curled at the toes. I peeled them off, tossed them aside.

He was still laughing, but it had a breathless edge now. “Casey, what are you up to?”

I didn’t answer. Just hooked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and started yanking them down.

He lifted his hips to help, but the denim clung—tight around his thighs, bunched at the knees, catching on his underwear.

Black briefs, stretched and twisted, the waistband rolled halfway down his hips like they were resisting the idea of being removed.

I tugged harder, dragging everything down in one messy motion. His cock bounced against his stomach, hard and wet. His briefs finally gave way, sliding down his legs like they’d surrendered.

“Jesus,” Dash muttered. “You’re really going for it.”

“Lie down,” I said, gathering up his scattered clothes and laying them out on the floor like a makeshift bed.

“On my clothes?”

“Unless you want your bare arse on cold tile.”

He slid off the crate and stretched out on the pile of fabric, grinning up at me. “This is getting proper kinky.”

Definitely a virgin .

Pierced face or not, his body still carried the coltish angles of adolescence. Not too many years ago his voice would’ve still cracked, his balls still finding their place. But the cock that had just been in my mouth was all man—hot, hard, pulsing like it knew exactly what it was for.

I took my time, running my palms over him like I was committing him to memory.

My hands cupped his feet first—narrow, bony things, still warm from his shoes—thumbs pressing into the arches before sliding upward.

I explored his skinny calves, following the wiry hair up to the thighs I’d been tempted by so many times under those ripped jeans.

My fingertips grazed the dark patch of pubes above his cock.

Then I bent in and kissed my way up his stomach, licking across the trail of hair that arrowed down from his navel. The line was thin but proud, the kind of detail a straight boy like Dash would never think to notice in himself.