Garrett went down on me, head in my lap, and— “Holy fuck!” He immediately took me to the back of his throat, lips stretched around my girth the way it had been in my dreams—yeah, unfortunately not singular.
I thrust up. Garrett took it, seemed to fucking crave it, his mouth and hand giving me the best kind of pleasure. Every time his nose was in my pubes, he swallowed around me, worked his throat just fucking right.
Jesus, my balls were already tight. I fisted my hand in his hair and pumped my hips, reveling in the sound of the wet suction of his mouth and the heat and talent of his tongue while he drove me wild.
“You look good with your mouth full of my dick.”
He lifted off, nuzzled my balls, then said, “I always look good.”
“I like it better when you can’t talk.”
“Shut up and let me work a load out of your balls, Rams.”
Before I could respond, he got to it again, and I couldn’t think of anything other than the feel of him pleasuring me, the sounds he made when I fucked his mouth, and how he groaned and thrust against the bed when he choked on my dick, like nothing got him hotter.
“Oh fuck…I’m gonna come. You better pull off if you’re not taking my load.”
But he didn’t, and I whispered a silent prayer. My balls drew up, and pleasure shot up my spine and to the goddamned moon. I cried out, bursting in his mouth, Garrett taking it all down, and…fuck, did he lick his lips afterward?
I was so fucked.
He pushed up to kneel beside me, wrapped his hand around his shaft, but I batted it away. “Fuck no. That’s mine.”
“I won’t last in your mouth. Just jerk me. When I shut you up with my cock, I want more time to enjoy it.”
There was a quiet voice in the back of my head that said he was easing me into being with a man, which made me stumble.
I pushed those thoughts aside, wrapped my hand around his erection, and almost fucking whimpered at the feel of his hot, hard length, which was embarrassing as shit.
It wasn’t every day a guy had his hand on another man’s dick for the first time, and I wanted it to last, wondered how many ways I could make Garrett come, before concentrating on this moment. I jerked him hard and fast. He leaked more than me, precum dripping down his shaft to help with lubrication. I let go of him just to spit in my palm, before jacking him again, watching his fat cock slide in and out of my fist.
“Fuck, Rams. You’re lucky I’m horny. I’m already gonna blow.”
And he did, his balls pulling up, thick, white ribbons spurting on my hand, my arm, my chest, until Garrett fell onto his back, and I did the same.
We were both breathing heavily, the room suddenly thick with tension.
Garrett was the first to speak. “So…that just happened.”
Yeah, yeah it did. I couldn’t find it in myself to regret it.
10
GARRETT
The way I saw it, hooking up with Ramsey, no strings, benefited us both on the field and off. Ramsey got to exercise his bi-curiousness with me, and I likewise didn’t have to hunt someone to get off with when I got tired of looking at my own hand. I could devote myself completely to football. No external distractions, no need for apps or the make-sure-the-person-isn’t-a-psycho text exchanges before hooking up.
It was easy.
It was efficient.
It was hot as fuck.
We’d been messing around for a couple of weeks with no signs of slowing down. I’d had FWBs before, but Ramsey took thirsty to a new level, and I couldn’t get enough. I’d had more handjobs in a span of days than I’d had in years, and his cock had been in my mouth so often, I’d know the shape of it even with my eyes closed. Introducing him to frotting had been especially fun. We’d both come within seconds, Ramsey had immediately demanded a do-over, and then we’d stuffed ourselves stupid with pizza at his place while watching The Good Place.
I looked forward to practices even more, not just for love of the game, but now also because watching Ramsey in action got me all worked up, and I knew that nine times out of ten, we’d be working off the stress of an upcoming game or a grueling practice with each other.
Wednesday’s practice was particularly brutal because our next game was against Tennessee, and they, like us, hadn’t lost yet. We’d watched hours of film until my eyes glazed over, and then spent the rest of the afternoon on the field in shells, running drills and plays.
“Good practice. Go wash it off,” Coach barked, and the team broke for the locker room.