Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Tiny Tale Tuesday: Satisfied

Fingers tripped along sun-darkened skin, played out a dance across hard biceps and pecs. "Just lay still."

Simon barely nodded at it. He hadn't expected anything like this when he answered the ad, had agreed mostly because of the pictures that accompanied it. And they didn't disappoint. Michael stood tall and muscular, fine, pale hair spreading across his chest. His cock pointed up toward the ceiling, the head purple, glistening with a sheen of pre-come.

He hadn't tied Simon up, hadn't gagged him or otherwise subdued him. But his voice, deep like rum, proved enough. His requests flowed out, and Simon never thought to defy them. Not when Michael had laid on top of him, pressed his tongue forward. Not when he nibbled earlobes and nipples, shooting static across Simon's skin. And certainly not now, as his hands wandered up and down, brushing feather-light across Simon's chest, his ribs, his stomach, and down lower.

Slowly, the fingers tightened, curled into a gentle fist around Simon's cock. Michael leaned in close, whispered into Simon's ear. "Are you loud?"

"Sometimes." Hardly a breath of a word.

"Good. Try to stay quiet."

The firm hand eased up and down Simon's shaft, from his balls all the way up and over the head. Michael spit down onto it, easing the movement. Just knowing he couldn't moan or whimper or beg made it that much harder for Simon. All the sounds of passion filled his mouth, pressed against his lips, begged to be released. He wouldn't be punished in any way for it. Michael had assured him of that. But still, Simon couldn't allow himself to make the noise, even when Michael moved faster, squeezed ever s slightly harder around the over-sensitive shaft.

"Do you want to come yet?"

"No." He didn't want it to end. Not yet, but the pressure built inside of him, fought against the pure pleasure of being touched like this. He knew he wouldn't last long, and Michael kept stroking, applying more pressure, slicking the shaft with spit.

Simon's toes curled up and popped. His fingers tightened, balling up the bed sheet in his fist. He clenched his jaw shut, determined to stay quiet, remain silent even as his back arched up and his balls twitched. Liquid heat flew from his shaft, landed on his neck, his chest, his belly. It tangled in his pubes.

Michael leaned down and licked the last drop of come from Simon's head, then sighed. "Are you satisfied?"

More than he'd been in some time. But just as before, conflict fought within him. He didn't want this over, not yet, not when there could be so much more.

"Not quite."

Michael grinned. "I'll try again."

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