I made you wait a whole week for part 2. I'm basically a monster. Lest you forget, I'm the pervert behind such nonsense as Jock Auction, A Closer Shave, on the Poolboy Payroll, and other happy diversions. Thank you, to everybody who took the time to email or send me a message on tumblr, for being so nice about part 1 of Eighteen. It's always nerve-wracking to make a story public, and getting feedback is never less than hugely gratifying.
As ever, don't read this if you shouldn't. Consider donating to Nifty if you can afford to. Drop me an email or a message through my poor neglected tumblr (https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/) if you liked the story.
Oh, and while fictional boys in made-up stories may not need to worry about safe sex, you do.
-Alex P (alexp336)
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EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 2
It had been a long time since I'd felt so nervous before a date that I'd worried I could be physically sick. Then again, it had been a long time since I'd been on a date with an eighteen year old.
I might, actually, have been eighteen myself at the time.
Now, north of thirty and wondering what the hell I'd got myself into, I was feeling a very familiar rush of regret and dismay. I say familiar: I'd felt it pretty much every day, several times each day, since meeting Jacob.
I was blaming post-coital myopia (or what Carl would undoubtedly describe as "after-fuck blindness") for inviting him for dinner when I should, by all rights, have counted myself lucky that I got away with the contents of my wallet intact. Not that Jacob ever seemed like the sort of guy who'd go dipping, but Carl's suggestion that these young men he mysteriously "knew" were open to college fund donations left me in little doubt as to what he was really alluding to.
Those, I had reminded myself multiple times in the past few days, were allusions I could well do without.
As Thursday had approached, I'd begun to wonder - hope, really - that Jacob would forget, or think it all a huge joke. Perhaps, if I didn't text him, or so my thinking went, we could just ignore the whole, awkward thing.
Every time my phone vibrated in my pocket a fresh wave of nausea spilled through me. It was almost a relief, perverse as it was, when I pulled it from my pocket for the hundredth time and saw Jacob's name on the message.
"Where we meeting?"
I stared at it on the lock screen, my brain a mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions. If I ignored it, if I just didn't actually open it, then he'd never see that I'd read it and I would have... what? Plausible deniability? At the very least it would send a message, that I wasn't interested or something along those lines. A cowardly, childish message that was probably beneath me, but beggars who bite off more than they can chew and feel sick to their stomach with regret can't be choosers.
It was hardly the best plan, but it might work, and so it was with no little amount of regret that I found myself swiping the message and opening it up. Jacob, I couldn't help but admit to myself, seemed like a nice guy. I'd been eighteen once, and I'd been ghosted once or twice, and it sucked in no uncertain terms. I might be uncomfortable, but he didn't deserve that.
Perhaps, I thought with a little desperation, he's looking for a way out. All he needs is an excuse, and we can call the whole thing off.
"I wasn't sure you'd still want to," I punched out, trying to ignore the twitch in my fingers as they swiped across the screen. Waited, breath caught in my chest, until the bubble of his reply appeared.
"Don't be silly. Just tell me where and when."
Fuck.
Where do you take an eighteen year old on a date? The fact that I knew what Jacob's dick tasted like, but didn't have a clue what sort of cuisine he did and didn't enjoy was hardly making me feel any better about my recent life choices. Yet asking would only drag this whole thing out even more awkwardly.
Opening a restaurant reservation app on my phone, I quickly flicked through the list of favorites. Thursday night, if the apparent shortage of open tables was anything to go by, was the new Friday night when it came to eating out. Unless, that is, we wanted to eat at 5pm, which I feared might raise senior citizen comparisons in Jacob's head.
Indeed, the only option that would really work was a little more upscale than I might have wanted. Somewhere I'd taken my mom last year, when she'd made one of her very sporadic visits. French food, smarter than a bistro but not a Michelin star sort of place either. Jacket-but-no-tie, basically.
I hit the button to book a table for two, and then pasted the address into a new message for Jacob, along with the reservation time. Thirty seconds later, a "See you there" reply confirmed there was no escaping the bed I'd haplessly made for myself.
Various versions of that thought proceeded to swim though my brain all day. Twice, I almost sent an apologetic but vague cancellation: sorry, can't make it, something unexpected came up. Jacob was surely wise enough to realize such nebulous demurrals were the sign of a regretful man.
My fingers couldn't bring themselves to do it, though. Instead, I watched the clock tick down, until I found myself showering, shaving, and dressing on autopilot. Faced the man staring back at me in the mirror and cursed him for the tedious, predictable urges that had got him into this mess in the first place. And spent a minute mentally cursing Carl for helping turn those foolhardy urges into something I really could look back on with regret.
Outside the restaurant, with a few minutes to spare, I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. Part of me hoping he wouldn't be late, and another wishing he wouldn't turn up at all. I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or dismayed when Jacob stepped out of a cab across the street.
He looked... different. Perhaps my brain, in-between bouts of self-flagellation, had embellished just what Jacob looked like. Maybe I'd not paid sufficient attention in the first place, my arousal squeezing everything else to the edges. For all I'd spent the days between then and now racked with uncertainty, each night before bed I'd found myself jerking off frantically with the thought of his cock between my lips, a knowing smile curling down at me.
Under the streetlamp's amber glow, he looked taller than I remembered. The self-confident smile of a guy half a dozen years older than he actually was. In a startling, unexpected reversal of roles, it was as though I was the eighteen year old and he was the older man; the butterflies in my stomach certainly suggested that.
"Hi Shaun," he greeted me, happily. Leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, the heat from him radiating against me. I looked him up and down.
"You look great," I told him, and meant it. Skinny black jeans, a narrow tailored suit jacket, and a crisp white shirt the unfastened top few buttons of which revealed an appealing expanse of honeyed skin. Jacob rolled his eyes at me, but grinned with it.
"You sound surprised." I shook my head, but his chuckle told me he was joking with me. "You thought I'd turn up in a high-school uniform or something?"
I started to protest, until he winked at me. "Or maybe you were hoping for that, was that it?" I felt my cheeks redden. Jacob's grin spread delightedly; reaching out and squeezing my bicep, he leaned in close to my ear. "I'm only teasing," he murmured, "though I'm sure I still have it somewhere, just so you know."
Shaking my head again - I couldn't quite trust my voice in this moment - I tried to look shocked and absolutely, totally not intrigued by that suggestion. And really, honestly, I wasn't. I really didn't have a thing for young guys. Just, it seemed, this one young guy.
"Shall... shall we go in," I stammered eventually, glancing at my watch if only to break eye-contact with him. He nodded, and waited for me to lead the way.
I'd feared some sort of reaction at the front desk. A knowing stare, perhaps, or something more scandalized. In reality, they swiftly and deftly led us to a waiting table, the waiter doing the usual napkin flourish across our laps which always makes me feel self-conscious. Jacob, though, seemed perfectly at ease, with a relaxed poise that suggested this was absolutely not unusual for him.
"This is nice," he commented, glancing around after the waiter had left us with the menu, wine list, specials list, and at least two other leather-bound documents I had mentally decided I'd simply ignore, if only because I wasn't sure we had table space to open them. "Have you been here before?"
"I brought my mom here," I explained. "She likes French food."
Jacob nodded, his eyes tracking down the menu. "Me too. It must've been good if you wanted to come here again."
"Second time's the charm," I replied, then felt myself blushing again when he looked up at me with a knowing expression.
"Oh I see..." he told me, smirking.
I shook my head, mortified. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't mean... Oh, god."
Jacob laughed, just loud enough that a lady at the next table glanced across at us. "Shaun, I'm teasing. Relax. This isn't an interview."
Sighing, I grimaced at him. "I don't know why I'm being so ridiculous," I confessed. Jacob's smile in response was endearingly genuine, or at least as far as I could tell.
"Well, if this was an interview you'd be doing pretty well out of the gate. Let's just say I've already seen your resumé, and it was very satisfying."
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at his innuendo. He laughed again.
"I can see it's going to be that sort of evening."
We were interrupted by the waiter, taking orders for drinks. Then, with his promise to return in a few minutes, we sat in companionable silence trying to figure out what we'd have. I ran each possibility through a matrix of "will it be embarrassing to eat in front of someone who isn't my mother" and "am I likely to spill it down my shirt" which filtered out a fair number of options.
Eventually, though, we had it all squared away. Leaning forward, Jacob held out his glass to clink against mine. "To new friends," he suggested, a sentiment I was happy to echo. I watched as he sipped his gin and tonic.
"I didn't think that would be the drink of choice for..." I started, then trailed off. Jacob raised an eyebrow.
"For 'people my age' you mean?" I shrugged, awkwardly. "Maybe I'm an old soul or" - he leaned forward, and I found myself in turn leaning in to meet him - "maybe I just like the taste." He winked at me.
"I'm doing it again, aren't I," I observed. Jacob took another sip, then nodded.
"To be honest I'm starting to wonder if you're obsessed with age," he told me.
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. My instinct may have been to argue, but could Jacob be more right than I'd care to admit? Just how aware of age - and age differences - was normal, and how much was obsessive?
"You're thinking," he observed. I shrugged, and tried to look like I wasn't ruminating fiercely.
"I just..." I started, then paused again. "Well, I'm just trying to decide how much thinking is too much, you know?"
Jacob toyed with his glass on the table, twisting it between his fingers. "The old advice would be that 'too much' is when it gets in the way of everything else."
That was one of those things which sounded helpful, just up until the point where you tried to compare your own experience up against it and discovered it was uselessly open-ended. When I glanced up, I found Jacob was staring at me, watching as that realization made itself clear in my expression.
"Look," he continued, "do you like me?" I nodded. "Do you like me solely because I'm eighteen?" I shook my head. "I mean, it's okay if that's true. I might wish it wer otherwise, but it's not like you'd be the first guy to feel that way."
"It's not like that," I told him. Jacob fixed me with a look, almost like he was trying to decide just how much he could believe me, before his expression softened.
"So there's your answer. And I guess what makes it more complicated is the fact that you're allowed to get turned on by difference, y'know? You're allowed to find youth attractive, just like I'm allowed to think older guys are attractive. It's not bad, in and of itself. I suppose it's only really a problem if it's crowding out everything else."
I looked at him with newfound admiration. "How did you get so wise," I asked, only partly joking. Jacob took another sip, swallowed, and then shrugged at me, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean, how did I get so good at sucking dick? Just practice, really."
I about choked on my tongue, trying half-successfully to turn it into a cough at the last moment, while looking frantically from side to side to see if anybody at the neighboring tables had heard him. One middle-aged woman was looking our way, but that could easily be because of my spluttering, rather than after overhearing Jacob's comment. I tried to smile at her, but the effect was probably spoiled somewhat by the fact that my eyes were watering.
Jacob held out a glass of water. "Here," he offered, then watched as I settled my coughing. Finally, when I was just about calm again, he gave me an innocently questioning look. "Was it something I said?"
Any rejoinder I might have had was interrupted by the arrival of our first course, so I settled on a fierce glare while his spreading smile became more knowing. Eventually, when the waiter had run through a recap of the details of everything we'd just read on the menu a few minutes before and then left us, Jacob gave me a vaguely contrite look.
"Sorry." He didn't look terribly sorry, frankly. "I couldn't help myself."
"Damn kids," I fired back, prompting chuckles.
"We're the worst," he agreed, "I don't know why anybody puts up with us."
"You look good on your knees," I observed, blithely.
Jacob giggled. "Guess I asked for that, didn't I."
He ate enthusiastically but neatly, and I tried not to make it obvious that I was watching him. Occasionally, chewing on a mouthful of food, he would look at me and smile, and I found myself smiling back - beaming, really, if I was being honest - automatically. His was a glow that was infectious, I suppose.
A different waiter arrived with a wine list for the next course, and Jacob shrugged his acquiescence with my decision. I tried my best to look like I knew what I was doing as I um'd and ah'd my way down the list, settling on something mid-priced and which sounded vaguely familiar. If he guessed otherwise, he was too polite to mention it.
"So you know Carl from school, right?" Jacob asked, as we waited for new plates to arrive. I frowned, trying to count the years my frustrating friend had been in my life.
"Something like that. He says his gaydar spotted me from day one. Meanwhile, I was deep in the closet and terrified of having a friend who might signal I was gay by proxy. Took me about a semester to get over that, and from then on I was his conscience and he was... well, he was probably responsible for most of my bad decisions, I guess."
Jacob smiled. "Bad decisions like me, for example?"
"Well," I conceded, "he does have a habit of acting first and thinking later. But," I quickly followed with, "I don't think of you as a bad decision. I mean, we're here now, aren't we?"
He gave me a knowing look. "To be honest, Shaun, I fully expected you to back out."
I attempted to look horrified at the very thought of such a nefarious plot, then promptly spoiled it all with the truth. "I almost did. I felt... well, I felt pretty dumb."
"Why?"
"Oh, you know," I said, dismissively, but when I looked up at Jacob he was still wearing a quizzical expression. "I guess it felt like I'd got caught up in the moment, and then I took you saying about dinner to heart when maybe you were just being polite. So I was kicking myself for texting you so soon."
He nodded. "So if you'd waited, maybe, to the next day, you wouldn't have done it?"
I sighed. "Honestly? Probably not. 'Cold light of day' sort of thing, yeah?"
Jacob's look was unreadable, and he seemed in no hurry to reply to me. I could feel the anxiety building in my chest.
"I mean, we're very different, right?" I stammered, suddenly feeling an urgency to make him understand what had been going through my head. "You wouldn't normally see someone like me, and... I wouldn't really... y'know?"
He frowned, just briefly. "I told you I'd dated guys older than you," he pointed out, eventually.
"Right, you did," I admitted, "but I just thought that..." My voice trailed off.
Now it was Jacob's turn to sigh. "Why can't you just tell me what's clearly in your head? Are you that afraid of being truthful with me?"
Was I? I'd been dancing around this truth since I'd met him, certainly, inwardly blaming first the reluctance of strangers to mention it, and then the awkwardness of being on a date with someone and not wanting it to go sour. Jacob, though, seemed unable to understand why someone would do that, or be cautious of it.
I downed what was left in my glass, and then looked up to meet his gaze. There was definitely a friendly challenge in there.
"I thought we were incompatible because you're, like, fifteen years younger than me or whatever," I told him, finally. "Plus the only reason we met each other was because I told my friend what, looking back now, seems like a pretty mortifying, sexual thing. And I don't really do hook-ups, and honestly I don't really date much, and I wasn't sure what this was between us."
He stared at me, refusing to fill the silence. Then, eventually. "And..."
I let out what was as close to a groan as possible without drawing attention to us. "And I was embarrassed. About being such a gay cliché by wanting to be with a teenager, and about the age difference, and because frankly you're so much more open and accepting about yourself than I was when I was your age. And it's embarrassing to feel old and dumb and full of regrets."
I clamped my mouth shut before I could say any more, and sat back in the chair. Fuck. I should know better than to speak what was on my mind, even if - heck, especially if - I was asked for that specifically. If this really was a date, I'd just pitched it into the trash.
"May I make an observation?" Jacob asked, finally. I shrugged my acquiescence, still too mortified to talk. "I'm guessing that, if you weren't out at the time, you didn't have much experience with guys when you were my age."
I shook my head and winced. There I went again, being the old, gay cliché.
"It's easier to be out now, as a younger guy," Jacob pointed out. I rubbed a hand across my face.
"Please. Just... please don't. Don't try to make excuses for me."
He frowned. "Who's making excuses? It's a fact."
I bit my tongue until the waiter, who had just arrived with the bottle, poured two glasses for us. Pretended I knew what I was sampling it for, before nodding my hopefully-convincing approval. Jacob, generously, waited until the waiter had left before picking up the conversation again, and didn't even smirk when I played "wine snob" inexpertly.
"Do you think people here are laughing at you?" he asked when we were alone once more. I glanced around the room, surreptitiously. Plenty of people, none of whom seemed to be paying us any attention whatsoever.
"Probably not, but then they probably don't realize we're on a date," I suggested.
Jacob jumped on that opening. "Oh, is this a date, then?"
I rolled my eyes. "See, even if they're not laughing at me, you certainly are."
He pantomimed holding his head in his hands in desperation.
"How about if I promise, cross my heart under peril of being forever limp, that I'm absolutely not laughing at you," he offered. I refused to rise to the bait.
"How about you tell me why you'd care if this was a date instead," I pushed back. Jacob picked up his wineglass, savoring a sip as he leaned back in his chair. His stare was unnerving, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.
"I assume 'because I like you' isn't good enough?" I shook my head. That was too easy.
He took another sip, looking thoughtful. "Well, you eat ass incredibly well," he pointed out, matter of factly. I was glad not to have been drinking, since it probably would've been impolite to spit red wine across the tablecloth. "And you sucked my dick really well, too. So even if I was just looking for a hook-up, you'd be doing well there."
I think my eyes must've been boggling out of my face, given the amused look Jacob gave me.
"It's cute when you get all flustered," he explained. "Makes me want to suck your cock again right here."
"Oh god, stop!" I insisted, my restraint failing and my head twitching from side to side in desperate hope that nobody had overheard him. Jacob's voice hadn't been loud, particularly, but still...
"But, just in case you think it's all physical with us damnable young people, I think you seem pretty cool when you're not having a panic attack about who might be listening in on us."
Busted.
"You clearly have good taste" - he glanced around the restaurant, to illustrate his meaning - "but you don't have the attitude a lot of guys might when there's an age difference. I think you find me attractive, which is always nice, but I don't think that's the only thing you care about. I just wish you'd lighten up on the self-doubt and all that crap, and maybe spend a little more time getting to know me like I'd enjoy getting to know you."
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Was I really going to protest again? That would certainly be true to form, but after everything Jacob had just said it seemed like just more of the clichéd behavior he'd already called me out on.
He leaned in, setting his wine glass on the table and gently playing with the stem between his fingers. Twisting it slowly, a half-turn clockwise and then a half-turn counterclockwise, as he smiled at me knowingly.
"I'm glad you didn't say it," he told me, "whatever it was going to be. Because I think we both know it was just going to be more of the same, right? Now we can agree to get past that dull stuff, and if it makes things any easier I can promise you that - if you want it - we're going to fuck tonight. So yes, you're in on that front, and all we really need to figure out is whether this is the second half of a prolonged one-night-stand or something... more. Okay?"
I pictured the firm, smooth curves of his ass, and the way his hole had fluttered against my tongue as I'd pressed into him. "Next time you can dump it in my ass instead," he'd told me, after I'd laced my cum across his face. I remembered the shiver of eager anticipation I'd felt in my stomach at his blunt promise.
"Okay," I agreed. Jacob beamed.
"Excellent. Oh..." He leaned in further, and I found myself automatically shifting forward in my seat to close the gap between us even more. His voice was a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm wearing a bright blue Aussiebum jockstrap."
He sat back, looking very self-satisfied. I felt the lurch of my cock, hardening in my jeans. Fighting the urge to adjust myself, I forced my hand to instead lift my glass and sip the wine. It felt like, for the first time, I was able to actually taste it.
"So..." I started, mentally shaking myself. "Tell me about yourself." Jacob's eyebrow arched, but I frowned playfully. "Not like that. I mean tell me something about you as... well, as you."
He shrugged, and looked a little thoughtful.
"Well, I grew up in a tiny little town about 80 miles from here..."
Over our main course I found out about his family, his parents and his older brother, and what he wanted to do when he was finished with school. About how he first realized he was gay when he was younger then twelve, something that, as a late bloomer myself, left me pretty stunned. And in turn I told him about my folks, living several cities away and our relationship strained both by the distance and the emotional chasm my sexuality had wrought. About how I'd had relationships, but only short ones, and invariably left floundering by my own doubts and their impatience.
By the time he was declining dessert and I was asking for an espresso and the check, I found myself in the odd circumstance of feeling like I could easily know him more than I knew most of my coworkers. Certainly, the gulf in our ages had, if not faded from my awareness altogether, at least receded to a place where it was merely a facet of our different lives, not the definition of it.
I was also achingly, painfully attracted to him.
Hearing about his background, his history, could've been a blast of cold water to what was simmering between us. Underscored the ways in which we differed; made patently clear that what we were doing was ridiculous. I'm not sure if I was afraid of that, or hopeful for it, or some mixture of the two extremes.
It'd be easy to assume that Jacob made me feel younger: that by virtue of his age, and our burgeoning dynamic which refused to be dampened down, I was reclaiming some squandered youth that I'd wasted in my own adolescent years and sought desperately to reattain now. Yet it didn't feel like that, although I felt more energized talking to him than I had to any romantic prospect in some time. It just... clicked. Somehow. Someway.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, jolting me from my reverie. I put down the tiny espresso cup I had apparently been holding, poised but not drinking from, above its similarly diminutive saucer for some moments. There was curiosity writ large on his face; fascination, even.
"Nothing," I demurred, then - faced with his slight frown - conceded that wasn't the absolute truth. "Well, I just thought that... we were getting along. And that felt different for me."
He smiled again. "I guess I'm a different sort of guy," he suggested.
Nodding at that, I couldn't stifle a giggle. "I think that's an understatement, no?" A raised eyebrow at that one.
"So how about you take me home and show me how well you eat my ass again?"
Jacob didn't exactly shout it, but he certainly didn't whisper it either. Glancing to our side, I saw a middle-aged couple staring at us in surprised horror, setting me off blushing madly. Jacob followed my look, and gave the poor man and his wife a lascivious smirk that left their faces as red as mine. The fact that he insisted on taking my hand as we made our escape from the restaurant was just absorbed into the overall blur.
The cab to my apartment similarly failed to register to me, all of my senses focused on the light touch of Jacob's hand where his fingers laced with mine on the seat between us. My grip felt hot against the coolness of his. This felt reckless, crazy somehow, but the rational part of me - crushed down to a dense nub of astonishment - for all its protests could still not come up with a good reason for it not to be happening.
By the time I swung the front door closed behind us, Jacob was pushing me back against it. Hands slipping beneath my jacket to grip my sides, as his mouth ground against mine. A split second of hesitation, and then I was kissing him back with similar hunger. The softness of his lips a contrast with the faint burr of his stubble; a rough growl rumbling from deep in his chest as my hands roamed their way down, across his waist, to squeeze at his buttocks.
When he pulled back his eyes were sparkling, pupils huge. Mouth red from the fierceness of our kissing.
"I've wanted to do that all evening," he told me, voice catching slightly. I used my grip on his ass to pull his crotch against my own, feeling the hardness trapped in his jeans as it pressed against my erection. "You taste of coffee."
I began to stutter out an apology but he shook his head, his expression a little wild. "I like it," he confided, dipping his face in suddenly close to run his tongue across my lips. His giggle was oddly boyish, playful. "Where are you going to fuck me?"
My fists clenched on his flesh, prompting a yelp, before I released him. "Bedroom. Through there," I instructed. He backed away from me, pushing his jacket off his shoulders to tumble to the floor before his fingers began to work their way down his shirt buttons. As I watched, following close behind and my attention torn between the growing expanse of creamy smooth flesh being exposed and his impish expression, I mimicked the process and left my own trail of clothing.
By the time the backs of his knees were bumping against the edge of my bed, Jacob was naked from the waist up, his belt discarded and his unfastened jeans gaping. I could see the bright blue of his underwear; the jut of his cock as it stretched to his hip.
Sitting down, he reached for my waist and pulled me close to him, until I was standing between his spread thighs. Hands eagerly tugging at my jeans and then the waistband of my boxer-briefs, his gaze fixed on the thick outline of my shaft as it pressed against the cotton. There was a shiny wet spot at the tip, where I'd leaked through the fabric, and Jacob leant in to it, his lips wrapping around the head of my dick and suckling. Our flesh only separated by a thin later of material, and that quickly succumbing to his delving fingers as he peeled away to barrier between him and his prize.
He gave a grunt of what could only be described as satisfaction when my cock sprang free. For a moment he stared at it, hunger in his expression, before I watched him take the first few inches into his mouth.
My hips twitched automatically, fists clenching at my sides as I savored the flood of sensations radiating through my body. Jacob's tongue swarmed around me relentlessly, his focus on the dense nerve-endings at the flare of my head leaving me afraid my knees would buckle.
With an audible pop he pulled off me, looking up with glossy eyes and spit-slicked lips to meet my overwhelmed gaze. "Make me take it," he slurred, then before I was able to question to instruction he was back on me, mouth a teasing suction.
He mewled at my momentary hesitation, a groan of frustrated hunger, until my body caught up with his demand and I laced my fingers through his hair. Pulled his face in close to me, forcing my cock into his mouth and - with a roughness that for a moment I feared might be too much, too far - into the tight grip of his throat.
If I'd expected a struggle, though, or complaint, I was sorely mistaken. I could feel the purr of Jacob's satisfaction as a vibration down my length, as he slobbered and choked on my prick. After a moment holding him in place, I used the fistful of his hair to pull him back until I was resting on his tongue, then jabbed myself back deep.
The squeeze of his hands on my thighs told me he was enjoying it as much as I was. After a minute I'd set up a rhythm, yanking Jacob's face back from my crotch until only the tip of me was lodged between his swollen lips, and then relentlessly slamming it into his throat again. Any reluctance I'd initially felt slipped away as I looked down into his hungry eyes.
When he slipped down off the edge of the bed, body slumping to the floor until his neck was against the ridge of the mattress, I followed him down. Leaned over him, his arms outstretched and fingers gripping the sheets either side of him, and - his head trapped between bed and my body - pumped my hips as I fucked his face. Hot, and wet, and slippery; hits mouth by turns trying to suck on me and simply yielding to the piston my cock had become.
Eventually, feeling the orgasm start to churn inside me, I reluctantly pulled away from him. Turned, to rest my ass against the bed and gasp, as he spluttered and choked, long rivulets of drool sliding from his lips and down his chest.
I panted, hard, then glanced across and down at him to see his wild gaze looking up at me tauntingly. "Why'd you stop?" he asked, voice thick and glottal. "Don't I deserve more?"
Reaching down, I grabbed a fistful of his hair again and pulled, Jacob scrambling to lever his half-naked body up onto the bed next to me. Hands pushing at his jeans to strip them off lean, muscled thighs. Hungrily I let my eyes roam across his flesh, noticing the huge patch where precum had seeped through the straining pouch of his jock.
Roughly I rolled him over, barely suppressing a gasp as the firm orbs of his buttocks were revealed. Framed in the clinging straps that bisected and dimpled the meat of his ass. I knew I needed to taste him.
"Spread them," I told him, and he jumped to comply. One hand pulling at each cheek, back arching to tilt himself up as if presenting his most intimate parts for my inspection.
I looked down at the smoothness on offer, marveling at the way Jacob's bulging ass pressed against his fingers. Even in this lewd position, they were ripe and bubble-like. "Fuck," I muttered, and heard him whimper in anticipation.
Slowly, I traced a finger down the trench of flesh, until the tip rested on the tight knot of his hairless hole. Pushing with just enough force that it began to yield.
"Please," he whispered, "just do it." I chuckled, rubbing the rough pad of my thumb across his twitching entrance as he tried to buck his ass back against me and increase the pressure. Jacob grunted with frustration.
All the same, I was nearing the limits of my own patience too. Ducking down close to him, I ran my tongue along where moments ago my fingers had been playing. Jacob groaned, pushing his body against my mouth as I teased around his ring.
"Fuck, yes, oh god yes," he muttered, voice muffled by his face jammed into the sheets. I didn't need the encouragement, though, not when I was so caught up in the feeling of his tightness yielding as I lapped and sucked on his ass. My fingers pulling him open even further, allowing my tongue to probe deeper.
Reaching underneath him, I pulled his cock free from the side of his jock. The swollen head was wet in my palm as I ground my fist around it, the overload of sensations leaving Jacob shuddering as I worked him from both sides.
"Fuck me already," he begged, voice hoarse with lust. Part of me wanted to tease him more, but my dick needed to feel what it would be like to be buried in him, and I knew there was no arguing with it.
Sitting up, I slapped the precum-slicked tip of my cock against his hole. Eagerly reaching back, Jacob released one of his cheeks and grabbed at me, trying to line our bodies up so that he could impale himself. I chuckled at his desperation, watching as he fumbled with my erection as wet flesh slipped across wet flesh.
"Shaun, please" he complained, what sounded almost like pain in his voice. Gripping my cock in one hand, and pushing the other against the small of his back to further tilt his hips up to me, I took pity on him. For a moment I wondered if spit and precum alone would be enough to break into him, but after a few seconds' pressure I felt his body softening as I sank the broad head of my shaft into him.
Jacob hissed, and for a split-second I paused, afraid that I'd hurt him. The pressure of his body, pushing back against me, told me I was mistaken. "Come on," he groaned, impatiently, as I slowly eased my way into him, "just fuck me already."
If he wasn't going to take it easy, neither was I. Dragging my hips back I pulled out until only the very tip of my cock was still inside him, then ground myself forward until I was once again buried all the way. The hiss of air through clenched teeth told me he'd felt it, settling into a ragged rhythm as I gradually built speed.
There was something hypnotic about the sight of my cock spearing into his taut, smooth flesh, framed by the bright jockstrap. Jacob rocked back on his haunches to meet me with each stroke, head hung low as I pounded him. Each time he'd clench his ass around my shaft, relentlessly demanding I fill him up.
I wanted to last longer, to hold off from my bubbling climax, but it had all been too much, too overwhelming. The flirtation at dinner, and Jacob's eager seduction the moment we walked in the front door, and the sight of him prone and eager in front of me as I mauled his teenage hole.
Reaching underneath him, my hips still smacking against his ass, I closed my fist around the head of his cock. He bucked and whimpered at the rush of feelings as my dry palm twisted roughly across the sensitive flesh - "please, ugh, it's too much," as his hole fluttered around me - before the liberal flow of his precum eased the overwhelming flood of sensations a little.
Then it was a case of working him from both sides. One hand flat on the small of his back, holding me up as I nailed his ass with unforgiving strokes, and the other grinding and rubbing at his leaking prick. Jacob's body shaking underneath me, the rhythmic clenching around my cock telling me his orgasm was close.
I felt the hard rush of cum fill my fist, a wordless moan shuddering from the depths of his chest. The way he tightened around me as it happened told me it wouldn't be long before my own climax would arrive. Releasing his still-twitching dick, I reached up and clamped my hand across his open mouth, hearing him grunt in surprise as I used the leverage to pull him back against me for those final lunges.
When I felt him lapping the wet mix of sweat, precum, and cum from my palm, his tongue pushing into the gaps between my fingers to taste every drop of himself, I couldn't hold back any more. Burying myself as deep as I could, I froze, unloading almost painfully inside him.
For a moment there was nothing but the sound of our panting, as I gradually eased my body down across his back. Feeing the stretch of his torso against my chest with each of his breaths. The scent of fresh sweat, sweet in my nostrils as I ran my lips across the damp flesh at the nape of his neck.
When he began to shift under me, I rolled off and to the side. My cock reluctantly abandoning his warm grip. Jacob turned, eyes closed, nuzzling his face against mine with a soft, dreamy grin. Mouths gently meeting for tender kisses, aeons away from the hungry feasting we'd been doing just before.
"That felt so good," he murmured, eventually. His leg slid over mine, body half-covering me from the waist down. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, pulling him to me gently. I could feel the half-hardness of his cock pushed against my thigh.
"Was I too... y'know..." I asked, picturing Jacob's squirming body as I hammered against his cheeks. He gave me a devilish grin.
"Too rough? You don't think I'd have told you if you were?"
I shrugged. He rolled his eyes.
"Trust me, that was just what I needed." Reaching down, he slipped his fingers behind his body. I could tell he was playing with his hole, my cock - despite all we'd just done - twitching at the thought of the cum-slimed mess I'd made back there.
"Can't stop touching?" I teased. Jacob smirked.
"Just checking... and it's not like you're complaining about watching, is it." He nodded down at my cock, which had begun to noticeably chub out across my thigh. "I thought old men were meant to need time to recharge?"
Nudging him with my elbow, I gave him an offended look. "Less of the old, thank you. And I can't help it if I'm turned on by some teen nymphomaniac."
A sly expression passed across his face, as he brought his hand around from exploring his hole to instead grab my dick. I could see the sticky glaze of my cum across his fingers, as he smeared it along my length.
"Are you complaining?" he asked me, voice low and husky. Jacob's fingers strayed down to my balls, stroking around them and gently squeezing until they were glistening. When I shook my head in reply he smiled again, fingertips inching down into the gap between my thighs. "No, I didn't think so."
I could feel him gradually probing around my ass, slippery fingers pulling and rubbing at the sensitive skin there. I'd thought I would be wiped out from the sex we'd just had, but my body clearly had a different agenda in mind. What else could explain the way my legs instinctively spread, allowing Jacob and his probing hand easier access to my hole.
As he kissed me, I felt the first finger ease inside me. Groaned, even as his tongue lazily dueled with my own. Automatically my legs began to pull back even further, as my ass bore down on his touch.
It was the invitation he needed, Jacob's body rolling easily into the space between my thighs, our kissing hardly interrupted. I felt the momentary stretch as a second finger worked its way in alongside the first, but the feeling of him pressed atop me and the way he bit lightly at my bottom lip quickly had it morphing into just another source of pleasure.
All the same, I winced when his fingers pulled out and, after the whisper of his jock being pushed down his legs, it was the head of his cock that nudged at my tightness instead. Jacob smiled, knowingly.
"Well aren't you tight," he teased. I tried my best to shrug, made harder by our position.
"Top drawer," I told him.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a bottle of lube. "Were you planning to seduce me, Shaun?" He almost managed to sound authentically shocked, though the expression on his face and the fact his fingers had gone back to plying my hole spoiled the illusion. I stuck out my tongue at him, and mimed jacking off. Jacob chuckled. "Well, I think we can do better than that..."
Certainly, a liberal application didn't hurt when it came to a third finger joining the previous two. I could feel my body yielding, softening; when I felt Jacob's body shake as he slicked his cock, I knew I was ready to feel it inside.
A sharp, brief stab of discomfort as he pushed in, and then the long, smooth grind as he slowly but surely pressed his full length into me. His eyes fixed on my face as he did it, gaze flitting down to where I gnawed my bottom lip and up again. He smiled when I let a shaky "yes" escape, the word stretching into a hiss as his erection was buried completely.
"That feel okay?" he asked, but I simply stared at him, eyes roaming across his handsome face. Jacob's hair was a mess, sweat tangled in places, unruly where I'd yanked him around in our previous fuck only minutes before. Yet for all the urgency and aggression of that sex, now he was completely different.
I nodded, my hands finding his flanks and holding him as his body moved atop me. Still careful at first, watching my expression attentively for any sign of discomfort, then clearly recognizing that I was feeling only pleasure as his not-inconsiderable dick worked my hole.
If our first coupling had been frantic, this time Jacob's body was a beautifully measured machine. A steady, but relentless piston inside me: there was no hair-pulling, no choking or slapping, but the insistent rhythm he was making was no less powerful. Sliding my hands down to his ass, I tried to pull him in faster, but he resisted.
"Patience," he told me, smiling as he leaned down to kiss me again. "We did quick and nasty; now we do this."
I groaned my frustration into his mouth, but all the same I couldn't argue with the sensations he was provoking. It felt like my body was a taut string, vibrations shimmering out from where his dick plowed into me. My cock, trapped between us, was rigid and leaking, but reaching for it might have upset Jacob's motions and suddenly it felt like nothing could be worse than that happening.
Happily for the hum of pleasure that was building up inside me - centered on the incredibly stretched feeling in my hole as it tried to clench down on Jacob's inches - he showed no interest in stopping either.
His fingernails trailed up my inside thighs, setting my skin goosebumping as I shivered at his touch. "Harder, please," I whimpered, desperation clear in my voice. I needed the friction to increase, needed the crush of his stomach on my dick to ratchet up that last few notches and tip me over the edge. Jacob's grin was teasing, the smile of a man fully aware of what he was doing and the escalating mixture of frustration and arousal he was generating within me. He knew I wanted more - needed more - and yet he was keeping me teetering on the precipice.
Eventually, though, even his restraint faded in the face of his own approaching climax. I felt Jacob's strokes become more labored, his grinding jerkier as my ass coaxed the orgasm from him. Sliding my fingertips up his torso, over his shoulders, I gripped his face and pulled him in to kiss me. Felt the meat of his bottom lip between my teeth and bit down just gently enough to hold him there as he reamed me.
When he came, I could feel his jaw clenching under my palms. Body rigid between my legs, erection pulsing and throbbing as he filled me up. And then his body was pulling back from me, his hand gripping my dick and, with firm and even strokes, plying me as my hole twitched and throbbed around his shaft.
It only took the slide of his fist a dozen or so times before - my gaze locked on his beautiful upper body as it towered above me as though some youthful Greek sculpture - I felt the familiar boiling in my groin. Whimpering again, my body beginning to ache with the prolonged sexual tension of the evening, as I splashed my chest, my stomach under Jacob's insistent touch.
Only to have it smeared between us, as he laid back down.
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Guess what - part 3 is already finished. Of course, if you didn't like part 2, that probably won't concern you. If you loved it, meanwhile, do feel free to tell me - alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/