He can’t hardly keep his lips off me. It’s a lot easier than when we first started out, all clumsy tongues and drool. Back then I didn’t know if I wanted to go there, but Montrell told me to lay back and enjoy my damn self. So I did, and I really did.
The apartment above the garage is space enough for livin’, just like the garage is space enough for workin’. Like kind of a bachelor pad for two, everything in one big room and a bathroom off behind a door. Neither of us closes the door anyway, so who cares?
The bed’s about the priciest thing we got in the whole place that isn’t car-related. One of them king-size deals with about a million springs in it. Good for the back, the guy at the place said. He knew we were big men, though I don’t think he caught on that it was for the both of us. The guys who delivered it sure looked at us funny. Fuck ‘em.
It’s when he pulls me in all close-like and starts nibblin’ at my lip that I get all gooey inside. Beyond the gettin’ off, it’s a real nice feeling, and I don’t know why, but it makes me wanna keep close to him.
He doesn’t dawdle on getting to the meat and taters of it, with his hand all rubbin’ up and over my foreskin, bunching it and spreading it and pullin’ all over it. I leak like a plumber’s wet dream down there, and he can’t get enough sometimes it seems. I’m hard in about two seconds, three tops, and he’s been hard since probly before he started feelin’ me up. When he plants one of those gator nibble-kisses on my shoulder, I horn up into his cheek. I like the way he makes me feel.
Bein’ intimate with somebody gives you a reason to be clean all over all the time, unless you’re into bein’ dirty, which we are, except only sometimes and more the greasy kind than the toilet kind. ‘Cept for pissing, which is cool. What I mean is, when you got a gator tongue up in your hole about seven inches you might as well be bein’ fucked. You guys with your foxes and woofs and things think that’s what it’s about? You got nothing.
It’s nice and all when he goes slow, but I can see fire in his eyes when he’s eager to breed, too. Those yellow eyes get all predatory like we’re playin’ some game out in Deepest Darkest Africa like those old cartoons. He’s huntin’, all right. S’not like he has to aim very much to get the bull’s-eye. Just grab those hams of my hips and get on with it.
Gotta be “safe,” though, after all this time. He smiles and rips open the little foil packet and rolls it down til it touches my nose. It’s a little joke between us, and we gotta do it no matter who’s topping. Gotten to be one of them fetishes, almost. Hey, we get off, so there you go.
“You like that?” he grins down at me, sliding thick inches between my legs. Like I need to say anything. Hardly no pain no more, then it’s all good and smooth. He humps me hard and you’d think it’s weird hearin’ a rhino whimper, cuz it is. So what, I do.
“C’mon, boy.” He just growls pushes harder, and I go into power-bottom mode, but I can’t keep it up for long. He can run pretty roughshod when he wants to be, and I know he gets off on the little noises he fucks outta me. I know he’s close when I get clawed in my sides, but it kinda drives my nut too, so I let him.
Things get all kinds of slick when he breeds me. He always did pack a big load, and feelin’ it warm you up deep inside is something else…makes me feel like a proper man, if you know what I mean. And if you don’t, guess it’s not for you.
He gets off pretty quick, which is fine since it’s likely I’ll be gettin’ a second round later on, and I’ll be warmed up already. But he replaces his cock with his thumb, shovin’ in all that cum that wouldn’t stay inside.
“Ffffuck, yeah, get it all in there…” I can get kinda desperate when I’m close, but Montrell doesn’t mind. He knows my face gets all screwed up like I’m on the pot when I’m about to blow, and he nuzzles up under my balls like he’s tryin’ to knock my load loose. The schlock-schlock of my hood over my soaked head is the only sound while I grunt myself over the edge, and after that it’s all over. Half of it in the foreskin, half on my belly, I make a damn sticky sight of myself.
Montrell crawls over me and lies on top of me, spreading our seed all over and on the bed. Good thing we have that big-ass industrial washing machine ‘Trell convinced me to get.
I think I’ll keep him around.
***
Hex is \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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Montrell is tym
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