Soft-mouthed Sandy Pt. 03

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College

“So, what you’re saying is… While I was fucking you, I was being homophobic?”

Sandy speared a bit of home-delivered fried-ravioli and shrugged. “Well, it worked on a level of dirty talk for me in the moment,” he said, chewing. “But, yeah. Normally, you avoid terms like “faggot” and “Tinkerbell” during sex.”

“Hmm…” I speared a fork-full of risotto. “Thanks for buying lunch, by the way.”

“My pleasure.”

“Okay, if you have notes, I get to have notes, right?”

“Sure.”

“The ‘Daddy,” thing…”

Sandy smiled. “What about it?”

“I’m 22. You’re 23.”

“And yet I’m 5 feet 7 inches. You’re what, 6′ 2″?”

“I’m just saying…”

“You want to call me “Daddy,” Sean?”

“I’m just saying… if we’re going to knit-pick…”

It was noon. After the shower, I had returned to the living room, struggling back into my blue undies and Ariat Jeans. Sandy had gone into his bedroom and returned in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, leaving his chest bare. He’d grabbed the remote and plugged in a DVD.

We sat watching “Casablanca,” his hand on my thigh, my arm slung over his shoulder.

Roundabout 11, he asked. “You like Italian?”

I’d nodded and watched him grab up the phone to dial out for lunch.

In his silk pajama bottoms, his dark hair still damp from the shower, he looked very handsome. Thinking back to minutes before, I realized that I was curious about something.

I stood from the couch and walked over behind him just as the restaurant he had called picked up.

“Hello, Angela’s?” He backed against me, and my arms went naturally around his waist.

“Delivery, please?”

I brought my lips down and kissed his shoulder. He batted me away.

“Um, yes.” He held his hand over the phone. “What are you hungry for?”

I reached a hand down into his silk pajama bottoms. “Guess.”

I spun him around, so he was facing me, and I went down into a crouch, playfully pulling at the drawstring on his p.j.s.

“Yes, I’m still here,” he said into the phone.

The line of his cock was neatly outlined along the inseam. I let my tongue trace along it until I found the tip.

“Stop it,” he whispered. “No, not you,” he said into the phone. I guess two orders of your risotto, an appetizer of your fried ravioli. Salad? Hmm. Okay, ooh, yes.”

I could taste a few tangy drops of pre-cum through the silk. He was getting harder, something I was ever-more impressed to watch.

“What do you feed this thing?” I whispered.

“No, that’s all,” he said into the phone. His hand went back over the receiver. “The woman taking my order sounds like the Italian version of my 90-year-old Abbi. We’re both going to hell for this.”

“Sue me,” I said. “I only got to feel it in the shower. And all this time, I thought mine was impressive.”

His hand came off the receiver. “$27.89? Sounds fine.” He looked down at me and grudgingly pulled down his pants. “20 minutes?” He said into the phone. “Let me check. Is that too soon?”

I kissed along the vein of his impressive 11-inch tool. “Maybe 45 minutes? I’ve got a lot to deal with down here.”

He relayed the message to the 90-year-old Abbi and hung up with a polite “thank you.”

He placed the phone in its cradle while I continued kissing along his cock veins, stopping just shy of the tip. About every third or fourth kiss, I nibbled a bit.

“If this is supposed to be playful,” he said, looking down at me. “Can we get past the torture part of it?”

I smiled, standing up so that I was a full head and a half over him, reaching down to grab him in my hand, squeezing a bit. He hissed in a breath.

“I’ve never literally had another guy by the balls,” I said.

“So, before,” he said. “When you asked to see my bedroom. What was that about?”

I let my hand move from his balls gently up his remarkable shaft. “Well, I don’t like to admit it when girls complain about it, but there is some truth in the adage that all guys are basically the same. “

“Oh yeah?” He said.

I was lightly tickling with my fingers along his shaft. It apparently worked as well on him as it did when Nan did the same thing to me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Not only is your bed made. Your closet door is shut as well as all the drawers on your dresser. It smelled like Febreze and whatever cologne you use. You woke up early to pick up on the off chance I’d come by, didn’t you?”

He smirked. “I could just be a neat and tidy person,” he said.

I let go of his cock. “I’m opening your closet door.”

He was blinking back from reverie pendik escort bayan before he realized I was passing him, charging toward his bedroom. He laughed, trying to catch me, but I juked and was in his room. I was at the closet in a flash, pulling the painted white doors open to allow a cascade of clothes to spill out over the floor.

“Ha!” I said. “See, now I can’t fuck you anymore. You’re too messy.”

He was trying to stuff his swollen hog back into his pj’s while also reaching to try and scoop the mixture of clean and dirty clothes back into the closet when I stopped him.

Now, I’d never been in a gay relationship before this one, but I will say this. It pays to be big enough and tall enough to lift your romantic partner like a sack of flour and toss them onto the bed now and then.

“You’re crazy,” Sandy laughed, overcome with a fit of laugher as he landed on the comforter atop the bed.

“Shut up and keep that cock out,” I said. “Seems like I owe you at least an attempt after last night,” I said.

“Attempt?”

I got down on my knees and planted my hands on his abdomen. “It’s definitely longer than mine,” I said. “Not sure what I’m going to do with the whole thing.”

“Yours is thicker,” Sandy said. “Proper thick,” he sighed, his head falling back. “I haven’t been fucked like that in ages.”

I took the tip of his cock and put my lips against it.

In my mind, I imagined the little anthropomorphic paper clip appearing just at the right of my field of vision.

“Hi there,” he said. “You appear to be attempting to suck another man’s cock for the first time. Can I give you some pointers?”

I thought about things I liked. Eye contact. I moved my attention from his cock up to his eyes. He was looking down at me. One of his hands had come down to rest atop one of mine on his stomach. The other arm was flung up behind his head.

I opened my lips and moved them down over three first two inches of his throbbed prick.

“Mmm,” he moaned.

I let my tongue move forward to lick the very tip of it, the precum taste was more intense, but I flicked his little piss-slit a few times and watched the hand that was on his abs come down to grip my hair gently.

Clippy popped up again. “You’re doing great so far! Now try a medium sucking pressure as you move the hand on his knee up to massage his balls! And swirl that tongue around, buddy! If it works on you, it’ll work on him.”

Thanks, gay Clippy!

“What are you smiling at?” Sandy was looking down into my eyes. I transitioned from tongue his slit to circling my tongue around the whole head of his punishment while sucking my way up.

“Uh,” he moaned as his dick popped out from between my lips. My hand went from his knee to lightly fondle his balls.

“How am I doing?” I asked.

“Can I keep you?”

I bought my mouth down again, taking in another few inches of his glistening cock. I increased my section as I brought the hand from his stomach down to the base of his shaft. I moved my mouth up and down, taking more of him to the back of my mouth, bringing my hand up to his shaft, moving over the tight skin while running a thumb along the seam on his smoothly shaven balls.

I took a breath through my nose and steeled myself.

“Hi,” Clippy said. “Are you about to try opening your throat?”

I let my hands come away from their ministrations and planted my palms at the top of his thighs. I brought the whole first half of him into my mouth, and then, opening my throat, I felt him slip smoothly down, inch by inch, until more than two-thirds of his lengthy shaft was in. I felt his warm pulsing cock head and shaft as my throat enveloped them.

I felt myself gag suddenly and cough, pulling back to catch my breath. I let only a moment pass before trying again. This time, I managed another two inches, and when his hips began pushing up, feeding the length in and out of my throat, I managed to keep from choking.

For the next five minutes, I alternated deep-throating him and then, when I need a break for air, stroking the length of him and nibbling softly, edging him and, once or twice, going lower to lick and gnaw gently at the tightening skin of his ball-bag.

I watched him writhe and buck his hips as he fucked my throat. Eventually, as I was sucking at the dark, swollen tip of his monster, I noticed him growing more restless. Luckily, I was caressing his balls at the moment I felt them tightening.

“Hi there,” gay Clippy chimed. “Will you be taking this load of cum in your mouth, on your face, or…”

I plunged maltepe escort my mouth down over his shaft, opening my throat wide. I pressed myself down. My lips were at the root, and with a jump, I felt Sandy’s hot thick cum shooting through his shaft and down the back of my throat. It was a tremendous load, and he kept cumming as I pulled back up along his shaft. He finished with a final spurt of cum that danced across my tongue.

I kept it there, savoring the salty flavor a moment before swirling it with my tongue around the head of his cock.

He’d closed his eyes while he’d shot his load. They fluttered open as I pulled myself up onto the bed to lie beside him.

“Hi,” I said, looking over at him.

He laughed. “Hi. Do anything interesting today?”

So, we laughed, and then we snuggled in the afterglow. Then the doorbell had chimed, and Sandy swore, pulling up his pajama bottoms and tugging on a sweatshirt before rushing to the door.

We were eating together at his kitchen counter. I must admit I was thinking of calling Nan to reschedule “Netflix and Chill” since I was already doing it with someone else.

“So,” Sandy said. “Favorite Bogart Movie?”

“Big Sleep,” I said.

“To Have And Have Not,” Sandy countered.

“Favorite Hitchcock Film?” I asked.

“Suspicion.”

“Damn,” I said. “Mine too.”

“Whose hotter to you? Ingrid Bergman or Lauren Bacall?”

I smirked. “Whose hotter to you?”

“Jerk.”

“Bergman for the accent. Bacall for the attitude. It’s nuanced, my man.”

“Okay… Hottest male actor, dead.”

“Pass.”

“No! Come on, now.”

I considered. “Three-way tie.”

“The hell you say?”

I counted them off on my right hand. “Leslie Howard in The Petrified Forrest. Carey Grant in The Philadelphia Story. James Stewart, same film.”

He contemplated. “I can see that.”

“If you had to,” I began…

“Audrey Hepburn,” he said. “But only in Sabrina or Roman Holiday.”

We contemplated a bit.

“So…” I began. “What celebrity would you say I most remind you-“

“Harrison Ford in Witness,” he said. ” Me?”

“Tom Cruise.”

“Really? So, do you think he’s secretly gay?.”

“Tom Cruise is married to Katie Holmes,” I said.

“Sure, Sean. You want the last breadstick?”

“Oooh, Nicole Kidman in Dead Calm,” I sighed.

“I’m taking the last breadstick.”

“Granted, that 80s perm was a bit frizzy…”

“I get it, Sean, you’re still into girls. I’m fine with it! Jesus, a guy cums in your ass once and then blows you, and you spring for lunch…”

“Thank you for lunch, Daddy.”

“Don’t get cute, Faggot.”

Sandy drove me home at about 1 p.m. My basket of clean clothes fit neatly in the trunk of his little Solstice. I kept my laptop in my lap. When he delivered me home, he walked me to the door, and we shook hands before he climbed back into his little roadster and drove away.

I got into my apartment without using the spare key under the carpet on the third stair.

(Okay, I lied, my favorite Hitchcock Movie is actually Dial M for Murder, but Suspicion is up there on my top-5 list of Hitchcock movies. I mean, Notorious is better, And Strangers on a Train And North-by-Northwest And then there’s Psycho).

At any rate, I wanted to have something in common with Sandy before he drove me home at 1 p.m.

(To Catch A Theif is probably better than Notorious now that I think about it. Suspicion is top 10.)

Anyway, 1 p.m. back at my dingy little apartment. Sunday afternoon. I filed my stories with the college newspaper scheduled to run on Monday. I made my bed, put away my laundry. I walked down to the liquor store and bought a nice bottle of cheap chianti.

When I heard the old Ford V8 chugging into the parking lot outside my apartment, I was dressed and pressed, and when I opened the door for Nan, she kissed me firmly on the lips.

“Hey, baby,” she said. “How was your day?”

“Oh,” I said. “Same old same old. Get your tire fixed?”

“Good as new,” she smiled, moving to the kitchen and taking a package of unpopped popcorn to feed into the microwave. “And what’s more, I caught my naughty neighbor taking out his trash this afternoon. I think he did have a bit of slap and tickle last night.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “Nobody was up there with him when I took him his coffee this morning.”

“Hmm, well,” she shrugged, tossing my truck keys on the counter. She opened the fridge and found the red wine. “Boy have I got you trained,” she said, bringing out the wine and selecting kartal escort a corkscrew from a drawer.

She passed the bottle and the corkscrew to me. “Open that for me, lover,” she said. “And by the way, I couldn’t get a refund for the lake cabin, but they did upgrade me for a larger cabin next weekend. Maybe you could join Cass and me?”

I rubbed my neck, taking the foil off the wine. “Well, I suppose…”

I pushed the corkscrew against the pale cork. As it yielded, I got a flash of the tip of my cock penetrating the soft dark ring of Sandy’s asshole. “Nan, something interesting did happen today-“

The microwave chimed, and Nan went to grab a bowl from a cabinet near the sink. She pulled the bag of freshly popped popcorn out and dumped it into the bowl. “You know what, I hope Sandy really has a go with whoever this mystery guy is. He’s a sweetie, Sean. You and he would hit it off!”

“Yeah,” I said. “I felt a positive vibe of him.” I pulled the cork off the wine, and Nan produced two wine glasses.

I poured, and she sipped, popping a puff of popcorn between my lips. “In fact,” she said. “If I catch Sandy with his new guy friend sometime this week, I’m going to invite them along to the cabin with us?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Nan, when you started things up with Cass, I was cool with it. More than cool, really.”

“It’s not like you’re going to have to watch him make out with his boyfriend, Sean.”

“Its… No, I’m saying. I like Cass. And you’re exploring things with her, and she’s been good for you. And you know, you’re happier, and that makes us happier, right?”

Nan nodded, taking her wine and the bowl of popcorn. “If this about her barking at you for not having your phone last night, you know she was just in a mood,” Nan said, going over to sit on the sofa. She kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs up underneath her cute little bottom. He patted the spot next to her. “Come over and help me pick something to watch, hon.”

I took my glass of wine, sat down, and took up the remote to flip on the TV. I passed it to her and her legs came out to drape across my lap.

Nan has lovely long slender legs, and as she surfed through the Netflix menus, I ran my hands along the neatly shaven skin.

“Boy-o? Are you just going to stop trying to tell her?”

I shifted awkwardly at the voice grumbling from the back of my mind.

Nan selected a documentary from the list, pushing her butt against me. “If it’s boring,” she said. “We’ll have to spice things up, right?”

Her smile lit up the room, even doing something so mundane.

“Nan, I love you,” I said.

She smiled, pulling herself entirely up on my lap and kissing me. “Well, I love you, too, silly.”

“There’s something I should probably tell you-“

“Shh,” she said. “It’s starting.”

I watched as she munched a handful of popcorn, and then she dug and brought up a handful for me.

She glanced from the documentary to me and smiled again. I took a bite of the popcorn she offered, feeling her squirm the way she likes to so that the friction of her ass would “accidentally” get my dick hard.

“Boy-o?”

“Shh,” another voice inside my head said to my grumbling old conscience. He adjusted his cufflinks and straightened the bow tie completing his suave secret agent look. “I shee we have a shlight shtiffening coming on,” my straight sex drive did a poor imitation of Sean Connery.

I sipped my wine. Nan wriggled. My cock stirred.

“It’s not like you’re keeping it a shecret,” Double-0 Sex Drive said. “Jusht delaying things a bit, right?”

Nan put the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table and snuggled into me. Her hand went between her legs to feel the tightening of my jeans beneath her.

“Someone’s not paying too close attention to the movie,” she said, her smiling lips coming up to kiss at my ear lobe.

I took her wine glass and set it next to mine on the coffee table. I lay her back on the sofa, cradling her head, my fingers running through her soft blonde locks, letting my lips find hers. We kissed, and in a moment, my hand was moving under the hem of her t-shirt.

“You’re distracting me from the plight of the Orinoco River Dolphins,” Nan said, pulling my t-shirt up over my head.

“I’m a horrible boyfriend,” I said, my hand coming up to cup her breast. I could tell she had chosen one of her lacey bras.

She reached out and found the remote, muting the documentary. “You’re a decent enough boyfriend,” she said. “Perhaps one day I’ll share you with someone?”

I paused in my kissing along her collarbone, feeling my Double-O Sex Drive and my grumbly old conscience poised with their ears cooked, listening intently.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said, unhooking her bra before lifting it and her little pale yellow t-shirt over her head.

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