Drop and Give Me 50

by Tradd St. Croix

1 Dec 2022 1665 readers Score 9.4 (31 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Chapter 19: Shower Time

We made our way back inside, and the spell was broken. Grumpy hissed at us from the kitchen countertop and bolted to the other side of the house leaving a fresh pile of shit for us to clean up.

Brent: I smell like chlorine, cat shit, and dick.

Me: Bottle that and you could be rich!

Brent: Seriously, let’s put that massive walk-in shower to good use.

Me: Good plan.

As an athlete, showering with other guys was nothing new. But this was the first time I was going to shower with someone I had just fucked. Brent turned on the water and started to fiddle with the complex controls that ran various shower heads from every direction. It was like a human car wash. All we needed was pink and blue foam.

Brent grabbed a scrub and poured a generous amount of what appeared to be very expensive aromatherapy body wash on it. He motioned for me to join him. The steam made the whole experience seem like a dream. At first, he just hugged me from behind and squeezed me tight to his chest. He rubbed his beard up against my cheek reminding me how unmistakably masculine this experience was. He backed off and started rubbing me in small and deliberate circles. The tingle in my body was an indulgent pleasure I had never experienced before. When I normally got in the shower, it was just about getting clean and not running up my mom’s water bill. This was something completely different.

I tried helping, but Brent swatted my hand away and assumed total control of my cleansing. He bent down and scrubbed my legs directing me to spread my feet apart. He lifted my arms to scrub my pits. When he was scrubbing my chest, he teased my nipples. As he bent down to clean my dick, I was hard as a rock. The sensation of the scrub on my dick was rough but pleasurable. Having Brent’s face this close to my cock without it being in his mouth was a new experience. He stood up, grabbed the hand-held shower and proceeded to rinse the soap off every crevice of my body. As the bubbles wash off my dick, he swallowed it to the base and gave it some tantalizing suction.

I repeated the routine almost verbatim with him. Like a close-up version of his standing at the edge of the pool earlier, I drank in the sight of his body. With every swirl of the scrub, I examined his flesh. Noticed every hair. Memorized every curve of his muscles. When the rinse was complete, I sat on the floor of the shower, placed the scrub between the back of my head and the tile wall, guided his dick in my mouth, placed both hands on his ass and started fucking my face with his cock. He spread his legs to get a steady balance. He stretched his arms above his head and leaned his torso and face up against the tile. Eventually, my hands were no longer setting the pace, and he was pummeling my throat with the same intensity his ass was fucking my dick out by the pool.

His dick was drowning in a thick pool of saliva which was foaming out of the corners of my mouth. I managed to breath in the steamy air through my nose to avoid choking. My throat opened up wide, and I moaned in a manner that was clearly meant to egg him on. Unlike the hurried finish at the pool, Brent slowed down as he approached orgasm and made every stroke count pulling nearly all the way out and plunging all the way back in. I didn’t know how much longer I could go, and then, his arms came down, his hands cupped the back of my head, he pulled me in tight, and shot round after round of cum down my throat. There wasn’t a choice about swallowing. With the length of his dick, the cum was deposited way past my mouth. It went straight down the gullet. Every drop. His dick throbbed in my throat pulsing with orgasmic spasms.

He pulled his dick out, and I was relieved, but I was also sad it was over. It wasn’t necessarily pleasurable, but the intensity of the act was both a challenge and a turn on. I knew I had just given him a pleasure he had never experienced. And the thrill of that thought filled me with joy. Brent turned around, slumped to the floor, and silently leaned his head on my shoulder.

by Tradd St. Croix

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