I sucked his dick
All characters in this story are over 18 years of age.
After what happened, I couldn't stop thinking, I was fucked by the most handsome boy from my school.
I didn't know what to think. Hundreds of scenarios played out in my head: that he was sorry, that he was just curious, that it was an impulse - and nothing more. I tried to focus on my studies, my training, my daily life. But all I had to do was close my eyes, and I could smell the damp tiles again, his warm breath against my ear, the tension of my skin under the touch of his hand.
And then - completely unexpectedly - I got a message.
He didn't write much.
"Matt... Can we do it again?"
I froze. I read it once. Then a second. A third.
There was no apology or explanation. But there was more in those six words than he could say in an hour of conversation. A question - not an order. A request. And a note of uncertainty.
I wrote back only:
"Where and when?"
Not five minutes passed.
Training room No. 4 - after 10 pm just us."
When I went inside, everything looked different than usual.
The lights were dimmed - only a small lamp in the corner gave off a warm amber light. The air smelled of wood and sweat, as it does in a training room, but this time there was something else - a tension, like a quiet sound you feel in your bones before you hear it.
He was sitting on a bench, leaning with his back against the wall, completely naked. His body was relaxed, but his gaze was focused - intense, burning.
There was no shame or uncertainty in him. There was openness in him. It was a choice.
He looked at me without saying a word.
After a moment, he quietly but firmly said:
- Close the door. From the inside. With the key.
I did it without thinking, feeling the weight of the moment settle inside me.
When I turned around, he was sitting the same way, but there was something different about him. A calmness, perhaps. Perhaps tension. Or perhaps both at the same time.
He wasn't hiding. He wasn't pretending.
- I wanted you to see me as I really am," he said quietly. - Without barriers. Without games.
He looked at me. This time there was not that boyish confidence in him, He was more.... exposed. More serious. More real.
- I don't stop thinking about it," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. - About you. About this...
Take off your clothes," he said
After a moment, I saw his hard cock rise to the top. A smile appeared on his eyes.
Suddenly he said:
Kneel down and suck my cock.
I was happy, because I wanted it very much.
His breathing was a little deeper, my palms were sweating slightly. My heart was beating in a rhythm that was strangely familiar to me - like when you feel that something is going to change. That you are returning to something that hasn't happened yet, but already belongs to you.
When I started sucking him, he interrupted abruptly, resting his hands on my head, I screamed, but it didn't matter to him, he suddenly let me go, I raised my head abruptly and coughed up the saliva I was choking on.
Then he began to kiss me passionately, spit down my throat and told me to keep sucking.
Caressing his nipples, he moaned about how good it felt.
There were no more barriers. Every touch, every step into the depths of this moment was like a conscious entry into something greater.
The whole world shrank to the space between us.
There was silence again. The one that says more than shouting.
We didn't have to rush. Everything happened to the rhythm of our breaths. No one pressed, no one dominated - it was a balance. The meeting of two people who finally allowed themselves to be.
After a while he started moaning louder and louder, already, already coming.
He stood up and began to ram his cock into my mouth faster and faster, until he finally unloaded a huge amount of sweet cum into me. There was so much of it that some of it flowed out of my mouth, he made me stand up and passionately began to lick what leaked from my cheeks and neck.
What happened next required no literalness. No instructions were needed, no conversation. Everything important was already between us - glances, touches, sighs.
It was a moment of absolute concentration.
On him. On me. On the fact that we were in the same place, at the same time, ready to let go of something more.
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