Oscar - 11. Part 11

It was like he jumped into my arms in slow motion.

First, I watched his eyes. Big and blue. Bluer under his thick, ginger locks. They locked onto mine as he leant against the door. Behind him a bright foyer opened into a chandelier-lit great room. His stare suited the place.

It dazzled.

But not like the architecture did. That dazzled in a different way. It was old and impressive. His eyes radiated excitement and youth. Mischief.

Then they changed. In a flash. Something deep-set and primal flickered across their glistening surfaces. It took hold and erupted out and over the rest of his body.

It curled the corners of his smile. It lowered his head and neck and shoulders. It rippled through his chest and pulled his hold from the door. It bent his knees. It compressed him like a spring. Then it told his legs to push and pounce.

I didn’t blink. I watched every second as my muscles braced and my arms came up to catch him. My mouth opening like his.

Snapshots of our first meeting in the library toilets at school flashed through my head: his lightly freckled hands flat against the cold, white-washed brick. The inside of his cotton underwear against the back of my hand. The sweet smell of his hair wax and the salty taste of his neck.

Blood rushed to my cock as the memory of his tight, spit-lubed hole warmed my right middle finger. Some of the first words he’d ever said to me, fast and whispered between quick, sharp breaths, echoed in my mind as we connected like a pair of highly-charged magnets.

“Please fuck me”.

His mouth was hot and his tongue was wild against my own. It flicked and danced inside my mouth, matching the hunger that had commanded his body moments before. His breath was fast and feverish, punctuated with gasps and boyish giggles.

The tops of his porcelain white arms, bulging with mini biceps, warmed my cheeks. His hands played with my hair. His arse fit perfectly inside my palms. I could have held him up for hours.

My cock ached and pulled my underwear tight under my jeans as thoughts of bending his small frame like a pretzel tried to control me. I yearned to watch his blushing face wince as I took his virginity.

But first we needed to move out of the doorway. We had an hour, and, by the two or so seconds I’d had to glance around the inside of his home, plenty of places to play.

Walking forward, tongue busy and eyes closed to savour the other senses flooding my brain, I found the door with the heel of my foot and kicked backwards. The heavy wood slammed and locked into place.

James pulled his face back and hung off my shoulders to support himself. His hard cock pushed into my abs and his arse slipped forward in my hands, pressing, cheeks apart, against the bulge in my jeans. He smiled.

‘Impressive,’ he said.

I looked at him, casually, from eye to eye. Played it cool. Or at least tried to.

Truth is, I was already on fire and ready to explode. Blown away by his fancy house and burning over his choice of outfit. Or lack of.

In fact, it was taking more effort than I’d thought to silence the voices in my head. The ones telling me to rip apart his flimsy briefs and fuck him rough and raw against the purple and burgundy-striped papered walls.

But too much passion will give him the wrong idea. He needs to know where he stands. It’s sex. Nothing more.

I kept my cool. Just.

‘That’s nothing,’ I said, shifting him slightly in my arms to get a better hold. ‘Wait until I’ve got you on your back and your feet behind my he–’

I couldn’t finish my sentence. I didn’t get a chance. His lips were against mine and we were kissing hard and deep again.

Evidently, I wasn’t the only impatient one.

Opening one eye, I carried him towards a sweeping staircase that flowed down into the middle of the hall from a first-floor landing until I felt a soft, carpeted step under my trainer. Squeezing his arse I stuck my tongue as far into his mouth as I could. Then I lowered him onto his feet and pushed.

He fell. Painlessly on his side and looking up at me from the slant. His wild but innocent eyes still set on mine, like an obedient puppy waiting for his master’s command.

His bare legs, covered in a soft ginger fluff, crossed each other, showing off the flawless curve of his perfect arse. His green t-shirt had fallen upwards and his fatless, pale six-pack looked as smooth as silk next to the cotton of his clothes and plush fibres of the floor.

Unfastening my jean button, I told him to pull down my zip. Without hesitating he pushed himself up to sitting and reached out towards my crotch. I slapped his hand away and he flinched.

‘With your teeth,’ I said.

His devilish grin returned in an instant and he placed his hands on my legs. Simultaneously he turned his lower body on his perch to face me. I tensed my quads under his grips and he squeezed tight in response.

Strong for a little guy.

Leaning forward slowly and opening his mouth at the same drawn-out speed, he moved toward the tiny, metallic rectangle. It was jutting out further than its maker had designed, what with the pressure behind. The top of his head obscured my line of sight but I knew he found it.

In the silent hall, I heard the almost inaudible click of his teeth against metal. Followed by the gentle buzz of an opening zipper. Then two flaps of denim bloomed open in front of his face and my jeans fell to my knees: my white briefs full.

He looked up at me. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open a fraction. Waiting.

‘Good boy,’ I said. ‘Now stay.’

For ten seconds, we said nothing. Did nothing. I was establishing dominance. Showing him who was in charge. That and I needed to calm myself before the storm. My balls already wanted to unload all over his sweet face.

I tried to ignore his adorable smirk and unwavering stare and the way he’d tilted his head to breathe in my crotch. It was harder than I’d thought. I busied myself by counting the freckles across the bridge of his nose. There were ten.

One for each second.

‘Very good,’ I said.

Then I pulled my briefs down to my knees. My cock sprung up and down and centred itself between us. He lowered his gaze. When he looked back up his eyes were wider than before. Filled with disbelief.

‘It’s huge,’ he said.

Thinking back to some of our early text messages I laughed. A single, low, breathy laugh. A sound that said, ‘I told you so’.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

Reaching out tentatively he froze a few centimetres from contact and looked up. I nodded. Then he wrapped his fingers around the middle of my shaft. Had to retighten his grip to make his fingers and thumb meet.

A pulse of pleasure shot down my legs and threatened my balance. Stifling the gasp attempting to escape my mouth, I centred myself by running a firm hand through his hair.

Sliding his grip towards me he peeled back my foreskin. I glided, wet and sticky with pre-cum. Then my millions of firing nerve endings blazed hot as he licked me clean.

Once. Twice. Three times.

First directly under the head, the tip of his tongue darting delicately around the ridge of skin attaching my foreskin to the rest of my cock. Then he flattened his tongue and licked me up one side. Then the other.

‘Your pre-cum tastes amazing,’ he said leaning back and wiping his mouth.

I shrugged away his compliment.

‘Who told you to stop?’

‘No one,’ he said, smiling. He looked left to right. ‘Do you want to go to my room?’

‘Is anyone else in?’

‘No.’

‘Then not yet.’

‘Ok.’

‘Open your mouth.’

‘I don’t know if I can get that in my mouth.’

He was joking. Half-joking. But I didn’t laugh. I repeated my command and he did as he was told.

‘Stick out your tongue,’ I said.

Again, he obliged.

Holding my cock at the base, I smacked myself against his soft, red muscle. Then I rested myself in his mouth with my hands on my waist.

‘Suck,’ I said.

For a split-second he didn’t move. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose while my cock dribbled another bead of pre-cum over his eager taste buds.

I remembered how he’d told me via text, the evening after I’d flipped him around and pulled down his black school trousers in the deserted library toilets, that he’d never done anything with another lad. Told me how he lies awake at night, dreaming of the taste and the feel of a cock in his mouth.

He was savouring the moment. Sadly, the next few were worth forgetting.

James was a virgin. In every sense of the word. While his hole, tight as a vice, worked nicely in his favour, his cock sucking skills didn’t. Take Adam, for example. All his practice in Mr. Price’s passenger seat had paid off. This poor kid didn’t know where to start.

His mouth was loose and lacked suction. His cheeks puffed out like a balloon. His gag reflex kicked in the moment he tried to go any deeper than my head. I watched him struggle and dribble until the inevitable scrape of teeth jolted me away.

‘Sorry,’ he said, his face turning pink with embarrassment. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’

Reaching down I held his chin gently between my thumb and index finger. Lifted it.

‘Don’t worry. Just do what I say.’

He nodded.

‘Open your mouth and cover your teeth with your lips.’

I laughed and said, ‘Not that much. Just enough to cover your canines. That’s better, good boy.’

Heat and wet enveloped me again as I slid myself carefully into his mouth.

‘Close your lips around me … Perfect … Now suck. Gently … Like a lollipop. Good. Use your tongue … Do what you did before … But don’t lose suction … Good. Keep doing that … Make sure you breathe … No, use your nose … Good … Very good.’

“Very” because James was a fast learner.

Before long he had his breath under control and his teeth safely tucked away. He was taking me further into his mouth without gagging; my cock hitting deeper and harder against the yielding flesh inside.

I wanted to watch every second. See every movement. Every detail. His thick red lips wrapped around me. The glistening tears filling in the corners of his eyes. His lean neck and shoulders and back below, blemish-free and toned.

But it was too much. I needed to distract myself or else I was going to unload fifty minutes early.

Letting my head hang back I opened my eyes, trying to ignore the body-shuddering build-up beating faster and faster through my shaft and around my balls. There was nothing but a chandelier and a white ceiling adorned with simple but stylish coving. Fancy, but not good enough. I could feel my load stirring. I wanted to look down so bad.

A large oil painting. It was hanging on the wall high to my right. Inside its expensive gold frame, a stern old man and woman in black. Grandparents most likely.

Perfect.

My cock stayed solid but my climax retreated as I thought about Grand-Mama and Grand-Papa looking down over their dutiful grandson, slurping away on his knees. Putting my hand on the back of his head I pulled him slowly towards me.

Inch by inch, the back of his throat squeezing tighter and tighter. A single tear falling down his pink cheek.

They’d be proud.

Then his fingers dug into my legs and his body convulsed. He pulled his head away, gagging and gasping for breath.

A thick, white strand of saliva connected my cock to his mouth before it broke in two. Half fell and stuck against his chin. The other plummeted toward the thick cream carpet below.

‘Ok,’ I said, looking down into his watering eyes and smiling face. ‘Let’s go to your bedroom.’