Oscar - 16. Part 16

He started like he meant to go on.

Grabbing the front of my hair he pushed my head back. Firm but slow. In control. Dominating, but respectful. And only an inch, so my open mouth was at a better angle and I was looking where his eyes should be.

It was hard to see them in the greys of the forest and the silhouette of inky black above. I could make out his shape. His legs and his torso. His shoulders. Darker where his clothes were, a few hues lighter where his skin was. I could see his features. His mouth, his nose, his ears. I could hear his breath. Smell his scent.

But it was too dark to see his eyes.

Then they gleamed. Twinkled like far off stars. Reflected by a sudden burst of moonlight that must have escaped from the long, low autumn clouds I’d seen creeping into the sky before the sun had gone down. The silver filtered through thousands of outstretched branches in faint rays, strong enough to illuminate us in the darkness.

He smiled. So did I.

‘Shut your eyes,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Do as I say.’

I did as I was told. My lids descended and my other senses took over.

Thick fabric ruffled in front of me. Rugby shorts. They skimmed down hairy legs and a waft of warm air tickled my face. His scent grew instantly stronger. Then I flinched the tiniest of flinches as his hard, warm cock brushed against my chin, leaving a sticky bead of pre-cum.

I giggled. He smirked. Husky and through his nose. Then he pulled my head towards him. Into his crotch.

Hot and moist from his run he smelt phenomenal. Fresh and clean but strong. The kind of strength you can only find between a man’s legs.

Taking a deep breath, I savoured him. Filled my lungs with every delicious moment since he’d last showered. Every layer of his day.

He let go and I rocked back to vertical. A twig cracked, echoing like a whip in the silent darkness, followed by the rustle of trainers on dead leaves. He was repositioning himself.

I licked my lips. Felt a hand on the back of my neck: my cue to open as wide as possible. Then he slid himself inside. As far as he could go. First time.

No messing around.

Adam had been a manageable challenge. And after giving James pointers, I really had no excuse. But as much as I tried, relaxed my throat and pushed my body towards him, angled my head left to right, anything I could think of, I couldn’t get him down.

My mouth was watering plenty, practically gushing at the prospect of finally feeling and tasting Mr. Price, but even with the aid of his pre-cum my enthusiastic saliva glands still hadn’t produced enough. Not to cover all of him.

His cock was huge. Like Adam’s but thicker. Fuller. So full he hurt. He jammed into the top of my throat and refused to bend south, friction burning over me like I’d swallowed razor blades.

But then the discomfort vanished.

He pulled out, gathered a fresh layer of lubrication on the way and drove back inside. The walls of my throat squeezed and strained in retaliation. My fists clenched. My abs contracted. I willed my body to stay in control and not to convulse him out of me.

Victory.

Straight to the base. Shifting my voice box forward, all nine inches of him slid down until his sweaty pubes prickled my nostrils and my cock almost split the seams of my running shorts.

He filled me full. Like a glove. Like it was meant to be.

Grunting he quickly clasped both hands around my head, locking me in place. Strong and large and like dinner plates his hands covered my ears and muffled sound.

Every surge of blood became ten times louder: my heart beating through me like a drum. He began to rock my head back and forth onto him. Once, twice, three times, four. The slushing and sloshing deliciously amplified inside my skull. The rush of subservience surging over me as I surrendered, arms tied behind my back, to his power and his will.

Opening my eyes for the first time in minutes I watched the scene around me. It blurred up and down and up and down. Then it stopped.

‘Fuck,’ he said letting go of my head and pulling out.

Sound came rushing back, clear and crisp in the stillness, accompanied by the heave of my lungs sucking down air.

I wanted to ask if he was ok, though I was certain I’d kept my teeth safely tucked under my tongue and lips. But I was too busy breathing. I’d held my breath for longer before. But not much.

‘You alright?’ I finally said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I was close.’

‘That’s ok. I’m ready when you are.’

‘No. I’m not done with you yet.’

Suppressing a smile, I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. Happiness rolling through me.

I knew our sojourn into the trees wasn’t going to be a three-hour session followed by a feed, but it was nice to know I was getting more than a two-minute blow and go.

He’s enjoying himself.

I stuck out my tongue. Flat. He regained his hold and slid in. Over my tongue and back down my throat. But this time he started a counter rhythm. As he pushed my head away, he moved his hips backwards so his cock rested on my bottom lip. Then he pulled me back, thrusting his way down and squashing my lips against his abs.

Slapping my throat with his heavy balls. Filling every inch of me and then some.

He kept at it. Fucked my mouth slow and steady but rough and ruthlessly, my balls aching and my cock surging each time he stretched me. Then he grunted. Quietly, but uncontrollably. Sped up.

Faster and faster. Rougher and more ruthless until I couldn’t breathe between thrusts. My oxygen quickly depleting, I took him for as long as my body and mind would let me.

Twenty-five of some of the most mind-blowing seconds of my life later, I finally gave in.

My gag reflex kicked through me, arching and shaking my whole body. Wrenching my head away I coughed and spluttered and hacked up a thick tendril of whipped-up foam. Pre-cum dribbled out of me as the sounds of my retching sent scintillatingly sordid shivers down my spine.

But Mr. Price was stricter than I’d remembered. He was having none of it. Quickly regaining his hold, one hand on the crown of my head and the other under my jaw to hold me open, he pulled me hard towards him. Forced my mouth back onto his shaft just as I’d gulped down the quickest of breaths.

Closing my eyes, I relaxed in his grip. Let him do all the work. Tensing my core and my spine I loosened my shoulders and neck but kept my back straight. Enjoyed the motion and my gurgling and his flavour in the darkness.

He grunted again. Deep and hoarse and louder than before. Then again. And again.

Soon he was grunting with each thrust. Thrusts that slammed his heavy balls against my bulging Adam’s apple almost twice a second.

Fingertips dug into my head and tension released through my jaw muscles. Pain crushed into my temples. All of it mingled with the waves of intense pleasure radiating through me and setting my synapses ablaze like fireworks on the fourth of July.

The veins of his cock swelled against my tongue. His legs shook. He was close.

Only, there was a problem.

Some people think there’s plenty of things wrong with blowjobs. The texture of cum. The taste. The temperature. The sting when it lands in your eye and millions of swimmers try to burrow into your cornea.

But, if you know and enjoy what you’re doing, the only real problem is breathing. And with your windpipe filled to bursting, naturally it’s impossible. When said blockage is a fat cock that’s gaining momentum to pump a hot load directly into your stomach, the last thing either party wants is a break in the build-up.

But I’d never been in this situation before. Usually the guy would pull out and blow on my face. Or into my mouth so he could see it pool on my tongue. And while the thought of Tim Price unloading directly inside of me was like every Christmas coming at once, a panic began to grow. Tight inside my lungs.

I’m running out of air.

Fear prickled over me as I willed my mouth to stay open and my body to stay abandoned to his desires. I had to let him finish. No question. I couldn’t pull away.

He’s too close.

I needed to be the best boy I could be. An A-grade student so sir would think about me from dawn until dusk. From the moment he woke, to the moment he fell asleep. In his dreams. Wanting me. Needing me again and again and again.

But I still can’t breathe.

His vice-like grip squeezed tighter. His body tensed all over. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my heart beat exploded through me. He thrust forward one last time and pulled me so close my whole face squashed against his rippling stomach. Then he let out a long and low moan that vibrated through his cock, all the way down into my toes.

The fear and panic disappeared. The heavy dread in my chest dissipated. As his load streamed hot and thick into my stomach, heating me like whisky on a winter’s day, I didn’t care if I could breathe or not. My mind flicked into overdrive.

Nothing else matters.

I felt like I could have held my breath for hours as I savoured every sense. Every taste and texture, temperature, scent and sound, my jaw wide but no longer aching. It was only until he slid out, six heavenly seconds later, did my need for air regain its desperate struggle.

Bending over I opened my lungs. Deep, cold, salty mouthfuls seared my throat, catching and sticking at the cum lining my windpipe. I coughed and choked as the spin of the forest began to slow. A hand landed on my shoulder and steadied me. My breath regained its usual rhythm. I wiped my mouth and nose against my shoulder.

Looking up, in the black and grey of the blitz of trees and shrubs, I saw his towering shadow looming over me. Small, fast plumes of silver breath, illuminated in the moonlight, billowed from where his nostrils should have been as he pulled up his shorts, bent down and untied me. Then he laced his shoe and held out his hand, helping me to my feet.

‘Need a ride home?’ he said.

I nodded. Unable to speak. My voice almost completely gone.

For five minutes, neither of us spoke. I followed him. Out of the forest and back into the park.

We crossed the empty field as a bright, full moon beamed over us through a fifty-mile break in the clouds. Up the path’s gravel path and out. Around the corner. Under yellow streetlamps and past a pub. Over a zebra crossing and down a left-hand street called Overslade Lane.

Fifteen houses down, a black Audi suddenly chirped awake. Its inside light flicked on. Its doors unlocked.

‘This your place?’ I said with a cough, shifting the last of my throat coating and swallowing it down.

‘This is me,’ he said, his car keys hanging off his finger.

‘Are you sure you want to take me home now?’ I said walking in between him and the car and leaning against the driver’s door.

‘Won’t your parents be worried?’ he said, smirking sexily under the lamplight.

‘No.’

‘Really?’ he said, cocking his head.

Just like in the forest.

I smiled. Nodded and said nothing. He looked left and right and pressed the lock button on his car keys. No one was around as the car chirped again; its inside light fading to darkness. Reaching down he grabbed my cock, still semi hard under my shorts.

‘I suppose you’d better come in,’ he said.