"You still take the cake," she muttered, setting some boxes down on the counter. "I thought you were trying to avoid him outside of therapy."
"Yeah, well. Things reached a boiling point." The box she'd pulled out was filled with posters, and I started unrolling one for her. "We kissed. Then a little more than kissing. I got pissed at him when he stopped it, and he roped me into talking."
"Wow, Keith Howard had to be roped into having an actual conversation instead of just sucking a guy's dick? I'm shocked."
Her tone dripped with sarcasm, and I felt a stab of recognition at her words. I knew she was only giving me a hard time, but she was right about me. She knew what I was better than most. She knew I was a fucking coward when it came to this stuff, and that it was easier for me to fuck a guy than talk to him.
Which was exactly what I'd done with Brendan.
"Yeah, you know me," I said, forcing myself to adopt my usual tone. "I heard him out for a little while, but eventually I got tired of him talking. So I sucked him off in the bed of a 2003 Ford F-150."
Tina laughed a little at that, her back to me as she placed one of the posters. "Sounds very on brand, but what did he want to talk to you about?"
I hesitated for a long moment. Long enough that she turned to look at me. When I finally told her the story, I made sure to do it while working so I had an excuse not to meet her eyes.
"So... what could've been a relationship fell apart because you assumed he didn't want you, and he assumed... you didn't want him. I mean, I've heard worse. Hell, I've done worse. It's easy to assume the worst when your first love breaks your heart."
I practically flinched at that. I didn't want to admit Brendan had been that to me, but she was right.
"Yeah, well. It is what it is."
She'd taken down another couple boxes with books in them and I started putting them on her bookshelf.
"It was what it was," she corrected. "You have a chance to... well, maybe not continue where you left off, but start fresh."
My heart leapt into my throat, my fingers pressing tighter into the cover of the book I held. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I knew there was a chance for that. I knew we could try and set all of it aside and start again.
Some part of me desperately wanted that. The rest of me...
"If I was looking for a serious boyfriend, sure. I just want a hot guy around sometimes to let me blow him and then fuck me into delirium after. Is that so much to ask?"
I kept my tone obnoxiously light, playing into the persona I'd made for myself. Tina was one of the few people in my life who saw past it. She stopped what she was doing and gave me a flat stare.
"Keith."
"What?" I asked, shooting her my most charming grin.
"You can't seriously think that will work. There's no way you can keep hooking up with this guy and not feel anything."
"Jesus, I hope I feel something. His dick seemed pretty big when it was in my mouth." That earned a glare from Tina. "It'll be fine. I was a kid back then. I couldn't separate love from lust. I've hooked up with enough guys to draw a line in the sand. Hell, a trench in the sand."
Her glare turned to a look of concern. Even pity. My skin crawled, my agitation growing.
"Keith..."
"Don't worry about it, okay? I know what I'm doing."
I knew I wasn't fooling her. I wasn't even fooling myself, despite my defensive tone, but my only other options were to try and tell myself he was off limits--which hadn't worked for me at all--or to just let myself start up a real relationship with him.
I definitely wasn't doing that. It would be too painful when it ended.
So I would keep things simple, focusing only on the physical. As we continued to work, Tina eventually changed the subject. In the lulls of silence, I turned my mind toward a noble task: Figuring out how to seduce Brendan.
15
Brendan
I had no idea how that next session with Keith was going to go, but somehow I didn't predict it would take me exercising my last shred of willpower to keep from fucking him senseless.
It started innocently enough. The awkwardness that existed between us was gone when he opened the door for me, and I was hopeful we could have an actual therapist/patient relationship here, and maybe -- if I was lucky -- a budding friendship outside of it. I didn't dare hope for more, because I wasn't sure if my heart could take the rejection. All these years later, it was still tender, even though I was the one who walked away.
Keith very quickly made it clear he had no interest in being professional, though. I asked him about the volleyball team to keep him distracted while he worked on his exercises. Apparently they'd had a successful try-outs session, his eyes lighting up as he talked about it. That was the last thing he allowed me that could be construed as professional courtesy or even friendly interest. I wondered if even that was too far, while apparently Keith had been wondering just how far he could push this interaction in a single action.
There was a moment where his legs moved apart to do one of his stretches and I could clearly see every movement of his semi-hard dick through his tight-fitting shorts. It was enough to give me the impression he wasn't wearing underwear of any kind, and those suspicions were confirmed when he pushed his ass back on the cushion and hiked his leg up higher, the hem of his shorts leg opening to give me a generous view of the curve of his perfectly-shaven balls.
Before last week, I would have chalked it up to an accident. Maybe he'd just forgotten to put on underwear before I came over and he wasn't aware of how... open his position was right now, but I knew better. Especially when Keith met my eyes and I saw the hunger there, burning so brightly it threatened to consume me.
I ended the session early, not long after that. I tried to steel myself before the next, but again Keith came at me with guns blazing, presenting a very compelling case for why I should just forget my morals. When I entered his apartment this time, not only was he wearing the same tight shorts with no underwear again, he'd also stripped off his shirt to reveal waxed pecs and abs with just the hint of definition--enough that I could imagine running my tongue over the ridges.
As I was still navigating that thought, I caught something out of the corner of my eyes: A massive purple dildo sitting out on the coffee table. That stopped me in my tracks, and I just gaped at it for a long time.
"Shit, sorry," he said hurriedly, and I could almost believe he meant it except for the look he tossed me as he went to collect it. "Didn't mean to leave that out."
"Had a little fun before I came over?" I found myself asking.
Such a wildly inappropriate question, especially with the sudden thickness in my voice. And my pants.
"Have to treat the cabin fever somehow. Why not have a nice, big dick in your ass, right?"
He looked at me as if he were a man starved, his gaze roving shamelessly over my body. Every inch of my skin heated up and my dick firmed even more, visibly tenting my slacks. I knew he saw it. He looked right at it and licked his lips, bringing back the memory of those lovely lips wrapped around my cock.
I knew if I walked over to him and unzipped, he'd gladly take it again. I could feel that mind-blowing surge of pleasure when his lips clamped confidently around the base of my dick, the head of it rubbing against the back of his throat as I face-fucked him.
I don't know how I managed to stop myself from doing just that, but I did, carrying on with the session as if I didn't have a raging boner the whole time. We were both playing some perverse game of chicken, and I knew there was only one end to it. In a sense, I was delaying the inevitable. I just didn't feel like I could let the veneer of professionalism slip. If I did, I'd never get it back.
That was why, when I walked into the next session with him wearing nothing but a pair of pink lace panties that bulged from the weight of his dick and balls, I drew a firm line in the sand.
"I'm going to recommend you keep up the exercises on your own, three times a week. I think you've reached
the point where you don't need my services anymore," I said, somehow managing to keep my eyes on his.
That hadn't been my intent heading over here, but I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't be his therapist if I was constantly tempted.
"Oh," he said, genuinely taken aback by that. There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes before he seemed to shrug it off. Literally. "Yeah, makes sense. Do I just pay you for the week, or...?"
I could tell he was upset with me. My heart broke to think of what he must believe in this moment. That I was the one rejecting him so heartlessly. That I didn't want him.
"I'll invoice you," I said, setting down my bag and advancing toward him. "But just to be clear, our professional contract is over as of right now."
"Yep, I get it. I--"
His words stopped short as he seemed to realize my intent. I was in his personal space now, inches away from him, my chest practically brushing his. He held his breath, eyes wide as he watched me. Conscience finally clear, I buried my fingers in his thick hair and tugged him to me for a searing kiss.
Keith moaned against me, his mouth hot and wet and just begging to be tasted. I worked my tongue past the seam of his lips, delving into his mouth with little in the way of finesse. I was eager to take, to do something about the tension and want that had built up in me as a result of his actions.
Fortunately, Keith seemed more than willing to give.
His hands immediately went to the buttons of my shirt, tugging them free. Once my chest was exposed, he ran his hands over my pecs and I used my free hand to reach down and grip his tight little ass, the silk of his panties cool against my fingers. I reached beneath the fabric, one finger extending between his ass cheeks to stroke his hole.
He moaned into my mouth, squirming against me. So responsive. So needy. God, I wanted him so fucking bad, but I knew I had to be careful. If I let my desire get the best of me, I could risk hurting him. Actually, physically hurting him. While I didn't want to hurt him in any way, I couldn't stand the thought of undoing all the progress he'd made.
So, I decided on a different path for right now. Drawing my mouth from his, I murmured in his ear, "Go sit on the couch and carefully hold your legs up."
It might have been something I said to him in a professional context, though the tone was completely different now. My words were roughened with desire, almost a growl in his ear. Keith shivered in response and moved to do as I said. I reached out to get one more squeeze of his ass before he was able to sit down, then pushed my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders and chucked it to the side.
Figuring there was no use in pretense at this point, I also kicked off my shoes, then undid my slacks and slid them down, revealing boxer briefs beneath. My dick was already straining against the seam of them. I looked to Keith once I was done and found his gaze riveted to my crotch. He licked his lips as I approached, likely assuming I was just going to fuck him right off the bat.
Instead, I sank to my knees in front of the couch. He drew in a breath but certainly didn't stop me as I leaned over him to paint a stripe with my tongue along the girthy ridge of his dick as it was confined by the panties.
If I had any patience whatsoever, I might have teased him like that for a while. Licked over that bulge, mouthed him through the silk, occasionally pulling the fabric to the side for a cheeky lick. But he'd been driving me crazy for weeks, and I needed his dick in my mouth now.
Pulling the panties to the side, I let his cock spring free and started stroking him. My fingers closed around the shaft, my palm pulling along smooth skin. He moaned, his head falling back for a moment before he fought that instinct and decided to watch me instead.
He was holding his legs up, so I had free access to his dick and I took full advantage. Leaning down, I let a few drops of saliva trickle out of my mouth and onto the head of his cock before I licked at it, spreading it with the precum already leaking from his slit. My lips closed and I pressed down on the head, forcing it into my mouth so he could feel as much suction as possible. His hips bucked as I took him in inch by inch, then drew back. I applied pressure each time I pulled back up, letting it ease as I took him in until I built up a rhythm, my hand continuing to stroke him all the while.
Once I had him writhing and whimpering from that, I drew back completely. I was eager to feel his hot cum in the back of my throat, but there was something I wanted even more.
"What--?" Keith started to ask, his voice a whine of protest.
He was cut off with a gasp as I ducked my head down, spread his cheeks with my hands, then buried my face between them.
When he lifted up to accommodate me, I didn't hold back. My tongue traced the ring of his hole, gradually moving inward. I was delicate at first, knowing he was likely sensitive, but once he started to open for me, I pressed my tongue into his beautiful, hairless hole and started loosening him up for me. The muscles of his ass were tight around my tongue at first, but even with all the moaning he was doing, his fingers digging into his own legs, he still managed to relax for me.
Pressing past that ring of muscle, I started tongue-fucking his hole in earnest, my hand reaching up to continue stroking him simultaneously. I was relentless, determined to drive him to the edge like this, and I knew he would submit to my demands before too long.
16
Keith
Fuck, I was going to come just from having his tongue in my ass if he kept that up.
It'd been a long time since a guy was talented enough to get me there through rimming alone. A lot of them just did it because they seemed to think it was expected, and they wanted to get it over with so they could get to the fucking. Some poked around with no idea what they were doing. Others didn't fully commit and just licked around my hole like they were afraid of it.
Brendan went for it with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. I could feel the stroke of his tongue, the strong movements of it inside of me, the press of his lips, the vibration of his fucking moans as he went to town.
My thighs were shaking, the wet sounds of his licking and stroking driving me crazy. Somehow, his hand on my dick was barely on my radar, though it added to all the other sensations.
I was getting so close. Too close. Before I even thought about what I was saying, I let out a strained plea, "Fuck me! I want you to fuck me. I don't want to come until you're inside me."
A little bit of heat rose in my cheeks. That admission seemed a little too sentimental for my tastes. It wasn't though, right? There was nothing inherently sentimental in wanting to nut while being properly fucked. I loved the sensation of squeezing around a guy's dick while he pounded me harder so he could finish. I just wanted that from Brendan, too. There was no other reason.
That was what I told myself, anyway, and whatever my reasons they seemed to work on him. He sucked at my hole one last time before pulling back and standing, his briefs doing little to conceal that gorgeous cock of his.
"Where do you keep your condoms?" he asked.
"Bedroom. In the drawer in the bedside table."
He nodded and went to fetch one. I watched, still holding my legs up. My injured leg was shaking for other reasons now, feeling a little weak with the prolonged stretch. I fought back against it, my lip snagged between my teeth. Jesus, why did I suddenly feel vulnerable? This wasn't the first time I'd been bare-ass naked and just open for another guy to see.
He came back quickly, sparing me the need to examine my feelings. The briefs were pushed down without fanfare, the condom and lube set down on the end table for now. I watched his cock spring free and licked my lips.
He must have seen the action, because a fresh surge of hunger lit in his eyes.
"Come over here and feed me your cock," I told him, eager to feel it in my throat again.
I eased my legs down with his help and watched with a certain kind of giddiness as he climbed on to the cushion I was sitting on, feet on either side of me, hands gripping the back of the couch. Fuck, that was hot. Hotter still whe
n he let go of the couch with one hand, gripped the base of his cock, and guided himself into my mouth.
I took over from there, sucking greedily. My saliva coated his shaft, my tongue teased at his slit, and I did everything I could to make sure his dick was good and ready to take me.
Leaning forward, he gripped the back of the couch more fully and used it as leverage to thrust into my mouth. Shallow at first, but I moaned around him and dug my fingers into the tight flesh of his ass, urging him on.
He fucked my face in earnest then, especially once I relaxed my throat. Every time he slid against the back of it, I felt a shudder of pleasure course through my body. I was such a slut for the way a big, thick cock felt in either one of my holes, so long as my partner knew how to use it. Brendan definitely did.
Eventually, he pulled out completely, his eyes almost wild. This was what I needed. A nice, hard, rough fuck. One where my feelings couldn't get involved, because if Brendan started treating me like we had a history beyond this, I knew I would break.
Stepping down from the couch, his cock still glistening with my saliva, I squirmed a little as I watched him put the condom on and lube up. Two fingers coated my hole with lube as well, one delving inside to make sure I was slicked up.
He positioned himself in front of the couch, then seemed to notice how much my leg was shaking. His expression softened, brow creasing a little.
No. Don't look at me like that. Just fuck me. Please.
I wanted to scream the words, but they wouldn't come out. Brendan didn't say anything, thankfully. He just situated himself so that I could rest my legs against his chest. Instantly, I was reminded of my fantasy from when he did something similar as an exercise, and that put my brain back on the right track. My body quivered in anticipation, the muscles of my ass gripping around nothing.
He lined up the head of his dick against my hole soon after, rubbing along it. Both to tease me and to spread the lube around more, I guessed. I whimpered, shifting impatiently, only to be treated to the sound of his deep, rumbling laugh.
Time Out (Dear Lonely Guy Book 2) Page 9
