Naughty Nibbles Anthology

by Sierra Cartwright, SL Majors, Christy Lockhart

  "You're wrong. It is about me. All about me, and it's about you, if you'd let it be.” He glanced pointedly at David's crotch. “You want me. You're thinking about fucking me right this moment, about stretching me and filling me, about pounding me until you shoot your load."

  "Cal..."

  "Deny it."

  The towel barely contained him.

  "You want me, my hands either side of that sink. You want me to grease your cock, maybe after I've sucked on it and made it so hard you hurt. You want to hear me moan. Maybe even scream. You won't scream, David, that's not in you. But me? You want to know, don't you?"

  Callum took a few steps closer.

  Blood pounded through David. Desire fought with restraint and resulted in frustration. Not anger, he decided, he wouldn't let that happen. Frustration he could deal with. Anger was a luxury he didn't allow himself.

  "You want to know if you're powerful enough to make me cry your name."

  The little prick was trying to goad him. He'd seen it a number of times during the last three months. Everyone had limits. Callum was about to find his.

  "You are, aren't you? Wondering,” Callum said again.

  "About bending you over the sink? No.” Another lie. David had thought about it plenty. “I like my luxuries. If I buggered you, it would be over the edge of my bed. As for making you scream, you would. I'd fill your hole and stretch it so far that you wouldn't know what hit you."

  Even from the distance of a couple of metres, he saw the colour of Callum's eyes lighten. Instead of hazel, they had become a silky and alluring amber. The subtle change aroused him. What colour would they be, David wondered, when his cum dripped from the boy's arse? “I'd ride you until you begged for mercy."

  Callum licked his lower lip, then bit it. “So, daddy, what're you waiting for?"

  He'd been pushed. And he was only human.

  He polished off the distance between them. “You've been asking for this.” Then he grabbed Callum around the neck and dragged him closer. He captured Callum's gaze and held it. There would be no misunderstandings. “Just so we're clear, I am no longer your trainer. You are no longer a client. A refund will be in tomorrow's post."

  Those amber-coloured eyes widened.

  "Clear?"

  He'd goaded and been mouthy. Now all of a sudden he was tongue-tied?

  "I didn't hear you."

  Callum nodded. Then he whispered, “Yes. I'm clear."

  "You're clear on what that means? There's no going back. I can't train you or advise you from this point forward. That's what you want?"

  Again, Callum nodded.

  "Very well then, boy. Get on your knees."

  Chapter Two

  Callum's blood heated.

  He'd wanted this, and suddenly he was shy. He wanted to please and be pleasing. And instinctively he knew David would be a demanding lover.

  "Boy?"

  This was what he'd wanted. David, raw and horny, unrestrained by the rules that normally boxed him in.

  David's hands were on his shoulders, guiding him to his knees.

  Callum had sucked cock before; in fact, he was fairly good at it, or so his last lover told him.

  He parted David's towel, then pulled the entire thing off, allowing it to fall on the tiled floor.

  The man's cock was enormous. And he was going to take it up his bum? He was scared, and he couldn't wait. Both feelings collided, causing butterflies to nosedive in his stomach. Even running onto a football field as an announcer called his name in exaggerated syllables didn't make him feel this anxious.

  His breaths were suddenly wobbly.

  Then he realised what else was different.

  David shaved. Not just his balls, but the entire nest of hair. There wasn't a stray strand anywhere.

  One guy he'd been with clipped his pubic hair, keeping it tidy. But no one else had actually shaved. He handled David's balls gingerly, feeling the smooth skin with his fingertips.

  "I'll be shaving you, as well,” David said, as if reading his mind. “My tongue isn't going anywhere near your anus if it isn't bare."

  His anal hole clenched. He wasn't sure if it was from the idea of having that wicked looking blade on his balls, or if it was from the idea of David eating him, but suddenly, his stomach was in his loins.

  "Suck me off,” David said, “then later we'll go to my place."

  He curled his hands into Callum's hair, and Callum groaned. He wanted this man to teach him a thing or two.

  Pre-cum slicked across the top of David's cockhead.

  "Lick it away."

  He did, surrendering. The taste was salty and intense, filling his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, savouring the drop. Then he swallowed.

  "Good lad."

  David hadn't showered, and his balls smelled of good, old-fashioned sweat and the tantalising scent of man. Callum buried his nose there, inhaling deeply. Then he began to lick, drawing one testicle into his mouth, then the other.

  David's hips rocked forward.

  He'd no doubt had better lovers than Callum. He knew he wasn't the most experienced chap in the world. After all, he'd spent most of his early adulthood trying to convince himself he was straight, or, at the worst, bi. That's what his mum and dad hoped for. In reality, the football team's fans probably felt the same way.

  But Callum had finally accepted himself; now he didn't give a flaming rat's arse what anyone else thought.

  Well ... Except for David.

  He didn't want to disappoint David.

  What Callum lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. David had never had his testicles worshiped by anyone who wanted to do him as much as Callum did.

  He cupped David's balls and licked his cockhead. His tongue found that sensitive sweet spot underneath his shaft, and David moaned.

  "Yes, right there. A little more pressure."

  He did as requested, and then moved his hand onto to David's cock and began to stroke and suck in tandem. He drew more and more of David's shaft into his mouth.

  Callum's own erection strained forward. Damn but he was aroused! His penis was all but demanding attention.

  "Go on. Touch yourself."

  He stroked himself, with long motions, making himself harder. He was overwhelmed by sensation. His jaw flexed with the rhythm of sucking David. He felt the coolness of ceramic tiles beneath his knees, and just the act of doing what he was doing nearly overwhelmed him.

  "Open your mouth,” David said. “And move your hand."

  Holding Callum's head, David took control. He pushed his cock in and withdrew it. After a few moments, he mixed up the motions, making Callum's head spin. From long and deep to short and shallow. Callum moaned, overcome with pleasure.

  "Stop jacking yourself off."

  He looked up helplessly. David was looking down at him, and David's eyes had an expression he'd never seen before. His dark brows were knitted together, his lids slightly lowered over his breathtakingly blue eyes. He'd seen a colour like that once before, on a post-season trip to Barbados. It had been beyond the breakwater, where lighter blue was dominated by the darkness and power of the untamed ocean.

  He was focused and intent. “I want you totally into what I'm doing to you."

  He shouldn't have been surprised. That's what initially attracted him to Balls to the Walls. London had dozens of private trainers, and a bored Callum had interviewed most of them.

  David had stood out, not just for his dedication, but for his focus. He totally concentrated only on what he was doing, whether he was lifting, or running, or fucking. He never looked at the clock.

  "When you come, later, it'll be all that much sweeter."

  He'd have protested if his mouth wasn't stuffed full of an erect dick.

  David actually smiled.

  Callum's heart added an extra few beats, the thunder of the staccato pounding against his eardrums.

  "I know you're not about delayed gratification. But for me,
you'll do it, because I asked you to. Because I want you to."

  Those were the magic words. He was right. He'd do anything for David. Rather ironic, actually. The world would do anything to please Callum, offer him trips, send him flowers, throw parties in his honour, but there was nowhere he'd rather be than on his knees, his legs spread, his erection becoming almost a physical pain.

  David pulled back a little. “Gently bite my cockhead."

  Eyes wide, never having had that request before, Callum carefully did.

  David's knees sagged a bit.

  A feeling of headiness washed over him. He liked having the power to give that kind of pleasure.

  Without being told, Callum used his tongue at the base of David's glans.

  "That's my boy.” After a few seconds, he said, “Good, now open your mouth."

  Taking full control, David delivered a full skull fuck. Callum was overwhelmed. And when David ejaculated, Callum wrapped his arms around the man's thighs, hanging on for support, fighting to capture every single drop of the intense-tasting semen.

  When it was over, Callum drank in great gulps of air. His entire body shook. He doubted he'd ever experienced anything more powerful in his life.

  "Ah, Callum.” David traced his manicured thumbnail around the shell of Callum's ear. “You're better than I could ever have imagined."

  Callum licked his lips, drawing in the last drop. The sudden exhaustion was gone, replaced by exhilaration. He forgot about the irritation of being asked to deny his own climax. The pain of his throbbing cock all but vanished. His appetite had been whetted. He wanted more.

  David moved away and grabbed his razor. Looking back at the trembling Callum, he said, “Get dressed, young man. I'll drive us to my flat."

  It was a good thing he was already on his knees, or else he'd have immediately dropped when David said those words.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Callum shouldn't have been surprised by David's flat, but he was. Outside, the building itself was unremarkable, another pile of bricks, shaped like a box and crammed full of flats.

  Inside, it was another thing entirely.

  He hadn't missed a detail.

  The walls were painted in bold colours, but they were carefully accented in warm whites and ecrus to make the colours even more vibrant. He used a combination of curtains and shades. A baby grand piano dominated one wall, and sheet music was propped on a stand. “Do you play?"

  "Yes. I find it relaxing."

  How many more secrets did he have? He'd actually not fancied David as a pianist. He figured his home would be filled with treadmills, free weights and exercise bikes. But this...? It hinted at a more private side he didn't want to show the world.

  Since it was drawing dark, David flipped on a couple of lights. Callum expected harsh light; he got a soft, soothing glow from sconces that were all hooked up to the dimmer switch.

  The entire place was tasteful and masculine. But more than that, it was peaceful, an oasis from the noise and bustle on the street several stories beneath them.

  "Something to drink?” David offered, crossing the room and opening the china cabinet. “A scotch, perhaps. Or maybe a brandy?"

  The entire bottom shelf was filled with decanters. No doubt they actually contained the alcohols that the metal labels draped around the necks said they did. Another shelf held glasses of every kind, wine, brandy, whisky. No matter whom he entertained, it seemed he had the alcohol to suit, or set, the mood.

  "Just water,” he said.

  With an approving nod, David uncapped a San Pellegrino and poured a generous splash of the sparkling mineral water into a cut crystal goblet.

  If he were truthful, he would have preferred a shot, neat, of limited-edition single malt to bottled water any night of the week. Drinking the world's finest whiskies was a perk of putting on a football jersey and kicking around a ball, but he didn't want to miss a minute of this. He refused to dull his senses. And tomorrow, he wanted to remember every single detail.

  David often said he didn't think Callum was focused enough. His mentor had no freaking idea. He'd wanted to be invited to David's place for three months, and he'd done everything he could think of to finagle an invitation. Things usually came easy to Callum. David didn't; and he wasn't going to take being here for granted.

  David poured himself a water, then re-capped the bottle.

  "A toast."

  David drew his brows together, much like he had in the locker room when Callum was going down on him. “A toast ... to?"

  Damn. Callum's cock, which had softened on the ride over, suddenly hardened again. “A toast to you giving me the ride of my life."

  They clinked glasses.

  "I'll be in the shower. Make yourself comfortable."

  Once he heard the water turn on, Callum glanced through David's video collection. Not a single porno in the lot. A flip through magazines revealed what he now expected, architectural pictorials, and just about every men's fitness and dressing well periodical on the market.

  "Cal?"

  He jumped back, as if caught being naughty. “Yeah?” he shouted back.

  "You'd better be stark naked when I get out of the shower."

  His fingers felt nerveless as he untied his running shoes and left them on a mat beside the doorway. He yanked off his ankle high athletic socks. He was tempted to just drop them on the floor. But figuring David expected better, Callum jammed the socks into his shoes.

  Getting out of the shower naked was different than intentionally stripping in the man's house. It seemed more premeditated. And it would give him a lot longer to get worked up.

  He hung both his jeans and his T-shirt on a ladder back chair. Then he pulled his boxers over his painfully large dick. He couldn't focus on anything else. This enforced waiting was going to make him walk funny.

  "Are you in the bedroom?” David called out.

  He made sure he was before he answered.

  And what a room it was. The furniture was cherry and it was polished to a bright gleam. A few pictures, of what looked to be his family were scattered across the dresser's top.

  But the bed dominated the room.

  It was a four post monstrosity. Most people would need a step to get up onto the mattress. Pillows of every size and shape were artistically scattered on top of the black and gold duvet.

  Callum had hired a designer to come in and decorate his place, and the result had been silk flowers and gleaming surfaces. It had turned out as sterile as a hospital.

  But David's space was warm and inviting, an interesting contrast to the harsh man in the gym who'd fucked his face and never let anyone get close to him.

  "Be a good lad and pull back the duvet, will you?” David called out above the running water.

  He was doing it intentionally, Callum knew. Forcing his focus on the bed and nothing else.

  David's words from the locker room echoed in his head. He liked his luxuries and wanted Callum bent over the side of the bed. Oh. Yes. There was also that detail about making him scream.

  He had to fight the impulse to jack off. Once he started, he knew he'd not stop until he came.

  The shower finally turned off.

  Callum was a bundle of jangled nerve endings.

  When David emerged from the master bath, he was naked. He was drying his hair with a rich, forest green towel, and David never remembered seeing anything more erotic.

  "You're hard,” he said; it was more of an observation than anything else. “Looks like you need to come."

  "Desperately."

  David crossed the room, bringing with him the scent of sandalwood and something muskier. Callum was nearly ready to paw the ground. That'd amuse the hell out of his mentor. “Mercy,” he said. He put his hands together in prayer. “Take pity on me."

  David chuckled. Then he crossed the room to chuck him under the chin. “This time, boy, I won't be rushed. I won't be goaded."

  He did that thing with his eyebrows
again. Callum nearly leapt from his skin.

  "My way,” he continued. “And I mean it. Now, go into the hallway to the linen closet and fetch several large towels. Open one and put it on the nightstand. Then spread a couple of them across the sheets, and then lie on them, on your back, legs spread."

  While he was gone, David went back into the bathroom and returned carrying a cobalt blue basin filled with water. He had draped a couple of flannels over the side.

  Callum knew what this meant.

  He returned to the bathroom to get a shaving mug and brush, along with that wicked-looking piece of Damascus steel.

  He put everything on the nightstand.

  His smile was friendly, and not diabolical, right?

  Although it didn't go away entirely, Callum's erection diminished slightly.

  David dropped a flannel into the basin and saturated it, and then he squeezed cool water over David's scrotum. He gasped, expecting warmth. “The cold will make your sac contract, making the skin tighter. It'll be a bit easier to get a closer shave that way."

  There went the rest of his erection.

  "Delayed gratification,” David reminded him.

  "I want to fuck."

  David chuckled patiently. “In time, my boy. When my tongue is in your hole, you'll thank me."

  He shifted then, lifting up his hips, silently imploring his lover to at least lick his cock. Anything.

  David opened his razor and stropped the blade. Oh. Good. That meant the blade would be extra sharp.

  After setting it aside, David drowned another flannel, then placed the chilled cloth across Callum's sac. He felt his testicles drawing away. The man knew what he was doing.

  Then he lathered the bristles, pulled the cold cloth off and replaced it with thick, creamy lather.

  Leaning in closer, the opened blade held in-hand, the swirled pattern on the blade refracting overhead light, he quietly said, “Ask me to shave your balls."

  "Ask you?” Looking up, he met David's strikingly blue eyes. There was no room there for negotiation. “You want me to beg?"

  "I want you to show your trust,” he corrected. “It takes a lot of guts to let a man with a straight edged razor anywhere near your testicles."

  He didn't even have to think. This was David, his mentor, the man for whom ‘restraint’ was a middle name. Without so much as blinking, Callum said, “Please. Shave my balls."