Page 28 of Hurricane Love

His thighs were paler than the rest of him, and his dick was a dark, ruddy hue, already slick with precum. Cut and thick and long, with a nice set of branching veins along the underside of his shaft. Big, hairy balls. Dang, Wylie was hung. The younger man grabbed his rod with one hand and pumped it a few times like priming an air gun, the head of it all wet and shiny. His strokes were confident and strong, just like when he gripped that stick shift.

“Been sportin’ that for a while?” Diego asked while swallowing back the saliva that had flooded his tongue.

“Yeah, can’t help that you’re hot as fuck. Come on over, sexy. Don’t be shy.”

Diego hadn’t exactly planned for this, but now that they were here… He dropped to his knees on the carpet and crawled across the floor, arriving at the armchair to yank Wylie’s pants and boxers all the way off of him and toss them aside. He still had his socks on, but Diego kind of liked that. Light blonde hair dusted his tanned legs. Muscular calves, knobby knees, thighs meant for long-distance running. His gaze traveled upward to the man’s broad shoulders and toned arms. Tiny, pink nipples on a set of pecs that Diego would love to train if he could get Wylie to a gym. A light dusting of freckles across his chest.

“You should eat more. Prioritize protein,” Diego said.

“Yeah, I get distracted and forget to eat. You wanna write me a meal plan or suck this dick?”

Wylie was still pumping his shaft slowly, hypnotically, and Diego was completely riveted by the show. It’d been so long since he’d given into his baser desires, and this was a truly exceptionalspecimen. He batted Wylie’s hand away, feeling possessive of the tool, and took over to slowly stroke his thick shaft. Warm and pulsing against his palm with a thick, syrupy thread of precum dribbling from the slit, Diego was enthralled. Wylie put both hands behind his head and slouched back a little in his chair, legs spread wide like a king in his castle.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmured, his half-lidded eyes focused on Diego. “Use this.” He produced a tube of lube from under the cushion–Diego would ask about that later–and squeezed a blob of it onto his tip. Diego gathered it up in the hollow of his hand and stroked downward, the soft skin glistening as it slid through his fist. Ridged veins throbbed in his hand, and Diego felt the flicker of a tremor pass through Wylie’s body.

“Hope you don’t mind the taste. It’s cherry,” Wylie said, stretching his neck.

“Of course it is,” Diego replied with amusement. The lube could taste like dog food, and Diego would still be into it, into this.

On a particularly sweet downstroke, Wylie groaned, abs clenching. “I’ll come,” he warned. “It won’t take much. It’s been a while.”

“Thought you had staying power, Casanova,” Diego couldn’t help but tease him.

“Damn, you really remember everything don’t you?” Wylie said, then moaned as if by accident.

“I’m definitely going to remember that,” Diego assured him. Wylie talked a big game, but could he back it up?

“Well, I do have staying power,” Wylie insisted, “but give a guy a break. I’ve been jerking off to this fantasy for weeks.”

Weeks?Diego wouldn’t mind watching Wylie come undone just from jacking him, but he really wanted that beast in his mouth, at the back of his throat, gagging on it. He took hold of Wylie’s thighs and yanked him forward, so that his ass was halfway off the chair, his dick in prime position to be devoured.

“I’m negative for everything,” Wylie said. “In case you’re worried about catching something. Chlamydia is no joke, trust.”

“I am too,” Diego assured him. He should probably be more wary, but he craved the texture and taste of skin on his tongue. Hopefully it didn’t bite him in the ass later.

Still palming Wylie’s dick in one hand, he dropped down to lick his hairy ball sac, loving how their pebbled texture scraped across his tongue. Salt and musk. All man, all Wylie.

“Fuck, Diego, that’s really nice. Very…ahhh…generous.”

Diego sucked one nut into his mouth and then the other, rolling them across his tongue, then licking the underside with long, flat strokes. Wylie spread his legs wider to give him full access. Diego moved onto Wylie’s dick, popping it into his mouth to suck on just the head, swirling his tongue around the crown of it, cataloging Wylie’s reactions.

“Mmm, yeah, just like that.”

The tang of Wylie’s arousal overtook the synthetic cherry flavor quickly, and Diego set to working the beast down his throat, gagging a few times when the rounded cockhead pressed against his esophagus. It felt so fucking right to have a dick in his mouth that his fervor almost caused him to choke. But the seven years hadn’t erased his muscle memory, and it wasn’t long before he set a nice little rhythm, shuttling Wylie’s thick cock into the depths of his throat.

“Yesss,” Wylie hissed, knuckles paling from where he gripped the arms of his recliner. “God, yes, Diego. That’s good. So good. Fuckingpurrrrfeeeect.”

Diego savored the satiny texture of his skin and the heft against his palate, the way Wylie’s bulging cockhead nearly gagged him on every deep thrust. He especially loved the gut-deep groans he was able to wrench from Wylie’s diaphragm and the sound of his name when Wylie said it, punched out and pleasure-drunk. His own dick was in need of attention, so without missing a beat, Diego unbuttoned his pants and freed his dick to stroke it. He didn’t mind that it was a little dry, had gotten used tothat in prison. He let go of his hold on the base of Wylie’s dick to reach down and massage his balls, squeezing just to the point of pain.

Yeah.

Diego’s mouth was wide open, his throat tightening around Wylie’s cock while spit drooled messily from his lower lip. Wylie’s hips jerked forward, and Diego moaned for more, until Wylie took the hint and grabbed the back of his head with both hands, gently guiding the motion of fucking into his open throat.

“This okay?” Wylie asked, his voice strained with desperation.

Diego nodded with tears in his eyes, hungry for it, wanting it to last longer. Wylie sat up, one hand braced against the chair while the other hand cradled the back of Diego’s head. All five fingers holding him in place—confident, strong. Wylie knew how to use a mouth as a cock sleeve, and Diego relished the mounting tension as they raced toward the finish line. No thinking, no second-guessing, just him kneeling there before Wylie with his mouth gaping, getting his throat fucked.

His dick was so sensitive that it burned a little as he roughly jacked himself off. Sweat and sex and the tang of Wylie’s pre-cum sharpened his senses. Diego could keep time to the Wylie’s thrusts and his warbled cries of, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” like counting the seconds between lightning and thunder.