Page 11 of A Long Con

Royal’s green aura shimmered like a Disney cartoon as he took one step closer to me. He raised that split eyebrow as he lowered the other, a silken S snaking across his forehead. “You. Are queer.”

If he said it like that, I wasn’t so certain, yet he’d taken a step closer to me and his warmth enfolded me like an emerald mine. A green halo meant he was devious and backstabbing, and I’d just given him the upper hand. I had to take it back. Reaching up, I threaded my fingers through that thick, luscious hair, rubbing the back of his neck with my thumb. My cock twitched in the belief it was about to get some.

“Yes. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I didn’t say you should be.”

“Then kneel and blow me.”

How many different emotions did his eyes betray? His eyes flickered back and forth, and I imagined I saw desire, curiosity, and yes, fear.

In a sudden decisive moment, he kissed me.

I was so taken aback I didn’t react at first. While his warm, lush mouth clamped down over mine, I stood like a zombie, wide-eyed. Shocked that a straight man would do this, I barely moved my fingers in his hair.

But when he snaked his tongue-tip between my lips, I relaxed into it. What was the worst he could do? Tease me in front of his biker friends? “Gnahh gnahh, that guy kissed me back”? No. Squeezing the nape of his neck, I tip-toed until I was as tall as him and took control of the kiss.

I munched his warm mouth. I chewed on his upper lip and inserted my tongue between flesh and tooth. My tongue wormed around, danced ballet with his. Our jaws worked as our mouths smacked and we delighted in the taste of each other.

He definitely did not seem to be faking it.

When I reached my free hand inside his tank top and pinched a stiff nipple, he gasped. We detached as he pulled back and blinked his eyes, surprised.

I did it again, only harder. What a fucking pleasure to have this mountain of a man pressed against me, probably feeling my stiff dick against his thigh, breathing hard like a bull through those exquisite nostrils.

This time, his cock did twitch against my pubic bone, so I did it again.

“Brah!” he protested.

“What did I say?” I commanded. “I said suck me.”

Even now, he appeared to give it some thought. If he lacks fear, why isn’t he already on his knees inhaling me? It was then I knew there were still a few things that scared him.

I’m the Dom. I slapped both hands onto his massive shoulders and pressed. “Down,” I commanded in such a way I knew my eyes were flashing. Or so I’d been told.

His look was almost . . . pleading as he kneeled. He kept his gaze on me a long time as he went down, as if to say, “Do I have to?”

Yes, you have to.

I let him do it all. If I assisted, it wouldn’t be true, it wouldn’t be his choice. We commit crimes or sins because we choose to do so. This means we didn’t have to do it. We become guilty because we know we could’ve done differently. Guilt is how we know that we’re free to pick.

It sure seemed that once he decided he was doomed, he knew exactly what to do. In a flash he had my buckle undone, and my proud, muscular penis was briefly in the air, pulsating. His fist was so big it dwarfed my dong before he gulped it down his hot throat.

Bugger me.

I’d never been sucked by a man with such a hot, brawny throat. He swallowed my length so deeply his lips were up against my pubes. It didn’t seem possible, but he simultaneously swirled his talented, scorching tongue around me. One of his hands yanked my jeans down while he serviced me. The other squeezed my ballsac until they appeared like two giant figs popping from his fist. His mouth motored me for several minutes as I felt the flood of seed build up in my bursting testicles. Then abruptly he detached with a loud suck and fell to mouthing my distended sac.

Fuck me raw. I gasped, and to my disembodied ears, it sounded like a boy’s cry for help. A tiny yelp, and who was pleading now? The biggest stream of precome I’d ever felt spurted from my slit, and my hand automatically clamped down around my penis, squeezing to prevent myself from jizzing right on the spot.

Yet he munched casually at my balls, snorting and snuffling until it was evident he’d done this before. No cock virgin would have such flair and style—such skill and ability.

The more I squeezed and strangled my own prick, the more control I lost over it. I knew I’d do the unforgivable—come fully with his mouth nowhere near my dick.

I regained control. “Suck me, you slave! Suck every last gob of come from my dick—now!”

Royal did my bidding, but not before looking up and casting me what was definitely an amused look. That’s all I can call it. Why amused? I was in such a heightened state of ecstasy I didn’t have the bandwidth to ponder.

I released myself, and when Royal inhaled my juicy length again, I lost it immediately. I exploded against his tonsils, each wave of euphoria threatening to eclipse the last. I was high on a plateau and couldn’t surf down, and it began to scare me. My throat strangled itself, and I could emit only tiny squeaks. One burst after another, Royal kept me high by gulping each load, his throat muscles massaging my bursting glans.