Jock Auction (22 page)

side of the pouch, letting the elastic pin it against my upper thigh.

“Oh God, please…” I couldn’t help it, the feel of him touching me—thumbs

pulling me more and more open, exposing tender, sensitive skin to his insistent

tongue—and my trapped dick set my body humming.

“Just let me…”

Craig chuckled; I felt his thumb slip into me easily as he pulled back to speak. I couldn’t resist twisting my hips so my ass would grind around his digit. “My favorite horny jock. Fuck, you’re leaking all down your leg.”

I could feel it, a slow hot ooze of precum from where the swollen head of my cock

was mashed against my leg, dribbling down, matting the hairs. Craig’s thumb pulled at me, forcing a groan from between my clenched teeth. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Please, Craig… Oh, jeez, just…please!”

His tongue wormed its way inside me again, hands tilting up my hips so that the

jock ground evilly against the flare of my prick, almost equal parts pleasure and

discomfort. I knew he knew what I wanted.

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“Ask me,” he teased, using both thumbs on me, digging them first inside my ass,

then making rough circles around the twitching muscle. “Ask me for what you want,

Kyle.”

“Just…oh, man…” I was feeling light-headed, couldn’t say the words without

gasping from the incredibly dizzying sensations. “I just want you to fuck me. Fuck my ass…please!”

He sank two fingers in me, deeper than his thumbs had managed, and nudged my

prostate; my cock bubbled out a thick pulse of juice in response.

“Are you open enough?” he asked me.

I moaned, nodded my head, then let my forehead rest against the door as he

worked on me some more.

“You think you’re ready to get fucked?”

“Please, please, Craig. Just fuck me, God, please.”

The ringing slap on my ass should’ve hurt, but it only turned me on more.

“Get down on your knees, and don’t you dare touch yourself.”

I quickly obeyed, fighting the urge to squeeze the exposed head of my cock as I

dropped down to the carpet.

Craig’s hand between my shoulder blades pushed me forward until I braced

myself on all fours.

“Lift your ass up,” he ordered, and I did. “Higher.” I dipped my stomach as much

as I could, twisted my cheeks upward, feeling exposed and slutty and incredibly

aroused.

I heard the purr of Craig’s zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then his hand was on my

thigh, gathering up the precum from where it had spooled down to my knee. His palm closed roughly around my glans, twisting and milking it; the sensation was too

overwhelming to tip me over the edge but still left him with a palmful of my natural lube.

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He slicked his cock with it, making wet sounds as I whimpered eagerly on the

floor in front of him. I knew, even with all the juice I’d made, even with how loose his fingers and tongue had left me, the sheer size of Craig’s dick was going to hurt.

Then it was the blunt press of him as he ran the head of his dick between my

cheeks, slapping it wetly against my tailbone and jabbing it against my hole. I grunted, head bowed until my forehead was grazing the carpet, unable to stop my hips from

straining back against him.

“Jesus, you’re horny, aren’t you?” He chuckled. I groaned in reply, shifted until

the tip of him was pushing at me. “Just think if Paul could see you now. And Louis, of course.”

I panted as he gripped his shaft with one hand, the other hot against my lower

back as he pushed the thick, swollen head inside. It felt like I was tearing open, driving tears from my eyes and the breath from my lungs. Craig ran his hand down my spine, traced gentle circles across my flushed skin.

“You’re gonna take it all,” he told me, voice deadpan.

I winced as he shifted forward, chest coming to press against my back and another

inch or two grinding up inside me. Now he had an arm around me, wrapping my chest

and holding our bodies tight while the other supported him outstretched on the floor. I felt him hook his hips in, sliding deeper into my aching, desperate tightness.

Craig rested his cheek against the back of my head, the length of his body curved

around mine as he broke me open. Even with the pain of it, the intermingled pleasure had my dick rock hard beneath me, still trapped in the confines of my jock. I was

desperate to reach down, at least squeeze myself, but I didn’t dare move.

“It was Louis, wasn’t it?”

For a moment I wasn’t sure what he meant, didn’t understand what he was

saying. Craig forced his cock farther in, until I could feel the light fur of his upper thighs pressed against mine. His voice was low and husky, and I knew he must be resisting the urge to pull back and then pound at me.

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“You said you fooled around with one of the guys from your team. That you…you

lost your virginity to one of them,” he muttered. “It was Louis; that was the guy, wasn’t it?”

For a moment I wanted to stand up, to run, but the feel of Craig’s body against me and the thickness of his cock inside me kept me skewered in place.

“Yes,” I whispered. Craig jabbed another half inch of dick in me, making me

squeal with the suddenness of it.

“I can’t hear you, Kyle,” he told me.

I took a slow, deep breath. “Yes, it was Louis.”

For a moment we were both still, motionless. Then Craig began to hold me tighter,

letting the last inch or so of his cock sink into me. His sparse pubes brushed against my cheeks. I’d taken him before, but it still felt like I was being impaled on a tree trunk.

“I knew it,” he said. His voice was conversational; I was straining to hear anger, or upset, but couldn’t find it in his tone. “I saw him look at you today, at us. And I knew, somehow.”

“Look, Craig, it was a…” I started. He shut me up with a sudden jerk of his groin

against me, making me see stars.

“I get it,” he said. “He’s hot, and you’re a slut, and shit happens.” I opened my

mouth to complain, even got the first sound out, but he pulled himself around me, our bodies hunched and curved, and all I could do was gape and try to keep breathing.

“It’s okay, Kyle.” His hips started to get into a rhythm now, dragging an inch or so out of me—feeling like it would turn me inside out in the process—and then pumping it back in. His body felt flushed against my own.

“He’s a good-looking guy, and you’re a slut.”

“Please…” I managed, but that was all, as Craig hooked his forearm around my

neck and used the grip to pull us into each other. Each time, his cock further stretched my ass open, the fat head of it nudging up into my prostate.

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Then, suddenly, it was out and I was left feeling overwhelmingly empty. I

couldn’t form words; nothing but moans and meaningless noises would come out until he popped the head back inside me and I squealed. His fingers traced around my

strained flesh, feeling it gape to fit him. With a tug, he pulled himself free again, not giving my ass time to recover as he bruised his way back in, popping the rigid flare of his cock in and out of me.

“Oh God, Craig,” I whimpered, nails scratching at the carpet as he teased my hole

mercilessly. I felt him circle the tip, gently resting at my twitching muscle. “Please, just fuck me.”

When he pushed forward, he didn’t hold up for me to get used to it. Didn’t pause,

and push, and pause some more. Just drove his cock as far into me as he could,

bottoming out in moments as a feeling like ice-edged fireworks surged up my spine and made my jaw clench.

“I told you I was going to fuck the cum out of you,” Craig grunted, hips working

against me, hands possessive around my waist as he pulled me into him with each

stroke. Every time he grazed against my prostate, a thick translucent bubble oozed out of my dick and swayed drunkenly to the floor. Craig gripped the elastic straps of my jock, used them to hold me in place, pulling the fabric tight around my shaft.

“Tell me you love it, Kyle,” he ordered. “Tell me just how much of a slut you are

and how much you want this.”

I shoved my hips back, meeting his thrusts, fighting the mounting urge to scream

as the exposed head of my cock was rubbed raw by the edge of the pouch.

“Fuck me, please, just fuck me,” I begged him. “I fucking love you in me.”

His ringing slap across my ass made me jerk up, but Craig pulled me down again,

tugging on my jockstrap to control me. All I could think of was how incredible it would feel to grab my dick and jerk off, but I knew he wouldn’t let me. I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until I blew my load unaided.

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“Slut,” he muttered, and his pounding got harder, more aggressive, with thighs

slapping against my ass and flecks of hot sweat landing across my back as he

punctuated his movement with hard swats across my cheeks. I grunted, and shook, and whimpered under him, light-headed with lust and pleasure.

Maybe it was the angle, or the pressure, or some mad combination of the two, but

Craig’s dick was hitting me in a spot that was making my body go wild, knees shaking uncontrollably beneath me, breath catching in my chest. I knew he could tell right away what effect he was having on me, because he kept going with it, punching me again and again inside in that incredible spot, and I was groaning deep in my throat as the surge of my orgasm rose up, tipping over the edge.

My cock jolted, fighting the grip of the jock as I sprayed cum across my leg, my

stomach, and the floor. It was pleasure so extreme that it bordered on painful; my eyes squeezed shut as I emptied myself and my ass twitched and fluttered around Craig’s shaft.

“Fuck, yes, yes…” I heard him hiss, and then he was thrusting far into me,

relentless, as my climax-wracked body pulled his own orgasm from him. “Oh fuck,

yes…” he groaned, and I could feel him shuddering as he burned inside me.

He slumped forward, chest hot on my back, until I was supporting his weight on

my aching arms. We were silent, apart from the ragged heave of our breathing.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked him eventually. “Because of, I mean…because of

Louis.”

I felt him shift on me, sweat-slicked skin clinging. The silence was becoming

unbearable.

“I’m not mad,” he said eventually. His voice was low; he sounded tired. “I get it. I do.”

I let my forehead rest on the floor again. “He was just…I dunno. I guess it was the attention? Or maybe you woke something up in me.”

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The sharpness of his nose nudged against the back of my neck as he nuzzled his

face into me. Fingertips ran down the side of my ribs. Careful. Teasing.

“I got to do this,” Craig said, finally. “I wasn’t joking before when I said I

would’ve given anything to be with you like this.”

His hand found my nipple, gently playing around its hardness.

“And if I have to share you, well…I mean, if the price of getting to be with you is, well, sharing you with him…”

“No,” I said, stopping him. “You don’t have to share me. That’s not how this

works.”

Was that a sob catching in his throat, or just a half gasp as his breathing came back to normal? I wished I could see his face, but the thought of moving—of shifting from where he still filled me—was too much to bear.

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Chapter Nine

I eased out of bed early the next morning, before Craig had woken up, his body

still curled under the blankets where I’d spooned around him most of the night. His unspoken need to be held had been as clear as his dominance during our sex had been, and his warmth had radiated against my chest and thighs as a constant reminder of his presence while I drifted between degrees of sleep.

I’d scrawled a note on the back of an old receipt, left it on the kitchen counter.

Gone running, back soon
. I guessed from the quiet of the house and the fact that we’d not been disturbed the previous evening that his mom was away. Craig hadn’t seemed

especially fazed by it, and I knew he spent more than a few nights in his own company.

From everything he’d told me, she worked at least two jobs, sometimes back-to-back shifts so they could make ends meet.

My gym bag had been where I’d left it, and I’d slipped into shorts, T-shirt, and

running shoes in the bathroom, then tried to close the front door as quietly as I could. It was crisp out, still early; I’d struggled to sleep for anything longer than an hour or so at a stretch, and in the end my twitchy legs were demanding movement.

There’s something hypnotic, reassuring about running—once you get into a

rhythm, that is. The empty roads in Craig’s neighborhood meant I could pretty much ignore the crossings—just flow right across them, legs pumping and brain thrumming with happy chemicals.

In a way it was an attempt not to think, but at the same time I couldn’t help but

dwell on what had happened last night, not to mention over the past few days. Craig’s realization that it had been Louis that I’d been with that time—his grudging willingness 160
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to share me, and the strength of the feelings that possibility provoked in me—needled at me as the pavement churned by.

He seemed resigned to it, accepting even, yet obviously angry and undoubtedly

disappointed. But our sex had been…incredible. Passionate. He’d seemed more open

about his fantasies than ever before, and I’d reveled in the change of roles, like the way he’d taken control and led me rather than the other way round.

I was coming to understand that this was what I wanted from him. A little of the

same dominance that I’d felt with Louis and Ty, that same blunt expression of lust and need. Maybe dominance was the wrong word. I didn’t want him to be in control all the time, but the honesty of it was addictive.