It was like he jumped into my arms in slow motion.
First I watched his blue eyes. Bluer under his thick red hair. They locked onto mine, rapid as he leant motionless against the door. Behind him the bright foyer opened into a chandelier-lit great room. His stare suited the place. It dazzled.
But not like the architecture. That was old and impressive. His eyes radiated excitement and youth. Mischief. They pierced into mine almost a full foot below.
Then they changed. Something deep-set and primal flickered across their glistening surfaces. It took hold and erupted out and over the rest of him.
It curled the corners of his smile. It lowered his head and neck and shoulders. It rippled through his chest and pulled his hold from the door. It bent his knees. It compressed him like a spring. Then it told his legs to push and pounce.
I didn't blink. I watched every millisecond as my muscles braced and my arms came up to catch him. My mouth opened, mimicking his.
Images of our first meeting flashed through my head: his lightly freckled hands flat on the cold, white-washed brick school toilet wall; the inside of his cotton underwear sliding against the back of my hand; the sweet smell of his hair wax and the salty taste of his neck.
Blood rushed to my cock and began filling it full as the memory of his spit-lubed hole warmed my right-hand middle finger. The first words he'd ever said to me, fast and whispered between quick, sharp breaths, echoed in my mind as my eyes closed, our body heat mingled and we connected like a pair of highly-charged magnets.
"Please fuck me."
His mouth was hot and his tongue was quick and wild against my own. It flicked and danced inside my mouth, matching the hunger that had commanded his body. His breath was fast and feverish, punctuated with gasps and boyish giggles.
The ends of his porcelain white arms, bulging with mini biceps, warmed my cheeks. His hands played with my hair. His arse fit perfectly inside my palms. He was light as a feather. I could have held him up for hours.
My cock ached and pulled my underwear tight under my jeans as thoughts of throwing him around like a rag-doll and bending his small frame like a pretzel tried to control me. I yearned to watch his blushing face tense and strain as I held his ankles together with one hand and stretched his keen hole open again and again.
But first we needed to move out of the doorway. We had an hour, and, by the two or so seconds I'd had to glance around the inside of his home, plenty of places to play.
Walking forward, eyes closed to savour the other senses flooding my brain, I found the door with my heel and kicked backwards. The heavy wood slammed and locked into place.
James pulled his face back and hung off my shoulders to support himself. His hard cock pushed into my abs and his arse slipped forward in my hands and pressed, cheeks apart, against the bulge in my jeans. He smiled.
`Impressive,' he said.
I looked at him, casually, from eye to eye. Playing it cool. Unimpressed. Partly because I was already on fire and ready to explode. Blown away by his fancy house and burning over his choice of outfit. Or lack of.
Truth be told it was taking more effort than I'd thought to silence the voice in my head. The one that was telling me to rip apart his flimsy briefs and fuck him rough and raw right there and then against the purple and burgundy-striped papered walls.
But too much passion would give him the wrong idea. He needed to know where he stood. It was sex. Nothing more. If he wanted to join in, great, but I couldn't have some doe-eyed boy hanging around when there were men to hunt.
Luckily I kept my cool. Just.
`That's nothing,' I said. `Wait until I've got you on your back and your feet behind my heľ'
I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't get a chance. His lips were against mine and we were kissing hard and deep again before I could finish. Evidently I wasn't the only impatient one.
Opening one eye I carried him towards the sweeping stairway that flowed down into the middle of the room from a first-floor landing until I felt a soft, carpeted step under my trainer. Squeezing his arse cheeks hard I stuck my tongue as far into his mouth as I could. Then I lowered him onto his feet and pushed.
He fell. Painlessly on his side, looking up at me from the slant. His wild but innocent eyes still set on mine, like an obedient puppy waiting for his master's command.
His bare legs, covered in a soft ginger fluff, were bent and crossing each other, showing off the flawless curve of his perfect arse. His green tee had fallen upwards and his fatless, pale six-pack looked as smooth as silk next to the fabrics.
I unfastened my jeans button and told him to undo my zip. Without hesitating he pushed himself up and reached out towards my crotch. I slapped his hand away and he flinched.
`With your teeth,' I added.
His devilish grin returned in an instant and he placed his hands on my legs. Simultaneously he turned his lower body on his perch so he faced me. I tensed my quads under his grips and he squeezed tight in response.
He was strong for a little guy.
Leaning forward slowly and opening his mouth at the same drawn-out speed he moved toward the tiny, metallic rectangle. It was jutting out further than its maker had designed, what with the pressure behind. The top of his head obscured my line of sight but I knew he found it.
In the silent hall I heard the almost inaudible click of his teeth on metal. Followed by the gentle buzz of an opening zipper. The two flaps of denim bloomed open in front of his face and my jeans fell to my knees. My white boxer briefs tented to the side.
He looked up at me. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open a fraction. Waiting.
`Good boy,' I said. `Now stay.'
For ten seconds we said nothing. I was establishing dominance. That and calming myself before the storm. For the next fifty-five minutes he would have to do everything he was told, and I would need to ensure I didn't blow too quickly and ruin the fun.
I tried to ignore his adorable smirk and unwavering stare and the way he'd tilted his head so he could breathe in the scent of my crotch. I busied myself by counting the freckles across the bridge of his nose. There were ten. One for each second.
`Very good,' I said.
Then I pulled my boxer briefs down to my knees. My cock sprung up and down and centred itself like a diving board. Rigid and straight. He lowered his gaze to look at the sight in front of him head-on. When he looked back up his eyes were wide again, but this time they were filled with disbelief.
I thought back to some of our early text messages and laughed. A single, low, breathy laugh. A sound that said I told you so.
`Thanks,' I said.
He reached out tentatively and froze a few centimetres from contact. He looked up. I nodded. Then he wrapped his fingers around the middle of my shaft. He had to tighten his grip to make his fingers and thumb meet.
A pulse of pleasure shot down my legs and threatened my balance. I stifled the gasp escaping my mouth and centred myself by running a firm hand through his hair.
Sliding his grip towards me he peeled back my foreskin. It glided, wet and sticky with the pre-cum that had just oozed out of me. The air was cool against my bulging purple cock head. Then the millions of firing nerve endings blazed hot as he licked me clean.
Once. Twice. Three times.
First directly under the head. The tip of his tongue darted delicately around the ridge of skin that attaches my foreskin to the rest of my cock. It tickled in all the right places. Then he flattened his tongue and licked me all the way up one side. Then the other.
`Your cum tastes amazing,' he said leaning back and wiping his mouth.
I shrugged away his compliment.
`Who told you to stop?'
`No one,' he said, smiling. He looked left to right. `Do you want to go to my room?'
`Open your mouth.'
`I don't know if I can get that in my mouth.'
He was joking. Half-joking. But I didn't laugh. I repeated my command. He did as he was told.
`Stick out your tongue,' I said.
Again, he obliged.
Holding my cock at the base I smacked and slapped myself against his soft, red muscle. Then I rested myself on him with my hands on my waist.
For a split-second he didn't move. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose while my cock dribbled another drop of pre-cum directly onto his taste buds.
I remembered how he'd told me, the evening after I'd flipped him around and pulled down his black school trousers in the deserted library toilets, how he'd never done anything with another lad. How he'd laid awake at night ever since he was thirteen, dreaming of the taste and the feel of a cock in his mouth. He was savouring the moment.
Sadly the next few were worth forgetting.
James was a virgin. Through and through. While his hole, tight as a vice, worked nicely in his favour, his cock sucking skills didn't. Take Adam, for example. All his practice in Mr. Price's passenger seat had paid off. This poor kid didn't know where to start.
His mouth was loose and lacked suction. His cheeks puffed out like a balloon. His gag reflex kicked in the moment he tried to go any deeper than the head. I watched him struggle and dribble until the inevitable jolted me away.
`Sorry,' he said, his cute face turning pink with embarrassment and looking away. `I don't know what I'm doing.'
Reaching down I held his chin gently with my thumb and index finger. I turned and lifted his head to face me.
`Don't worry. Just do as I say.'
`Open your mouth and cover your teeth with your lips.' I laughed. `Not that much. Just enough to protect me from those canines. That's better, good boy.'
Heat and wet enveloped me again as I slid myself carefully into his mouth.
`Close your lips around me ... Perfect ... Now suck. Gently ... Good. Use your tongue ... Do what you did before ... But don't lose suction ... Good. Keep doing that ... Make sure you breathe ... No, use your nose ... Good ... Very good.'
In his defence James was a fast learner. Before long he had his breathing under control and his teeth safely tucked away. He was taking me further and further into his mouth. My cock hit deeper and harder against the yielding flesh inside.
I wanted to watch every second. See every movement. Every detail. His thick red lips wrapped around me. The glistening tears filling in the corners of his eyes. His lean neck and shoulders and back below. Blemish-free and toned. But it was too much.
I needed to distract myself or else I was going to unload fifty minutes early.
Letting my neck hang back I opened my eyes, trying to ignore the build-up beating faster and faster through my shaft and down into my balls.
There was nothing but a white ceiling adorned with simple but stylish coving to look at. Not good enough. I could feel my load begin to stir. I wanted to look down so badly.
But instead my gaze fell on a large oil painting hanging on the wall to my right. Inside its expensive gold frame a stern old man and woman looked down over us. Grandparents maybe. Perfect.
My cock stayed solid but my climax retreated as I thought about gran mama and pa looking down on their dutiful grandson, slurping away in his parents' home. I put my hand on the back of his head and pulled him slowly towards me. Inch by inch he took me as the back of his throat squeezed tighter and tighter.
Surely they'd be proud.
Then his fingers dug into my legs as his body convulsed. He pulled his head away, gagging and gasping for breath. A thick, white strand of saliva connected my cock to his mouth before it broke in two. Half fell and stuck against his chin. The other plummeted toward the thick cream carpet below.
`Ok,' I said, looking down into his watering eyes and smiling face. `Let's go to your bedroom.'
To be continued ...
Head over to my website to learn more about Oscar, including new and exclusive content about my upcoming eBook Oscar Down Under, as well as an audio recording of Oscar, Part 11.
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Copyright Jack Ladd 2016
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