He started like he meant to go on.
Grabbing the front of my hair he pushed my head back. Firm but slow. In control. Dominating, but respectful. And only an inch, so my open mouth was at a better angle, and I was looking where his eyes should be.
It was hard to see them in the greys of the forest and the silhouette of inky black above. I could make out his shape. His legs and his torso. His shoulders. Darker where his clothes were, a hue lighter where his skin was. I could see his features. His mouth, his nose, his ears. I could hear his breath. Smell his scent. But it was too dark to see his eyes.
Then they gleamed. Twinkled like stars. Reflected by a sudden burst of moonlight that must have escaped from the long, low autumn clouds I'd seen creeping into the sky before the sun went down. It filtered through thousands of outstretched branches in faint rays of silver. Strong enough to illuminate us in the darkness.
He smiled. So did I.
`Shut your eyes,' he said.
I did as I was told. My lids descended. My other senses took over.
Thick fabric ruffled in front of me. Rugby shorts. It skimmed down hairy legs and a waft of warm air tickled my face. His scent grew instantly stronger. I flinched the tiniest of flinches as his hard, warm cock brushed against my chin, leaving a wet, sticky bead of pre-cum.
I giggled. He smirked. Husky and through his nose. Then he pulled my head towards him. Into his crotch.
Hot and moist from his run he smelt phenomenal. Fresh and clean but strong. The kind of strength you can only find between a man's naked legs. Taking a deep breath, I savoured him. Filled my lungs with every delicious moment since he'd last showered. Every layer of his day.
He let go and I rocked back to vertical. A twig cracked, echoing like a whip in the silence and the darkness. Followed by the rustle of trainers on dead leaves. He was positioning himself.
I licked my lips. Felt a hand on the back of my neck: my cue to open as wide as possible. Then he slid himself inside of me. As far as he could go. First time. No messing around.
Adam had been a manageable challenge. And after giving James pointers I really had no excuse. But as much as I tried. Relaxed my throat and pushed my body towards him. Angled my head left to right. Anything I could think of, I couldn't get him down.
My mouth was watering plenty, practically gushing at the prospect of finally feeling and tasting Mr. Price inside of it, but even with the aid of his pre-cum my enthusiastic saliva glands still hadn't produced enough. Not to cover all of him.
He was a big boy. Similar to Adam but thicker. Fuller. So full he hurt. He jammed into the top of my throat and refused to bend south. Friction burnt over me like I'd swallowed a razor blade. But the discomfort disappeared.
He pulled out. Gathered a fresh layer of lubrication on the way. Drove back inside. I relaxed my throat again. Its walls squeezed and strained in retaliation. My fists clenched. My abs contracted. I willed my body to stay in control. Not to convulse him out of me.
Straight to the base. Shifting my voice box forward, all nine inches of him slid down until his sweaty pubes prickled my nostrils and my cock jumped and pulsed and almost split the seams of my running shorts. He filled me full. Fit like a glove. Like it was meant to be.
Grunting he quickly clasped both hands around my head. Locking me in place. Strong and large and like dinner plates they covered my ears. Wrapped their thick fingers around until they touched and sound was muffled.
My heart beat through me like a drum. Every surge of blood ten times louder. He began to rock my head back and forth onto him. Once, twice, three times, four. The slushing and sloshing deliciously amplified inside my skull. The rush of subservience surging over me as I surrendered, arms tied behind my back, to his power and his will.
Opening my eyes for the first time in minutes I watched the scene around me. It blurred up and down and up and down. Then it stopped.
`Fuck,' he said letting go of my head and pulling out.
Sound came rushing back, clear and crisp in the stillness, accompanied by the heave of my lungs sucking down air. I wanted to ask if he was ok, though I was certain I'd kept my teeth safely tucked under my tongue and lips. But I was too busy breathing. I'd held my breath for longer before. But not much.
`You alright?' I finally said.
`Yeah,' he said. `I was close.'
`That's ok. I'm ready.'
`No. I'm not done with you yet.'
Suppressing a smile, I opened my mouth. Closed my eyes. Happiness rolled through me. I knew our sojourn into the trees wasn't going to be a three-hour session followed by a feed, but it was nice to know I was getting more than a two-minute blow and go. It was nice to know he was enjoying himself. I stuck out my tongue. Flat.
He regained his hold. Slid in. But this time started a counter rhythm. As he pushed my head away, he moved his hips backwards so his cock rested on my bottom lip. Then he pulled me hard against him. Rammed his way down. Squashed my lips against his rock hard abs. Slapped my chin with his huge, hairy balls. Filled every inch of me and then some.
He kept at it. Fucked my mouth slow and steady but rough and ruthlessly. My balls aching and my cock surging each time he stretched me open. Then he grunted. Quietly, but irrepressibly. Began to speed up.
Faster and faster. Rougher and more ruthless until I didn't have a chance to breathe between thrusts. My oxygen quickly depleting, I held my lungfuls the best I could. Took him for as long as my body and mind would let me.
Twenty-five of some of the most intense seconds of my life later, I finally gave in.
My gag reflex kicked through me. Shuddering and shaking my whole body. I wrenched my head away. Coughed and spluttered and hacked up a thick tendril of whipped-up foam. Pre-cum oozed out of me as the sound of my gagging sent shivers of excitement down my spine.
But Mr. Price was stricter than I'd remembered. He was having none of it. Quickly regaining his grasp, one hand on the crown of my head and the other under my jaw to hold it open, he pulled me hard towards him. Forced my mouth back onto his shaft just as I'd gulped down the quickest of breaths.
Closing my eyes, I relaxed in his grip. Let him do all the work. Tensing my core and my spine I loosened my shoulders and neck and jaw but kept my back straight. Enjoyed the motion and my gurgling and his taste in the darkness. He grunted again. Deep and hoarse and louder than before. Then again. And again.
Soon he grunted with each thrust. Slammed inside faster and faster. Almost twice a second. Grunted every time his balls clapped against my bulging Adam's apple.
He dug his fingers into my head. Tension released through my jaw muscles. Pain crushed into my temples. All of it mingled with the waves of intense pleasure that radiated through me and set my synapses ablaze like fireworks on the fourth of July.
His veins swelled against my tongue as blood rushed through his cock. His legs shook. He was close. But there was a problem.
Some people think there are plenty of things wrong with blowjobs. The texture of cum. The taste. The temperature. The sting when it lands in your eye and millions of swimmers try to burrow into your cornea. The sticky gunk it becomes the moment you step into a hot shower. But if you know and enjoy what you're doing, the only real problem is breathing.
It goes without saying that when your windpipe is filled to bursting, it's impossible to breathe. And when the blockage is gaining momentum to pump a hot load directly into your stomach, the last thing either party wants is a break in the build-up.
But I had never been in this situation before. Usually the guy would pull out and blow on my face. Or into my mouth so he could see it pool on my tongue. And while the thought of Tim Price unloading directly inside of me was like every Christmas coming at once, a panic had begun to grow. Tight inside my lungs. I was running out of air.
Fear prickled over me as I willed my mouth to stay open and my body to stay abandoned to his desires. I had to let him finish. No question. I couldn't pull away. He was too close.
I needed to be the best boy I could be. An A-grade student so sir would think about me from dawn `til dusk. From the moment he woke to the moment he fell asleep. In his dreams. I needed him to want me. To need to see me again and again and again.
But I still couldn't breathe.
His vice-like grip tightened harder. His body tensed all over. My eyes rolled to the back of my head. My heart beat exploded through me. He thrust forward one last time. Pulled me so close my whole face squashed against his rippling stomach. Let out a long and low moan that vibrated all the way down into my toes.
And like that, the fear and panic disappeared. As his load streamed hot and thick into my stomach, heating me like whisky on a winter's day, I didn't care if I could breathe. My mind had flicked into overdrive. Nothing mattered except this. I felt like I could have held my breath for hours as I savoured every sense. Every taste and texture, temperature, scent and sound.
It was only until he slid out, six heavenly seconds later, did my need for oxygen regain its desperate control.
Bending over I opened my lungs. Deep, cold mouthfuls seared my throat, catching and sticking at his cum that lined my windpipe and dripped out of my nose and mouth.
I coughed and choked as the spin of the forest began to slow. A hand landed on my shoulder. Steadied me. My breath regained its usual rhythm. I wiped my mouth against my shoulder.
Looking up, in the black and grey of the blitz of trees and shrubs, I saw his towering shadow loom over me once more. Small, fast plumes of breath glowed in the moonlight. He pulled up his shorts. Bent down and untied me. Re-laced his shoe. Held out his hand to help me onto my feet.
`Need a ride home?' he said.
I nodded. Unable to speak. My voice almost completely gone.
For five whole minutes, neither of us made another sound. I followed him. Out of the forest. Back into the park. We crossed the empty field as a bright, full moon beamed over us. Up the gravel path and out.
Round the corner. Under yellow streetlamps and past a pub. Over a zebra crossing and down a left hand street called Overslade Lane. Fifteen houses down, a black Audi suddenly chirped awake. Its inside light flicked on. Its doors unlocked. Keyless.
`This your place?' I said with a cough, shifting the last of my throat coating and swallowing it down.
`This is me,' he said.
`Are you sure you want to take me home now?' I said walking in between him and the car. Leant against the driver's door.
`Aren't your parents going to be worried?' he said, smirking under the lamplight and looking sexier than ever.
`Is that so?' he said, cocking his head. Just like he'd done in the shadows of the forest.
I smiled. Nodded. Said nothing. He looked left and right. No one. Reached down and grabbed my cock, still rock hard under my shorts.
`I suppose you'd better come in then,' he said.
To be continued ...
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Copyright Jack Ladd 2016
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