PANCAKES AND PASSION
“Um, you have, um…” Mr. Jones shakily points to my shoulder.
I swiped my fingers over my shoulder, collecting a bit of my cum.
And the geezer sneezes again.
Is he allergic to the sight of a naked cock?
“Ah, yes, part of cum-fallout. Thanks, Mr. Jones. Most observant of you. Now, I really must go and divert further cum-disaster. The fate of my world depends upon it!”
I slammed the door in his face, ‘cause if the sight of a naked cock can make a straight man speechless, or in the case of Mr. Jones, sneeze uncontrollably, well, the sight of a naked male ass is enough to have them faint on the spot.
I couldn’t risk another medical emergency at my front door.
My beautiful, but currently blind, Rory, needed me.
CHAPTER 06: ENTER WINGMAN AND STRUMPET
I made it back to the bathroom so fast, my cock waving around like an orchestra conductor’s baton, I wondered if, maybe, I was a superhero and just didn’t know it. Not even Flash Gordon could have made it there any quicker.
Rory, God love him, was still seated on the floor of my shower with his face tilted up into the spray. He looked like an angel. Wet and bedraggled, and beyond sexy, but an angel nonetheless.
He must have heard me so, though I might have super speed and all, I was definitely no ninja.
“Pancake Boy, it’s definitely fruit salad for you from now on. You need sweetening up—your jizz is like freakin’ acid! Just as well I didn’t get to swallow any—it would probably have melted my innards!”
I laughed. Sure, he was teasing me, but all I heard were the words, from now on. Cumtastrophe or not, Rory wanted to see me again.
Okay. Okay. I’ll be honest. I also heard the bit about swallowing. And yes, I sent up a silent cheer at the happy news.
“Let me make it up to you.” I tried to coo, but I could tell by the smile on Rory’s face my cooing skills needed a bit of work.
“Back wall and now, mister,” I growled. By the way my light-o-love scrambled to do my bidding and lit up like a Christmas tree, I could tell my growling skills, unlike my cooing ones, were definitely up to par. “Spread your legs.” Oh, yeah, I definitely had growling nailed.
I laid on the floor of the shower recess, half on my side and half over Rory. I have to say it wasn’t the most comfortable position to give head, but I had some penance to pay, and penance doesn’t come cheap.
It doesn’t come without pain either.
Damn, those tiles were hard on knees and hips, not to mention, elbows. My boy was lucky I already loved him.
I comforted myself that maybe my sacrifice of bodily comfort would earn me some brownie points with him and he wouldn’t hold my cumtastrophe against my errant dick and never blow him again. Christ, he hadn’t blown my cock at all yet, just wafted hot air over it. Surely that couldn’t count? Please God, don’t let that count. It would be too cruel to go through life never having felt or seen Rory’s plump lips wrapped around my eager dick. The heavens wouldn’t be that mean… would they?
I redoubled my efforts on Rory’s petty dick. I licked and nibbled. I laved and sucked. I massaged his nice tight balls and stroked his silky shaft. I swallowed him whole and hummed a bloody symphony while I was at it. See, I said to God or whoever was listening. See, how loving and attentive I can be. See how I take care of the needs of my man. Just listen to him. Rory is loving my moves.
And he was. Rory was really loving my mad BJ skills.
If he didn’t tone down his appreciation we’d have Mr. Jones knocking on the door again.
It’s times like this you should 69. It really does cut down on the noise factor. Nothing like a cock in your mouth to lower the decibel count
I cut that train of thought off real quick—I couldn’t run the risk of having the Heavens misconstrue my thoughts as being in any way selfish or appearing self interested. Nope. Me blowing a cock as beautiful as Rory’s was an act of pure altruism. Truly, I just about qualified for sainthood.
And when Rory unleashed his own torrent, I swallowed. I swallowed every last drop. No spillage. No sirree. Though I might need to make him eat some more fruit too. Nectar of the Gods, it wasn’t. More like warm, tarty yoghurt with a dash of salt.
“Oh, wow… Pancake Boy, that was… wow.” Rory panted sexily—I was beginning to think he did everything sexily—and pulled me up to kiss me hungrily.
Hmm, I liked that. I liked a man who was into kissing after oral. And kissing Rory? Well, that I already knew I could do with pleasure morning, noon, and night.
“That was so good, I’ll forgive you for temporarily blinding me.”
He kissed me again, sucking on my tongue like it was a mini cock, which, of course, had my big boy surging at the idea he might see a little action after all, despite having misbehaved.
Rory reached between my thighs and stroked the length of me in one long slow glide. “Oh, yeah, I definitely forgive you.”
The bathroom door flew open, crashing against the wall so forcefully the whole room shook. “Billy? Jason? You in here?”
Time stood still.
They looked at Rory and me.
We looked at them.
“Um, oops. Guess not. Hi boys. Nice shower? Hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”
Dear Sweet Lord… no!
Not Wingman and Strumpet!
Not the cockblocking demon girlfriends of my flatmates.
Why didn’t they leave?
Why did they keep standing here?
Why did they keep staring?
And why was Wingman’s mouth hanging open?
Surely she’d seen a cock before? Like, maybe, Billy’s?
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may diet,” snickered Strumpet, glancing pointedly at my dick and then Rory’s before winking at me.
I groaned. The girl knew no boundaries. Had no verbal filter either.
Rory looked at me, confused.
I groaned again—at this rate my dick was never going to get any relief.