We sat close together on his sofa and watched a rerun of Hell’s Kitchen; I was so hot for Chef Ramsay, it wasn’t funny. I wanted him to kiss me with that fuck hot dirty mouth of his and tell me what to do. I told Michael all of this. He cracked up. All of a sudden, I felt his arm slide around my shoulder. He kissed and licked my neck.
“Mmm, Jack…” I felt his hot breath on my ear. “I know I came home from
school with Amy, but I can’t help it… you are so freaking hot…” My dick turned to steel and my breath caught in my throat.
No fucking way…
“Michael,” I said, “What are you up to?”
He nuzzled into my neck. His hand rubbed over the front of my jeans. “Shhh, she’ll hear us…”
I laughed and shifted so I was facing him. He lifted his face from my neck. He looked at me, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Seriously? I’m supposed to believe you’re eighteen and after my virginity?”
He nodded, grinning wickedly. Suddenly, because of my own words and the look he gave me, I was so into it.
“Okay…” I said breathlessly.
He looked at me with excited eyes. “I want to kiss you… I know it’s wrong, but I want to.”
“Then kiss me,” I said.
His lips touched mine gently, tentatively, just as if he were only eighteen and afraid of his own desires. I opened my mouth slightly. His tongue slipped inside, making me moan. “Oh fuck…” he moaned, “My dick is so hard…” This time, his dirty talk sounded more sincere and natural. I was obviously a good influence on him.
I opened my mouth wider. He kissed me deeper, pressing his body against me so I had to lie back on the couch. “It’s okay,” I said quietly, “She’ll never know.”
He lay on top of me, still kissing me. I felt his erection dig into my leg. His hand found the buttons of my jeans and he had them open in moments. He pulled my dick out of my boxers and stroked it with his hand. “Mmm, you feel so much better than a girl…” he murmured. His hand squeezed and rubbed me eagerly.
I closed my eyes and thought of all the boys I’d wished would do this to me. I let myself pretend that Michael was one of them—eighteen, horny as shit and eager to touch me; desperate
to touch me.
“Oh, yeah,” I moaned. I lost myself in his eager kisses. I felt him rub himself against my leg. I reveled in the sensation of his hand on my cock…
“You’re fucking beautiful…” he said. “…so much hotter than Amy. So hot and smart and funny and your cock feels so good in my hand.”
I groaned and whimpered beneath him.
He stopped kissing me. He slid down my body until he kneeled on the floor. He grabbed hold of my shirt in one hand and wrapped the other around my cock. He licked the tip of it again and again and again as I shivered and panted and moaned.
“Oh… fuck… put it in your mouth… I swear you’ll like it,” I murmured.
He looked up at me then. His blue eyes shone with mischief. I could totally imagine him as an eighteen-year-old boy seducing me in my parents’ house. “Will you like it?”
I nodded frantically. He bent to my cock, circling the tip with his tongue before engulfing it in his warm, wet mouth.
“Fuck. Fuck, yeah… Oh, fuck!” I bit my lip and grabbed his hand that was entwined in my shirt. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hot, wet mouth. I groaned and swore as he sucked me better than any eighteen-year-old boy ever could.
For the next several minutes, he sucked, licked and stroked my aching cock as I lay on the couch. He banished all the demons of my adolescence with one very skillful and heartfelt blowjob. By the time I finally came, calling out his name and holding onto his hand for dear life, it was more than just a physical release. Almost ten years of resentment and anger and injustice poured out of me. He gladly took it all. I fucking loved him so much.
~ Jack and Michael from The Crush by Elizabeth Lister