Wit Of The Staircase 87/?
anonymous
June 18 2011, 12:00:56 UTC
Francis ignored that remark. He took a deep, thoughtful breath. It took a second for him to respond.
"You're wearing as very tight white shirt, and it displays your physique quite well. It's worn a careless, yet elegant, and your hair is tousled. The only other thing you're wearing is white briefs, and they leave nothing to the imagination. There's quite a bulge there," Francis said.
"So I'm either an underwear model or going to a gay bar?" Matthew said.
"What would you know about gay bars, Matthew?" Francis asked pointedly.
"Uh, well, I browse the net? There's this one song about it-"
"Mmm. I see we need to fix this," Francis said.
"Will I be the superstar at the gay bar?" Matthew asked.
"Perhaps....we could always share that title," Francis said. Matthew could just picture him coyly playing with his hair and twisting it around his fingers in that way he knew would distract Matthew like it was nobody's business.
"About those briefs..." Francis said. "My hand is slipping into them, and you're completely hard. I can't help but note the wonderful, firm feel of you."
Matthew swallowed. His own hand followed suit as surely as if he'd been commanded to. Touching himself paled in comparison to the way Francis could do it. His hands didn't have the same softness, the dexterity. He still did it sometimes, though. Every guy jacked off, and thinking about Francis did help it along.
He still preferred Francis, though.
"All too soon, my mouth is around your cock," Francis said. "I've taken you so very, very deep. It's hard to breathe, but it's glorious. I can hear every moan, feel the warmth of your body, taste your salty skin and run my tongue over the veins of your cock."
Matthew felt his pulse and breath quicken. He let go of his cock long enough to lick his palms to lessen the friction. He should have done that first, but as always, Francis distracted him.
"And what are you doing, Matthieu?"
"I...I am feeling dazed and amazed," Matthew said. "Too stunned to speak. Incoherent and moaning."
He could practically hear the smirk in Francis' voice. "Good."
"I let go just before you climax, lick my lips and crawl up on top of you. You're so strong, and yet not bulky. It's a very good combination, and I appreciatively feel up your physique. I reach out for some lube. Your pretty eyes are just begging me to let you suck my fingers, and for a moment I allow you this. You suck so very eagerly, and the feel is hot and wet around my fingertips."
Matthew exhaled sharply.
"Eventually, I pull my fingers free, and you looked pained. I stroke your cheek and tell you don't worry, cher. I'll fill you up soon enough."
Matthew shifted on the covers. He reluctantly pulled his hand away to add more saliva. He should really buy some more lotion or something. Francis paused. Matthew wondered what had happened. He didn't know what he'd do if Francis had one of those diva moments and decided to hang up. This fantasy Francis was conjuring up was just too hot to be cut off.
"Did you fall asleep?" Francis asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.
"There's not a lot of blood in my brain now," Matthew said. He grunted as he began to stroke himself again.
Francis chuckled, and began again. "And then I'm leaning down to prepare you, but you hardly notice. You're gasping and whimpering and begging me to take you. But I keep telling not quite yet. By this time you're utterly incoherent. My fingers are deep in you, and all you can do is beg for more."
Matthew shuddered. He really wasn't going to last much longer like this.
"And soon, I'm withdrawing my fingers and filling you up. I can feel you hard against me, rubbing as I pound you into the mattress. Then I-"
Francis had him at 'pound you into the mattress.' Matthew let out a groan. Francis fell silent, and through the warmth and relaxation, the tingly nice feeling, Matthew felt apprehensive.
"S-sorry, I-"
"And you enjoy the feel of me so much you come faster than you've ever come before," Francis said. "And it's such a turn on, I can't help but come as well."
"You're wearing as very tight white shirt, and it displays your physique quite well. It's worn a careless, yet elegant, and your hair is tousled. The only other thing you're wearing is white briefs, and they leave nothing to the imagination. There's quite a bulge there," Francis said.
"So I'm either an underwear model or going to a gay bar?" Matthew said.
"What would you know about gay bars, Matthew?" Francis asked pointedly.
"Uh, well, I browse the net? There's this one song about it-"
"Mmm. I see we need to fix this," Francis said.
"Will I be the superstar at the gay bar?" Matthew asked.
"Perhaps....we could always share that title," Francis said. Matthew could just picture him coyly playing with his hair and twisting it around his fingers in that way he knew would distract Matthew like it was nobody's business.
"About those briefs..." Francis said. "My hand is slipping into them, and you're completely hard. I can't help but note the wonderful, firm feel of you."
Matthew swallowed. His own hand followed suit as surely as if he'd been commanded to. Touching himself paled in comparison to the way Francis could do it. His hands didn't have the same softness, the dexterity. He still did it sometimes, though. Every guy jacked off, and thinking about Francis did help it along.
He still preferred Francis, though.
"All too soon, my mouth is around your cock," Francis said. "I've taken you so very, very deep. It's hard to breathe, but it's glorious. I can hear every moan, feel the warmth of your body, taste your salty skin and run my tongue over the veins of your cock."
Matthew felt his pulse and breath quicken. He let go of his cock long enough to lick his palms to lessen the friction. He should have done that first, but as always, Francis distracted him.
"And what are you doing, Matthieu?"
"I...I am feeling dazed and amazed," Matthew said. "Too stunned to speak. Incoherent and moaning."
He could practically hear the smirk in Francis' voice. "Good."
"I let go just before you climax, lick my lips and crawl up on top of you. You're so strong, and yet not bulky. It's a very good combination, and I appreciatively feel up your physique. I reach out for some lube. Your pretty eyes are just begging me to let you suck my fingers, and for a moment I allow you this. You suck so very eagerly, and the feel is hot and wet around my fingertips."
Matthew exhaled sharply.
"Eventually, I pull my fingers free, and you looked pained. I stroke your cheek and tell you don't worry, cher. I'll fill you up soon enough."
Matthew shifted on the covers. He reluctantly pulled his hand away to add more saliva. He should really buy some more lotion or something. Francis paused. Matthew wondered what had happened. He didn't know what he'd do if Francis had one of those diva moments and decided to hang up. This fantasy Francis was conjuring up was just too hot to be cut off.
"Did you fall asleep?" Francis asked, a trace of amusement in his voice.
"There's not a lot of blood in my brain now," Matthew said. He grunted as he began to stroke himself again.
Francis chuckled, and began again. "And then I'm leaning down to prepare you, but you hardly notice. You're gasping and whimpering and begging me to take you. But I keep telling not quite yet. By this time you're utterly incoherent. My fingers are deep in you, and all you can do is beg for more."
Matthew shuddered. He really wasn't going to last much longer like this.
"And soon, I'm withdrawing my fingers and filling you up. I can feel you hard against me, rubbing as I pound you into the mattress. Then I-"
Francis had him at 'pound you into the mattress.' Matthew let out a groan. Francis fell silent, and through the warmth and relaxation, the tingly nice feeling, Matthew felt apprehensive.
"S-sorry, I-"
"And you enjoy the feel of me so much you come faster than you've ever come before," Francis said. "And it's such a turn on, I can't help but come as well."
Reply
Leave a comment