story part 4 holy fuck this got long
anonymous
May 16 2011, 21:11:16 UTC
"Ohgod," Justin says. "Ohgod," he adds, in a higher register, as Porcello takes more of him in, pauses, flexes his hands on Justin's legs, then starts bobbing his head. He's doing filthy things with his tongue. He scrapes Justin with his teeth every so often, like he doesn't really know how to keep them covered, which, God, he probably doesn't, maybe he's never even done this before, but Justin can't think about that too much or he's going to lose it. The inside of Porcello's mouth is so hot, and he can't understand why his balls feel so cool until he realizes that Porcello is drooling on them.
Emily is breathing hard over the phone again. It wreaks havoc on Justin's state of mind, hearing his girlfriend's sweetly distinctive breath in his ear while watching Porcello's head between his legs. His hips start to move, little twitches at first, then honest thrusts as Porcello moves with him and seems happy, or at least willing, to roll with it.
"Fuck. Fuck, yeah," Justin pants. "There y'go, like that." If he leans back in his seat a little, he can watch his dick sliding into and out of Porcello's mouth. He can see Porcello's lips, pink and shiny with spit, the way Porcello's cheeks alternately hollow and distend as he accommodates Justin. "You look like... Ricky, you fuckin' look like... fuck." He wants to be able to explain this, break it all down for Emily, but he can barely speak, and his brain is just screaming the word fuck at him over and over again.
"Touch him," Emily says. "Put your hand on his head, make him do it."
Justin shudders hard. His free hand moves to the back of Porcello's head; he can't believe he's actually doing this, but somehow Emily telling him to do it makes it all possible. Porcello makes a noise when Justin touches him, and Justin feels it in vibrations all around his dick. Fucking vibration, in addition to the incredible heat and wetness and the tight press of Porcello's tongue: it's more than he can possibly bear.
His fingers clench in Porcello's hair, short but thick enough on top for Justin to get a good grip. He plants his feet firmly and thrusts up, all the muscles of his lower body tightening so that he feels hard all over, so that he's shaking with it. He must be making some sort of noise, because he can just barely hear Emily's voice through the roaring in his own head; she's calling his name, gasping, egging him on with breathy little sounds so enticing that it feels like there's a separate spasming orgasm between his ears, right alongside the orgasm that rips through the rest of him, pulsing frantic and messy into Porcello's mouth.
When he regains an awareness of the world again-- a process that takes almost a full minute-- he realizes that Porcello is still kneeling at his feet, and he miraculously hasn't dropped his phone. Emily is panting in his ear, somehow managing to convey smug contentment without words or a visible expression. Porcello's mouth looks swollen and used, and there is a line of thick come eased over his lower lip, working its way down his chin.
Justin stares at him, shocked. He did that.
"You ok?" Emily asks.
"I... yeah," Justin says, shocked again at the roughness of his own voice. "I'm good."
"Did Ricky come too?"
"Um." He realizes that he has no idea. He sits up a little straighter and tries to look at Porcello without cringing at the state of Porcello's face. It's difficult to tell with the sweatpants, but there's something down there. Or maybe it's just fabric?
Emily is breathing hard over the phone again. It wreaks havoc on Justin's state of mind, hearing his girlfriend's sweetly distinctive breath in his ear while watching Porcello's head between his legs. His hips start to move, little twitches at first, then honest thrusts as Porcello moves with him and seems happy, or at least willing, to roll with it.
"Fuck. Fuck, yeah," Justin pants. "There y'go, like that." If he leans back in his seat a little, he can watch his dick sliding into and out of Porcello's mouth. He can see Porcello's lips, pink and shiny with spit, the way Porcello's cheeks alternately hollow and distend as he accommodates Justin. "You look like... Ricky, you fuckin' look like... fuck." He wants to be able to explain this, break it all down for Emily, but he can barely speak, and his brain is just screaming the word fuck at him over and over again.
"Touch him," Emily says. "Put your hand on his head, make him do it."
Justin shudders hard. His free hand moves to the back of Porcello's head; he can't believe he's actually doing this, but somehow Emily telling him to do it makes it all possible. Porcello makes a noise when Justin touches him, and Justin feels it in vibrations all around his dick. Fucking vibration, in addition to the incredible heat and wetness and the tight press of Porcello's tongue: it's more than he can possibly bear.
His fingers clench in Porcello's hair, short but thick enough on top for Justin to get a good grip. He plants his feet firmly and thrusts up, all the muscles of his lower body tightening so that he feels hard all over, so that he's shaking with it. He must be making some sort of noise, because he can just barely hear Emily's voice through the roaring in his own head; she's calling his name, gasping, egging him on with breathy little sounds so enticing that it feels like there's a separate spasming orgasm between his ears, right alongside the orgasm that rips through the rest of him, pulsing frantic and messy into Porcello's mouth.
When he regains an awareness of the world again-- a process that takes almost a full minute-- he realizes that Porcello is still kneeling at his feet, and he miraculously hasn't dropped his phone. Emily is panting in his ear, somehow managing to convey smug contentment without words or a visible expression. Porcello's mouth looks swollen and used, and there is a line of thick come eased over his lower lip, working its way down his chin.
Justin stares at him, shocked. He did that.
"You ok?" Emily asks.
"I... yeah," Justin says, shocked again at the roughness of his own voice. "I'm good."
"Did Ricky come too?"
"Um." He realizes that he has no idea. He sits up a little straighter and tries to look at Porcello without cringing at the state of Porcello's face. It's difficult to tell with the sweatpants, but there's something down there. Or maybe it's just fabric?
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