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“Yeah, good, yours works. I’ll fuck you here in the kitchen if you get me some lard and a smooth place to spread you out,” I offered, unsure of if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Right now it felt pretty good, what with his teeth on my jugular and his long fingers caressing my prick. We’d worry about the other shit later.
“Perhaps it will be me fucking you on the counter,” he parried smoothly.
“Always got to be the big cheese, eh?” I answered, giving his belt a toss over my shoulder.
“No, that would be you wanting to be the last word. Ah, shit, do that once more.” I cupped his dick through his slacks. His entire body shuddered.
“Fuck that is hot. Someone needs to get us moving or I will toss your prissy ass to the counter,” I huffed as clothes fell away with haste. I cupped his balls as soon as his briefs were thrown into the sink. Heavy, hot, and smooth as Cupid’s backside, I could not control myself. I dropped to my knees, eyed his thick prick with hunger, and then pressed his cock to his belly to nuzzle his nuts.
Something in French floated out of him. Not sure what. Maybe I needed to sign up for an online course so that I knew what he was saying the next time I sucked his balls.
Wasn’t this the purge? What are we saying next time for?
Shut it.
His rump rested on the dishwasher, his cock on his stomach, and his balls in my mouth. He tasted of man and soap, a taste that I’d grown to love over the years. The man part. The soap not so much but hey, he’d showered, that was a plus to the oral fun. Grunts and verbs—or maybe they were nouns…my English grammar was shit, so translating to French was double shit—rained down on me as he grasped the edge of the counter.
“You taste like them French candies rich ladies eat,” I huffed after releasing one orb. My fingers tightened around his shaft, working him slowly, thumbing the slit as I kissed his wet sac over and over.
“Bonbons?” he croaked, easing his hips forward to entice me to suck his cock. And my what a pretty cock it was. Long and thin, like him, but with a big head. Yep. The cock matched the man. I had another ball to suckle, though, so I simply nodded up at him and pulled his left nut into my mouth. “Shit…ah fucking…” He fell back into French so I had no clue what he was saying, but his sputtering hips and shallow breaths were in the universal “Mother Fuck This Feels Great” language, so I continued loving on his balls. “Stop…Philip. Stop…I am close.”
I released his sac gently, licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, and then gave the swollen head a nice tonguing.
His fingers carded into my hair and with a grunt, he tugged, hard. My eyes nearly watered, but I got the message. I let go of his cock with a loud pop and got to my feet.
“Your mouth…” he gasped, his pupils blown out, his cock stiff as a tie rod. Yeah, I had gotten his motor running good and proper.
“Yeah, I hear that a lot on and off the ice,” I commented, took one step, and then was pounced on like an unwary rabbit spied by a hawk.
“I love your mouth,” he snarled, tugged me into his chest, and ravaged my mouth. This kiss was the kind that made your knees buckle. I barely had time to react when he broke the kiss, spun me around, and pressed my chest to the counter. Good thing the dishwasher wasn’t running or my dick would have been steam cleaned. “I want your ass.”
“I want you to have my ass,” I replied, resting my cheek on the cool counter as I reached back to grab my buttocks and spread myself. “Take it. Take my ass, Henry.”
He made a sound like a cougar, a low growly noise that made my cock drip. Then he bent over me, his long frame perfectly fitting over my back, and nudged at my hole with his dick as he bit down softly on my shoulder. I yelped at the nip, surprised at the seemingly wild man who had been hidden under silk shirts and fancy winery owner stuffiness.
“I need a condom,” he panted.
“Pants…wallet…fuck.” The fat head of his dick was right there, and with a quick flick of his hips, I would have him inside me.
“Stay put, do not move.” He gave my shoulder another nip, then laved the bite mark with his tongue before stepping away. I didn’t have time to catch my breath before he was back. The sound of a condom wrapper tearing open made my balls draw up. Shit, this was beyond fucking hot. This was motherfucking incendiary.
“There is no lube, so I am improvising,” he panted. “Reach for the butter dish.”
I did as bid so fast my fingers knocked the top off the white glass dish. Okay, that was fine. Butter on my hand would make jacking off even better while this glorious Frenchman railed me. I handed it back, awkwardly to be sure, and he took it.
“Spread yourself. Show me that hole.” One hand coated with butter, I reached back, my flushed brow resting on Italian marble, and showed him the prize. “Oh lovely, you look so good like this, spread wide for me.”
“Yeah, do me.”
“Patience,” he cooed. The butter dish went into the sink with a crash right before his greasy fingers slid into me. I gasped at the shock and then moaned low as he began working me open, two long fingers at first, then three, stretching me as he said dirty things to me in French. I assumed they were dirty. Hell, he could have been calling me a glorious asshole. Which would have been fine. He could call me whatever he wanted as long as he kept tickling my prostate so expertly. “You are so pretty, Philip, so pretty. I am going to fuck you now.”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck me, Henri.”
“Say that again. My name. Say it properly again as I sink into you.” He pushed in, slowly at first, then after he found little resistance, he thrust hard.
“Henri, oh fuck yeah!” I cried as he bottomed out. I was working my dick hard and fast, knowing instinctually that this was going to be hard and fast. “Come on now. Show me what you can do with that dick of yours.”
“Mm, I will show you how nicely it robs you of all those words,” he bragged and began pumping. Was it a brag when what the man said turned out to be true? He surely knew how to use that cock of his. I couldn’t find the air to breathe, let alone talk, so I just jacked my dick while he pounded into me as the kitchen filled with the sounds of slippery sex. My orgasm rode me down fast as that fancy black car of Tarcy’s. I came hard, all over the dishwasher, my hand, and the floor. Henri cried out something really pretty and drove deep, spearing me with his prick as he pulsed into the condom over and over.
