Page 58 of King of the Crease

A few minutes after I touched Hank’s dick, I’m begging for him to shove it inside me. This is mortifying.

“I’m horribly awkward.”

Hank laughs again, his jiggling stomach putting me at ease again.

“You’re my awkward turtle.” He tips my chin up and leans down to kiss me. “I think if you keep playing with me down there, I’m going to blow.”

Lust burns within me, overpowering my embarrassment. That is the power of horniness, isn’t it? When our urge is strong enough, it can push past any feeling. “Is that so?”

I sink to the floor on my knees and lower my mouth onto Hank’s dick. I should be nervous, but I still feel that ease, that calm that Hank projects.

We don’t have time to draw this out. A teenager could potentially leave his bedroom at any moment. I suck Hank’s cock with a hesitant momentum. No time to wonder if I’m doing this right.

I lick up his shaft, taste his bitter precome, listen to the soft moans coming from above. I spit in my hand and stroke him as I suck—fast, like someone’s holding a timer over us.

“Fuck. Oh that feels so good, Nick.” Hank lifts his hips to give me a better angle. He shifts and tenses above me. I savor the heat of his cock filling my mouth, the sounds of his whispered desire echoing in my ears. I love making Hank feel this good.

He grabs my shoulder and squeezes hard. That’s my warning. I brace myself for his impending orgasm.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” he says, each yes higher and softer than the last.

His hot release splashes into my mouth, and before my brain can chime in, I swallow it all. It tastes…well, it’s not the most delicious thing I’ve ever ingested, but not the worst. Like dinner at a fancy restaurant, it’s more about enjoying the overall ambience versus the actual food.

Looking at Hank’s shocked, ravenously turned-on expression is my favorite part. I feel more powerful than Superman.

“Shit. That was hot. Holy shit,” he says, catching his breath.

“Not bad for a prince, eh?”

“Huh?”

“I mean…figure of speech. That’s what gay guys say in Baltimore after they give a blow job. From what I’ve heard.”

“Man, y’all are little freaks down in Baltimore, aren’t you?” He pulls up his underwear and pants, gets buttoned up.

I realize I’m still on my knees, so I stand up. Hank pulls me onto his lap and kisses me softly, tenderly. He gazes into my eyes with the same sweetness, not like someone who just got a blow job.

“Are you planning to go to the bar crawl tomorrow night?” Hank asks.

“Uh huh,” I say, catching my breath.

“Brody is staying at his mom’s tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“You should stay over after the bar crawl. We can’t have you driving home drunk.”

“I agree.” My mind explodes with scenarios for tomorrow night.

“And I’ll make sure I take care of you then.” Hanks smolders with more confidence than I’ve ever seen from him, like one blow job transformed him from goofy dad to action hero.

When I leave his house a few minutes later, I sit in my borrowed car and stare off into the dark sky. The spotlight of the D’Angelos’ house shines in the distance. A sheer, unfaltering sense of happiness floods through every vein.

So this is what it’s like to feel on top of the world, huh?

18

HANK