Page 39 of Big Britches

“This is special, P. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I’m so hard. It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m just grateful that I’m responsible.” Titus reached down and took Pedro’s cock into his hand, lightly stroking him. “How about that? Does that help?”

“Oh, God, yes.” Pedro sighed. “Yes, that’s good.”

Titus continued with a slow pull on Pedro’s cock, and on the upstroke, he would stop, using his thumb to circle the tip, feeling the slickness there even under water.

“I like that your hands and legs are occupied, but mine aren’t,” Titus said, reaching lower with his other and softly stroking Pedro’s crevice with the curl of his fingertips.

Pedro moaned, kissing Titus again, anything to distract himself from the rising friction below. He pressed his tongue deep.

“Mm,” Titus murmured into Pedro’s mouth. He began moving them toward the shallow water again. He was strong enough to support Pedro, even without the added buoyancy. He lifted him high, setting him down on the pool’s concrete edge.

“Wait,” Pedro whispered, discombobulated. He sat there, all but his feet out of the water, warm air on his skin. His erection was in plain sight now, pointing straight up, shiny. Titus stood before him in the water, mammoth, a leviathan, large hands gripping Pedro’s wet thighs. His body language had changed. There was something different in his eyes. Something near bestial.

“I feel like my whole life has been leading up to this moment,” he said. “But I’ll wait if you need me to. You’re the boss.”

Pedro had used the word gratuitously, filler while regaining composure. Titus had taken it literally, trying hard to subdue his budding libido. The beast was still there, though, beneath the surface–pure, undiluted desire. It was a shade of Titus Pedro hadn’t seen, feral, and a tad fearsome in combination with his size. But Pedro wasn’t afraid. No. He wanted Titus that way. Needed it. The realization was sudden and ridiculously obvious because he’d known it since first seeing the man wet and nearly naked that morning. Enough with the back-and-forth reasoning and indecision. Standing before him was a man in his most authentic state. Pedro was thrilled witnessing and–as Titus had said–being responsible for the transformation. To hell with playing slave to his inhibition, wrestling with notions like race and class. When you boil things to their essence and strip the baggage of generational conditioning, men are just men. The playing field was level in that regard, both of them now naked and vulnerable to their passion. So, Pedro yielded to his carnal cravings.

“Bring it on, big guy,” he said.

Titus needed only that simple permission. He leaned down and took Pedro into his mouth.

The first thing Pedro felt was the hot, wet slab of Titus’s tongue on the underside of his cock, painting it with strokes of slick movement. Second, he felt Titus’s lips closing around his length, soft, but firm. Third, and best of all, was the sensation of beard scruff grazing his innermost thighs as Titus burrowed deeper between his legs.

“Oh, fuck.”

Titus fed on Pedro, sucking at his cock wantonly, thoroughly, and attentively. Continuous waves of heat undulated through Pedro with this ravenous consumption. His hands fell to Titus’s head for support, finger raking through his wet, wavy locks.

“Oh, T. Oh, that’s good. Oh, yeah. Oh, God, yeah. This is?—”

Titus grunted, gripping Pedro’s legs and yanking him closer. Pedro felt the brief burn of his bare ass cheeks scraping the smooth concrete, but he didn’t care. Nothing could override the sensation of Titus’s mouth relentlessly devouring him. He surrendered further, laying back on the decking while Titus continued to feed, feeling the still-warm surface beneath him as water droplets trickled down his sides.

Just when he was growing accustomed to what was happening, another shift occurred. Titus came up off of Pedro’s cock and began licking at the surrounding sensitive areas—thighs, balls, taint—his tongue slowly but steadily traveling southward down his seam. Titus yanked again, pulling Pedro just over the rim of the pool decking, lifting Pedro's legs over his shoulders as he buried his face between them, his tongue lapping at the tender folds of his entrance.

Pedro’s insecurity attempted to surface again. Ludicrously, he thought—Is this too far? He is a new client. Maybe you should stop.

But he didn’t. He let Titus have it all. Truth be told, he didn’t want to deny the man anything now. Intense and gratifying physical pleasure had overridden all anxiety. Pedro squirmed on the concrete, clamping his legs on Titus’s head as the large man’s tongue pried at his opening, snaking the slick and persistent muscle beyond the breach and inside him.

Pedro was mumbling in Spanish now—endearments, expletives, and sounds that weren’t even words, just pure ecstasy spouting from his lips as Titus continued his feast, pleasuring, nourishing.

When Titus’s hand found Pedro’s cock again, the stroking was slow and masterful, his thick fingers slick with Pedro’s juices as he glided up and down, thumb pad slightly pressing into the soft underside of the shaft.

“Oh—Oh, you're gonna make me come, T. I—I can’t. I can’t hold back. It’s so good. It’s all so good.”

Titus probed deeper, perhaps encouraged by Pedro’s declarations. His stroking hand squeezed tighter.

Pedro heaved, issuing another indecipherable utterance, guttural, as his legs squeezed again, pulling Titus closer. Titus chuckled, snorting like a muffled pig.

Pedro erupted in Titus’s fist like a miniature volcano, no squirt, just release, hot and flowing. Titus continued stroking him steadily, each pass easier than the last. He freed himself from Pedro’s loosening legs and stood up full-height, still stroking, his face red and grinning from ear to ear.

Pedro did not see this, though. He was too busy slapping the concrete, convulsing, shaking his head back and forth, and muttering gibberish. Then he felt Titus’s mouth on his cock again, warm and wet, collecting evidence. It was too much. He shoved at Titus’s head, forcing him away, flush with hypersensitivity.

“NO. NO. NO.”

Titus laughed, backing off. Pedro was splayed on the concrete, shielding his face from the world with an arm draped over his eyes.