Page 22 of Breaking Vincent

I slip my fingertips through the top of the sock and slowly pull the material down his foot. The skin feels surprisingly smooth under my touch.

Tucking the sock into the boot, I look up at him and say, “Now what?”

He places the flat of his foot on top of my thigh. “How bad do you want to get off?” He flicks the underside of my cock with his big toe.

I hiss out a breath, but not because it actually hurts. Because that tiny bite of pain sizzled heat up my spine.

“So bad,” I answer.

He slowly moves his foot and places it directly on my length. “Go on then, have at it.”

A foot job, really?That’s all he’s contributing after I almost broke my jaw sucking the soul out of his body. I roll my eyes, “Seriously?”

He smirks and raises his eyebrows, “If you don’t want it, then that’s fine. But that’s all I’m offering.

Surprisingly my cheeks flush in humiliation. Which is fucking weird because almost nothing embarrasses me.

When I don’t answer, he wiggles his foot against my erection.

Fuck. It feels good.

“I don’t have any lube.”

He points at my head, “Pretty sure my cum hasn’t dried up yet, try using that.”

What the fuck?

I lift my hand and touch my face. He’s right, the cum hasn’t fully dried yet.

I scoop up as much as I can and avoid eye contact as I smear it on my cock and the underside of his foot.

I wrap my hand around my dick and his foot. Squishing us together. If I shut my eyes, I can imagine that it’s another dick that I’m rubbing up against.

“Open your eyes, brat.”

I tut my tongue and slowly open my eyes and yep, it's still a foot that I’m humping.And yeah, his foot is freakishly soft, so all in all it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

It turns out that using cum as a substitute for lube isn’t the best idea. I get the thought, because it's dirty and hot, but I’m a few tugs away from giving myself friction burn.

I slow my movements and look into his eyes, “I need something more. It’s not wet enough.”

He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t carry lube in my work pants, so it looks like you’re going to have to figure it out.”

Spit.He means spit.

I suck my cheeks and moisten my tongue, trying to gather as much saliva as I can.

I huff extra loud through my nose, so he knows how annoyed I am. But it only makes him dig his foot further into my groin, he twists his toes and pinches my skin.

If my mouth wasn’t full of spit I would have moaned at the bite of pain.

I’ve known I like a side of pain with my pleasure since the first time I hooked up with a guy. I was eighteen and he was smoking a cigarette as I sat grinding on his lap, the hot cherry caught the skin of my naked back and I ended up coming in my pants.

I was mortified at the time and I never spoke to him again, but that didn’t stop me from seeking the same thrill whenever I jacked off alone.

“Come on, brat. I don’t have all night,” he says, sounding incredibly bored.

I unclench my fist from around my cock and open my mouth, letting the long string of saliva land between the space of his foot and my dick.