Somebody Saw Me (4/6)

The swimmer walked ahead, slow and barefoot across the mat. His jammers were still clinging wetly to his hips, cock still tenting the front. He didn't look back right away. Just stood there, head tilted slightly like he was listening to the tension.

Then he turned.

"Good."No more interruptions," he said, voice like gravel.

I nodded, breathless.

And pointed to the floor.

"On the mat," he murmured--low, almost an invitation. "Now."

I dropped.

Knees first. Palms next. My towel slipped down my back.

He stepped in front of me, towering again.

I stared at the outline of his cock, the wet cling of his thighs, the heavy rise of his chest as he exhaled. Droplets clung to the dark hair between his pecs, then slid down his abs in a slow dance, marking the curve of his hips.

"Hands behind your back."

I obeyed.

He bent down, picked up the towel that had pooled beside me.

Then he tied my wrists.

It wasn't tight. Just firm enough to remind me who held the reins tonight.

He stepped out of his jammers, slow, deliberate, like he was letting me see it this time. Like I hadn't already tasted every inch of him.

His cock bounced free--hard, flushed, glistening with a drop of pre-cum already trailing down the head. His thighs flexed as he stepped out, legs damp and thick with muscle, still glistening under the low lights.

My mouth watered.

"Look at me."

I did.

"Open your mouth."

I did that too.

"Good."

He stepped in close, nudging the head of his cock against my lips. I licked up the shaft, slow and reverent, dragging my tongue from base to tip, letting it pulse against my lips. I circled the head, tasting pre-cum, then took him into my mouth.

He groaned instantly.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered. "Just like that. So fucking good."

His hand found the back of my head, not forcing, just guiding. He fed me inch after inch, sliding into my mouth, my throat, his breath catching with each bob of my head.

I moaned around him. The vibration made his cock twitch.

He leaned down until his lips brushed my ear. "You like this?"

I couldn't answer, not with my mouth full of him--but he felt it. He knew.

"You're so fucking hot like this," he muttered.

My heart hammered--not just from lust, but from the fucked-up fact that my crush was, technically, a criminal.

"God, I've thought about this. About you. On your knees. That pretty mouth full of my cock."

And yet here I was. Letting him touch me. Wanting more.

I didn't stop. I didn't want to.

I sucked harder.

"Fuck, yes. You want me to fuck your throat?"

I moaned again--yes, please, yes.

He started to move, hips rocking forward, shallow thrusts against my lips. His cock slid in and out of my mouth with wet, messy sounds. My spit coated him. I didn't care. I wanted it.

He groaned louder, pushing deeper, eyes fluttering half shut.

"Shit... I can't believe this is real..."

I looked up at him--his chest heaving, face flushed, mouth parted. His fingers tightened in my hair as he fucked my mouth a little deeper now, a little faster. He bottomed out once, and I gagged. He froze.

"You okay?"

I nodded.

"Good. Because I'm gonna use that throat."

And he did.

He rocked his hips into me, slow but forceful, his cock sliding over my tongue, hitting the back of my throat. I choked once--he moaned harder.

This was a guy who recorded people. Who should've been expelled. Reported. Something.

But his cock was in my throat, and I wanted more.

"You sound so good like that," he said. "So fucking desperate."

I was.

I couldn't touch myself. My cock was pulsing, leaking, aching--completely ignored. My hands strained against the towel behind my back.

He noticed.

"Fuck, you're hard, aren't you?"

I whined around his cock.

"All just from sucking me. That's so fucking filthy, baby."

I whimpered.

He pulled out suddenly. I gasped, drool dripping from my chin, breath ragged.

"Stick out your tongue."

I did. My jaw ached. My throat was raw. I didn't care.

He slapped the head of his cock against it--wet, heavy, with a slick smack. Once. Twice. Then across my cheek.

"You love this cock, don't you?"

I nodded frantically.

"Say it."

"I love your cock."

"Yeah you do."

He straddled my chest. Lowered himself until his balls pressed against my lips.

"Lick."

I opened and licked them--soft at first, then deeper. Let my tongue drag along the seam. Sucked them into my mouth, one at a time, slow and wet and worshipful.

"Fuck... fuck, you're good at this."

His hand gripped my hair. He started to grind against my face, letting his cock slap against my cheek, his balls against my chin, as I sucked and licked everything he gave me.

I was moaning nonstop now. My cock throbbed untouched. My chest flushed. I was dizzy with it.

He pulled back again--his cock twitching, leaking onto my collarbone.

"Ready?" he panted.

I looked up, dazed. "For what?"

He didn't answer.

He knelt beside me, took his cock in hand, and started stroking himself hard.

Fast. Aggressive.

He looked down at me like he couldn't hold it back anymore.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned. "So pretty. So fucking good for me."

He aimed.

"Take it."

I opened my mouth--

And he came.

Hard.

The first rope hit my tongue. The second across my lips. The third streaked my cheek and jaw. He kept stroking, shuddering, cock jerking in his fist, groaning low and broken like it tore something out of him.

Cum dripped down my face. Onto my chest. My neck.

He leaned in, chest heaving, arms anchoring him over me--like he'd sprinted straight from a finish line.

Then he leaned down, pressed a kiss to my cheek--the same one he'd just painted.

"Good fucking boy," he whispered.

And I nearly came untouched.

Still bound, still breathless, chest heaving as the heat cooled against my skin.

His cum was everywhere--my lips, my chin, across my cheek, neck, collarbone. Sticky. Wet. Marked.

I couldn't stop shaking.

He stared down at me, his breath still ragged, chest rising and falling like waves. His cock, still hard, twitched once as he looked at what he'd done.

And then--he leaned in.

Not to wipe it away.

To lick me.

His tongue dragged across my cheek, slow and hot. He moaned softly into my skin like he missed the taste already.

I gasped. My eyes fluttered.

He didn't stop.

He licked a stripe up my jaw. Sucked the corner of my mouth. Kissed it. Nuzzled into my neck, mouth open and wet, collecting what was left of him from my body like it was sacred.

"You taste like me," he whispered, voice thick and low.

He kissed my chest, then licked it--gathering the cum smeared across my sternum, trailing his tongue between my nipples.

I moaned, legs twitching. My cock jumped, still hard, still leaking.

He crawled over me, slowly--like a lion after a kill--and settled between my thighs.

"You want me to clean the rest?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.

I nodded helplessly.

He untied the towel from my wrists and tossed it aside. My arms ached from restraint. He took one, kissed the inside of my wrist, then brought it to his chest.

"Touch me," he said.

I did--instantly.

My fingers threaded through his chest hair as his mouth dropped to my stomach.

He kissed down my abs, licking every streak and droplet he found. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open.

Then he kissed just above my cock.

And stopped.

"You okay?" he asked again, softer this time. Checking.

"Yes," I breathed. "Please..."

That was all he needed.

His tongue slid lower.

Past my cock. Past my balls.

To the space beneath.

He spread me, gently, reverently.

And then--he licked me there.

I choked on a moan, my hips jerking upward.

His tongue was hot, firm, deliberate. He licked slowly, deeply, then circled tighter, wetter.

"Fuck--fuck, oh my god--"

He moaned into me, the vibration sending shivers through my entire body.

His hands gripped my ass, spreading me wider as he buried his face between my cheeks and ate me out like he'd been starving.

I squirmed, overwhelmed, legs shaking, my cock bouncing untouched as he devoured me. He spit, then licked again, tonguing me open, filthy, focused, obsessed.

"You like that?" he growled between licks.

I nodded furiously, fingers clawing the mat.

"I can feel how fucking hard you are."

He was right.

I was dripping. Throbbing.

Every lick made me twitch. Every circle of his tongue made my whole body clench.

He pulled back, dragged his tongue back up, licked my balls, then sucked one into his mouth before moving to the other.

I was panting, legs spread, arms limp. I'd never felt anything like it. Not even close.

He moved back up my body, slow and dangerous. Kissed my belly. My ribs. My nipples.

His cock was hard again. Already.

He straddled my thigh, grinding against me, panting in my ear.

"You're perfect," he said. "You were made for this."

His hand gripped my cock for the first time--finally--stroking it slow and wet with his spit. His thumb rubbed the head.

"You've been so good," he whispered. "So fucking good for me."

I whimpered. That was all I could do.

He kept jerking me, slow and steady, his other hand rubbing over my chest, my throat, my cheek.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard you see stars," he said.

And then--he kissed me again.

Messy. Deep. Tongue heavy, his cock grinding against my leg, my cock slick in his fist.

I could barely breathe.

My thighs locked.

I gasped into his mouth, full-body trembling.

And then--

I came.

Hard. Explosive. My whole body seized as I shot across my stomach, onto his fist, onto my chest. It hit in pulses, in waves, my voice catching on each one. My back arched. My toes curled. My skin burned.

He didn't stop kissing me.

He slowed his strokes, milking every last drop from me, letting it drip onto my skin, onto his knuckles.

Then he let go.

He leaned back on his knees, straddling my thighs.

And smiled at me.

My chest was rising and falling. Slick with sweat. Streaked in cum. My legs were trembling. My whole body loose, raw, undone.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Look at you..."

Then--he pressed his palm flat to my stomach.

He dragged his hand upward, fingers splaying over my abs, smearing the slick across my skin. He moved higher, collecting it across my ribs, then my chest, slowly gathering everything I'd given him.

His hand gleamed with it--fingers glazed, knuckles dripping.

He lifted it to his mouth.

And licked.

One long, slow pass of his tongue up the center of his palm. Then between each finger. Then sucked two into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the taste.

"God," he whispered. "You taste so fucking good."

My cock twitched--again.

I couldn't believe I was still reacting. Still wanting.

But I was.

He looked at me, flushed and grinning, his mouth sticky with the aftermath of me.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he said.

Then he leaned in and kissed me--deep.

I could taste myself on his tongue, warm and slick and still hot from the inside of my body.

But when he started to pull away, I didn't let him.

I pushed him down.

Not rough--just steady. Intentional.

He gave in easily, lowering himself to the mat with a smirk, arms behind his head, chest rising slow and thick beneath me.

I followed, straddling his hips, my hands flat against the plane of his chest.

"I want to touch you," I whispered.

His eyes softened. "Take your time."

I stared down at him.

This was the same guy who filmed me. Who filmed others.

But now his hands were soft, his voice was low, and my body didn't care what the law said.

And his body?

The body I'd watched glide through water. The body I'd imagined, frame by frame, in dark nights and stolen locker room glances.

Now mine to explore.

I leaned in and kissed him again--slower this time, mouths parting with no rush. His lips were warm and soft beneath the taste of sweat and cum. When we broke apart, I stayed close, brushing my nose against his.

Then I kissed down.

His jaw. The strong line of his throat. His collarbone. I dragged my tongue across the dip there, feeling his pulse flutter beneath my mouth.

He exhaled. Not a moan--just a breath. Like the tension was being pulled from him, string by string.

I let my hands move, wide and open across his chest. His pecs were solid, full, padded in muscle and covered in a dusting of dark hair, soft but wet. I flattened my palm, pushed into it, felt it shift under my touch.

I kissed one nipple. Then licked it, slow and wet, circling with my tongue until it pebbled under my mouth.

His hand twitched behind his head.

"You like that?" I asked.

He nodded, voice low. "Yeah."

I sucked it into my mouth, slow and greedy, while my other hand played with the other--flicking, teasing, pressing my thumb around the edge.

Then I switched.

Licked across his chest, buried my face in the hair between his pecs. Inhaled.

He smelled like chlorine, salt, sweat, and sex. Like a man who had just used me, filled me, kissed me--now letting me press my face into the heat of his body and worship it like I'd always dreamed.

"You smell so fucking good," I murmured.

His thighs shifted under me. I could feel his cock, still soft between us, starting to swell again.

I kissed down.

His abs weren't flat--they were thick, defined, the kind you earn through time, not vanity. I kissed each one. Licked down the center line. Pressed my lips into his skin just above his navel.

He made a sound then--quiet and real. Vulnerable.

"You okay?" I asked, pausing.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I just... I've never been touched like this."

Like this.

Not just sucked. Not fucked.

Touched. Seen.

I kissed lower.

The V of his hips. The lines cutting down into that perfect, heavy dick I'd already felt in my mouth--already tasted--but now, I just wanted to hold it.

He was getting hard again. Slow. Unhurried. His cock lay against his thigh, thick and pulsing, rising with every breath he took.

I kissed the base. Nuzzled against the trimmed hair there. Licked the shaft once, slow and firm.

He groaned.

But I didn't take it into my mouth.

I wasn't here to make him come again.

I was here to have him.

All of him.

I kissed the inside of his thigh. Ran my tongue up the curve of his muscle, felt it flex as I mouthed against it. I bit him lightly, then kissed it better.

I touched everywhere. Stroked his sides, his stomach, his ribs. Let my hands wander back to his chest and just feel--his skin, his heat, the rise and fall of him beneath me.

I wanted to melt into him.

Eventually, I crawled back up.

He reached for me, pulled me down, and we kissed again.

No hunger now. No tension. Just mouths parting slow, breaths shared, sweat sticky between our chests.

He flipped us--gently--and lay beside me, pulling me into him, my head tucked under his jaw.

His arm wrapped around my shoulder. His fingers traced small circles into my back.

My hand settled on his chest, palm spread over his heart. I could feel it still beating hard under my fingertips.

We didn't speak.

There wasn't anything left to say right now.

The room smelled like sex. My skin was sticky. I was exhausted and full and empty and high all at once.

But I was warm.

Pressed into him.

His leg curled over mine. His hand moved down to my hip and just rested there.

I closed my eyes.

He kissed my hair.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe in someone else's arms.

Not just used.

Not just wanted.

This time, I was held--and I let myself be.