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Bankers' Hours(40)

By:Wade Kelly


He started bobbing his head as he licked, which sent more tingles  through me. He switched to my thumb and sucked on it fervently. I was  breathing harder, so his tactic was working. I reached down with my  other hand and grabbed myself through my boxers.

He stopped abruptly. "No," he instructed, shaking his head. "You don't get to touch it."

"But … ," I pleaded. "You're killing me."

He chuckled again. He so enjoyed torturing me. "That's the goal. When  you've had enough and you need to come, tell me what you want me to do."  He returned to my hand and drew two fingers to the back of his throat,  sucking wildly.

I gripped the sheet next to me. My cock was throbbing with need. I felt  it pulsing, begging me with tiny involuntary movements. Little Adams  Junior wanted what my fingers were experiencing. Little Adams Junior  needed the same enthusiastic attention Tristan was giving my fingers. He  opened wider and took in three fingers, and that's when I lost it.                       
       
           



       

I arched my back and desperately moaned, "Please suck me."

Tristan released my hand and reached for my waistband. I was already  pushing my underwear down. He helped and then took ahold of my leaking  cock. He didn't even pause for a second; he merely took me all the way  to the back of his throat, to the root. I cried out and slapped the  mattress, struggling to catch my breath as he moved his mouth up and  down on my erection.

Instinctively, I grabbed the back of his head and rubbed his scalp as he  ministered to my need. His tongue slid around my shaft as he bobbed his  head. I felt him fondling my testicles, so I spread my legs and  groaned. I was so close. His mouth was hot and wet, and I was going to  fill it with my cum any minute, and he was going to take it. I thrust  upward, feeling the tip of my dick jam hard against his throat. His  muscles convulsed around me, and I thought he might choke and pull off,  but I had no time to consider Tristan when my balls, right then, let  loose and exploded. Wave after wave of tingling electricity radiated  outward from my groin to every little nerve in every extremity. I shot  and shot, dumping buckets into Tristan's throat. I felt suction and  realized he was swallowing my juice.

As my body melted into a pile of bones and limp flesh, I finally opened  my eyes and watched Tristan as he released me from his lips and  continued to study my appendage as it shrank. "What are you doing?" I  asked, much like I had before, only this time I couldn't muster the  energy to panic.

Tristan inspected my tiny organ, flopping it from one side to the other.  He said, "Just looking. I didn't expect you to have foreskin."

Suddenly, I was teleported back to seventh grade, where the whole gym  class had laughed at me for being different. My stomach muscles quaked  as I prepared for his ridicule.

He turned his head and eyed me uneasily. "Grant, what did I say?"

I turned away as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't know why I  was getting so emotional about it, except my whole body felt raw and  exposed after orgasm. Tristan was there, pulling me into his arms and  holding me securely to his chest.

"Shhh," he soothed. "It's okay. Whatever it is, just tell me so I don't say it again."

I sniffled and explained between sobs. "I've always hated …  myself …   for … ." I sobbed and gulped air. "Being different. Kids …  in school …   laughed at …  me." I knew if I didn't calm down, I was going to  hyperventilate.

Tristan rubbed my back and hugged me again. "Oh, baby, no. They were  wrong. I'm so sorry you went through that. I wasn't making fun of you-I  like it."

Had I heard him correctly? I took another convulsive breath and eased  out of his arms to look him in the eyes. If he was lying to save my  feelings, I was 80 percent certain I would know. "Are you …  serious?"

He smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that familiar way they  did when he was happy. "Yes, I'm serious. I like your foreskin. It's  hot."

I made a face. "Eww, no it's not."

"Yes, it is," he reassured me. "Do you realize all the fun we can have with that? I like to play, Grant."

"Play?"

"Yeah," he responded, in a way that told me I should understand what he  meant, only I didn't. "I like to lick and taste, and …  plaaay. One of  these mornings, I'm going to take your foreskin in my mouth when you're  asleep and flick my tongue inside the folds until you harden. Then I'm  going to slide your skin over the head of my throbbing cock and use it  to jack us off together."

I was no longer hyperventilating, I was stunned into not breathing at all-wide-eyed and speechless.

"Breathe, Grant."

I inhaled sharply and then let the air out long and slow. "You aren't joking."

"No."

"What about the stuff you said about being rough and not wanting to scare me?"

"That's all true, but as I get to know you, I'm adjusting my pleasures  to fit yours. I know how to be gentle, but I haven't found the need to  be until now. I'll be gentle with you, but I love playing. Sex is  supposed to be fun. We're going to have fun."

I tucked my head under his chin and snuggled very close, thinking about  what he said. With every little thing, I had assumed that he would react  or think a certain way based on my past experiences. So far, he wasn't  like anyone I'd ever met. If Tristan was willing to adjust for me, then  maybe I needed to rethink the way I thought about things he said and  did.

"So …  you think it's okay that I'm not cut like you?" I asked in the tiny  little voice of a child. I almost embarrassed myself with how I  sounded, but I wasn't feeling very adultish at the moment. I felt small.                       
       
           



       

He rolled me onto my back and propped himself up on his elbow so he  could look at me. "Let me tell you something. I don't know where you got  the silly idea that you have to look like me, but you need to stop.  There are several fun things to do with foreskin that guys like me miss  out on. You will learn to love your penis just the way it is. I  promise."

"Don't forget how small I am," I pointed out.

"Only compared to me. Most guys are small compared to me, but you have to be six inches."

"Five and a half."

"See? You're smack dab in the middle of average."

I huffed.

"Grant," he warned. "You're fine. Stop comparing and enjoy what you have. I do."

Tristan had a way of making me feel so good, even about inadequacies I had obsessed over for years. I asked, "Promise?"

"Promise. I fell for you just the way you are. I like that you're  fastidious and peculiar. I like that you're not muscular, although I'm  glad you joined my gym because everyone's body can stand some toning.  And yes, I like that you're uncircumcised. You need to stop  second-guessing me and realize I say what I think. No one makes me feel  like you do."

As he said all those nice things, Tristan rubbed my stomach. It felt so  nice, like he was trying to calm my nerves as he set me straight on what  he thought. He was so handsome and patient. A random thought popped  into my head, and I said, "I'm naked."

He blinked. "Um, yeah … . And?"

"And this is the longest I've ever lain around without clothes on. I'm  only ever naked in the bathroom. But here I am, on my bed, next to you,  naked. I'm not as anxious about it as I thought I'd be."

"Is there a reason you'd feel nervous? Because I've told you how I feel about your body."

As he continued mapping out my skin, I had to consider what I had  promised myself about telling him. If I was to trust him with my body, I  would have to trust him with my trauma. I started slowly. "When I was a  kid, I made friends with another boy up the street. Behind his house  there were acres of cornfields. Now there are housing developments, but  back then it was a kid's dream to run and explore. My friend and I would  make up games all the time based on TV shows."

I paused, and he said, "Uh-huh."

His attention encouraged me to continue. "In sixth grade, his sister was  into watching Smallville. I don't know when it came on television  originally or when it ended, but she had DVDs, and my friend watched  them sometimes. He suggested we pretend. When I asked how, he explained  this one scene where Clark was tied up to a post in a cornfield in his  underwear. I didn't understand why he wanted me to do that, but I went  along with it because I was stupid and naive, and he assured me it was  only a game and he wouldn't tie my arms too tight. Well, he tied them  really tight. And once I was helpless, he shoved my underwear down."