I bobbed up and down quickly a half dozen times before slowing. I’d like to say it was some technique designed to get him going, but honestly I was just excited. With more restraint now, my tongue circled his tip just a little, then I worked my way down inch by inch before taking him in again. Our eyes met as he bit his lower lip, and I remember seeing those long fingers grabbing onto the sheets. Now that he was plenty wet, I grabbed his base with my thumb and forefinger. His other hand ran through my hair; he didn’t press my head down, but just feeling his grip had the same effect. After a little more building up, my hand started to stroke in time with my mouth. His hips lifted to meet me, so I kept pacing up. After a few more minutes, he pulled my head up by my hair. We leaned towards each other and kissed again. I had forgotten how strained your lips can get after making that ‘O’ shape for a while. Maybe that meant I was too tense, though he didn’t seem to mind.
Author: sweet_memories
Hooked up with my crush before graduation [m/m]
EDIT: Link to Part 2
I just graduated from college last week. There was a guy I ran into a few days before everyone left campus… I can't stop thinking about how nice it was. I've been into him since I met him sophomore year, which made it special. So, here's a little description. Let me know if I should write more/if you have any suggestions!
It was a while before our hands even met. We were both being bashful, sitting on his bed and talking as if things were completely normal. His brown hair reflected the warm glow of the lamp on the bedside. There were no other lights, just the one lamp casting shadows around his room. We’d spoken at the party for at least an hour, and by now we’d been chatting here for just as long. This seemed to be going on and on, but neither of us minded because it was marked by sincerity. When the conversation paused, we smiled again and tried to hold eye contact. Earlier that night, he hadn’t been able to maintain it more than a few seconds without breaking into a mess of smiles. But now we were alone together, so the space had to be filled. His brown eyes matched his hair just like my own. Yet it occurred to me that I could never replicate the way he looked- attractive and fit beyond comparison. It made me confident that he liked me, that he had invited me back home. By now we were too tender to be forward, but still too trusting to have any doubts. So I took his hand. He kept smiling. His fingers were soft and thin, a little longer than my own. Their light grip ran the length of my hand, like he was holding a pen or a brush.