Somebody Saw Me (3/6)

He didn't say a word. Just let his hand graze mine--then gave the lightest tug toward the locker rows.

We didn't speak.

He turned down the same narrow corridor. The steam still clung to the walls, and the air was thick with the sound of distant water and our breath.

The far stall.

The one I'd used. The one he'd invaded.

Now, he opened it for me.

I stepped inside first.

He followed.

The door shut behind us with a soft, final click.

We stood there, barely inches apart, damp and shirtless, our breath fogging the narrow space between us. My pulse beat in my ears. The sound of the locker room faded.

And then--he kissed me.

Not like before.

Deeper. Hungrier. Wetter.

Like he was tasting a secret. Like he'd waited years, and was afraid it might vanish mid-kiss.

His mouth was warm, firm, slightly rough from chlorine. His stubble scraped against my skin--just enough to burn. His hands came up, cupping my jaw with a kind of gentleness that wrecked me. My knees weakened instantly.

I melted into him. Couldn't stop it.

His body was solid--thick with power, sweat-slicked skin over muscle. I could feel his chest against mine, the way it moved when he breathed. His pecs were broad and warm, still damp, the dark hair across them curling against my bare skin.

I could smell him now. Not just soap and chlorine--but him. Salty and clean, male in a way that hit low in my gut and made my thighs ache.

His tongue slipped between my lips--slow, testing, confident. I opened for him without thinking. Let him explore me, fill me, consume me.

My cock twitched, throbbing against the tight fabric of my jammers.

I moaned into his mouth.

His thumbs stroked the edge of my jaw. My hands hovered uselessly for a second--then I reached for him, not sure where to go first.

He guided me.

One of his hands left my face, gently took my wrist, and placed my hand flat on his chest.

Oh. My. God.

The hair was coarse, wet. His pecs flexed slightly beneath my touch, like he knew exactly what I was feeling and loved it.

Then his hand moved mine lower--down the taper of his torso, over hard abs still damp with sweat and steam. He stopped at his waist, nudged my fingers around his back.

His ass.

Firm. Round. Barely covered by the jammers. I squeezed tentatively.

He groaned into my mouth--low, needy, like the sound was dragged from somewhere deep.

It hit me like a jolt straight to the base of my spine. I gasped.

His mouth moved to my neck, kissing down the line of my jaw, then under my ear. Hot breath, slick lips, scraping stubble. Every nerve in my skin lit up.

He didn't ask.

He didn't need to.

His fingers found the knot at my hip. Undid it in a single pull. My jammers slid down my legs and hit the floor with a wet, heavy sound.

I stood there. Naked. Cock hard, flushed, leaking.

He stepped back just an inch and looked at me.

Really looked.

Not with hunger.

With awe.

Like I was something he'd imagined, and couldn't believe he got to touch.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You're perfect."

The words hit me harder than the kiss.

I looked down, half ready to hide myself--but then he dropped to his knees.

No hesitation.

And I stopped breathing.

His hands slid up my thighs. Slow. Firm. Possessive. They didn't tremble--he wasn't unsure. He knew exactly what he was doing. Like he'd played this scene in his head a hundred times. Maybe he had.

His thumbs stroked the inside of my legs, just short of where I was hardest. Teasing me. Controlling the air between us. Making me ache for it.

Then he kissed my left hip. Just a soft press of lips. Then the right. Then the space below my belly button.

His mouth was warm. Open. Breathing me in.

I twitched. My cock jumped, full and heavy. He hadn't even touched it yet, and I was already leaking.

I thought he'd go straight for it, but no. He shifted, leaned in to the side, and pressed his face under my arm.

He licked.

Not soft. Not quick.

Slow.

The wet drag of his tongue through the hair there made my legs tremble.

He kissed it, then licked again--long, deliberate, deeper this time. My head hit the tile behind me.

"Fuck," I whispered.

He smiled against my skin. "I said I wanted all of you."

Then he did the other side--just as slow, just as filthy. My toes curled against the floor.

He moved lower. Pressed a kiss into the crease where my thigh met my groin.

Then his tongue was on my cock.

One slow, wet lick from base to tip. The kind of lick you don't forget. The kind you feel after.

I moaned--out loud this time. Couldn't help it.

Then he opened his mouth and sucked the head in.

Warm. Wet. Tight. The pressure was perfect.

His lips sealed around me and sank--inch after inch--until I felt the back of his throat flutter around the tip.

I gasped.

My hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in.

He bobbed his head slowly, working my cock like he meant it. Like it mattered. He moaned around me, and the vibration made my whole body jerk.

I couldn't believe this was real.

Him, on his knees.

My cock in his mouth.

Worshipping me.

He started to get sloppy--letting spit drip down my shaft, licking it back up before swallowing me again. His nose pressed against my pelvis, and I nearly lost it.

My thighs started to shake.

He pulled off with a pop. Looked up at me, mouth wet, eyes burning.

"Not yet."

His hand took over. Slow strokes. Squeezing just enough to keep me on the edge.

Then he leaned in and licked the head. Just a flick. Then kissed it like it was sacred.

He let go.

Stood up again--towering over me. Clothed still. His jammers clinging to his thighs, soaked and tight. His chest heaving. That fucking chest hair, damp and curling.

He kissed me--wet, hot, open-mouthed.

I could taste myself on his tongue.

I didn't care.

I moaned into him, desperate now. I needed more. I needed to touch him.

My hands roamed his chest, finding muscle, warmth, hair. I pressed my face into his neck, kissing, biting. He let me.

Then I kissed lower.

And lower.

And sank to my knees.

My fingers hooked into the waistband of his jammers.

Time to give him what he gave me.

I looked up at him.

He was watching me. Not smiling. Not cocky. Just breathing hard, jaw tight, chest rising and falling with every second I didn't move.

My hands slid up his thighs, slow and greedy. He was solid. Thick. The hair there was coarse and damp, and I couldn't stop running my fingers through it, like I needed to memorize the way it felt.

His cock was outlined perfectly in his jammers--long, thick, slightly curved to the left. It twitched when I touched him, even through the fabric.

I looked up again.

He nodded once. His chest heaved.

My fingers hooked the waistband of his jammers.

He didn't stop me.

I pulled them down slowly.

The material clung to his thighs, peeled off with a wet drag that made my breath catch. Inch by inch, I exposed him--his lower belly, the base of his cock, his trimmed hairline.

Then--

It sprang free.

Hard. Heavy. Cut. At least six inches, maybe more. The skin was flushed, the head peeking out, a thick bead of pre-cum already dripping from the tip.

I froze.

I'd seen porn. I'd imagined this a hundred times. But nothing prepared me for the real thing. The way it twitched when I exhaled. The way it hung, proud and thick, veins pulsing under the skin.

He stepped out of the jammers, letting them fall with a wet slap. Now he was completely naked. Towering over me. Glorious.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around the base of his cock.

He groaned.

Not loud. Just a deep sound in his throat, like he'd been waiting for that forever.

My thumb circled the tip, spreading the pre-cum, and he shivered.

I leaned in.

Pressed my face to his thigh. Felt the heat of him against my cheek. Then I kissed it--soft at first, then open-mouthed, tasting sweat and skin.

I moved up, kissing his hip, then his stomach, my hands roaming over his sides, gripping whatever I could reach.

He was fucking perfect.

I buried my face in his chest.

The hair was soaked, curling. I rubbed against it like an animal, lips parting, tongue flicking over his nipple before I even realized what I was doing.

He gasped--sharp and real.

I latched on.

Licked. Sucked. Let my teeth graze him just barely. His hands went to the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, not pulling--just holding me there.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You've wanted this"

I nodded, still kissing his chest. "For so long."

I dropped lower. Kissed his abs. Traced the line of his V with my tongue.

His cock throbbed beside my face.

I turned and licked it.

Just one long swipe from base to tip.

He jerked--his thighs flexing under my hands.

Then I took the head into my mouth.

Warm. Salty. Alive.

He moaned. Louder this time.

"Yeah... just like that..."

I bobbed slowly, trying to take more. My lips stretched around the thickness of him. I let my spit run down the shaft, stroked him with one hand while I sucked the tip.

His hips rocked forward just once--but when I gagged slightly, he immediately pulled back.

"You okay?" he asked, voice tight.

I nodded, wiping my mouth. "Yeah. Just... need a second."

He smiled--tender, real. "You're doing perfect."

God, I wanted to make him fall apart.

I went back down, slower this time. Got into a rhythm. Every time I looked up and saw his eyes half-lidded, mouth slack, chest rising--my cock throbbed harder.

I didn't stop.

I sucked his cock like I'd dreamed of it. Like I'd earned it.

His hand found the back of my neck again, guiding gently. "Yeah... keep going... fuck..."

I moaned around him, and he twitched in my mouth.

His legs trembled.

"Wait--shit--too close," he gasped.

I pulled off, panting. My chin dripping with spit.

He looked ruined. Beautiful.

My jaw ached. His cock glistened with spit. I didn't care.

He cupped my face with both hands, brought me up slowly, kissed me deep.

"You're amazing," he murmured against my lips.

I kissed him back. Sloppy. Desperate. Grateful.

We stood there, bodies pressed together. Our cocks rubbed, wet and sticky between us.

Then he leaned into my ear.

"Now let me teach you something," he whispered, lips brushing my ear like a secret.

I shivered.

His voice was lower now. Controlled. But not cold. Not commanding like he owned me--inviting. Like he was opening a door I could still choose not to walk through.

But I already had.

His hands slid down my sides, fingers pressing just firmly enough to guide me backward until my back hit the stall wall.

"Stay there," he said softly.

I did.

He stepped back just slightly, looking at me. We were both naked now. No towel. No jammers. Just skin and breath and want.

He reached down, stroked his cock slowly--just once. It was flushed and dripping, heavy between his thighs.

"You see this?" he asked.

I nodded.

"You made me like this."

I swallowed. My own cock twitched, still hard, still aching.

"Touch me," he said.

I did.

My fingers wrapped around his shaft again, this time without hesitation. His breath hitched as I started to stroke him, slow and steady.

"Good," he murmured. "Keep going."

He leaned in, pressed his forehead to mine as I worked him.

"Now lick."

I froze for just a second. Not because I didn't want to--but because I wanted it too much.

"Where?" I asked.

He smiled.

"Anywhere."

That single word made my knees go weak again.

I dropped down and kissed his chest, slow and worshipful. I mouthed at his left nipple, then dragged my tongue across his pecs. I licked a stripe across the center of his chest, tasting salt, sweat, skin.

"Fuck," he whispered. His hand gripped the back of my head. "Just like that."

I kissed down his abs, licked just above his groin, then back up to his neck. He tilted his head, let me nip at his throat.

Then I whispered, "Tell me what you want."

His breath caught.

"Lick my balls."

I dropped instantly. Cradled them in my palm, warm and heavy, then dragged my tongue across both. He groaned--loud, barely muffled.

I looked up.

He was leaning back against the opposite wall, one arm braced above his head, the other covering his mouth.

He looked like he was going to fucking explode.

His cock twitched over my face. I kissed the base. Nuzzled his thigh. Spit on the shaft, watched it drip down.

"You want me to take you again?" I asked, voice low.

He nodded hard. "Yeah. Mouth. Now."

I wrapped my lips around the tip again and slid down as far as I could. He held still, let me take it at my own pace. His fingers threaded into my hair, not pulling--just holding. Tethering.

I sucked him slow. Then faster. Then back to slow.

He started panting.

"Shit. I'm close."

But then--footsteps.

Voices. Laughter.

Getting closer.

We froze.

He looked down at me, eyes wide.

I pulled off him with a slick gasp, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Fuck," he whispered. "They're coming this way."

We both grabbed our towels and jammers off the floor, pulling them on with shaking hands.

I wrapped myself quickly, heart pounding. We peeked out the stall door--just barely. Shadows passed across the tile. Someone turned on a shower three stalls down.

We locked eyes.

He was flushed, his cock still half-hard in his waistband, a bead of sweat running down his chest.

"Follow me," he mouthed.

I nodded.

We slipped out the stall. Barefoot. Silent.

No one saw us.

He led me past the showers, down the maintenance hall, toward the back.

It was darker here, quieter. The air thicker--still warm from the showers, but still. Just us. No echoes. No voices. Just the sound of our breath.

He turned back to me.

The door clicked shut behind us.

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

I nodded, breathless.

"Good," he murmured. "Now get on the mat."