friend. It’s this little boy mixture of excitement and anticipation surrendered to a man’s need on his face… the need to have that tongue and that mouth—and so he pulls me closer to make me do the wicked good things. 

So I took him in my mouth in one long practiced glide, and my throat opened, and accompaniment of relaxed and ready muscles willing to pull him all the way in and beyond. Dex, his hands light on my head at first, suddenly bunched up his fingers in my hair and took hold of the head giving him head, and pulled me closer. Dex pulled himself deeper. 

I like it when it gets a little rough, and edgy. I like feeling the pressure holding my head there. I like the sensation of breath being stolen from me because my throat is too full. I like a man standing over me, that smell, the softness of his balls on my cheek and my chin, and those little throaty noises… and fuck when the hips start to push deeper into my throat; that’s just heaven right there. 

So many minutes and the muscles in my jaws are tight from being open so much and so long, and I began to stroke Dex with the metal ball in my tongue, and when I get close to the head I push the ball in hard, just under his tip. Dex groans, grunts once, and thrusts into my mouth. 

We don’t do this for too long-, because what I ultimately need, what he ultimately came here for is not my mouth working like this on his cock, making him make that little boy need face with a man’s hand, a man’s strength, and a man’s cock in my mouth. He came here for one thing only. 

I have been buried on the outskirts of an Islamic town for centuries. I’m a treasure of holy things. I’m a golden chalices and a silver dove. Dex appreciates the gold, silver, religious, and the medieval, and so he will appreciate me when I stand. My cock is standing almost straight up, pink and ready, the two piercings in my frenum are pulled taught and look like the parts to a machine. They are knobs to be twisted and turned, and soon I will be twisted and turned when he enters me. But that’s not now, first we have to get to the hot tub. 

Gold is a forgiving substance. It withstand heat, and water. It can be pounded into shape. It can be melted, and Dex was trying his best to reshape me. It starts with a spit-lubed palm on my dick, my pre-cum also easing his stroke, swirl, squeeze, pull, with my eyes locked onto his darker one. I am pulling from his soul, his need, his want, his call for me, and there are no words, because there don’t need to be any words, just his eyes communicating for me, through me, and in me. That’s where Dex wants to be. 

I had the hot tub going because the day had been long and sore. It’s a handy thing right here and right now, because I am naked and hard, he is naked and hard, and we slip in. We are boneless when we first hit the hot bubbling jets, but soon our limbs find each other, and where the kisses—the stroke, swirl, squeeze, and pull had been sweaty and hard—it is now slick and fast. 

The first thing Dex goes for in the tub is my nipple piercings. He follows the tattooed tail of my dragons, their tails go around my pecs, and he’s following their black scales with his tongue, and one hand is around