Trip Money, Part 1

"Oh, God, Ben." Clint whispered huskily. "What a package you’ve got. What are you? Seven, eight inches?"

"Eight," I said, with some pride.

"And these balls. Like cannonballs."

"I’m glad you approve. But you know, you’ve just gone to $370 and beyond. You were supposed to stop with feeling what you could with the jeans on. You’ve gone beyond that. Uh, oh, God. Gawd!" His hand was flying all over my prick and balls, and his fingers played in my pubic hair. "Stop that, I said weakly. We hadn’t gotten to hand jobs, yet, either."

"Technically wrong on both counts," Clint said breathily. "First, your jeans aren’t off yet. I admit I miscalculated on being able to get between them and your cock, but between the tightness of the jeans and the gigantic proportions of your cock, I had little choice but to make some room. But technically, your pants are still on. And, second, this, Ben, isn’t a hand job. You’ll know when you get a hand job from me, and don’t you think you want that now, especially because we’re about to get into the big money offers?"

He had me panting. I still had my hands over my head, but it took effort to keep them there. I guess I thought as long as they were there, I wasn’t really participating in any of that. But they were feeling like lead. I had the urge to reach out and touch him. And I knew I could if I wanted to. He had made clear that I was free to put my hands on him if I wanted.

He didn’t misread my hesitation. He pulled back and unbuttoned his pants. "Here, maybe this will help you decide. This is all harmless. This doesn’t mean you can’t do it with the ladies; it just means you are one sexy guy; one sexy guy with a cock that any woman or man would love to get their hands—and other body parts—onto."

With that, he dropped his pants, and pulled off his briefs and his shoes and socks and stood there, naked, in front of me. He was magnificent. Wiry but perfectly ropy muscled and proportioned, fiery red hair at his crotch to match that on his head, and his dong wasn’t his smallest of muscles. His might be as long as mine; it certainly was thicker and it had a slight curve to it when hard, as it most certainly was now. My quaking arms went out to him and our bodies crashed together. We went back into a lip lock, this time my lips spreading on their own volition and my tongue meeting his. His hands spread under my pants at the hips and he pushed the jeans down my thighs. His hands wrapped themselves around my butt cheeks. For the lack of originality, my hands went to his thin buttocks. His hands were roaming my more bulbous, but well-formed butt cheeks. When our crotches met, our dicks crashed into each other and were both forced up and between our bellies, side by side. Clint brought one of his hands between us and encased both of the cocks. We rocked back and forth momentarily and then leaned back into the counter.

Clint exited the kiss and buried his face in my neck. I heard him say in a low voice, "Up to $520 for dropping trow, even though we haven’t finished that yet, and I’ll give you a bonus for the kiss, so let’s say $550. Do you want to move on to the hand job? $100 for that, but $200 if you let me finish it in a blow job."

"Yes, yes," I whispered. "That far. I can go that far." My hands were traveling along his back and shoulder muscles and then moving to the front and feeling his pecs and abs, admiring the work we’d done in the gym.

"Yes to what?" He whispered.

"Yes to it all so far. Suck me. You can suck me."

"There’s a caveat," he whispered into my neck.

"What?" I said.

"We won’t get to the big money unless you feel me too. My dick is aching for your touch. It would mean nothing to you, but it would make the money worth it all to me."

I tentatively moved my hand down to his waist, and he pulled his pelvis away from me slightly and moved his hand away from our cocks and down to cuddle my ball sack. I slid my hand across the top of his thigh and through his pubic hair to his cock. I’d never felt another man's cock before. It felt both hard and flexible at the same time. I slid my hand along it and to the knob, which I cupped in my hand. Clint sighed and, putting the heel of his hand under my balls, he spread his fingers to where they wrapped themselves between my legs, with the middle finger resting on the rim of my asshole. He was hunched over, licking and nibbling on my nipples. I pushed back his foreskin—he was uncircumcised—and ran my fingers around on his glans, rubbing and squeezing. He was producing precum, which I swirled around his dick head. He moaned and bit at my nipple, which caused me to moan in answer. I rubbed and stroked the length of his cock and then moved my hands to his balls and weighed and pulled at those. His middle finger had gone beyond the rim of my asshole; it has pushed its way in by a fraction of an inch.

"No, not that," I said. "We agreed to feeling on my body, not in my body."

"So sorry," he answered, as he pulled the finger away. "I’m getting ahead of myself; maybe later."

I was still contemplating this, as I felt both of his hands go to my cock. He firmly wrapped the fingers of one hand around the root of my cock, but his thumb applying pressure to the artery running into the cock, which made my dong harden right up. He wrapped the other hand around the cock, near the base and slid it up to the glans, which he played with much the same way I had played with his, and I also produced precum that helped slicken up the rubbing. Then he started stroking my cock. Slowly at first and then more rapidly, but always deeply and in a rhythm that felt both insistent and determined. I gave out little gasps and braced myself against the counter with my hands. This was a bigger high than I’d ever gotten from the ladies. Clint’s tongue went to my right armpit, and then he slowly tongued his way down and across my pecs, giving my nipples a nip en route and then up to my left armpit and down my left side to under my pecs and over to my sternum.

He stopped here, and in a low voice said, "It’s coming. It’s coming to swallow you."

I shivered and he slowly worked his tongue down my sternum and across my abs. He stopped above the navel and whispered again. "Suck, suck, suck, I’m going to suck you dry." His tongue went into my navel and his teeth nipped at the rim. Both of my hand went to the back of his head and ground him face into my stomach. The tongue went down, circled the lower belly, running along the pubic hair line.

"God, look at that cock," he whispered. "A gigantic tool. I’d love to have that rammed up my ass. Well, maybe later. Workin' on the current deal now. Sucking you dry. Giving you no mercy. This is something no woman’s going to do for you."

I was already shuddering in anticipation when he let go of my dick with his hands, and his tongue slid down the length of my cock and he licked around the rim of my glans. But then I felt his hands at my hips and he was standing and rotating my body around until I was backed up to a butcher-block topped island of a good size. With a sweep of his hand, he pushed all of the little doo-dads that had been on the top of the island off onto the floor and away from us and he lifted me and laid my back onto the island top. I heard him open a drawer and fiddle around in it, but then he reached back for me and off came my pants, my shoes and my socks and he was pushing my knees up toward my body. He had one foot in his hand and was giving it massage and his mouth was giving suck to the toes of the other foot. There wasn’t much I could say. This would have been allowed earlier in the deal. He tongued his way up my legs, first doing the calves alternately and then the thighs, keeping a grip on my feet with his hands. His tongue went briefly between my butt cheeks and across my asshole, which made me lurch and try, unsuccessfully to free my feet, but he moved right on to my balls, which he tongued, sucked, and munched until my groaning and moaning was beginning to alarm me. He released my feet and his hands went to behind my knees in a strong grip, where he held my legs, still folded into my body, but pushed a little outward. Then his mouth moved up to my dick, taking it initial in only to the rim of the glans and playing with that with his teeth and tongue, and then he started swallowing my cock slowly. I went up on my elbows and watched my dong disappear down his throat. In, in, in. The double reference, both seeing it and feeling it, was deeply pleasurable. When he had it in all the way to the root, he held it there for a moment and then he started deep-throating me. Swallow to the root and withdraw to the glans, tongue the piss slit and then slide back down all the way to the root. He kept this up until I was going wild, clutching at his head, burying my fingers in his hair. He lifted his head once to ask.

"Any of your ladies do this for you, Ben?"

"No, no, no," I acknowledged in reply. "But, God, Clint, I think I’m going to cum."

"Isn’t that the idea?" Clint said, and then he was back at my dick with a fury. And I did, indeed, cum, with a great spurt of relief, down Clint’s throat. I flopped back on the island top, exhausted from the tension and the great relief. I threw my arm across my face and gloried in having had so much pleasure in earning $750 in a single evening. I need never tell anyone about this, but I wouldn’t forget about it either.