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“I want that mustache right here,” Murtaugh said, tapping the base of his half-hard erection. Riggs snorted looking away for a second, a smile teasing at his mouth.
“I think you’re overestimating my abilities,” Riggs said, even as he slowly slid off his bed and onto his knees. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a crumpled up bag of potato chips on his trailer floor, and for a moment he was embarrassed before reminding himself that Murtaugh had picked the location. Something about not enough privacy at the house. So about half a dozen times now they had ended up at the beach trailer, hands twisted in clothes, making out, eating junk food and watching the waves. Usually Trish was present but occasionally work or kids kept her away.
Truthfully Riggs was having a hard time keeping up with what was going on. Most of it, this, Trish and Rog making out and blurring lines was unsaid. He could handle casual and following his gut came naturally so mostly he was okay. The more they got together though the more he felt like it was becoming the new normal.
Murtaugh had initiated todays tryst, pushing Riggs up against the trailer door before guiding him inside and pushing him down on the couch. From there it turned into pulling off clothes, Riggs’ shirt disappearing onto the floor so that Murtaugh could play with his nipples. Belts clinked and zippers were tugged down. Hardly shy, Riggs had stood up, stripping away the rest of his clothes. Murtaugh looked him over, stroking himself, cussing. Riggs smiled and ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward into Murtaugh’s hands and mouth.
And then Murtaugh asked for a blowjob in his humorous way.
Riggs shifts is weight from knee to knee and then reaches up a hand, wrapping it around Murtaugh’s dick. He strokes gently and watches the motion push and pull the foreskin back and forth. “Been a while since I’ve done this,” he says.
“If you don’t want to that’s fine-“
“No, I want to,” Riggs cuts in. He chuckles, almost surprised to hear himself say the words. Murtaugh reaches a hand out to him and touches his face, stroking over the stubble. It’s gentle, and Riggs responds by teasing his thumb over the cock in his hand and by turning his head so he can mouth at Rog’s hand. Tongue tracing over a line in the palm, lips brushing over knuckles and sucking and then a quick nip before he lets go.
Trish comes to mind. She’s absent only because she’s working on something time sensitive. Maybe he should send her a picture. Roger will fill her in on the details but photographic evidence never hurts. His cellphone is somewhere, wherever he tossed his pants.
“Look we can do other stuff,” Roger says, sounding cautious.
Maybe Trish will get photos next time.
Riggs leans forward, draping his body between Murtaugh’s spread legs, and drags his tongue quickly up the underside of his cock. The zipper in Murtaugh’s pants are drawn just enough to free his erection. Riggs’ free hand tugs at the pants. “Rog” he says and Murtaugh quickly lifts his hips to shimmy his pants off and his dick bobs in Riggs’ face. How can a dick sliding over his face turn him on this much?
Murtaugh can honestly say he’s on the verge of losing it. Riggs is crazy sexy any day of week but having him on his knees, blatantly staring, and flushed and horny is almost more than Murtaugh can stand. He lifts his feet one by one so his pants and boxers can be pulled off properly. He watches that damn mustache as Riggs swirls his tongue around the head before pulling it into his mouth. “Yeah, that’s right,” he moans, if only because talking somehow makes it less intense.
If it’s possible Riggs is even hotter with his mouth wrapped around him and a smile still teasing at the corner of his lips.
The air in the camper is hot and the light coming in through the window spreads over Murtaugh’s stomach. Tan fingers slide over dark thighs, blunt callouses scratching. Riggs slicks his lips and starts to bob his head slightly. He moans, feeling out veins and ridges with his tongue. He’s hyper aware of Rog’s scent and taste. Is this what people mean when they say Dick Drunk? Cause he feels excited and on-edge and very aroused, but also high and flying just at feeling the slight ache in his jaw.
Riggs watches a thread of spit break as he pulls back, taking in a shaky breath. “Keep talking, Rog,” he says.
Murtaugh groans and reaches a hand out to firmly grab at Riggs’ face. He slides his fingers back into those dirty blonde curls, gripping tightly and is instantly rewarded with a moan from Riggs. “Right here,” Murtaugh orders, tapping himself again. A playful demand to deep-throat him.
Riggs looks down at Murtaugh hungrily. Any tentativeness he had before is gone now as he tries to take in Murtaugh even deeper. Another centimeter before he gags slightly and eases back. Riggs breathes a second, smelling the beach and hot air and Rog, and then he’s back to trying to take that cock in all the way to the base. The hand in his hair relaxes for a second and then takes a stronger grip. Riggs hums and then gags again, the hand in his hair preventing him from pulling away quickly and so he gags again and his spit turns thick and leaves a trail as he pulls back. He squeezes his own erection to keep himself from cumming, trying to stay on the edge of this for as long as possible, or at least until Roger cums.
“Come on baby, you got this.”
Riggs is vaguely aware of Murtaugh’s peptalk as he takes him back into his mouth. His jaw aches and the pull on his hair stings but it all feels good, overwhelmingly good. Murtaugh thrusts his hips just slightly and Riggs feels pubes tickling his nose. He holds on for a second, flying.
“So good, just like that.”
Riggs pulls back and turns his head to the side to cough. Saliva drips off of his chin and unto his chest. More saliva is smeared along his cheek as Rog guides his cock over his stubble and taps his dick against his cheek.
Murtaugh swears a little as Riggs licks up the underside of his dick before swallowing it again. Small bobbing movements means his hand pulls at Riggs’ hair but he only moans in enjoyment. Though he can’t see from where he’s sitting he knows his partner is jerking off and the reality of how turned on he is, how hot and wet and good his mouth is, has him tipping over the edge.
“Riggs, Riggs – I’m-”
Cum coats the inside of Riggs mouth and he swallows quickly. He tries to catch his breath for second, coughing. A bead of cum slide down Murtaugh’s dick and he licks it up, swirling his tongue around the head, and grips his own hard-on furiously to keep from following Murtaugh. The hand in his hair relaxes, but Rog chooses to stroke his cheek rather than pull away. His Henley is crumpled up on the floor and he wipes his face with it before stumbling to his feet and crashing on the couch next to his partner.
“Wow,” Murtaugh says.
Riggs smiles. “Wow indeed.” His jaw begs him to talk less.
“I mean wow.”
“Does Trish not blow you?” he jokes, if only because some semblance of embarrassment is starting to sneak in.
Murtaugh doesn’t fully process the tease. Riggs is still hard, and even though Murtaugh has seen him naked enough times to know the man doesn’t have tan lines it still takes him by surprise and has him thinking about the blonde running around the beach naked drenched in sunlight. He reaches out and squeezes Riggs cock, maybe a little tighter than he meant, and Riggs shudders.
“Your turn.”