My Bullies - Chapter Eighteen

Caleb’s hand tightened in Ethan’s hair—not rough, but firm enough to guide. He looked down, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and pushed forward in one slow, deliberate motion.

The thick head breached Ethan’s lips again, then slid deeper—past the back of his tongue, into the tight heat of his throat. Ethan’s eyes widened for a split second, expecting the familiar choke, the burn, the reflex he’d braced for from every porn clip he’d ever watched in secret.

It never came.

No gag. No retch. Just smooth, endless slide.

Caleb kept going—inch after inch—until his hips met Ethan’s face, pubes brushing Ethan’s nose, balls resting warm against his chin. All 8.5 inches buried to the hilt.

Ethan’s throat fluttered around the intrusion, muscles working instinctively to accommodate the stretch, but there was no panic, no struggle. Only fullness. Heat. The steady throb of Caleb’s cock pulsing against the walls of his throat.

Caleb let out a low, involuntary whimper—the first real crack in his control all night. His abs flexed, thighs tensing under Ethan’s palms.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice rougher than before. “No girl’s ever taken all of me. Not even close.”

He looked down at Ethan—eyes locked, chest rising faster now—and his free hand stroked the side of Ethan’s flushed cheek with surprising gentleness.

“You’re such a good boy,” Caleb murmured. “Such a perfect little throat slut. Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

Ethan moaned around the full length—muffled, vibrating straight up Caleb’s shaft. The praise hit him harder than any slap or spit had. His own cock jerked violently, untouched, leaking a thick rope of pre-cum that splattered onto the carpet between his knees.

Caleb stretched back on his elbows, reclining slightly so his hips tilted up, offering himself more fully. At the same time he lifted one bare foot and pressed the sole against Ethan’s aching cock—arches curving around the shaft, toes curling lightly over the head.

“Show me,” Caleb said, voice low and thick. “Take over. Suck me like you’ve been dreaming about.”

Ethan pulled back slowly—lips dragging along every veined inch—until only the head remained in his mouth. He sucked hard on the tip, tongue swirling, tasting the steady leak of pre-cum that coated his palate. Then he sank down again—smooth, deep, no hesitation—taking Caleb all the way to the root once more.

Caleb’s foot flexed against Ethan’s cock—slow, deliberate rubs, sole sliding along the slick shaft, toes teasing the sensitive underside of the head. The pressure was maddening—enough to keep Ethan right on the edge, but never enough to push him over.

Ethan bobbed faster now, throat opening eagerly each time he swallowed Caleb down, lips stretched wide, saliva beginning to drip from the corners of his mouth and slide down his chin. Every deep plunge earned him another low groan or whimper from Caleb, whose control was fraying at the edges.

“Good boy,” Caleb panted, hips rocking up to meet Ethan’s rhythm. “Fuck… just like that. Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Ethan didn’t. He couldn’t. The taste, the stretch, the praise, the bare foot tormenting his denied cock—it all blurred together into one overwhelming pulse of need.

He sucked harder, deeper, throat working around every thick inch like it was the only thing that mattered.