My Bullies - Chapter Seventeen

Caleb’s hand moved first—fingers wrapping loosely around the thick base of his cock, lifting it slowly from where it rested against his thigh. The shaft had thickened further in the last minutes, veins more pronounced now, the head flushed a deep, glossy pink. A fresh bead of pre-cum welled at the slit and began to slide downward.

He brought the tip forward until it hovered just in front of Ethan’s parted lips—close enough that Ethan could feel the radiant heat, smell the clean musk of skin and arousal.

Ethan’s own cock throbbed in response, a fresh string of pre-cum stretching from his slit to the carpet below. He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Caleb dragged the head across Ethan’s lower lip—slow, deliberate—smearing the warm bead of pre-cum like gloss. The slickness made Ethan’s lips shine; he tasted salt and faint bitterness on the tip of his tongue as he instinctively licked.

“Kiss the tip,” Caleb said, voice low and even.

Ethan leaned in the fraction needed. His lips pressed softly to the smooth, heated head—once, then again, lingering the second time. A small, involuntary whimper escaped him.

“Good boy,” Caleb murmured. “Now lick the slit. Just the tip of your tongue.”

Ethan obeyed. His tongue extended, flat at first, then pointed, flicking gently against the tiny opening. He tasted more pre-cum—thicker, warmer—coating his taste buds. Caleb’s cock twitched in response, lifting slightly against his tongue.

“Look up at me while you do it,” Caleb ordered.

Ethan tilted his head back, eyes locking with Caleb’s dark gaze. The eye contact made everything sharper, more exposed. His cheeks burned; his cock leaked steadily.

“Suck just the head,” Caleb continued. “No deeper. Lips around it. Gentle suction.”

Ethan opened wider. The head slipped past his lips—hot, velvety, filling his mouth with its weight and shape. He sealed his lips around the ridge, sucking softly, tongue swirling instinctively around the sensitive underside. Caleb let out a low, satisfied hum—the first real sound of pleasure—and Ethan’s own cock jumped hard, untouched, dripping faster.

Caleb’s free hand came to rest on the back of Ethan’s head—not pushing, just holding him steady.

“Stay there,” he said. “Feel it pulse on your tongue. Don’t move.”

Ethan froze, mouth full of just the head, lips stretched around the thickest part. He could feel the steady throb against his tongue, the faint salt leaking steadily now. His jaw ached already from the stretch; his knees burned against the carpet; his denied cock throbbed in painful sympathy.

Caleb watched him for a long moment—eyes half-lidded, breathing deeper now.

Then, slowly, he slid forward another inch.

Ethan’s eyes watered slightly at the added girth. He moaned around the length—muffled, needy—the vibration traveling up Caleb’s shaft.

“Keep looking at me,” Caleb reminded him softly.

Ethan did. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming intensity of it all—the taste, the heat, the weight, the fact that this was Caleb, the boy he’d fantasized about for years, finally in his mouth.

Caleb held him there—two inches in, motionless—letting Ethan adjust, letting him feel every pulse, every throb.

“Good boy,” Caleb whispered again, thumb brushing Ethan’s cheek. “You’re doing so well.”

Ethan’s cock leaked in thick, untouched pulses onto the carpet below.