The Art Guy (18+) COMPLETE, FREE to READ

Cigarettes and Other Oral Pleasures

Glasgow, 1992

Jordan had led Kippy down a corridor to a room marked 'Private: Staff Only'. He'd looked over his shoulder as he opened the door, gesturing that Kippy should follow him in as quickly as possible.

Inside, it was dark and Kippy could see nothing. Along one wall, he could feel stacked chairs. Jordan made no move to switch the light on, and Kippy decided he was glad. The darkness made it easier, and he thought his expression was probably half fearful/half over excited.

Jordan's hand gripped his jaw tightly, pressing hard on the bones.

"Suck my dick, will you? I've been thinking about your mouth all this time."

Ah! The 'inside you' remark covered all bases. It still wasn't something Kippy had done before, but he thought back to Daisy and what she used to do to him. It had never felt right, Daisy's actions too tentative. What he should do was what he would want from oral sex himself.

Jordan seemed to be leaning back against the door. Up close, the aromas of beer, smoke and too-strong aftershave that didn't quite mask body odour, hit his nose. Kippy found he didn't mind it. Jordan smelled distinctly different from Daisy, or Lillian for that matter.

He knelt before Jordan and pulled at his belt buckle. His jeans had button flies and popping them open reminded Kippy of the old Levi's advert. Nick Kamen's torso appeared in his mind, and he found himself hardening, a stiffie that felt as if it was the most powerful erection he'd ever had.

Jordan's cock brushed the side of his face. He could see the outline of it, if not the colour and he suddenly wished Jordan had switched the lights on after all. Pity not to see the first cock he was about to blow.

His lips brushed it, and he fixed a hand in place. An explicit conversation with Lillian some time ago had told him that keeping your hand in place stopped the blow-job recipient from thrusting too hard and making you gag. Jordan tried his best, though, a hand snaking behind Kippy's head and pushing him closer as he worked his mouth and lips.

It was over very quickly. Jordan panted, "I'm going to come. You'll swallow, right?" a second before he did so. The taste wasn't as bad as Kippy had anticipated, but he was grateful when Jordan offered him a swig from the bottle of beer he'd brought with him.

"You turn, lover," Jordan said. "I'd hate for anyone to think this is all one-sided. What can I do you for? A blow job? A fuck? A hand job?"

All of the above, Kippy was tempted to reply. That super-powerful stiffie had hardened even more when Jordan had outlined the choices, his Newcastle accent making each one sound prosaic and enticing at the same time.

On the one hand, he should do it properly, on the other he'd just given what he thought was perfect fellatio. If Jordan could mirror the technique...

"Blow me, bitch," he said, and Jordan laughed. "Ooh, princess! Straight away."

Kippy changed his mind about the lack of lighting again. Not being able to see Jordon properly meant he got even more of a pleasant surprise when Jordan's mouth fastened on his cock.

Glancing down, he could only see the outline of a dark head bobbing up and down. Jordan did copy Kippy's own efforts, and his mouth felt nothing like Daisy's had. Kippy wasn't quite as fast as Jordon—he had the vodka and the beer to thank for that—but when he came, he didn't have time to warn Jordan. It was as if every bit of feeling rushed to his groin, Jordan's final bit of suction tipping him over the edge. His heartbeat echoed the pumping of his cock as he emptied himself, his neck tilting backwards and his hands struggling to find purchase on the wall as his legs seemed in danger of collapsing underneath him.