Debauched.

LOGAN, MAX, AND I have a long standing date at O’Malley’s for happy hour on Fridays, and we all try to make it unless there’s a legitimate reason to miss.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Logan comments when I arrive 15 minutes late.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry I’m late. I’ll buy the next round.” I greet each of them with a hearty hug, giving Max an extra squeeze. “Congratulations, buddy. I can’t believe you’re getting married!!” I tell him. He beams at me and I can’t help but smile back at him as I take a seat and start pouring a beer into the empty cup waiting for me.

“Thanks. It feels a bit too good to be true.”

“I always thought Logan and Tate would be the first ones to get married.” I look over at Logan. “What gives? You guys have been together for a million years. What are you waiting for?”

Logan throws a peanut at me. “Fuck off, dude. Why aren’t you getting married? Oh, that’s right, because you can’t keep a woman around long enough.”

I burst out laughing. “It’s not that I can’t keep a woman around long enough, it’s that I don’t want to.”

“Well there you go,” Logan points out. “You have your life choices and I have mine.”

Point taken. “Wow, I didn’t realize you were on your period,” I mutter. Turning my attention back to Max, I ask him, “So when will you guys tie the knot?”

“We haven’t planned that far ahead, but I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d let me. Will you guys be my best men?” He looks from me to Logan.

“Both of us?” I ask him, surprised. The three of us have been best friends since grade school, but I always figured he’d ask Logan—he’s way better at adulting than I am.

“Of course!”

“You know I’ll probably make inappropriate comments in my best man speech, right? Are you sure you don’t want to limit my duties to just a regular groomsman? I think I can handle that without fucking it up.”

“You’re not going to fuck anything up, Charlie. I want you to be my best man, inappropriate comments and all.” He smiles at me.

“But you know my speech is going to be better, right?” Logan asks him.

“Fuck you, Logan. My speech is going to kick your speech’s ass,” I say, puffing out my chest in mock seriousness.

Max chuckles. “Both of your speeches are going to be awesome.”

I narrow my eyes at Logan, who smirks at me with confidence. It’s on. I need to start working on mine immediately.

“So how’s work going?” Max asks Logan.

As he tells us about the latest with his job, my cell vibrates in my pocket. I take it out and see it’s a text from Quinn. Hmmm. She usually doesn’t get in touch with me unless she’s feeling frisky. I click on the notification to open the text, curious to see what she said.

Instead of a text, I find that she has sent me a picture. It’s of her right shoulder, and her bare skin peeks out from beneath the strands of her wavy red hair. The picture is not explicit—no private parts are exposed—but fuck if it isn’t sexy, sensual even. My cock twitches as I zoom in to look at her creamy white skin covered in freckles. I want to touch her hair, sweep it behind her shoulder, trace the path those freckles make with my tongue. My fingers swipe at the keyboard to text her back.

Me: Mmmm, Red. Thank you for this picture.

Red: You’re welcome. What are you up to?

Me: Happy hour with the boys.

Red: What are you doing later?

Me: What did you have in mind?

Red: Your cock in my mouth.

Me: That can be arranged.

Red: Come over when you’re done.

Me: Sounds good.

Me: Actually, I have a favor to ask of you, too.

Red: A sexual favor? A BJ isn’t a good enough favor?

Me: A non-sexual favor.

Red: Hmmm, it’ll cost you.

Me: I’m willing to pay you in orgasms.

Red: We’ll talk when you get here.

“Seriously, Charlie. Who are you texting over there with that grin on your face? You setting up a play date?” Logan says, drawing my attention back to the conversation.

“Uuuuuhhh, yes. If you want to know the truth, I am.”

“Please tell me it isn’t with someone like that one chick you dated. Candi? You know, the one with the high-pitched giggle?” Max comments, groaning.

I cringe. That giggle was unfortunate, but she had a thing for anal, which kept my attention for a couple weeks until I couldn’t stand listening to her laugh anymore.

“No. I admit Candi wasn’t one of my best decisions, but we both had fun while it lasted,” I tell them. I don’t mention Quinn’s name because then they will think there is more going on with us than there really is.

“I can’t wait until the day you fall for someone.” Max grins.

“You’re going to be waiting a long time, then,” I tell Max. Been there, done that, and I have no desire to repeat that fiasco ever again.

“I bet he falls hard,” Logan says to Max, like I’m not even here.

“He won’t even know what hit him,” Max agrees, grinning.

“Have you met me? What about my track record for the past 10 years says I’m a relationship kind of guy?” I ask.

“I think there’s a lid for every pot,” Max tells me.

“And sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them,” Logan adds helpfully.

“When did you two start working for Hallmark? I need to find some single friends.” I shake my head in mock disgust. “I’m going to go to the bathroom to make sure my balls didn’t run away from this conversation.” I stand. “I suggest you guys find yours.” Logan and Max bust up laughing as I make my way to the bathroom.

My cell vibrates in my pocket again and I pull it out, hoping Quinn has sent me another picture.

The universe is smiling at me because that’s exactly what it is. Like the first one, it’s not explicit. It’s a picture of her waist—well, half of it anyway. It starts just under her breast, capturing the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. No nipple is showing, no pubic hair is exposed, only milky white skin with the sexiest freckles ever. I can tell she’s naked and lying in bed, her silky purple sheets contrasting against her fair skin. Mmmm. I make a folder in my phone labeled Red and save both pictures for easy access later.

Fuck. I check my watch and see that I’ve only been here 45 minutes. Max and Logan will probably give me grief for arriving late and leaving early, but my cock is eager to get in between Quinn’s cherry red lips.

I go to the bathroom then make my way back to the table, an excuse to leave on the tip of my tongue. It dies when Max says, “You’re not leaving yet, right?”

“Uh, no, of course not.” I sink down into my chair and deflate.

“Are we keeping you from your play date?” Logan smirks at me knowingly.

I scratch my forehead with my middle finger.

“You guys would never believe how much work having a dog is. I feel like we have a newborn for all the attention Sparky requires.” Logan says, changing the subject when I don’t answer.

One subject leads to another, and I covertly check the time on my phone. 20 minutes have passed, and I really want to leave. Just as I begin to make my excuse for real this time, I look over Max’s shoulder to find Monica, Tate, and Quinn approaching the table. Half of me wants to bitch that the ladies are crashing happy hour, but the other half is so excited to see Quinn, I want to throw her over my shoulder and go back to her place. I raise my eyebrow at her questioningly.

“Ladies, how nice of you to join us,” I comment, flashing them my most charming grin.

“Sorry we’re crashing happy hour,” Monica apologizes to me, giving me big puppy dog eyes. I chuckle and give her my usual greeting, picking her up and spinning her around. “No worries, beautiful. Congratulations on your engagement to the male nurse.”

“Easy there,” Max growls. I love seeing him get so riled up whenever I touch Monica—as if I’d ever be interested in my best friend’s girl.

“Relax, you lovesick fool,” I tell Max, setting Monica down and holding up my hands. Then it’s Tate’s turn. She’s been with Logan far longer than Monica has been with Max, so Logan doesn’t even blink at my overzealous greeting. Finally, I step in front of Quinn. Her eyes are lined in purple and her lips are painted cherry red. It might look stupid on some other woman, but it just makes Quinn look exotic.

“Red,” I say in greeting, a smile spreading slowly across my face at the thought of getting her alone later.

“Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea,” she whispers in my ear as I give her the same greeting.

“Whose idea was it?” I ask, setting her down. The only empty seat happens to be next to me, and I press my leg against hers as we sit.

“I thought we should celebrate Max and Monica’s engagement,” Tate pipes up, “so we stopped by to pick Quinn up.”

“Well, what are you drinking? Let me get us some spirits.” I collect drink orders from everyone and Quinn volunteers to help me get the drinks from the bar.

On our way there, I grab her hand and duck down the back hall, pressing her up against the wall with my body.

“I was just about to make excuses to leave and come over,” I tell her.

“Eager to see me, are you?” She smiles up at me.

“Definitely. Thank you for the pictures.” I stare down at her lips, so sexy painted in red lipstick. I don’t kiss her, though, as that would definitely transfer to my lips. For some fucked up reason, I want to see it smeared all over my dick.

She laughs. “It’s not like I sent you anything exciting.”

“I beg to differ.” I take her hand and bring it down to my erection. “I really liked them.”

She squeezes my cock and blows out a breath. “How long do you think we have to stay?”

“Let’s go have a drink and get out of here.”

“Agreed.”

 

CHARLIE AND I BRING back a pitcher of margaritas and one of beer and begin pouring. I know Monica loves margaritas, and the bartender even gave us salt-rimmed glasses, my favorite. I pour margaritas for the ladies and Charlie pours beer for the guys. Then we raise our glasses and give a hearty, “To Max and Monica!”

I clink glasses with everyone, smiling despite myself. I’m not the biggest fan of marriage, but Monica looks so damn happy. I notice she puts her drink down without taking a sip. Huh, that’s weird. Then Max pulls her into his lap to kiss her soundly and her drink is forgotten.

“So when are you thinking about having the wedding?” Tate asks the happy couple.

“I’m not sure yet,” Monica tells her, looking over at Max.

“Well, let me know so I have enough time to plan my awesome speech,” Charlie says, narrowing his eyes at Logan.

“You should just start planning now since you’ll need all the time you can get,” Logan retorts.

I sense a bit of friendly competition between Logan and Charlie. I can’t even imagine what Charlie would say in a best man speech, and the thought makes me chuckle.

“Hey, can I be in charge of planning the bachelor party?” Charlie asks Monica.

Monica stares at Charlie and blinks. “As long as you promise me it won’t be another episode of The Hangover.”

“You know, I don’t think—” Max starts to shake his head at Charlie.

“Fuck that, Max. You’re having a bachelor party,” Charlie interrupts.

“No worries, because I’ll plan your bachelorette party,” I tell Monica as I sip my drink. This is right up my alley.

Charlie smirks at me, and I raise my drink to signal for him to take a sip as well. My body is revved up and I want to get out of here. His smirk turns into a knowing grin and he tilts his head back to gulp down his beer. I watch the way his lips mold to the glass and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, that Adam’s apple—why is it so sexy?

The next 30 minutes of conversation are the slowest of my life, especially because Charlie starts touching me. I know I should discourage this public display, as this is fodder for our friends—especially Monica, who gives me a look like she thinks we make a cute couple—but I don’t care what they think. I’m desperate for his touch and if that makes them think we’re more than just fuck buddies, so be it.

Finally, after we’ve discussed the pros and cons of separate versus joint bachelor and bachelorette parties (Monica and Max vote for a joint party, Charlie and I insist they be separate), Charlie tugs me to a standing position and announces that we’re leaving. Thank God. My underwear is soaked, the fabric sticking to my skin, and I can’t stop thinking about sucking his cock.

We decide to go to his place this time, as it’s closer to O’Malley’s. On the way out, Charlie orders a car to pick us up since we’ve both been drinking, and the second we step outside, his big body cages me against the exterior brick wall of the club.

“I thought we’d never get out of there,” he says breathlessly against my ear, licking my neck.

I sigh and angle my head up, giving him better access. He licks up to my mouth and kisses me, our bodies pressed together so tight. He’s hard, and his erection presses into my belly. It’s like a magnet, and I can’t resist reaching down to cup him through his pants.

“Fuck, Red, you can’t do that out here. You trying to get us arrested?” he teases, biting my lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. He tastes like the beer he was drinking but his mouth is still delicious. He pins me against the wall with his pelvis and I feel the scratch of the brick against my back. Somehow, it makes me burn hotter for him.

Minutes pass while we make out on the street like teenagers. Finally, a car pulls up to the sidewalk and beeps. Charlie looks over his shoulder and recognizes the make and model from the service he ordered. “Come on, let’s take this to my place.”

The driver looks at us warily as we slide into the backseat. “No sex in my car,” he warns us.

Charlie chuckles and raises his hands in the air. “No worries, we can wait 10 minutes,” he reassures the driver. No matter how horny we are, the rank smell of body odor and stale sweat kills our libido pretty quickly. I cover my nose and make a face at Charlie. He flares his nostrils in disgust, making a gagging face, and we chuckle while we endure the short drive to his place.

I was amazed to learn that Charlie has his own house—for some reason I pictured him living in an apartment. When he brought me here for the first time, I expected a frat house vibe, maybe even a keg in his kitchen, but surprisingly, Charlie has furnished his house to feel like a home. The decor is decidedly masculine, but the furniture is contemporary and comfortable and the walls are decorated with what I assume is his photography.

Charlie unlocks the front door, letting me pass in front of him. Once he locks it, he turns to me, a wicked sexy grin on his face.

“How many times have you masturbated thinking about that night?” Charlie asks, his voice a husky rasp in my ear.

“So many times,” I admit.

“God, me too.” His eyes glow with arousal and he stares at me like he wants to eat me up. “Kneel down, Red. I want your mouth on my cock. You can decorate it with that lipstick of yours, make it into a work of art.”

I don’t balk at his command only because I want him in my mouth just as bad as he does. I lower myself to the floor and kneel in front of him, reaching for the buckle on his pants. My mouth practically salivates as I carefully unzip and lower his pants and boxers. He’s already hard, his erection catching on the fabric then springing up to salute me once free from the confines of his clothes.

Charlie Nelson is well endowed. I want a picture of his magnificent penis for my masturbation material. I’ve searched Tumblr high and low for a dick as pretty as his, but I can’t find a good match. He’s thick and long, his pubic hair dark blond and sparse at the base. The skin is golden and soft, stretched taut around his hard shaft. It’s a smooth cock, too, no angry bulbous veins protruding, and I’m always drawn to the pierced head. He has an apadravya, a barbell that runs vertically through the head of his penis. One ball sits on the underside, right where the head meets the shaft, and the other ball is on the top, right in between the shaft and the tip. So, no matter what position we’re in, there are two points of extra stimulation.

Charlie’s voice interrupts my reverie. “While I love the way you’re staring at my cock right now, I’d love it even more if you touched it—preferably with your lips or tongue.”

I look up into his face and see him watching me, muscles corded with tension, hands balled into fists at his sides. He towers over me like a Greek god. Some might think the man is in the position of power in this situation, but he isn’t. I have all the power right now, and I want to drive him crazy.

“I think I like the idea of your cock being my canvas,” I tell him, gripping the base of him. I lean in close and rest it on my face, loving the heat and weight of it on my cheek. He grunts at the contact, swiveling his hips to get more friction. Meeting his gaze, I position his penis just so, and land a purposeful kiss at the base, stamping my red lipstick on him. His eyes flare and he smiles, his dimple popping out on one side. Then I drag my lips up the side of the shaft, pulling the red color in a smeared line. I’m sure it’s smeared all over my mouth, too, but I don’t care. I place another kiss around the barbell on the top of his head, stamping my lipstick around his piercing. My tongue sneaks out to touch the piercing as I do this, unable to resist pushing on it in the process.

A hasty, “Fuck,” is my reward, and the sound goes straight to my clit.

I sit back and admire my handiwork. The sight of his penis with red lips at the tip and the base with lipstick smeared down the side should look ridiculous, but it doesn’t. We both groan in appreciation and I need more.

Before my tongue touches his tip, he reaches down and angles my chin up, inspecting the mess my lipstick made on my face, I’m guessing. “This is a good look on you, Red. If I could take a picture, I’d title it Debauched.”

The thought of him taking my picture shoots a tingle through me. I actually liked sending him those pictures earlier, though I purposefully left out my face. Do I trust him enough to take a picture of my face?

“Do you want to take pictures?” I ask him.

“Fuck yes, can I?”

“Only if you promise not to get my full face, keep them to yourself, and password protect them on your phone.”

“Done.” He reaches down into his pants pocket and finds his cell. The screen lights up as he unlocks it then he holds it above me, positioning it to get a shot.

“One more thing.” I hold my hand up to cover my face. He lowers the phone and looks at me expectantly. “I need a picture of your dick.”

He smirks, surprised by my request. “I’ll send you all of them.”

I put my hand down and lean my face up at him. He focuses intently on the screen, tapping to change a few settings. His eyes gleam, as if he likes what he sees, and it makes me so hot. The sound of the shutter going off makes it real—I’ve officially lost my mind—but I don’t care. I reach forward and pull his cock close to my lips.

“Don’t forget to get this,” I remind him. His cock jumps in my hand, his excitement impossible to ignore. I tongue the bottom ball of his piercing and lick all around it, loving the texture of the cool metal on my tongue and also loving the feel of his skin so warm in contrast. I trace the line up from his piercing to tongue the slit of his opening. I wiggle my tongue around it, licking off the pre-cum that gathers there.

The shutter continues to go off and the sound only ramps up my arousal. I feel so brazen, so naughty, getting my picture taken like this.

“I want a picture with your lips stretched wide around my dick.” He grunts and bucks his hips, seeking entrance into my mouth. I smile at his bossiness, but do as he says. His girth does stretch my mouth and I definitely can’t take all of him. I wrap my hand around the base and take in as much of him as I can then stop to look up at him with my mouth so full. His eyes glitter as he stares into the screen, now snapping pictures every few seconds.

I swallow around the head of his cock and he curses, closing his eyes as the sensation draws his focus away from the camera. This is what I love to see—Charlie out of control.

I get to work, bobbing slowly on his cock, tugging on his shaft with my hand then sneaking my other hand beneath his balls to play with the skin there. He’s so sensitive and I feel his cock pulse in my mouth when I sneak my finger closer to his asshole.

A lot of guys love ass play, though I’ve never gone very far in that department with Charlie. His reaction now makes me want to see how much he’ll let me do. I turn my focus to his balls, licking all around to get them nice and wet. Then I nuzzle under them, licking the skin between his balls and his ass as far as I can reach with my tongue.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he praises as he widens his stance.

I can reach farther and don’t hesitate to bite the crease of skin where his ass meets his leg then I lick away the sting with my tongue and tease all around his hole. Before I return to his cock, I coat my finger in saliva. Then I reverse my path, licking around his balls and up his shaft, opening my mouth as wide as I can around his cock. He groans, closing his eyes and leaning back against the door.

As I work the tip of his cock with my mouth and the base with my hand, I sneak the wet finger in between his ass cheeks, finding the puckered skin. It clenches tight at the attention and he grunts, eyes flying open to look down at me. I keep my finger still, just resting on his asshole.

“Red?” he questions. I don’t answer him with words, but I hold his gaze as I continue to stroke his shaft. My saliva has dripped down his cock so my hand slides easily up and down, matching the movements of my mouth.

He relaxes as I blow him, and he slowly starts to thrust into my mouth, his dick hitting the back of my throat. I try to relax my throat as best as I can, but he’s so big, my gag reflex threatens to surface. I swallow, hoping to keep it under control. He must feel the movement of my throat swallowing against him because he curses.

“Your mouth is so perfect,” he tells me. “I want to come down your throat.”

I moan around his cock in agreement. I want him to come down my throat, too.

He picks up the pace, fucking my mouth. The cell phone slips from his fingers and he reaches down, holding my face in his hands, watching his dick slide in and out of my mouth. The constant poke of his dick to the back of my throat makes me tear up.

He’s close; I can tell by the way his cock swells in my mouth and his balls draw up. My finger is forgotten by him, but not by me. I push forward slowly, breaching his hole just to the first knuckle. His eyes widen in surprise and the added sensation pushes him over the edge. He shouts as his orgasm hits and his cock jerks, semen flooding into my mouth. I swallow as fast as I can, but I’m not fast enough. Some of his cum leaks out of my mouth, leaving a warm trail down my chin and neck. His muscles clench around my finger as his dick pulses and I lick his cock like a lollipop, cleaning him off as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Sweet baby Jesus, Red, that almost killed me,” he wheezes, pulling out of my mouth. He tilts my chin up to look at my face, and I’m sure I look like a hot mess—my mascara smeared by my tears, lipstick smudged all over my face, and semen dripping down my chin. He makes note of all this, eyes trailing up and down my face. Then he bends over to pick up the fallen cell phone. Holding my face with one hand, he snaps a shot of me. “Now this, this is the one I will call Debauched.”

Then he does something I never expected him to do: he kneels in front of me and licks my face clean. He licks his cum off my neck and chin, licks my tears off my cheeks. Then he licks into my mouth and kisses me like he can’t get enough of me.

If I wasn’t turned on before, I’m approaching combustible levels of arousal now.

“Hey, Red?”

“Yes, Charlie?”

“I want you to ride my face.”

So I do.