Amy Reads

I immediately head inside, holding the door for Amy and closing it behind her. I click the lock on the front door, and then I follow her to her room. When we reach her room, she jerks her head, and I obediently close this door, too. “Where ... ?”

“Bed,” she cuts me off to answer, and I immediately go to her bed. I pull myself up the foot of her bed and lay down on my stomach as she goes to her bookcase. I look over my shoulder, watching and waiting, as I have a clear idea of Amy's intent.

She looks over at me and bites her lower lip, humming thoughtfully for a moment. Then she snaps her fingers and makes a sweeping gesture at my body, “Clothes off. Faggots shouldn't wear clothing in my room. I'll talk to my parents about it.”

Quickly stripping down, I let my clothes pool in a haphazard pile at the foot of her bed. Then, I lay back down on my belly, my jaw resting on an upturned palm as I look over my shoulder at her. I wait as she chooses a work of fiction for herself.

Brightly Burning, I read the title, by Mercedes Lackey. She walks to the bed and pulls herself up on it, one leg hanging over the edge and the other bent at the knee. Amy looks at me, snapping her fingers and pointing at her hips, and I nod quietly.

“Kiss my foot, first, faggot, kiss your way up my leg,” she orders, and I obediently kiss her foot, easing myself forward as I kiss her ankle, kiss slowly up her shin. I kiss along the side of her knee, and up her thigh, until I must reach for her shorts.

“Quietly, fag,” Amy commands, and then half-turns her upper body, fluffing and straightening the pillow propped against the headboard, and relaxing. She opens the book and ignores me, shifting the leg on the bed so that her foot is on my ass.

I unbutton and unzip her shorts, and she lifts her hips silently as she starts reading. I slide them down enough to free her, and her thick cock sways up to meet me, tapping my chin. She's already hard, waiting, ready for my mouth to attend her.

I kiss the crown quietly as I can, no smack just a little click from my lips, then slide down it. I take her to the hilt without moaning, and start to slowly bob my head. I suck lovingly, gliding my mouth down to her hilt and swallowing on it softly.

Amy sighs above me, holding the book in both hands, but soon shifts from two hands to one. Her freed up left hand slides into my hair, fingers curled, cupping my scalp. She doesn't speak, doesn't pet me, her hand on my head is ... everything.

Acknowledgement. Appreciation. Approval. Recognition. Respect. My lips slide down her cock until they reach the fat hilt, and I swallow. I breathe out silently as my mouth slides up her shaft, then down again, bobbing my head in slower strokes.

She wants to read, uninterrupted, while having her cock serviced. That means, at least to my mind, I should not only stay quiet, as commanded, but slow, so that she won't cum too fast. I don't think an orgasm would interrupt her, but even still.

Common sense tells me to start slow. She can always push my head down faster if she wants me to pick up the pace, and it would require little effort and no attention I don't deserve. I force myself to remain silent, happily sucking on Amy's cock.

Since she won't be making eye contact or acknowledging me, I close my eyes and simply relax. Laying on my stomach on her bed, her thigh on one shoulder, her foot on one cheek of my ass, her large, beautiful, delicious cock deep in my mouth.

I have to force myself to remember not to moan. I would moan if she let me, her wonderful scent flooding my lungs, sweet taste coating my tongue. My throat flexes and stretches around her cock each time I slide my mouth down onto her hilt.

Author's Note:
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