Tom Gets a Taste
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Frank’s apartment is claustrophobic, warm and stale, heavy with dust and the reek of old sweat. The door clicks shut behind us, a sound that feels final. Milly’s fingers are icy in mine as Frank takes his time locking the bolt, his bulk looming, cutting off the way back.
He doesn’t bother to greet us. “Shoes off. You know where to sit, Tom. You…” his gaze slides over Milly, thick with want, “… stand there.”
I take the battered wooden chair, hands clamped to my knees. My stomach churns; my jeans are already too tight, blood thrumming in my ears. Milly hovers at the edge of the rug, arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on the floor.
Frank plants himself on the sagging couch, spreading his legs wide. “Strip. Slow. Put everything on the table, folded.” His tone brooks no argument.
Milly glances at me, cheeks pale, jaw tight. Her movements are mechanical – sweater first, peeled up over her narrow shoulders, then jeans, the zipper slow, sound harsh in the silence. Her hands fumble at the band of her panties. She hesitates, face burning, biting her lip. Frank just waits, saying nothing, his eyes never leaving her. Finally, she slides them down, exposing the triangle of red curls and trembling thighs.
She stands, hands awkward at her sides, shivering. She’s never looked so fragile. I want to go to her, to shield her, but Frank holds up a hand, and I freeze.
“Come here.” His voice is a command, not a request.
Milly pads forward, arms hugging herself. He takes her by the hips, settling her on his lap, her bare skin pressed against his jeans. She squirms, flinching when his hands move, but stays put.
He makes her spread her knees, fingers digging into her thighs. I see everything – her pussy open, slick, the way she tries to press her legs together again, only for Frank to guide them wide. Her nipples are drawn up tight, the blush blooming across her collarbones.
“Touch yourself,” Frank says, tone even. “Show him.”
She hesitates, face crumpling. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispers.
He shrugs, not pushing. “You will.”
She cups one breast, almost absentmindedly, rubbing the pink nipple with her thumb. Her other hand drops between her legs, barely grazing her folds. Her eyes close, jaw set. The moment hangs, Milly’s breath shaking, her body still rigid with embarrassment.
Frank’s hands stay on her hips, firm but unmoving – possessive. “You’re beautiful. Don’t hide it.”
My heart is a fist in my chest, burning with jealousy and something like awe. I watch as her fingers start to move, tentative, then a little bolder, her breath hitching. Her lips part, but she won’t look at me.
Frank’s touch grows bolder, one hand moving from her hip up her ribs, lingering under her breast. The other dips lower, rough fingers sliding over her mound, into the slick between her thighs. Milly jerks, flinching, her whole body tense.
He leans in, nuzzling at her ear, whispering something I can’t hear. His fingers slip deeper. She shakes her head, eyes wet, but doesn’t pull away. He circles her clit, slow, relentless, her breath stuttering into little gasps. She buries her face in her hands.
She stiffens when his thumb traces the line of her ass, and this time she jerks away, panic in her voice: “No – not there. Please.”
Frank just smirks, pulling his hand away. He doesn’t say a word, just lets the moment hang. The message is clear: for now.
He pushes her off his lap, motioning for her to kneel on the carpet between his knees. She’s trembling, hesitating, hands fisted in the rug.
Then Frank stands and unbuckles his belt, letting his jeans drop. For the first time, I see his cock – thick, heavy, uncut, the head swollen and purple, veins ridged along the shaft. It hangs between his legs, impressive and obscene. My heart lurches, a wave of envy, curiosity, revulsion. My own cock aches against my jeans, and shame burns through me: I shouldn’t want to see this, shouldn’t want her to touch him.
Frank’s hand is in Milly’s hair, guiding her forward. She pulls back, hesitating, lips tight. “I… I can’t…”
He squeezes gently, not cruel, but implacable. “You can. Take it slow.”
She opens her mouth, eyes squeezed shut, and lets the head slide across her lips, tongue tentative, just barely tasting. Frank groans, his other hand fisting in her hair. He makes her work slowly at first – kissing, licking, drawing the skin back with her lips. Milly’s eyes open and flick to me, desperate for reassurance. I nod, helpless, hard, hungry and hurting all at once.
Spit strings from his cock to her chin as she licks his balls, cleaning him like he asked, her tongue tracing under the shaft. She pulls away for air, breathing hard, but Frank pulls her back, guiding her mouth over him again. Each movement is slow, reluctant, Milly trembling, cheeks flushed deep pink.
Frank’s breathing grows heavier, his hand moving her head. “Open wider,” he grunts.
She does, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as he fucks her mouth. His balls slap her chin, her hands gripping his thighs. The sound is obscene – slick and wet, her moans muffled around his cock.
He tenses, then grunts, flooding her mouth. She gags, trying to swallow, some leaking from the corner of her lips. He holds her there a moment longer, then lets go. Milly sinks back on her heels, shaking, spit and cum smeared across her mouth.
Frank looks at me. “Come here.”
I stand, legs unsteady, mind blank with arousal and shame. Frank pulls Milly up, presses her into my arms. “Kiss her.”
She’s shaking, lips parted, the taste of him thick in her mouth. I lean in, and our tongues meet – his flavor everywhere, salty and musky. She moans against me, my hands gripping her waist, my cock pressed to her thigh through my jeans. I taste Frank, sharp and alien, and I stroke myself desperately as we kiss.
Milly breaks away, chest heaving, eyes wild. She looks at me, searching for something – fear, need, maybe permission. Her lips glisten, spit and cum smeared across her chin. Frank watches us, grinning, stroking his cock.
He sits back, content, as I finish myself with one hand, staring at Milly’s flushed face, her trembling body, the slick sheen of Frank’s cum on her skin. I can’t hold back, groaning as I spill across her belly, dizzy with the taste of shame and lust.
Frank just laughs. “Not bad. We’ll see how far you two will go next time.”
He tosses Milly her clothes and unlocks the door, still smirking. “Go home, kids.”
We stumble back down the hall, silent, Milly clutching my hand, her body pressed to my side. My mind reels – relief, disgust, desire, all tangled together. She clings to me, silent, her face hidden against my neck. I still taste him on her, raw and salty and unforgettable.
We don’t speak for a long time. She slips into the shower, trembling, and I sit on the bed, hard and aching all over, lost in what we’ve become – and what we might become next.