SPAR PERSPIRATION
The gym lights were low but buzzing, but the only thing the world-renowned boxer could see was the sheen of sweat glistening on his sparring partner’s body. The guy was a beast, muscles rippling, chest heaving, completely drenched. The boxer wasn’t just tired; he was starving. He’d been staring at that sweat for hours, tasting it in the air, needing it.
He dropped to his knees right there on the mats, not caring about the dirt. He grabbed the sparring partner by the waist and buried his face in the other man’s abs. He licked a long, wide stripe from the guy’s navel to his chest, savoring the salty, metallic taste.
“Taste that,” the partner growled, his voice ragged. “That’s all for you.”
The sparring partner groaned, his hand tangling in the boxer’s hair, pushing him harder into his skin. The boxer didn’t stop. He moved down, licking the sweat off the partner’s pecs, his throat working as he swallowed the salt. He was greedy, a fucking animal. When he got to the waistband of the partner’s shorts, he didn’t hesitate.
“Take ‘em off,” the boxer ordered, his voice low and dangerous.
The partner obeyed, kicking his shorts down to his ankles. The boxer asked the partner to flex in his white briefs, ogling at the sexy body.
The boxer yanked the white briefs down, exposing the thick, hard cock that had been throbbing against the fabric. The boxer buried his face in the damp cotton, inhaling deep. It smelled like the partner—iron, musk, and sweat. He rubbed his face against it, groaning like a man possessed.
“Fuck, I need it,” the boxer muttered. He stood up, his own cock straining against his shorts, slick with pre-cum. He didn’t care about his dominance anymore; he was just a hole needing to be filled.
He pushed the sparring partner back onto the mat, the guy’s legs spread wide. The boxer straddled him, sitting on his thighs, facing him. He reached down, grabbing his own cock and guiding his ass to engulf the partner’s engorged dick. There was no prep, no lube—just the sweat on the partner’s shaft and the slickness of the boxer’s own need.
“Fuck me,” the boxer demanded, his eyes wild. “Show me how much you want it.”
He sank down, taking the partner’s cock deep inside him in one rough slide. The boxer’s eyes rolled back, his mouth falling open in a silent shout. It was raw, it was nasty, and it was exactly what he needed. He started to ride, bouncing hard, his balls slapping against the partner’s thighs with every thrust. He was in control, riding that dick like his life depended on it, sweating harder, his body glistening as he fucked himself on the other man’s cock.
He came without touching himself. And with that, the sparring session ended.
--------------
If you want advanced access to ten more chapters of the latest tagalog full fiction story ahead of blog readers and get other perks such as weekly teasers and a feature in one #squirtershorts within the month, please subscribe to patreon.com/jockwonderlust. If you want to support me and my craft, please subscribe!
No comments:
Post a Comment