As I held baby-faced Ricky’s plump cock in my palm, his eyes sparkled with a mixture of desire and innocence. Our Puerto Rican summer air was thick with anticipation, heavy as the scent of freshly cut mangoes. On the worn wooden porch, Carlos leant against the railing, his gaze fixed on our intimate scene like a starving man at a porn feast.
My fingers wrapped around Ricky’s dick, exploring every ridge, every vein. His cock twitched in my grip, responding to my touch as if it were a needy chacal begging for milk. I licked my lips, envisioning the sweet, sticky taste of pre-cum on my tongue. My mouth watered at the thought of swallowing his load, of feeling him come undone in my hand.
Carlos’s eyes never left ours, his face a mask of unbridled lust. He’d been watching us for weeks, waiting for an invitation to join our game. Now, it seemed, he was ready to pounce. I sensed his desire as palpably as the heat from Ricky’s skin beneath my fingertips.
With a gentle twist, I coaxed Ricky’s cock out of his shorts, and he let out a soft moan as if the mere touch of air on his dick was an erotic tease. I leaned in, my lips brushing against the sensitive head, sending shivers down his spine. My tongue darted out, a playful flick that left him gasping for more.
“Oral sex, Ricky,” I whispered, “is where we begin.”
As Carlos stepped closer, the sweet scent of desire mingling with the salty tang of sweat, our Puerto Rican afternoon transformed into an unapologetic, raw fuck fest, one that would leave all three of us satiated, our cocks spent and sated.
