Cupid Strikes Straight Men Pt 5

Finally, wanting to put him out of his misery, I flick my tongue at the very tip of his prick, where a steady drip of precum is flowing. He freezes, as if afraid to move, and I run my tongue all over his hot cockhead. He’s panting softly now, still trying to be silent, but I can hear the quiet urgency in his shallow breathing. I open wide and plunge his cock into my mouth. I take but three strokes and then it starts.
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Suddenly, he’s still. Not moving, not breathing. His chest is a relief map of taut muscle, as if every cell in his body were straining for this release. The cords in his neck stand out, and all down his arms the sinews strain at the skin that only barely hides them.
I hear it begin. The room is so silent, and he is so silent, that I can actually hear the muscles deep inside his pelvis start to spasm. I pull my mouth off his cock and keep up a steady stroke with my hand; I put my ear next to the tip and listen. The pulsations of his impending orgasm are making tiny gasping noises as his semen begins filling the tube that will bring it to the surface. He’s almost there–and a good thing too, as his face is now almost maroon with the strain of silently riding this roller coaster of an orgasm.
Then, it happens. The opening at the tip of his cock seems to wink at me, and I hear it wetly open again as the cum rises to the surface. I pump harder, Mitchell tenses even more, and suddenly there’s a plume of white arching into the air, raining down on his belly with a...