Breeding a Bi Muscle Twink at a Party in the Hollywood Hills
I topped a muscly twink at a party in the hills and filled his tight pink hole.
The party was in full swing upstairs, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the twink who had caught my eye the moment he walked in. Blake was impossible to ignore—5’2” with a slender, petite frame, but there was something about the way he moved, the way he smiled, that made him stand out in a crowd. He had this innocent, almost angelic look, with tousled blond hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with a mix of mischief and sweetness.
I had always been more of a bottom, loving the sensation of being filled and used, but there was something about Blake that made my dominant side surge to the surface. He was dressed in a tight, pale blue shirt that clung to his slender frame, and slim-fit jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. The way his clothes fit him, the way he moved with a grace that was almost ethereal—it was intoxicating.
As the party wore on, I found myself gravitating towards him, unable to keep my eyes off him. He had this way of laughing, high and musical, that made everyone around him smile. But there was something else too—a subtle flirtatiousness, a way he’d glance at me from under his long lashes that made my cock twitch. Every time he looked at me, I felt it—this electric charge, a bolt of need that crawled down my spine and settled low in my gut. Every laugh, every sidelong glance, every time his tongue flicked out to wet those pale pink lips, I felt my self-control eroding. I tried to distract myself with beer pong, or jokes with my teammates, but every time I looked over, he was already looking at me. Not coy. Not shy. Just… interested. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I started to imagine taking him apart: how easy it would be to pick him up, set him on the kitchen counter, and make him gasp loud enough to drown out the rest of the party. I started picturing him kneeling between my legs, swallowing me greedily, blue eyes wide and unblinking. I wondered if his lips would look even pinker stretched around my cock. I wondered if he tasted as sweet as he looked, or if there was a little bite behind that angelic smile.
By midnight, I was on edge. It was getting hard to hide my own excitement, especially with him making a point of brushing past me in the hallway, pressing those slim hips against mine just long enough for me to imagine it could happen again somewhere more private. When he laughed at one of my jokes—something stupid, something no one else even heard—I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I wanted him. I wanted to own him. And more than that, I wanted him to want it just as much.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed to be alone with him, needed to see if the chemistry I felt was real or just a figment of my imagination. I caught him as he was getting another drink from the kitchen, cornering him against the counter.
“You having fun?” I asked, my voice low and steady.
He looked up at me, those bright blue eyes meeting mine, and smiled. “Yeah, it’s a great party. You?”
“It’s better now,” I said, leaning in a little closer. “I’ve been watching you all night.”
He blushed, the pink spreading across his cheeks making him look even more adorable. “Really? I’ve noticed you too.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t help but grin, feeling a surge of confidence. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”
He glanced around, then nodded. “Sure. Where to?”
I took his hand, leading him down the stairs to the basement. The basement was dimly lit, a large sofa taking up most of the space. It was quiet, secluded, perfect for what I had in mind.
Blake looked around, his eyes wide. “This is… cozy.”
I chuckled, pulling him closer. “It’s private. That’s what matters.”
He looked up at me, his lips parting slightly. “What did you have in mind?”
I close the last few inches between us, letting his breath ghost across my lips before I finally press my mouth to his. He tastes exactly like I imagined—bright and candied from the fruity punch he’s nursed all night, but with an undertone that’s just pure Blake: eager, a little wild, absolutely addictive. Our lips fit together perfectly, his impossibly soft and warm, and for a second I just let myself enjoy that first, long, melting kiss. He hums into my mouth, the vibration sending a jolt through my whole body. I cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through those baby-fine blond curls, pulling him closer, and deepen the kiss, tongue flicking lightly at his lower lip. He opens for me instantly, pliant, so hungry it makes my head spin.
Somewhere in the haze I realize he’s not just letting me kiss him—he’s kissing me back with this desperate, greedy energy, like he’s been waiting all night for this, too. Our bodies slot together, his lean chest pressing up against mine, and I run my hands down his sides, feeling the outline of his ribs through the thin fabric. I can’t help myself—I grab a handful of his tiny waist and pull him flush against me. I feel it then: the thick, insistent bulge in his jeans, hard as hell and pressed up against my own. The contact is electric. I grind into him, letting him know just how much he’s getting to me, and he gasps into my mouth, hips bucking just a little, like he wants to climb inside my skin.
He’s panting now, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening. I break the kiss just long enough to look down at him, and he stares back up, eyes blown wide and dark with want. For a second neither of us moves, just breathing each other in, the air heavy with adrenaline and the sharp tang of sweat and cheap cologne. I can feel his pulse fluttering under my palm, frantic, and it matches the racing thump in my own chest. His hands, so small and delicate, find my belt and tug me closer, nails raking along the waistband, and holy shit I want him right here, right now, consequences be damned.
He squirms in my grip, grinding up against me with this helpless, needy urgency that’s nothing like the cool, collected tease he put on upstairs. I wonder how far he’ll let this go. Judging by the way he’s clutching at me, the little whines caught at the back of his throat, I think the answer is all the way.
“You smell amazing,” I murmured against his lips, inhaling the scent of his shampoo and something sweeter, more intoxicating. “And you taste even better.”
He giggled, a sound that was both innocent and incredibly sexy. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I grinned, my hands roaming over his body, feeling the smooth skin beneath his shirt. He was virtually hairless, his skin soft and flawless. I couldn’t wait to see more of him, to taste more of him.
I pulled back, looking into his eyes. “You ever done this before?”
He shook his head, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Not really. I mean, I’ve fooled around a bit, but…”
“It’s okay,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “We can take it slow.”
He nodded, trusting me completely. It made me want to take care of him, to make this good for him.
I take his hand and he follows, light as a cloud, down the two steps to the sunken den. The old leather sofa groans as I drop onto it, pulling Blake with me. He lands square on my lap, light as a feather but somehow setting my whole body on fire. There is no hesitation in him now; he’s ready to play this out as far as I’ll take it. He grinds down, his ass snug against my cock, and I swear I see stars for a second. It’s obscene, the way he fits there, the way my hands naturally find his hips and pull him in, locking us together. For a split second I worry we’re moving too fast, that I’ll scare him, but the look in his eyes is pure electricity.
He wants it. He wants me to do whatever I want with him.
The first hungry kiss turns into a second, a third, until they’re blurring together, his lips impossibly soft and sweet. His tongue darts out to meet mine, exploring with this eager, hesitant curiosity, and I answer with a deep, possessive growl into his mouth. My fingers roam under his shirt, tracing the subtle lines of his ribs, thumb circling a nipple until it hardens under my touch. He shivers, then giggles when I pinch, but instead of wriggling away, he grinds down harder on my lap, sending a jolt of need straight to my cock.
It’s good. It’s so fucking good.
His tiny hands are everywhere, tugging at the collar of my shirt, raking through my hair, then down along my neck. At one point he bites my lower lip—just a nip, but enough to make me gasp. I bite back, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, tasting the faint salt of sweat and the sickly-sweet aftershave he clearly stole from his dad. He laughs when I lick a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw, then moans when I suck right where I know it will leave a mark.
He moves against me with a rhythm that’s all instinct: forward, back, tiny circles, searching for friction. I can feel his cock through his jeans, rigid and straining, and the pressure against my own is almost unbearable. I palm his ass, kneading the perfect, peach-sized globes, then dip my hand lower, letting my fingers ghost along the seam of his pants. He arches into it, shameless, greedy, a tease and a slut at the same time. He’s so responsive, so easy to read, that I want to ruin him on the spot.
“Please,” he whispers against my lips, breathless and glassy-eyed.
“Please what?” I whisper back, loving the way his voice wavers, how much he’s dying to say the words out loud.
“Touch me,” he says, a little whimper at the end. “I want you to.”
My stomach flips. I reach between us, pressing my palm against the bulge in his jeans. He bucks, and when I squeeze, he lets out a choked moan, so loud I’m suddenly grateful for the thick walls and the pounding bass from upstairs. He grinds against my hand, chasing the sensation. It’s cute, how desperate he is, how little he tries to hide it.
I slip my hands under his shirt, yanking it up and over his head in one smooth motion. He’s even more beautiful bare-chested, all creamy skin stretched tight over delicate bones. I run my tongue down his sternum, swirling around his navel, and he shudders, grabbing my hair and holding me there. I bite gently at his hip bone, then move back up, sucking another bruise onto his neck.
He’s panting, his whole body vibrating in my arms.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I murmur, and he just nods, too gone to say anything.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope no one comes looking for us. But honestly, the risk only makes it better.
I reach for his belt, fingers nimble despite my own trembling hands. I undo it slowly, making him wait, making him feel every second of it. His breath hitches with every movement, and by the time I get to the button and zipper, he’s biting his knuckles to keep from moaning again.
I slip my hand under the waistband, feeling the heat of him, and cup him through the thin cotton of his boxers. He’s huge for his size, thick and hard and leaking already. I pull him out, the tip glistening with precum, and run my thumb along the slit. He gasps, then thrusts into my hand, desperate.
His hands tangled in my hair, his hips grinding against mine. I could feel his cock, hard and pressing against my stomach. I reached down, unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking precum. I wrapped my hand around it, stroking him slowly, feeling the smooth skin.
“Fuck, you’re big,” I murmured, impressed. “And so fucking hard.”
He moaned, his head falling back as I stroked him faster. “You make me this way,” he breathed.
I grinned, feeling a surge of pride and desire. “I want to taste you,” I said, my voice rough with need.
He nodded, his eyes glazed with lust. “Okay.”
I pushed him gently onto his back, kneeling between his legs. He’s laid out like an offering, jeans and boxers tangled around his knees, shirt rucked up to his armpits, the lean, hairless expanse of his stomach rising and falling with every breath. I pause for a second, just to look. His cock is beautiful—no other word for it. Thick and flushed a furious pink, every vein and curve perfectly proportioned, the head already slick and shiny with precum. It twitches against his abs, leaving a glistening smear across that perfect skin. He’s not just hard; he’s trembling, every muscle tight with anticipation and the kind of fear you only feel when you’re about to get exactly what you want.
I wrap my hand around the base and marvel at how heavy and hot he is in my palm. His whole body jolts when I squeeze, his abs flexing so hard I can see the outline of his ribs. I thumb the head, gathering the slick there, and he makes this guttural little sound that goes straight to my own cock. I can’t help but lean in and lick a stripe up the shaft, tasting salt and something bright and sweet, almost like the blue punch he was drinking. His hips buck and he whimpers, high and helpless and totally unlike how he sounded upstairs. The transformation is incredible. I want to see how far I can take it.
I lick around the head, slow at first, teasing him, then flatten my tongue and take him all the way to the back of my throat, letting the tip nudge the soft palate. He moans—a long, broken sound that’s half shock, half gratitude. I hollow my cheeks and suck, and he arches off the sofa, hands flying up to grip my hair like he needs something to anchor him to earth. He’s so sensitive, every touch magnified, like he’s never had anyone go down on him before, or at least never like this.
I start to bob my head, building a slow rhythm, and every time I swallow around him he gasps, toes curling against the leather cushions. He’s leaking like crazy, and I savor it, the slippery sweetness and the way it coats my tongue. I use one hand to stroke the base, twisting just how I know feels best, and the other to cup his balls, rolling them gently, making him shudder. I want him to remember this—to think about it the next time he’s alone, jerking off in his bed, and compare every blowjob after to the one I’m giving him right now.
I glance up from under my lashes and catch his face: head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and shining with spit. His cheeks are flushed, and sweat beads at his hairline. He’s never looked more beautiful to me. If I wasn’t so focused on blowing his mind, I’d probably start jerking myself off right here, but this is about him. About breaking him open and putting him back together in my hands.
