Pucked (Pucked, #1)

The bathroom is very fêng shui with beige tile, a glassed-in shower, and Jacuzzi tub. It’s not as tidy as the rest of the house. His shaving kit and a few hair products line the counter. The cap is off his toothpaste, and a towel lies in a heap on the floor near the shower. It’s lived in but not a complete sty.

Alex finds me a new toothbrush and leaves me to freshen up. I’m prepared for the possibility he’ll want to make use of the bed before sleep. I don’t usually stay up this late on week nights, and I definitely don’t get this much exercise. After four orgasms I’m not sure my body or my brain is equipped to deal with another round of “fill the beaver hole.”

Once I finish with the oral hygiene, I join him in his king-size bed. It’s much like its own continent; I could sleep here and we’d never touch. Except the moment I slip under the sheets, he pulls me into him.

I lie with my head on his chest, listening to the powerful, steady beat of his heart. He tells me about the lineup of games for the next two weeks, the teams he’s confident they’ll beat, and the wins they’ll have to work hard for. The second-to-last game is in Toronto, near his home town.

Alex keeps running soothing fingers through my hair. The last thing I remember are his lips on my forehead and his rumbling laugh when I tell him he’s warm and cuddly like a hairless, domesticated bear.





I must pass out hard-core. When I wake up, the sun is peeking through the curtains. I check the clock on the nightstand. It’s not even seven. I have loads of time to get ready. Alex is sleeping peacefully beside me. I turn on my side to study him.

I’ve hogged the sheets, which has left his torso exposed. I run my hand down his chest, marveling at the soft skin covering the solid wall of muscle. Even relaxed, he’s hard all over.

I continue my sensory descent, enjoying the feel of him under my fingers. He’s sound asleep, so I figure why not check things out. I lift the band of his boxers and take a wee gander. His monster cock looks much more innocuous in this state.

It lays on his abdomen, angled slightly to the left. It’s almost cute—kind of like Snuffleupagus. Well, not really. It’s huge, but not hairy, and also not nearly as daunting as when it’s hard. It is magical, though. I stifle a giggle because, goddamn it, I’ve never seen a snuffie up close. The head is tucked up inside the soft skin, an eye peering out from the turtleneck.

Alex is oblivious to my peter peeping, so I carefully shimmy his boxers down. I want to look at it without the risk of the waistband snapping against the head. I need my hands free to touch. It would also be cool to see if it grows like those things you order out of an old school comic book. The ones that go from pill sized to huge in a glass of water. Except I assume this will happen much faster. I haven’t had the privilege of seeing Alex’s dick grow yet. It’s always been hard when I get to it.

I poke at it. Alex expels a heavy breath, and his hand twitches at his side. Being extra careful not to jostle Alex, I rearrange myself slowly so I’m cross-legged beside him. This time I gently run my fingertips along the length. The skin wrinkles as I go. This is the best.

It’s equally fun to play with when it’s soft and sleepy as it is when it’s hard. Sliding my hand under the shaft, I close my palm around it. My fingers touch each other and he’s squishy, like a sea cucumber. Those creatures are a demonstration of God’s fixation with wieners.

Alex starts to rouse, as does his monster cock. Soon he’ll wake and end my alone time with the MC. I stroke down; the wrinkly skin retracts and the head pops out. Stroking up, the entire head disappears. It’s like a game of peek-a-boo with a penis.

Alex moans, and this time his pelvis lifts. He’s not fully conscious, so I lay his dick on his stomach. Then I take the foreskin covering the head and roll it to the tip. Pressing it together, I pretend it’s a mouth and move it around like it’s talking to me. A giggle bubbles up and bursts free. I try to hold it in, so it comes out my nose, sounding like a sneeze.

I look up as Alex’s eyes flutter open. “What are you doing?”

Hmm, well, that’s not quite the reaction I was hoping for. “I’m playing with the monster cock. Well, actually, I’m playing with his foreskin,” I say as if the MC is a person, not an appendage.

I stop messing around and smooth out his turtleneck, stroking the shaft. Alex’s eyes close, and he releases a long, low groan. The monster cock grows perceptibly in my hand. Neato. I do it again. This time it twitches and grows some more. It’s fascinating to watch the skin stretch and smooth out until it is tight, moving fractionally with each stroke.

As soon as Alex is fully erect I look up. Ooooh, judging from his expression, I’m getting lucky this morning. He shoves his boxers down his legs and kicks them off while I lose my shirt. We’re both gloriously naked. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him.