Winter Ball Read Online Free PDF

Skipper absolutely crazy. Just touches, right? Midriff, back, chest—and touches had never really been Skip’s thing. Usually the only thing that got Skip off was a hand directly on his cock, but Richie’s hands could apparently make him hard by touching anywhere .
    Oh my God! Especially his nipples.
    Skip moaned and broke off from the kiss abruptly, burying his face against Richie’s throat. “That’s… oh my fuckin’ God !”
    Richie’s laughter, low and helpless, made him feel a little better. Richie was captured too, lost as a butterfly in a hurricane. It wasn’t just Skipper who couldn’t stop but didn’t know where they were going either.
    “I’ll do that again,” Richie decided. “I like it when you groan like that.”
    Clever, pinching fingers found his nipple again and tugged. Skip arched and bucked and thrust—and bit the side of Richie’s neck because he had nothing else to do.
    Richie moaned just like Skip had, and for a moment, they were locked in a tug-of-war, Skip sucking a hickey on Richie’s neck, Richie pulling on his nipple until he almost cried.
    “I’m gonna come,” Skip confessed. “Stop, I’m gonna—”
    Richie wriggled out from under him and suddenly Skip found himself pinned to the couch. “You—your last girlfriend, that was Amber, right?”
    Skip blinked several times, his body on such high alert that his brain had closed down words entirely. “Yeah.”
    “No girls between?”
    “No….”
    “You get health screenings?”
    Screech ! There went Skip’s brain, doing a one-eighty on the wrong damned train track.
    “What?” He pushed himself up on his elbows.
    Richie rolled his eyes and started unbuckling the belt of Skip’s slacks.
    “I’m gonna suck your dick, okay? You don’t got HIV or any shit like that?”
    Skip’s cock had a moment of gridlock. Hurray! Richie’s gonna put his mouth on me! met HIV or any shit like that? head-on and vied for space. But Skip managed to get one thought out, and that let all the good stuff surge back in. “Negative. Last health screen, negative—oh God!”
    Richie succeeded with his belt and slacks and Skip was exposed, cock slapping lightly on his lower abdomen, air cooling the dripping head.
    “Oooh….” Richie paused for a moment just to look, and the breath from his gasp brushed the cap like a touch.
    “Nungh!” Skip arched his hips off the couch and tried to spread his knees, but they were trapped.
    “Kick off your shoes, Skip,” Richie instructed, and when Skip was done with that, Richie shucked his pants, leaving him lying on his own couch, half-naked, still in his regulation maroon polo shirt.
    “You too!” Skipper pushed himself up on his elbows again, wanting to see Richie naked. He liked Richie’s body—even before he’d thought of Richie’s lips, or his eyes in the moonlight, or the feel of his hands, Skip had liked Richie’s body. Tight and stringy, muscular but not bulky. Not even a little—Richie had the body of a racing Chihuahua. Not big, no—but nobody would underestimate him, not in a fight, not on the soccer field, not—
    Oh, oh yeah, right there, stripped naked, skin shining faintly in the light from the porch, slicked-back ginger hair wild about his head, boney-jawed face looking hungrily at Skip for approval.
    “You like?” he asked, smiling nervously.
    Skip reached out his hand. “Yeah. C’mere. Let me touch.”
    Richie leaned over the side of the couch, eyes still searching Skip’s, and Skip made a realization. This… this was for real. Six years of playing soccer together, playing video games and watching movies, going out to beer and pizza with the guys—that had meant something to him and Richie.
    This moment right here, skin-to-skin, this was scary.
    Skip slid his hand along the back of Richie’s neck, knotted his fingers in the ginger curls at his nape, and pulled him a little closer, close enough that Richie’s breath fanned his face. “I like,” he said simply, and if