Santa Took My Virginity – Part 7

Everyone in this story is 18+

“Sup’?” Texas drawled, his voice casual, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

I froze, my brain scrambling to catch up. I felt like such an idiot. How could I have missed that?

I thought back to the calendar, to Ezra’s photo—the mark had been clear as day on his left side. But now…

Oh my God.

The calendar. The photo had been flipped. Left in the photo was right in real life. Ezra’s beauty mark was on the right side, not the left!

I felt like the world’s biggest idiot. All this time, I’d been so sure it was Ezra. But it wasn’t.

How could I have gotten it so wrong?

It wasn’t Ezra.

It was Texas. Texas fucking Eden!

I could only stutter, my voice catching in my throat as I felt weak and completely dazed.

“See something you like, Hayes?” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, feeling my face flush. My heart was racing, my thoughts tangled into knots I couldn’t unravel.

“It was you,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “Santa.”

His smirk turned into a low chuckle, and he leaned in slightly, just enough to make my breath hitch.

“Yeah, duh,” he said, his tone teasing. “I thought you’d figure it out faster, but…” He shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his damp arm revealing the faint shadow of his dark-haired pits. Then, as he stepped back under the water, he glanced back at me, his grin sharpening into a wicked smirk.

“You gonna make a big deal out of it,” he said in a low, deep pitch I instantly recognized, “or do you wanna do it again?”

And then he winked.

Texas walked over to me, his movements slow and deliberate, like something out of a dream. It felt like he was moving in slow motion, letting me take in every detail of his body—sculpted by gods or some other nonsensical cliché that I’d normally roll my eyes at.

Then his hand reached out, and all sense of dreamy surrealism evaporated.

He grabbed my dick, instantly grounding me back in reality. When had I gotten hard? I had no clue, but there it was, rock solid in his grip.

“You’re hard, Hayes,” he said, his voice teasing, yet laced with something deeper. “I guess I owe you one.”

Before I could process his words, Texas dropped to his knees—Texas!—the one and only. The guy who normally towered over me at 6'3" to my completely average 5'9", now kneeling in front of me.

His mouth parted slightly, his breath warm against my skin, and I felt a rush of lightheaded disbelief.

Was this even real?

Either way, I barely had time to process what was happening before his lips brushed against me. Texas’s mouth, hesitant at first, but warm and wet, closed around my achingly hard cock.

It wasn’t smooth or practiced—he fumbled slightly, adjusting his angle, his tongue sliding awkwardly along my shaft. But there was something raw and instinctual about it, about him. His usual cocky confidence gave way to something more eager, almost uncertain, and it made my breath hitch in my throat.

I staggered back slightly, my shoulders pressing against the tiled wall for support. My brain scrambled to keep up, every thought tangled in disbelief.

He gripped the base of my dick with one hand, his touch a little too tight, a little clumsy, but I couldn’t care. The sight of him—on his knees, water dripping from his hair, his jaw working as he tried to take more of me—was almost too much.

A quiet, frustrated grunt escaped his throat, and he pulled back slightly, glancing up at me through wet lashes. His expression was part determination, part challenge.

“Don’t just stand there looking dumb,” he muttered, his voice low and a little hoarse. “Tell me if I’m doing this right.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Words failed me, so I nodded, biting back a groan as his lips closed around me again, his movements a little smoother this time, more confident with each pass.

Texas’s tongue slid slowly along the underside of my shaft, the wet heat making my breath hitch. He seemed to be testing, figuring it out as he went, and when I gasped, his lips curved in the faintest smirk around me.

He pulled back, his tongue swirling awkwardly around the head, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. I couldn’t stop the low groan that escaped my throat as he leaned in again, his movements becoming bolder. One hand cupped my balls, rolling them gently in his palm, while his tongue darted lower, licking along the sensitive skin beneath them.

“Fuck,” I hissed, my knees threatening to buckle.

Texas shifted, his lips trailing down further until he was licking and sucking lightly on my balls. The feeling sent sparks shooting through my body, my hands gripping the tiled wall for support.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Like that?” he asked, his voice husky but still carrying that unmistakable edge of cocky amusement.

“Fuck, yes!” I whispered, my eyes still closed as my head tilted back.

Then he started bobbing. His rhythm was uneven at first, his inexperience showing, but it didn’t matter. The heat of his mouth, the way his tongue slid against my cock head, was enough to drive me insane. Next I saw his nose on my pubes as he deep throated me.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my head spinning as the pressure built fast, almost too fast.

“Oh,” I groaned, my voice shaking. “It feels so fucking nice, almost divine. What… what is that feeling?” My hips jerked forward involuntarily, and my brain scrambled to catch up with the rush of pleasure crashing through me.

Surely I can’t be cumming already?

But I was.

Before I could stop myself, my dick jolted, and a sudden spurt painted Texas’s perfect face. I heard it before I fully realized what had happened—the wet sound of my load hitting his skin. My cum spilled over his lips and chin, and I gasped, barely able to stay upright as my body shook from the intensity.

Texas didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed to relish it, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lips with a smirk. He pulled back slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood up, stepping back under the spray of the shower to rinse off.

The water streamed down his body, catching every angle of his sculpted frame. He turned to me, his eyes dark with challenge, that wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the words curling around me like a dare. “Ready?”