His Jock, My Mouth

The gym bag had been a confession.

Rory was thirty-four. Micah was thirty-eight, and the bag on the bench was his, unzipped, the jock on top still warm from the session. They had been fucking for a month. The fetish had come out on a Tuesday, said plain. Rory wanted the sweat. The pouch. Micah's cock after, or instead. Micah had said yes and brought the bag home on purpose.

"On your knees," Micah said. "Smell it first. Then you can have me."

Rory knelt. He pressed his face to the pouch and groaned, cock hard in his shorts. The smell was salt and heat and Micah. He licked the fabric. Micah watched, already stroking himself.

"Enough. Mouth."

Rory took his cock, hungry, the jock still in one fist. Micah fucked his throat until Rory gagged and tapped, and Micah eased off, and Rory pulled him back in. When Micah was close he pulled out.

"On the jock. I want it on the pouch. Then you lick it."

Rory held the jock up. Micah came across the pouch in thick pulses. Rory licked it clean, then licked him, then bent over the bench and asked to be fucked with the jock in his mouth. Micah pushed in, hard, and Rory came on the floor with cotton between his teeth.

"Same bag Friday," Micah said. "Don't wash it."

Friday the bag came home worse. Micah had trained hard and not showered. Rory met him at the door already on his knees. He buried his face in the pouch, licked the salt, and sucked Micah's cock with the jock in his fist until Micah was swearing. They moved to the bench Micah kept in the spare room for this. Rory bent over it, jock in his mouth, and took Micah's cock hard. He came on the floor. Micah came inside him and stayed there, a hand on his hip.

"Don't wash it," Rory said, after, voice rough.

"I won't. You can sleep with it if you ask."

Rory asked. He slept with the pouch against his mouth and woke hard. Micah fucked him again at dawn, the jock on the pillow like a witness, and came on it so Rory had to lick it before breakfast. The fetish was not a joke between them. It was the bag, the sweat, the order. Smell, lick, cock, come on the cotton, lick again. Rory was ruined and on time for it. Micah started leaving the bag by the door like a gift.

Micah started training later so the bag was worse when he got home. Rory waited on his knees. The order held. Smell, lick, suck, bend, come. On Sunday Micah fucked him with the jock strapped back on, pouch damp, and Rory came untouched from the smell and the cock. Micah came on the cotton and made him sleep with it. Monday Rory was hard at his desk remembering the salt. He texted don't wash it. Micah replied already didn't. Friday the bag lived by the door. Rory greeted it before he greeted Micah, which made them both laugh and then not laugh, because Rory was already on the floor and the pouch was at his mouth and the rest of the evening had a script they both wanted.

Rory took the jock to work in a pocket once, which was insane and perfect. He texted Micah a photo of the pouch on his desk. Micah replied with a time and the words on your knees. Rory was there. The bag was worse than Friday. He licked it, sucked Micah, took him over the bench, and came with the cotton in his mouth. Micah came on the pouch and watched him clean it. They ate noodles after, the jock on the chair between them like a guest. Micah said the fetish had a schedule now. Rory said good. The wash cycle remained forbidden. The bag remained by the door. The order remained the whole point of the evening.

The schedule stuck. Friday bag, Sunday bag, a stolen Monday if Micah trained at lunch. Rory knelt, licked, sucked, bent, and came with cotton in his mouth more often than not. Micah came on the pouch and watched the cleaning like a rite. They started fucking with the jock back on Micah, pouch dark, Rory's face against it while he was taken from behind. Rory came untouched once and was embarrassed until Micah called it the point. The wash remained forbidden. The bag remained by the door. Rory started arriving early just to kneel and wait for the zip. Micah started unzipping it in the hall. The rest of the flat could wait.

Micah fucked Rory in the shower once with the jock hung on the tap, a joke, and then properly on the bench with the pouch in Rory's mouth. Rory came so hard his legs shook. Micah came on the cotton and kissed him after, salt and spit. They ordered food and ate it naked, the jock drying on the chair. Rory said he wanted it worse next week, straight from the gym, no stops. Micah said he would cycle the long way home. The fetish had a route now. The bag had a hook. The mouth had a job. Friday could not come fast enough, and when it did, Rory was already kneeling.

Micah cycled the long way. The bag was rank and perfect. Rory knelt in the hall and did not speak until he had licked the pouch and sucked Micah soft-then-hard. They used the bench. Rory came with the jock in his mouth. Micah came on it. They showered only after the second round, and even then the jock hung on the tap like a claim. Noodles, naked, the chair occupied. Rory said next week he wanted it from the changing room, still warm. Micah said he would not sit down on the ride home. The hook by the door gained a second bag. The wash cycle remained a rumour. Friday remained holy.

The changing-room version happened on a Thursday. Micah texted still warm. Rory met him in the car park and they did not make it home clean. In the back seat Rory licked the pouch, sucked him, and came in his shorts from the smell alone. At the flat they did it properly. Bench, jock in his mouth, Micah's cock in him, both of them loud. Micah came on the cotton. Rory licked it and then licked him and then slept with the pouch against his cheek. Friday the bag was on the hook before Rory arrived. He knelt without being told. Micah unzipped it in the hall. The order held. The wash cycle did not get a vote. The week had a holy day, and it smelled like the gym.

Rory slept with the pouch against his mouth again. Micah woke him with his cock and the same order. Smell, lick, take it. They were late. The bag did not care. Friday had already started in their heads. He was hard before the alarm finished, and the cotton was already damp against his lips when Micah pushed in. The hook by the door was already waiting for the next one.