I fall back against him. My legs are shaky and unsteady. I can hardly keep my balance. But Andre is there for me with his strong hand, twirling circles inside my wet hole. His free hand grips my bicep and squeezes. “Fuck, Andre,” I moan. “Fuck.”
Everything feels hazy, like a dream, and I never want to wake up. And then I’m met with a new surprise as Andre squeezes a second finger inside me. His thick digits fill me. I’m stuffed full to the brim. Hell, it might as well be a dick inside me, I feel packed so tight. But it’s good. So damn good as he changes his technique and starts applying more concentrated pressure directly on my sweet spot.
I feel as if my body is vibrating. My nipples harden, my whole core tenses with anticipation. The waves keep building, building, higher and higher. My dick strains against the relentless metal bars that hold it captive, but nothing can hold back this hurricane.
“Oh, god. Andre, Andre, I think...” My words are cut short by the explosion from my locked cock. Thick splatters of white hot release, one after the other, shooting out of my useless nub. I reach down and try to stroke it, but all I can do is squeeze my nuts tight in my hand as Andre works the last drops out of me.
I collapse into his arms, breathing heavily while my head is light.
“How do you feel?” Andre asks, wrapping his arms around me. I don’t even mind. In fact I snuggle in tighter, letting him possess me.
“Like a thousand bucks.”
CHAPTER 5
I wake up from the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. Truly I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so good. But frustration sets in as soon as I feel the needy ache between my legs.
When I pull back the covers, I find my weak effort at morning wood straining against my cage. My nuts are pulled tight against the ring that binds them, and the head of my cock burns bright red as it smashes itself against the bars of its prison cell. If only I could hold onto the euphoria from last night a little longer.
I close my eyes and replay a memory that now feels so far away. The light of the moon. The pinewood in the wind. The heat of Andre’s body pressed against mine, and the skillful way he twirled his magic fingertips, summoning an explosion from inside me that I didn’t know was possible without touching my cock.
But my thoughts only cause me to start dripping again, the insistent leaking of my useless nob. I don’t know how I’m going to make it the rest of the month without letting the guys call my bluff. Everyone’s counting on me to give up. I can’t. I won’t.
As I get out of bed and pull on some shorts, I start to laugh when I think about it. I was so desperate for relief that I had a guy finger me until I shot my load.
And strangely, I kind of want it to happen again.
My thoughts return to Andre. The gleam in his eyes. The crooked way his mouth spreads into a smile.
No, this is gay.What’s the matter with me?
I should be thinking about the soft, pink spread of a woman’s...dick.
Wait, what?
My mind has wandered back to Andre, curious about his cock. I wonder if it’s as large and as hard as his muscles. I wonder if it would stuff me tight the way his fingers do. Stretch my virgin hole out until...
I shake away all these confusing thoughts. I’ve really gotta get my mind on something else. I head to the hallway toward the bathroom. The door’s locked and I can hear someone turning off the shower head, then the sound of the curtain rings sliding on the track. I figure whoever’s in there will be out in a minute, so I lean against the doorframe.
Moments later, the door opens. Andre floats out from a cloud of steam. His chest glistens with beads of water, his torso a perfectly sculpted specimen, tight and lean with abs that pop with each defined muscle.
“Good morning, Nick,” he says too cheerfully. I don’t remember him ever being this friendly to me. Has he changed, or have I?
My eyes dart down to his hips, to the canvas of honey-brown skin that disappears underneath his towel. As if reading my mind, he taunts me. His wicked fingertips pull the towel open just enough to flash a glimpse of lush dark pubic hair. And then he closes the gap once more, tightens the towel, tucks it securely along his waist. My cock rebels against its cage, a drooling dog tethered to its leash. It can growl all it wants but it can’t break free.
“Uh, morning,” I mumble, swallowing the excess saliva that’s pooled on my tongue.
I can’t meet his gaze. I don’t dare. If I look into his eyes, I fear I’ll come completely undone. So instead, I edge past him, brushing against his warm arm as I slink into the bathroom.
The space is filled with the scent of his body wash. Warm and woodsy, kind of like a lumberjack bathed in sweet juniper berries.
“Good talk,” he says as I close the door in his face.
But then I spy something on the floor that threatens to destroy my sanity. A balled-up garment lays in the corner against the tub.
God, no, please. Please don’t let that be his underwear.
I pick up the grey boxer-briefs with my fingertips, holding them far away like they’re a bomb. The silky athletic material feels so nice against my skin.