“Fuuuuuck,” he groans as I curl my fingers around him and start stroking. “Yes.”
He sounds like he’s already about to come, and I can’t help but tease him. “How soon will this be over?”
“Screw you,” he moans when I reach down with my other hand and cup his balls. I squeeze gently, and he curses under his breath, fucking his hips upward into my fist.
I huff at how desperate he is. How perfect.
“Caleb, I think we both know thatI’dbe the one screwingyou.”
The thought of it—his legs spread, his ass on display, my cock tunneling in and out of him—has my dick twitching in my pants.
And when I bring my hand to my bulge and drag my palm down my hard length, it erupts.
It’s shocking and a little unexpected, but with the way Caleb’s been teasing me, just beinghim, it’s been nearly impossible to keep myself under control.
My fist tightens around his cock as I ride out my orgasm, and when his eyes roll into the back of his head, I tug on his balls again and his entire body tightens and twitches. Cum spews from his tip, spurting across his chest, dripping down my fingers and wrist as he moans and writhes beneath me.
It’s minutes before he comes to, and I savor all of it, releasing my hold on him slowly. I need to go clean myself up.
So I do. I disappear into the bathroom, refusing to look at myself in the mirror. I know what will look back at me. I know I won’t see any regret.
When I reappear, Caleb has wiped himself up and has pulled his sweats back up around his waist.
“You want me to…uh…” Caleb asks, almost shyly. He’s offering to take care of me.
“No,” I reply as I slip in next to him and pull the covers up to my chin.
He puffs out a soft breath and then asks, “Want me to sleep on the floor?”
Just the thought makes me recoil.
“No,” I reply and then hold out my arms. “Come here.”
And he crawls over to me and tucks himself into my side. Like he lives here.
I sleep soundly after that, and when I wake up, Caleb is blinking over at me, his eyes hopeful. I know what he wants.
I don’t ask him.
I already know.
This is becoming a bad habit.
I push him onto his back, pull his sweatpants down, and jerk him off again. He’s just as loud and filthy as he was last night. Begging for it, saying my name like a prayer, rolling his hips up like the slut he is.
His cock is an angry red, dripping cum.
I caress it with rough, hard strokes.
His hands fist the covers, trying to keep himself grounded. I twist his balls, and he cries out, but holds on.
He wants to show me how long he can last.
But doesn’t he know I love how fast he comes for me?
Even so, he holds out a little longer than expected—a full minute.
And when he arches his back off the bed, and releases all over himself once more, I realize I need to get off, too. That this has been torture for me, touching him, watching as he comes undone for me.