I give myself a few strokes, showing it off to the camera proudly. “I want to hear you come. Will you jerk off for me?”
“Yes.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” I reposition myself on the bed, and adjust the phone to give him a better angle. “Since we matched, that means you like dirty talk.”
“I do.”
“I wish I could taste your cock in my mouth. Suck on your head, and run my tongue along it.”
He groans. “Would you choke on it?”
“Is that what you like? You want to feel your cock hit the back of my throat?”
“Fuck, yes.” His hand moves faster.
“Have you ever fucked a man before? Or been fucked by one?”
“Both.”
His answer surprises me, and a loud moan slips free. “I’d love to bend you over and bury myself deep inside you. Fuck youfrom behind while I reach around and jerk you off at the same time.”
The sounds of his hand slapping against his skin fills the room, mixed with his grunts of pleasure.
“But I wouldn’t let you come. Not until you fucked me after. What position do you want to fuck me in, hmm?”
“On your back,” he pants. “With your legs around my waist, your heels digging into my ass, and my hand around your throat.”
My hips jerk at the thought of being choked by his massive hand. “God, I wish you were here right now. It’d feel so much better than my hand.”
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man. I haven’t wanted to since Kellerman and I parted ways four years ago. Focusing my attention on women helped bury the memories of him, and all that we were when we were together.
“I’m close,” he warns. “Come with me.”
“Not yet. Wait.”
“Please.” His voice cracks, and the sound of his desperation does something to me.
“Fuck, I like the sound of you begging.”
He gives me more. “Please. Please, come with me. I need you.”
Our hands move faster, our strokes sloppy and uneven as we moan louder.
Then I watch as spurts of cum spill out onto his stomach, over and over until he’s sated. His deep moans push me over the edge, and then I unload onto my stomach, wishing I knew his name so he could hear it on my lips while I come.
Once I catch my breath, I tell him exactly that. “What’s your name, stranger?”
But then he ends the call.
Freshman Year of College
Haveyou ever met someone and immediately knew you didn’t like them?
It happens before he even opens his mouth. It goes deeper than the way he looks. It’s a vibe I get, equivalent to Spidey senses. My body has this visceral reaction to a complete stranger, as if we knew each other in a past life, and I hated him then too.
I can’t explain it, but the second I lay eyes on my college roommate, I know we’re going to have a problem.
With short, coppery curls and pale, freckled skin, he beams at me as he strolls into our dorm room. “Hey, roomie.”