Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
The sight of his muscles flexing and straining and straining and tensing from merely trying to reach the small product has my cock repeatedly thumping into my zipper, beseeching me to do the one thing we haven’t yet.
Blow jobs.
Hand jobs.
Frot jobs.
All in the yes column right alongside rim jobs.
But fucking?
Fucking is the one thing we haven’t accomplished that I know we both want to.
Could be because the minute we do, it’ll be impossible for me to pretend everything between us has just been fling shit.
That all non-fling thoughts were just work product of trying to officially file this in the department of flings.
Or it could be because the second I have a taste I know I’ll never be able to deny what it is I’ve spent so much time denying in my life.
Honestly?
I’m fucking tired of pretending not to want what I want.
Who I want.
When I want.
If this whole situation has taught me anything, it’s that life can and will fuck you over in ways you never imagined, so you might as well enjoy yourself before it does, because it always does.
And I’m more than ready to enjoy myself.
Him.
“Master,” whimpers Zero at the same time he offers the bottle.
“Good boy,” I praise while accepting it with my free palm. “Shorts off.”
Little to no effort is needed to get them onto the ground and the sight of him slightly wiggling his hips to achieve it damn near gets me coming in my shorts like I’ve never done this before.
Although, I have.
I was simply drunk.
Or had been drinking.
And was with a woman.
Not a man.
Definitely not a man I…I’ve practically been in love with since we met.
“Knees up.”
Despite their wobbly nature, Zero folds them to his chest.
Exposes a view I’ve dreamt a thousand or more dreams of.
“Fuckme, little toy,” is leaked in a shaky breath. “Do you have any idea how perfect you look waiting to take Master’s cock?”
Stuttered breaths precede stuttered words. “Y-y-y-your c-c-cock?”
“You want that?” I effortlessly flick the lid open. “You want me to fuck you?” Turning and squeezing the content out occurs next. “You wanna feel my cum like this?” Cool liquid cascades down his crack for the couch pulling out a loud, needy whimper. “Answer.”
“Yes,” being spewed isn’t enough.
Not even close.
“You wanna feel my cock…” the bottle falls from my grasp, allowing me to roll two stiff fingers around his rigid, back hole, “here?”
“Ohmyg…” anxiously cries the male underneath me in tandem with lifting his hips, “more…”
“Be a good, little fuck toy.” Gently prodding gets him vibrating against my firm hold. “Tell Master what he wants to hear.”
“Fuck me,” Zero whispers on another shallow rock upward. “I want you to fuck me, Master.”
Pushing the two digits inside instantly results in precum dripping from his slit.
Slowly.
Thickly.
Deliciously.
As much as I want to lean over and lap it up, all I can do is watch.
Watch it drop.
Watch it dribble towards where my two fingers are faintly teasing.
Thrusting so lightly that calling them that is practically a misnomer.
“More,” he whines, becoming increasingly breathless. “More, Master.”
“Good boys use their manners.”
“Pleaseeee,” pleads the love of my life in an undeniably desperate voice. “Please fuck me, Master.”
“Fingers, first.” One forceful shove has his back bowing on a sharp gasp. “Cock, next.” Nails latching onto my forearms cause a pleased hiss to seep through my gritted teeth. “Show me you can take Master’s fingers.” Pulling them out is followed by a second rough push of three instead of two. “Fuck them.” He forces himself to meet the next hard thrust. “Fuck them like they’re my cock, little toy.”
His dick instantly twitches in excitement and anticipation while his balls clench together to the same pace that his muscles are my fingers.
Curling them elicits louder, choked sobs as I manage to ceaselessly tease the spot that could push him over the edge before either of us are ready.
The combination of him rocking into my movements, meeting them push for push, hit for hit, keeping my fingers deeply rooted inside and leaving me no choice but to slam him back into the couch cushions by the neck to aid in him not getting to my cock before he’s ready becomes a barbaric task I can barely restrain myself through.
Each time his eyes roll into the back of his head, mine do the same.
Every breath missed becomes one I can’t find.
Ambling into an archaic rhythm of grinding and jerking and huffing and grunting continues until we’ve successfully smothered out everything and anything that isn’t us.
This moment.
Sweat beginning to saturate around my shirt collar is attached to him whispering, “I need to come, Master…”
“Not yet.” I still my motions and wait for his glossed over gaze to find mine. “Be a good boy and wait for Master to get inside.”
“Hurry,” Zero pleads.
Post quickly removing my fingers, I use both hands to hastily undo my button.