Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
He starts with one finger, not using two until I give him permission.
This isn’t the same man as the one in his classroom. This one is open and free, bent over, fingering his ass like nothing matters other than the pleasure I’m allowing him to have and being good for me. He doesn’t second-guess himself here, isn’t bound by the rules he keeps for himself in the rest of his life, and him letting go like this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Can you get three up there for me?”
“Can I lie on the bed?”
“You may.”
He adjusts the phone and lies on his back, props his ass on a pillow, then starts working on it again. His ass faces me, and the couple of pillows beneath his head allow him to keep eye contact. One finger becomes two, then three, his tight ring stretched wide around him as James plunges them in his ass over and over. When I say he can, he works his cock too, fucking and jerking himself, eyes glazed while he tries his best to watch me.
“I’m close,” he admits.
“I know you are, good boy. I’ll let you come in a minute. I just need to hear you beg me for it first. Tell your Sir how much you need it.”
“I need it more than I’ve ever needed anything. I want to come for you, want to show you how good you make me feel. My body is crumbling beneath the pleasure, so close to tipping over, but I won’t…not until my Sir says I can because I want you to be proud of me. I want to be the best boy you’ve ever had. Pleasing you pleases me, Sir.”
Jesus, this man.
My cock twitches. I don’t know how I’ve gone this whole time without jerking myself off, but I’m not sure it’s going to last. I rub my palm against my erection to get some relief.
“Come for me, little dreamer. Make your Sir proud. Let me see how much cum you made for me.”
“Christ,” he groans, balls drawing tight, dick shooting as he arches up. He’s still three fingers deep in his ass, jerking his cock while he spurts thick streams of cum all over his torso.
“That’s a good boy. Now eat it all up for me. Good boys finish their meals.”
“Yes, Sir.” He pulls his fingers from his ass and uses his other hand to scoop up his cum, licking and sucking it off his fingers before going back for more, not stopping until it’s all gone.
“God, you are so fucking perfect. Such a pretty little slut. I’m so proud of you. It’s late, though. It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
“Can I put my sheets in the washer and remake my bed first?” he asks, and I swear the simple question nearly makes me blow my load.
“Yes, you may.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to stay with you for a moment, okay? Make sure you’re okay.”
He sits up, bites down a smile, and says, “Yes, Sir.”
I talk to him, praise him, keep him company while he strips his bed and remakes it. He puts on clothes to go toss the sheets in the washer, then comes back into the room and turns on his bedside lamp.
Once he’s in bed, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
“Incredible. So sleepy.”
“Okay. Go have more of those sweet dreams for me, and I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
He nods, eyes fluttering. “Yes, Sir.”
He’s too tired to even be worried about the next day.
Without touching the light or ending the call, James goes to bed.
I watch him until I know he’s asleep, then hang up.
When I jerk off, I come harder than I ever have, wondering how we got to this place so quickly and what I’m going to do about it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
James
We keep up our routine for the next couple of weeks. Colton and I talk every night. I see him in class two days a week. He sorts out my days and makes me lunch, sticking little notes in each and every one—telling me how proud he is of me, how good I am. I fold them all and stuff them away, unable to part with them.
I do everything on his lists, feeling better about myself for making him proud. I’ve found something special to do for myself each week as well. Nothing big, but still, it’s something for me.
When I was a kid, I loved swimming. I used to dream about having a pool—or friends with a pool who would invite me over—or joining the swim team in high school, but those weren’t the kind of things that happened for me. I used to go watch the swim meets, though, and like on my walks, pretend I was out there. That I’d bring home a gold medal.
We have both an indoor and an outdoor pool at my apartment complex, and I don’t remember the last time I went swimming. It’s what I chose for my activity the second week. I swam laps for close to an hour. The next week, I had to choose something different for my activity, so I listened to one of my favorite records, but I also went swimming again.