Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Finally, I settle on a clip where there’s a guy fucking a girl doggy style while a guy fucks him. And damn, I wanna be that guy in the middle. I don’t care if the face he’s pulling is fake, but if it is, at least he’s a better actor than the others. He looks so completely blissed out. I’m literally jealous.
My mind goes to all those times I’ve been with Miller, and I wonder what it’d be like to be with him this way instead of our stupid no touching rule. I don’t even remember how that rule came about or if we ever had a conversation about it. I think it was a given. He said the other day he’d thought about touching me, but he never, not once, gave any indication he might be into that.
Then again, was I paying that close attention? It never crossed my mind.
Here I am thinking about Miller again with a hard dick and the desire for him to touch it.
I groan. This season without him here is gonna be the longest of my career. I just got him back, and now he’s gone.
A loud moan brings me back to the porn, and the guy in the middle has to stop for a moment, and my breathing mimics his—erratic and shallow.
The guy behind him tenderly runs a hand down his arm and leans in to kiss his neck. He turns his head, so their mouths come together in a kiss that’s so hot precum leaks from my cock.
The camera zooms in on their faces as they continue to kiss, soft and slow, and I begin to wonder if they’re an actual couple, because it looks real. It’s more than sex between them.
Then the girl moans, breaking their connection, and what was hot a couple of minutes ago doesn’t do it for me now.
I find the names of the stars tagged in the video, click on one of the guy’s profiles, and then stalk them on social media. As I suspected, the guys are married in real life, and it’s kinda cool how they can be comfortable with each other enough to do porn with other people but still be in a committed relationship.
Whenever I’ve thought about doing the serious relationship thing—granted most of those thoughts came to me before I’d made the NFL—I imagined getting bored with only one person in my bed. Maybe these guys have the perfect arrangement.
Not that I want to take up porn any time soon.
I watch a few more clips but solo videos of just them, and it doesn’t take long for my cock to beg for some attention.
Like in the three-way video, it’s more than just sex between them, and I don’t know why that turns my crank, but here I am, about to wrap my fingers around my hard dick and jerk off to two guys fucking.
I shake my head. It’s not fucking. It’s love.
My hand stills on my precum-slicked cock as the moment of clarity I’ve been searching for hits me with full force.
My brother’s wrong. It’s not the sex I’m attracted to. It wasn’t Jackson and Noah that turned me on. It was what they have.
Have I actually reached a level of maturity ready for an honest-to-God relationship?
Shit, I never thought this day would come. Or that it’d turn me on so much.
I work myself over, my hand stroking my cock until my muscles contract, and I’m two seconds away from blowing my load.
And, of course, that’s the moment the lock on the hotel door beeps and clicks open.
I frantically try but struggle to put my dick away. “Shit.”
Jackson walks in all sweaty and wearing a towel around his neck. He pauses, eyeing my tablet which has two guys still going at it—loudly—takes in my flushed face, and while his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, all he does is nod, say, “We really need to come up with some sort of system,” and then turns on his heel and walks back out again.
I throw myself back on my bed, my balls heavy and wanting release but my cock softening and my head even more confused than it was before.
Part of me wanted to do this to prove to Miller I could, but now that I realize how much I’m into it, I can’t make sense of it.
It’s like I’m living on the outside of my life, watching as I do things and like things old me wouldn’t or wouldn’t even contemplate, and not understanding how I got here.
I’m not scared of it, just … confused.
And I don’t know how to handle that.
* * *
Jackson doesn’t come back to the room until twenty minutes before we have to leave for the game. It’s plenty of time to get yet another awkward conversation over between us, but he moves about the room as if I’m invisible, never once making eye contact with me.