Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says.
I pull his dick out of my mouth and position my hands on his hips. I guide him around me, shifting on my knees. I push him back against the wall and slide his cock in my mouth again as he runs his hand through my hair, petting me like I’m a fucking dog.
Like I’m his next Keith.
I feel like I deserve to be humiliated a little bit. Like I’m hurting myself for how I let Greg and my best friend Morgan dupe me. I despise that while they were hooking up, they were thinking of me as this dumb fuck they could trick into believing anything.
Tim must know that’s how I feel and why I’m so reckless about us. He runs in the same circles I do. Has heard the same stories as everyone else. When the governor’s kid has issues, everyone hears about it. Something I’ve had to get used to since I started high school and Mom first took office as a congresswoman.
I continue blowing Tim, working harder to please him than I ever did to please Greg.
He clutches onto my hair and pulls, but just enough to let me know he’s in charge.
I shove his cock deep, to the back of my throat as I work to impress not just him, but myself.
“Shit, shit,” he says.
I fight against his hold, moving my face away from his crotch.
His dick falls from my mouth.
“You got a condom on you?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Give it to me.”
He removes his bookbag, sets it on the floor, and retrieves a condom and lube from his back pocket. Ripping off the edges of both with his teeth like he did that first time, he spits them out and hands the condom and lube to me.
I pull the condom out of the wrapper and place it in my mouth, positioning it with my tongue between my teeth before going back down on him, rolling it onto his dick as I do. Then I suck the lube from the packet, wetting my mouth with it before sliding his cock back in and lubing the condom up. Little tricks I learned from a very friendly and clever gay health counselor who works at the clinic where I get tested.
I pour some of the lube I left in the packet onto my fingers before I rise to my feet and drop my pants and underwear to my ankles. I lean up against the wall beside him and slide my fingers into my hole, offering myself a little something to make that giant dong of his easier to take.
He hurries behind me, pushes my hand out of his way, and presses his cock against my hole.
He takes his time, which surprises me considering how desperate it seems like we both are for this.
I want it in me deep. Now. But I know I need to be patient, and the suspense as he eases in is part of what’s driving me crazy—especially as he hits all those nerves on the way—stirring a powerful desire within me.
I glance behind me, checking the stairwells, two sets leading to the floors above and below. Just want to make sure no one will catch our quick fuck session. But I can’t imagine we’re going to get away with this.
There’s a part of me that feels like it’s so wrong we can’t get away with it. Like some universal force will interfere. I think it’s a product of life with my mother—always on edge, paranoid about being caught doing something that could put her career at risk.
I start to shake with excitement as he works his way deeper. Although I wonder if part of it is that I’m nervous as fuck about getting discovered.
His cock feels so good as it fills me.
I raise my hands as he removes my shirt.
His hands return to my body, stroking, making me appreciate my flesh as he enjoys the grooves between my muscles.
I kick off my shoes and step out of my pants as he leans forward so that his chest is pressed against my back. “You like me inside you?” he whispers into my ear. “Is this what you want? To feel like a cumdumpster? To feel like my little toy?”
“If you’re going to make me your dumpster, you’re going to have to do more than this.”
It’s a challenge—one I’m not sure I’m up for—but I won’t let him think I’m some prude. Because that’s all he thinks of me. That’s all anyone ever thinks of me, and it’s not untrue. That’s what happens when you’re raised in a glass house with an overprotective mother.
He pulls out swiftly, leaving me totally confused about what’s going on. Gripping me by my shoulders, he forces me to turn around and then he squats. As he puts his arms around my thighs, I intuit where he’s taking this. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up. He carries me to the stairs. I release him and grip the rail behind me.