Oh, Christ.
I catch the cum in my boxers, moaning as I step into the bathroom and just stand there for a second. Feeling deviant. Oh God, I am such a deviant fuck.
I clean up and stuff my cum-drenched boxers down into the hamper I share with him. I’ll have to do a load of laundry—only mine—tomorrow. As I’m hiding the evidence of my perversion, I come across a white T-shirt with “Miller” written on the tag in Sharpie. I bring it to my nose and inhale.
So good. I stuff the thing under my arm as I clean myself up. Then I grab a roll of TP, turn on the lamp in my room, and sink into the armchair. I give his shirt another sniff then stuff it in between the chair’s back and its cushion. I tuck the football pillow in the crook of my arm and my eyelids drop shut. I touch my balls again, give them a few tugs. It feels okay. I can smell him, still—the kind of shampoo he uses.
Miller's dick. My hand around it. And I'm getting hard again.
I move onto the bed. I know I shouldn't—almost always, getting horizontal is something I really regret—but I want to get under the covers and jerk off one more time. It's been so long. I'm surprised by how my whole body feels good when it happens.
I fall asleep holding a wad of toilet paper, and I wake to Miller's face, his wide eyes inches from mine. His hands are on my shoulders like they always seem to be.
He looks concerned. "Are you okay?"
I wipe my eyes. "Only if you've got one of your gay boy boners for me."
I hate how shaky my voice sounds. But I love what his face does in response to my words. I chuckle. "Ohhh, you've got one. Sit back on your knees and let me see it."
He doesn't move, which means he's still partway on top of me. I cup his jaw with my hand.
"Miller, Miller." My other hand is roving down the front of him. His chest is bare and warm and ridged with heavy muscle. I want to kiss his throat, reach lower till my hand is petting that dark line of hair that leads into his boxer briefs. I can't kiss him, so I reach down and find the waistline of his briefs.
"I didn't know you gays were like this,” I say. “Boners all the time, for everything. If I reach lower, will I feel you poking through these briefs? Does that dick want a mouth?"
"Stop it," he grits, but he doesn't move as I walk two fingers slowly—slow enough to give him time to move—toward the bulge in his briefs.
"Seems like you're always hard when you're around me. What do you do in physics?"
"I'm not," he says, but it's a soft whine.
I close my hand over him, cupping the tip of his thick shaft.
"Is it just at nighttime?" I rasp. "You get hard and it won't go down?"
"It's because I'm waking up,” he manages. “Because of you."
"How do you get back to sleep? Do you have to come first?"
I move my hand down lower, so I'm cupping his balls.
"Yours are pretty full, DG. You've got a nice, big dick for some dick sucker to suck in his mouth."
I'm surprised when his hand moves mine off his bulge. "Stop saying shit like that.”
"So I can feel you up and you’re all good...as long as I don't say dick sucker?"
I grab him again, giving him a slow stroke through the cotton of his briefs.
"I've never seen another guy come. I want to see you jizz your pants again. It's like a game for me. This thing," I say as I pump it, "is so obvious. With girls, they just get puffed up and a little wet. And they start humping on you. Sometimes that's the only way you can tell. Well, that and their nipples."
I find Miller’s nipple, give it a pinch. Then I lean down to bite it, and he moans. I feel him shudder, and he moves off me. Fuck—I think he’s leaving, but instead he drops back down to lie on my bed. He curls over on his side, facing away from me.
Game on, bb.
"I bet your freckles are going red and those big, cum-swollen balls are aching. I bet what you really want is someone sucking on your dickhead. Is it Arnie you want?"
I scoot closer to his back, so my pecs brush against it. My dick throbs as I reach around to pinch his nipple. "If you want me to stop, you have to say so. Turns out, I like fucking with you."
I squeeze that thicc ass, expecting him to move away, but he just starts to breathe harder.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I told you—I like to see you squirm. I want to push something into your hole and see if it hurts or it feels good. I want to suck on your balls till you go crazy and come without even meaning to.” I stroke my fingertip around his nipple. “If I had a finger in your hole, I bet you would still come. All the gay boys like their holes stretched by a big dick. Unless you're a top. Are you a top, Millsy?"