Then the image changes to him. He comes to stand behind me, his hands gripping my hips painfully hard, his cock nudging my ass, sliding along the crack.
“Want it?” he whispers. “Want my dick deep in your ass? Fucking you until you can’t breathe, until you can’t do anything but let—”
“Oh God,” I groan and come in white spurts, the pleasure washing through me like a hot wave, shooting through my balls and dick, jerking me like a puppet on a string. “Fuck.”
I’m shaking, but I manage to turn off the water and slide down the wall to sit on the wet floor of the shower before I pass out.
There. It’s out of my system now. Everything will go back to normal.
I splay a hand over my chest. Will my pulse to slow down.
Hey, at least I’m still alive.
***
I think about this as I roll under the covers and grab my e-reader to catch up on news and start on the next chapter of the travelogue I’ve been reading.
About how I jacked off. To the images of Brylee and Riddick.
I put down the e-reader. My body is still thrumming, oddly relaxed and yet awake. Ready for more. My cock is half-hard, trapped in my pajama bottoms, and I resist the urge to reach under the covers and jack off again.
I lick my lips and return to my reading.
Or attempt to.
Brylee’s soft lips closing around my cock, those pretty eyes looking up at me, seeking my approval.
Riddick pushing into me from behind, whispering filthy things in my ear.
Fuck. My dick is fully hard again, just like that. I don’t know why that last image got me off. I’ve never bottomed for anyone.
Nor am I planning to.
And I’m not into virgins. If Brylee is one.
No idea why I’m getting that vibe from her. I hope for her sake it’s not true. If she’s saving her cherry for her future husband, and he’s a douchebag, she’ll never find out how good it can be.
Great, and now I’m worried about her.
Christ, Ryan. As if one wasn’t enough, now I’ve got two people stuck in my thoughts. A certain crazy, funny ginger girl, and a certain mysterious dark-haired guy.
Resolutely, I pull the covers up to my chin, ignoring the mount made by my hard cock, and do my best to focus on what I’m reading.
***
As the days pass, at work, at the gym, I find myself checking faces, looking for two specific people, and force myself to stop.
This is ridiculous.
Brylee is right: I broke my schedule, my habit. I need to get back into it, and there’s nothing like a good hour of punishing exercise to get my mind back on track.
I don’t need him. Or her. I barely know her.
Yeah and whose fault is that?
Hell.
“What’s up, Ryan?” A tall, blond, muscular guy with silver hoops in his ears nods at me.