“I don’t.”
“Then fight back. Tell me to get off.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Then he began to struggle.
He flopped and twisted, nearly breaking free from my hold.
I went limp on top of him, using my weight to pin him down so all he managed to do was rub his dick against mine.
His eyes rolled back in his head as he frotted against me, still under the guise of trying to escape.
“I hate you so much,” he gritted out, still moving under me.
“I know.” I moved and held both of his wrists in one hand, then slid the other between our bodies. “And I hate you too.” I rubbed my palm over his dick.
“Ugnh,” he moaned.
“You want me to jerk you off? You want to feel my big, rough hand on your cock?”
“Fuck. You.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
He arched into me, his eyelids fluttering closed as I gripped his shaft through his thin shorts.
“Why…”
“Why what?”
I stroked my hand up and down his length.
Goddamn.
I’d thought about his dick more times than I would ever admit, but I’d always pictured it as being average sized, like the rest of him.
He was big, like pornstar big.
We were close to the same size, and I was well above average. I probably had a little length on him, but he was girthy as fuck.
“Now that’s a surprise.” I squeezed his base, earning a moan, low and deep. A rush of arousal shot through me. “Who would have thought you’d be packing. Bravo, Julian.” I squeezed him again.
“Fuck,” he whimpered.
“You like this.”
“You’re not gay.” His lust-drenched gaze met mine.
“No. I’m not.”
“Why…”
“Because it’s fun.”
I slid my hand up the leg of his loose shorts, and his pretty brown eyes rolled back in his head.
“Well, well, well, slut. Going commando for me?” I trailed my fingertip over the length of his shaft.
“Hrngh,” he moaned.