“You always this vocal?” August asks, wetting those lips again.
“Yeah. I have a hard time keeping my emotions under wraps,” I say as he runs a fingertip through my slit. “I tend to just erupt spontaneously. But you don’t huh? You just bottle it all up. I’ll have to work hard to pull those moans from you.”
He eyeballs me and then pulls his hand back, leaning against the window opposite me and flinging his fingers out as if to saycontinue.
“Oh.” It’s all I can say. This is way too hot.
I stroke myself while he watches, his eyes look slightly glazed. And despite every dirty thought that filters through my mind, I can’t quite bring myself to come.
“Normally, I don’t have such stamina. I think it’s performance anxiety,” I say when long minutes have passed, and I’m still painfully hard.
August’s eyes vacillate between mine and my dick, and he says, “Should I help?”
“Only if you want. I know you want to discuss….”
But August is already moving right in front of me, and then he reaches out, and I see his hand wrap around me.
His hand is on me.
I gasp as he makes a throaty hum and starts pumping me.
My eyes cross, my moans growing louder because fucking his fist is bliss. My stepbrother has some serious wrist action. His big hand slides up my shaft and twists around the head before gliding back down.
“August,” I groan. “Fuck. Where did you learn that? Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t answer, just leans a little closer and pulls my mouth to his as he fucks his tongue into it. It’s filthy and intimate, and I am already so close.He should have done this from the beginning.
He tightens his grip around me and moves his arm faster, still twisting it around the head on every stroke, and I find myself a mess of pants and moans. The blanket is crinkling around me as I thrust my hips upward again and again, aching for release. Then I feel my balls draw up, and a zing of pleasure shoots through my abdomen. I wrench my mouth away from his and gasp, “August, fuck, I’m….”
Coming right into his cupped hand. He catches every drop, and I’m left shuddering as the aftershock of the orgasm rattles my teeth.
I slump against the window, his one hand still on me, the other cupping my mess.
“Damn,” I mutter, boneless from the best hand job I’ve ever had.
Of course, it was.
I couldn’t even make this shit up.
“Very impressive,” I breathe, eyeing his mouth. It’s sinful really. “Are you an umpire?”
He pulls away from me and shakes his head. He glances down at the mess in his hand almost contemplatively. “I think you mean catcher, and no. I’m left field usually.”
Goddamn. I need to watch him play. I’ll envision him just like this every time. I’ll for sure need to jack off before I go to one of his games.
He wipes himself clean on a dirty shirt, and I glance at him. “With skills like that, you could go pro.”
His eyes meet mine. “No, I’m not good enough, but I played in college. Now I just play intramural during the season. Go to the cages when I have time.”
“I’d like to watch some time,” I say. “When is your next game?”
“I’m not playing right now, but you could come hit balls with me when we get home if you want.”
Oh, Iso want.
“Will you wear those tight little baseball pants?” I ask as August reaches over and tucks me back into my pants. Oh yeah, forgot to do that.
“Boy Scouts and baseball. Do you have a thing for uniforms?”