gun.
He looked so poised, blurry and idealistic behind the cloudy door, just like a romance novel book cover. It almost looked to my amorous eyes as though he moved in slow motion. He rubbed his well-built chest, leaving trails of bubbles. He swiped the sponge down the center of his six-pack, taking special care to soap up his trim bush.
I swear, at that point I was literally drooling. I was dumbfounded with stupid lust. That man just had his face between my thighs . And I was watching him smooth his hand down over his pubic bone to grasp his fat, heavy boner.
Oh, dear Lord. Is all that for me? I just knew he’d been erect ever since going down on me earlier. It had turned him on to wolf away at me, and now he was so hot and bothered he had to put aside the sponge to fondle his hefty, engorged ball sac.
One hand cradled his testicles, lathering them up one at a time. He let one pop through his slick fingers, then he’d massage it against his thigh. As for his towering dick, he could barely wrap his fingers around it as he choked the life from it. Even through the soapy partition, I could see the effect this had on him. He tossed his head back, displaying his full throat, his bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped, his nipples tiny erotic nubs, his giant tool in dark relief against the tan shower tiles.
He squeezed his erection as though afraid to come too fast. Afraid if he pumped it for dear life he’d shoot against the tiles, but that’s what I wanted to see. I wanted to call out, “Do it! Do it, Dyno! Pump that giant dick! Shoot against the shower wall!” I wanted to see his load splatter like the water pump into a drinking trough. My only regret was I couldn’t be there to lick it up—to let it wash my own face.
Maybe he heard my heavy breathing. Maybe he caught sight of me from the corner of his eye, or in the mirror. Whichever, he wasn’t letting on that he saw me, but his kneading and squeezing sped up. Now he stroked his cock overhand, letting his fingers splay over the breadth of it, then throttling the mushroom glans, allowing his thumb to slick across his slit.
Sometimes he looked down, as though admiring his handiwork. I knew I was. I was sliding down the door jam, sort of not caring anymore if I was spotted. Half my entire body was in the room, my arms trailing on the floor tiles like limp appendages. Still, he pretended not to see me and pumped his dick more energetically, head tilted back, the shower spray running down his beautifully sloped back.
When he shot, I had to close my eyes. It was too, too much.
When I looked next, every muscle in his body had tensed him into a gorgeous statue of some Greek god. And my mind was shot. Completely, thoroughly shot.
That vision was permanently engrained in my memory banks.
Like the survivor of a blood battle, I inched myself up the door jam. It was a major struggle of every lazy, sleeping ligament and tendon in my being to wrest myself off that damned floor, to stagger down the fucking hallway, stumbling over my own bathrobe that had become a massive mountain in the past ten minutes.
I made it by the skin of my teeth to my bedroom, my sanctuary, my salvation. I swiped at my phone as I fell into the safety of my bed. The last thing I remember was seeing Olivia’s final text.
I’m totally sure he’s gay. Someone else told me they tried to kiss him, and he just pushed her away. That, or he’s got major sexual dysfunction.
CHAPTER TEN
DYNO
T hat had been one of the weirdest days of my life, hands down.
First, April flinging herself at me. Who was I to say no? Then, after I’d gone pearl diving between her sweet legs, she turned on me. All I could figure was, she realized she’d made a giant mistake, regretted having commanded me to kiss her, and wished she’d never laid eyes on me. I liked being called an outlaw—an outlaw was a horse that couldn’t be broken or ridden—but not coming from April Pleasure’s lips. From her it was a massive
He looked so poised, blurry and idealistic behind the cloudy door, just like a romance novel book cover. It almost looked to my amorous eyes as though he moved in slow motion. He rubbed his well-built chest, leaving trails of bubbles. He swiped the sponge down the center of his six-pack, taking special care to soap up his trim bush.
I swear, at that point I was literally drooling. I was dumbfounded with stupid lust. That man just had his face between my thighs . And I was watching him smooth his hand down over his pubic bone to grasp his fat, heavy boner.
Oh, dear Lord. Is all that for me? I just knew he’d been erect ever since going down on me earlier. It had turned him on to wolf away at me, and now he was so hot and bothered he had to put aside the sponge to fondle his hefty, engorged ball sac.
One hand cradled his testicles, lathering them up one at a time. He let one pop through his slick fingers, then he’d massage it against his thigh. As for his towering dick, he could barely wrap his fingers around it as he choked the life from it. Even through the soapy partition, I could see the effect this had on him. He tossed his head back, displaying his full throat, his bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped, his nipples tiny erotic nubs, his giant tool in dark relief against the tan shower tiles.
He squeezed his erection as though afraid to come too fast. Afraid if he pumped it for dear life he’d shoot against the tiles, but that’s what I wanted to see. I wanted to call out, “Do it! Do it, Dyno! Pump that giant dick! Shoot against the shower wall!” I wanted to see his load splatter like the water pump into a drinking trough. My only regret was I couldn’t be there to lick it up—to let it wash my own face.
Maybe he heard my heavy breathing. Maybe he caught sight of me from the corner of his eye, or in the mirror. Whichever, he wasn’t letting on that he saw me, but his kneading and squeezing sped up. Now he stroked his cock overhand, letting his fingers splay over the breadth of it, then throttling the mushroom glans, allowing his thumb to slick across his slit.
Sometimes he looked down, as though admiring his handiwork. I knew I was. I was sliding down the door jam, sort of not caring anymore if I was spotted. Half my entire body was in the room, my arms trailing on the floor tiles like limp appendages. Still, he pretended not to see me and pumped his dick more energetically, head tilted back, the shower spray running down his beautifully sloped back.
When he shot, I had to close my eyes. It was too, too much.
When I looked next, every muscle in his body had tensed him into a gorgeous statue of some Greek god. And my mind was shot. Completely, thoroughly shot.
That vision was permanently engrained in my memory banks.
Like the survivor of a blood battle, I inched myself up the door jam. It was a major struggle of every lazy, sleeping ligament and tendon in my being to wrest myself off that damned floor, to stagger down the fucking hallway, stumbling over my own bathrobe that had become a massive mountain in the past ten minutes.
I made it by the skin of my teeth to my bedroom, my sanctuary, my salvation. I swiped at my phone as I fell into the safety of my bed. The last thing I remember was seeing Olivia’s final text.
I’m totally sure he’s gay. Someone else told me they tried to kiss him, and he just pushed her away. That, or he’s got major sexual dysfunction.
CHAPTER TEN
DYNO
T hat had been one of the weirdest days of my life, hands down.
First, April flinging herself at me. Who was I to say no? Then, after I’d gone pearl diving between her sweet legs, she turned on me. All I could figure was, she realized she’d made a giant mistake, regretted having commanded me to kiss her, and wished she’d never laid eyes on me. I liked being called an outlaw—an outlaw was a horse that couldn’t be broken or ridden—but not coming from April Pleasure’s lips. From her it was a massive
Similar Books
