"Yours too?"
I pressed my forehead to the wall. "Jory. Babe. Sweetheart. You can't say that unless you plan on letting me listen while you jerk it."
There was a pause, and then, "I wouldn't mind that. If I can listen to you."
Above me, my sister yelled for her kids to gather their soccer equipment. Her husband yelled back something about a phone charger. The kids yelled about missing cleats, missing hoodies, missing shin guards. Feet pounded down the stairs, across the first floor. All while my dick throbbed against my belly.
We couldn't do this. Not right now. Not with all…that. I couldn't focus with the kids hollering at each other and my brother-in-law counting down the seconds they had to get their shit together. I couldn't perform under these conditions.
"Just imagine I'm there," Jory continued. "And I pull your underwear down. That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Ohmygodyes," I groaned. My boxers hit the floor.
"Then I stroke you," he went on. I didn't know where the fuck Dirty Jory came from but I was all about this side of him. "You like it when I slowly twist my fist from the base all the way over your head, don't you?"
I shuttled my hand over my cock while my brother-in-law shouted, "I will only count down from ten one more time."
"That's right," Jory said. "And you like it when I give it to you fast. It isn't pretty like this, with me stroking you so hard that all you can do is take it. You give me that beautiful groan, the one that tells me you need this so badly. The one that says you'd come on the spot if I sucked you for even a minute."
My sister stomped her foot overhead, saying, "This is your last chance to get in the car. If you're not ready to go, we're skipping the game."
"No games today," my brother-in-law yelled.
"You need this so badly, baby," Jory repeated.
His voice was thick and breathless, but not the same kind of breathless as when he answered the phone. This was a hot and sweaty form of breathless, the kind that came from—oh,fuuuuuck, if I listened closely, I could hear him jerking himself. The slide of skin over skin, a grunt, a hitch in his breathing.
"Yes," I whispered, my hand moving over my shaft faster,faster. "I'm—I want—with you."
"I'm there, baby, I'm there," he said, his voice pitching up and shattering the words into small, panting syllables. A deep, satisfied grunt followed and that was it for me, that was all I needed to spill into my hand, down my leg, onto my foot and the floor. "That's right. Give me everything, baby. Keep going. Let me have it."
A minute passed as my strokes slowed and the last spurts of my orgasm flooded my hand. My heart was thumping in my chest, my breath coming in ragged exhales, and I couldn't hear anything but the tender caress of Jory's words in my ear.
Eventually, I said, "Hey, Jory?"
"Yeah, Max?"
"That was…well, I don't know what to say other than holy fuckballs."
"That's all right. Holy fuckballs works for me," he replied.
"Okay good. But, listen. I gotta rinse off now if you're showing up here in"—I blinked at the clock—"forty-five minutes. I don't even know what I'm wearing yet."
"Yeah, same," he said with a laugh.
"I'd rather shower with you," I added.
"Yeah, same," he repeated. "I'll see you soon, Max."
* * *
I pickedmy way down a quiet lane of not-quite-ripe pumpkins with Jory at my side. The sun was high and bright, the air cool and crisp, and I hadn't thought about what I was wearing since Jory had greeted me with an unexpectedly hot kiss. Maybe I should've expected it after that phone call. Maybe I'd read Jory all wrong. A person could be anxious and introverted while also being boldly sexual. All of these things could be true at once.
"This looks like a good place to sit down," he said, gesturing to a clear spot ahead.
We settled on the grass and spread out our coffees and bag of hot donuts. If today was an indication of Jory's speed, I wasn't going to complain. It suited me just fine.
"This is nice," Jory said, handing me half a donut. "I like being able to talk to you. Our schedules are so different at school that I hardly see you."
