“I didn’t… that… It was like a catheter, but definitelynota catheter.” Tom took another drink.
“It’s called urethral sounding,” Cypress explained. “Takes a lot of skill, patience, and the proper tools. The sounds, the actual rods you use, have to be cleaned very thoroughly. I mean, some guys will shove just about anything down there.”
“Ow. I mean, it has to hurt. Doesn’t it hurt?” Tom cringed.
“You start off very small,” Cypress said with a chuckle. “And yes, there can be some burning, a lot of pressure… but the pleasure is pretty intense.”
“Do you know how, how to do that?” Tom asked, hoping he didn’t sound like a crazy person for being so interested.
“It’s one of my favorite ways to masturbate.”
Tom nearly choked on his drink. “Wait, you do that toyourself?”
“When I’m in the mood,” Cypress replied, grinning wide. He was clearly enjoying Tom’s shock. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime, and if you’re interested, I can teach you.”
“I would really like that,” Tom said, glancing down at Cypress’s lips. He was drawn in like a magnet, shivering pleasantly when Cypress touched his face and pulled him in for a kiss.
Tom kissed him chastely at first, but Cypress lingered, silently asking for more. Tom couldn’t resist, kissing back a little harder. The alcohol had momentarily silenced his anxiety about being seen, and he let himself get lost in the moment.
Soon they were full-on making out on the little sofa, and Tom couldn’t remember kissing like this in years. A tease of Cypress’s fingers up his shirt made him gasp, a flick of his tongue coaxed out a little moan, and Tom was dizzy with desire.
Cypress broke the kiss off with a heated pant, growling low in Tom’s ear, “Fuck, I wanna get my hands on you.”
“Right now?” Tom whispered, just as breathless and wanting.
“Yes.”
“O-okay,” Tom said, well aware that the watcher was not reading his book anymore. It made him feel so damn sexy, and he licked his lips. “We can try.”
“Safe word?” Cypress asked immediately.
“Calvarium clamp.”
Cypress reignited their kiss with even more passion, his hand palming Tom’s cock through his khakis. He was tugging at the zipper, and Tom couldn’t believe he was going to let him do this, right here, with that guy over there watching.
Somewhere off in the house, Tom could hear a woman screaming. He couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain.
“Good?” Cypress asked breathlessly, bowing his head to suck at Tom’s neck, grazing his teeth over the edge of his jaw.
“Don’t stop,” Tom panted, closing his eyes. There was a naughty thrill knowing the man was watching them, but he couldn’t look at him. He focused on Cypress’s hand pulling out his cock, squeezing him, stroking him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Cypress fucking his cock with one of those little rods, making himself come like that. It was sodirty, and it made Tom’s lust crank up to boiling. He wanted it, he wanted to watch Cypress do it, and fuck, he wanted Cypress to do it to him—
Tom heard the woman screaming again, and he flinched.
He wasn’t in the house anymore. He was back at the Dresser removal, and all he could hear was Mrs. Dresser screaming hysterically, howling in anguish. His heart started to pound erratically, and he tried tapping Cypress’s arm.
His eyes were open, and he could see the other man had started to touch himself while watching them. He didn’t feel sexy now. He only felt sick.
Cypress was down on his knees between Tom’s legs, pushing up his shirt and kissing his stomach as he urged, “Let me suck your cock, and don’t look at anyone else. It’s only me and you.”
Even the wet heat of Cypress’s mouth around Tom’s dick wasn’t enough to distract him from the echoes of screams inside his head. He tried to close his eyes again, and it only made it worse.
“Come on, be a good boy for me,” Cypress said, going back down to suck him harder.
“I can’t,” Tom whined, trying to pull away. “I can’t do this. Cypress… please!”
Cypress didn’t stop, holding Tom’s hips firmly and taking his cock down his throat with a greedy groan. It felt so good, so fucking good, but Tom could feel himself going soft. He tapped Cypress’s shoulder, desperate for all of this to stop. He wanted it to stop, and that damn woman would not quit screaming—
