Falling back onto his bed, I watched him move about the room, shedding the shirt he’d been wearing and unhooking the button above his fly but not parting the flaps at all. He opened his dresser next to his bed and rummaged around the top drawer for something, pulling out a large, clear bottle and a box of condoms—that I hoped to fuck were still full and not already half used.
Before coming back over to me, he turned and headed through another doorway right next to his closet, flicking on the light inside for a moment and then emerging with a small hand towel.
“I have a feeling we’re going to get messy,” he said, smiling.
Yeah, I fucking hoped so.
He tossed the towel and the bottle on the bed next to me and then ripped into the condom box, yanking off one from the sleeve with his teeth, which was the single hottest thing I’d ever seen him do.
Coming back over to me, he pulled the foil wrapper out from between his teeth and tossed it with the other supplies.
“You okay?” he asked.
“You keep doing shit like that and you’re going to make me come before you even touch me.”
Brandon blinked twice and then laughed.
My body grew hot as he slowly lowered himself onto my lap, straddling me. Both of his hands trailed down my chest, teasing the buttons that held my shirt closed. It was such a small gesture, one that shouldn’t be turning me on this badly, but with Brandon in control of all of this and me along for the ride, I couldn’t help the small moan that was pulled from my throat.
“I love that sound,” he mumbled, tugging one of the buttons free.
“I love your hands on me,” I countered back.
“Good thing I can’t stop touching you.”
I swallowed at the admission, so similar to my own.
There was always a bit of an obsession between us, a mutual feeling that we’d pretended was nothing more than the tight bonds of friendship. Looking back on it now, it was wild to believe that I was so naive to pretend that even something as simple as an arm graze wasn’t able to send a shock of pleasure racing through my system.
How I hadn’t seen it until twenty years later, I’d never know.
But at least I had time to make up for all of it
Upon getting the final button undone, Brandon slid my shirt off of my shoulders and tossed it onto the floor where the rest of his pile was.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I didn’t need to think twice about my response. “Of course I do.”
Both of his hands pressed down against my pecs, nudging me back until I was flat against the mattress. He scooted back in my lap until he was truly straddling me, his ass lined up with my crotch that he slowly lowered himself down on top of.
I moaned instantly, the friction and the pressure feeling fucking phenomenal. I’d been so damn starved since leaving him to go to the city, our phone call only holding me over until this very moment.
Brandon rocked against me a few times, sending more spikes of bliss rushing through my bloodstream. “I know you’re going to feel so good,” he murmured. “I can’t wait.”
I’d do anything to please him—to pleasure him. Whatever he asked, it was his.
I held back a whine when he lifted himself off of me and stood, the tent in his pants prominent. He made quick work ofmy fly and helped me slide my pants down my legs and over my feet, tossing them to the side as well.
My cock was so swollen that it looked and felt painful. I was tempted to reach out and touch it to relieve some of the pressure but was beaten to it by Brandon doing it for me instead.
“Look at you,” he whispered. “You thinkI’mpretty...”
“You are,” I shot back, not caring at all how fucking delirious I was probably sounding.
Sure, it wasn’t like I’d had my fair share of experiences with other cocks, but his was perfect. It was shaped nicely, was thick but not too much to hurt if it slipped inside something, and was long enough to impress but not enough to be concerning for the other party having to figure out where the fuck something like that was going to go.
Brandon simply laughed and shook his head, stroking his hand up the length of my cock and squeezing just below the head.
