“Get the fuck off me, what are you doing!?” I snarled, but my protests died in my surgical mask as his massive, rough hand slid down the front of my boxers. I let out a strangled whine as he pulled my stiff cock out under the table.
“Fuck.” He hissed into my ear. Cal wrapped his fingers around me, causing my hips to jerk at the contact. “So hard for me, ginger snap.” He growled as he ran his thumb over my crown. To my horror and humiliation, a bead of pre-cumsmeared beneath his touch, and I thrashed again, feeling my hair tear slightly at the follicles beneath his punishing grip.
“Stop,” I groaned as he leisurely pumped his hand up and down my throbbing erection. He didn’t listen. Instead, he ground his hips into my ass and continued to stroke me beneath the table.
“All you’re doing is proving me right! I can’t trust you not to turn on me!” I snapped, though my hips were suddenly rocking of their own accord, and I was panting.
His hand felt sofuckinggood, and a deep, burning need began to tingle at the base of my spine.
I yelped as he closed his hot mouth around my earlobe. He sucked while simultaneously squeezing and twisting my dick in his hand.
His breath sent a shiver of gooseflesh through my entire body as he exhaled against my ear.
“Just because I won’t kill you doesn’t mean I won’t punish you, Ryan,” he rumbled, and I could only whimper in response. I had lost all sense and was now shamelessly thrusting into his hand.
“Please,” I begged, and he nipped my lobe again, causing me to let out an embarrassingly desperate moan. When was the last time I had come? I couldn’t even fucking remember. Was it supposed to feel this good? It didn’t feel this good when it was my own hand… The few times I had stuffed my dick in some girl, it hadn’t even felt this good…
What was wrong with me?
“Please, what? Let you go? Let you come? Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“I’m not your baby!” I snarled. “I’m fucking straight, get the fuck off of me!” The unexpected pet name snapped me out of my temporary lapse of insanity, and I struggled to get away from him again.
He squeezed my dick hard enough that it hurt and slammed my head harder into the prep table.
The table scraped against the floor with the force of his administration, and I winced as the legs thudded into the dead man who had fallen to the ground on the other side.
“Straight, hmm? Me too,” he growled into my ear as he increased the pace of his strokes. My traitorous balls zipped up, and he gently ran his fingers over them, his lips curling against my ear in satisfaction.
I thrashed again, losing more hair to his punishing grip as he cupped my balls and danced his fingers deeper under my hips until he was stroking my asshole.
“No, stop… Don’t touch me there,” I groaned, trying to jerk away from his wandering fingers. He didn’t penetrate me, but why was I pressing back into him like I wanted him to?
“I’m so fucking straight, Ryan. I can’t wait to fuck your tight little pussy.”
An alarming thrill rushed through me. Was it fear?Excitement?Apprehension? My cock leaked at his filthy words, and he pulled his hand out of my boxers. He held his palm up to where my face was pressed against the table.
“Spit in my hand,” he ordered. I tried to shake my head, but he snarled. “That wasn’t a request, Ryan. Spit in my fucking hand, or I’ll spit in your perfect mouth.”
Unable to stop myself from moaning again, my cock throbbed and dripped under the table. I could barely think as Cal ground his own rock-hard dick into my ass.
Closing my eyes, I did as he said, spitting into his palm and getting it wet with my saliva. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or enraged when he wrapped his now slick hand back around me.
He stroked me firmly, his soaked palm gliding smoothly up and down my shaft. My whole body tensed up as I felt my orgasm start to grow at the base of my cock.
My breathing sped up, and I was suddenly panting again.
“That’s it, straight boy. Come for me.”
“No. Fuck you!” I spat, and he chuckled.
“You’re going to come, Ryan; there’s no point in fighting it. You’re going to shoot your load all over that bitch’s corpse, then you’re going to clean it up like the good boy I know you are.”
He was everywhere, all around me. His minty breath was tickling my skin, his hard chest pressed into my back. His hands were in my hair and on my cock. Everything about the way he held me down screamed dominance and ownership.
My whole body was on fire, and I seemed to have lost my ability to form a coherent thought. He was right about one thing; there was no use in fighting it. My body was literally spasming beneath him, but no matter how hard I struggled, he kept up that same relentlessly methodical rhythm,
Up and down, up and down, up and down.
