I have my hand around my dick and Blake Logan’s eyes on it. No way this ends well. Figuratively anyway. Jacking off always ends great for me.
Although I know it’s wrong, I can’t look away. She’s too far to make out all those unique little details of her face that haunt my fantasies. Like the stormy gray flecks swimming among the sky-blue. The freckles peppering her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She has freckles on her chest too, scattered across her collarbone and the swells of her breasts. I picture her perfect pink nipples, and the memory of them has me thrusting harder into my hand.
Up on the deck, Blake parts her lips, and now I’m picturing them wrapped around me. She’s standing at the railing, but in my mind, she’s kneeling in front of me, and instead of fucking my hand, I’m fucking her mouth. That sweet little O suctioned tight around the head of my cock.
She watches me, mesmerized. This is wrong on so many levels, but I don’t care. Common sense has fled, replaced by the heat coursing through my veins as all the blood in my body sizzles down to my hard dick.
Lukewarm water from the showerhead streams over my chest and down my body. I fight the urge to speed up, because if I finish now, this moment has to end, and I want her to keep watching. This might be the hottest thing I’ve ever jerked off to, and she’s not even naked.
I bite my lip to stifle a groan, but it slips out anyway. With Blake’s eyes glued to me, I squeeze my swollen head, and precome spills out. My cock is wet and glistening as I thrust into my fist, gliding it up and down my shaft.
Look at it, baby, I silently plead at her.See what you do to me.
I feel it building. The arousal, the impending orgasm. Pulling my balls tight to my body. I’m on the verge of coming, but I’m not ready, so I slow my strokes, careful not to push myself over the edge.
My breathing escapes in shorter gasps now. Head spinning. All I can focus on is the pleasure, which is only intensified by the fact that Blake is witnessing this. My balls ache, and I lock my fist tight around me, forcing my wet cock through my fingers, pretending I’m fucking her mouth, her pussy, anything she lets me.
Screw it.
I need to come.
I want her to see.
I quicken my strokes, and within seconds, I’m shuddering with release, waves of pleasure pulsing through my body until I’m heaving for breath. I shoot everywhere. All over my hand, my abs. Ropes of come spill out of my fist onto the ground. I keep stroking through the mind-blowing climax, squeezing every last drop out, while Blake watches with big eyes.
I’m spent by the time the orgasm ebbs. My dick stays hard, though.He wants to go again. I don’t blame him. That was just a tease.
I suck in a ragged breath and push my hair out of my face before turning to shut off the water. When I turn back, the deck is empty. Blake is gone.
We act like nothing happened.
Maybe not the most mature approach, but it seems to suit both of us. I grill burgers and Blake makes potato salad, and we eat on the deck. And while I clear the table and do the dishes, she stays at the table, reading a book she checked out from the library.
“Any Darlie developments?” I ask after I’m done cleaning up.
She looks up, causing her high ponytail to swing over her shoulder. As usual, I’m dying to take her hair down. Even more so now that I’ve actually touched it. Now that I know how silky it feels between my fingers.
I lied to her this morning. Iwasgoing to kiss her. I was seconds away from kissing her senseless in fact. It was a miracle that I managed to resist the lure, but I’m glad I did. I stayed up all night writing because of that. There’s something to be said for blue balls and bone-deep longing.
Still, I need to stop placing myself in the path of temptation like that. I can’t afford any distractions right now, not when Tobey Dodson is going to be calling me any day to discuss my “new stuff.” So… I need new stuff. I need to write. To concentrate on the music and not the freckle-faced temptress who decided to crash my summer.
Blake and I can be friends. Friendship is safe. No pressure, no expectations, just sharing the occasional meal together, playing badminton—
Jerking off in front of her, mocks an inner voice.
All right. In hindsight, that wasn’t the smartest move of mine. But it was just a little slip. Sometimes friends pull their dicks out and come all over themselves while another friend watches.
Your coping skills are unreal, that voice informs me.
Fucking fine. I crossed a line, just like on Christmas Eve two years ago. But that ends right now. Friendship commenced.
“This isn’t a Darlie book,” Blake says absently, flipping to the next page. “I’m reading about the history of jigsaw puzzles.”
Of course she is.
“Explain?” Grinning, I flop into the chair across from hers and light a cigarette.
Blake shrugs. “I was curious about how puzzles got popular, so I found a book about it. It’s actually supercool.”
