“Suit yourself.” I shrug and shove my sleep pants down.
Yes, I’m hard already. No need to work up to it, because the idea of Easton watching me touch myself has me shamefully aroused. This started off as me messing with him, but as I feelhis heated gaze on me, as I squirt some lube on my hand and settle back against my pillows, I know I don't plan on stopping.
Not until my balls are drained of cum.
Something Easton doesn’t seem to understand with me is that I’m not a shy person, I don’t back down from a challenge, and I have no shame.
Well, a little shame. I feel slightly ashamed for all the dirty thoughts that were racing through my mind when another man was pleasuring me, and I was wishing it were Easton.
I’d like to blame it on the alcohol, but I’m very sober right now. So there’s no excuse for why I’m wrapping my hand around my shaft and giving it a tug.
I can’t help the moan of pleasure that slips free.
My breathing picks up as my eyes search for Easton. Once they land on him, they stay locked on his gaze.
He stares at me, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched.
I smirk, giving myself another stroke from root to tip, giving the head of my cock a squeeze as I widen my legs and reach down, cradling my balls in my other hand.
“You know what?” he growls, scooting until he’s lying back against his own pillow. “You wanna play this game? I can play, too.”
My lips part in shock as he shoves his boxers down. His thick cock springs free, slapping his stomach.
Holy fuck, he’s hard. Hell, I think he’s harder than me.
Does he like this? Is this turning him on?
For someone who isn’t into men, watching one jerk off seems to get him hard.
The sight has my cock twitching in my grasp, my balls throbbing.
This is a bad idea, a very, very bad idea. Yet, I don’t have it in me to give a shit, because it’s also one of the hottest things to happen to me.
This little fucked up game of gay chicken is going farther than I thought it would. He’s not backing down, and neither am I.
Eyes on mine, Easton spits on his hand and then wraps it around his shaft.
I can’t help the groan that slips free as I pick up my pace. His stubborn gaze is locked on mine as we both start to jerk off.
My body is humming, like little bursts of electricity in my veins with every stroke.
My head becomes fuzzy, my balls throbbing, my cock so damn sensitive. I’m close already, but fuck, why do I not want this to end yet?
I can’t cum, not until he does. Whatever game we’re playing, I’m in it to win.
The sounds of Easton’s grunts, his breathy groans, are fuel to the fire. I haven’t been this turned on in a very long time.
It’s so damn hot, so fucked up. God, what the hell are we doing?
The sounds of our heavy breathing fill the room. My hand moves faster, and so does his. I tug at my balls, and then he’s reaching down and doing the same.
Holy fucking hell. This is pure porn. The best damn erotic thing to ever happen to me.
I’m having a fucking jerk off contest with my ex-best friend. How the hell did this become my life?
“For someone who doesn’t like guys, you sure seem to be enjoying yourself.” I groan, my orgasm rising with every stroke.
He likes this. He’s turned on by this. I’m not sure what's going on, what this means, but no straight man would enjoy this as much as he is.
