I spank myself again and again in rhythm with my movements, bottom tingling, cock aching with need. It does not take long before Kirill tenses, his grip tightening as he cums with a low, controlled groan. I swallow every drop of his hot, thick seed, feeling deliciously filthy and proud at the same time as I feel his salty cum slip down my throat.
“Now jerk that little cock for Daddy right here and now,” Kirill commands, his eyes hungry for more.
I do as I’m told and it’s almost over before it’s started as the sheer thrill and humiliation of jerking myself off in an alley having already sucked and spanked myself in public rises up inside me.
“Fuckkkk,” I groan, my cock exploding with wave after wave of cum as Kirill observes, towering over my like a menacing, incredibly sexy God.
“Keep wanking,” Kirill commands, evidently enjoying the spectacle. “I want every drop out.”
“Yes, sir,” I obey, my head spinning and my mind blank.
When it is over, I sit back on my heels, lips swollen, breathing hard and my butt hot to the touch. Kirill helps me up gently, tucking himself away and straightening my clothes with surprising tenderness.
We slip back inside through the side door like nothing happened, rejoining the thinning crowd at the bar.
No one seems to notice our brief absence.
But we share a secret now. Every time our eyes meet across the small space, heat flares between us. I feel deliciously naughty—still tasting him, bottom warm from my own hand, my dick hard and throbbing under my briefs and chinos once again. I want more. I want him to bend me over the nearest table, to spank me properly, to take me hard and tell me I am his good boy.
Instead, when the crowd thins further, Kirill pulls me aside near the exit.
“You need to go home to your place tonight,” Kirill says firmly, though his thumb brushes my lower lip like he is fighting the same urge. “We will talk more soon. This… cannot happen again tonight.”
I nod, even though every part of me protests.
The Daddy tone in his voice leaves no room for argument, and that only makes me want him more.
“Okay,” I whisper, still feeling that secret thrill. “But… thank you again. For everything.”
He leans down and presses one last, brief kiss to my forehead—gentle, almost protective before stepping back.
“Go home, boy. Rest,” Kirill commands. “And that’s Daddy’s Orders.”
I watch him disappear into the night, heart racing, body still buzzing. My improv show just changed my entire career trajectory, and then I dropped to my knees in an alley and spanked myself while sucking off the most dangerous, commanding man I have ever met.
Talk about an action packed night.
I touch my swollen lips and smile, a secret, naughty little smile that no one else in the bar would understand.
I want more.
So muchmore.
And somehow I know Kirill does too—even if he is trying to be responsible tonight.
I head home with my producer’s card burning a hole in my pocket and the memory of Kirill’s groan still ringing in my ears, feeling more alive than I have in my entire life…
* * *
The walk home from the theater feels like floating. My legs move on autopilot while my mind spins in a thousand dizzying directions at once.
The thrill of the improv performance still buzzes under my skin—the laughs, the energy, the way the audience leaned in during every chaotic scene.
Then there is the producer, Marcus Hale, handing me his card and telling me I have great comedy chops.
I mean… a real sitcom audition.
Me.
