I could tell he was nearing an explosive climax by the way the skin of his collarbone flushed red and the vein that bulged from the side of his throat. Something was stirring inside me too. I'd never shot my load this way, not touching myself, just the rubbing sensation of my skin against skin. It was a new and almost foreign sensation, but the impending release was familiar as I felt it racing to the surface from behind my balls and rising toward my shaft.
Then we both screamed out as we shot our loads together. Burning hot cum burst from my cock as I felt the head of his cock swell and explode, filling me up. He wore a look of surprise on his face as my semen splashed against his hairy stomach. I could tell he didn't know I was about to come.
He pulled out of me and released my legs from his shoulders. His cock was still dripping with his creamy pearl-tinted release.
"Lick me clean," he demanded.
He pushed his wet crotch in my face, smelling of sweat and sex. I rolled my tongue along the head, sucking the remaining cum out of his slit like a straw. He shuddered, obviously feeling a little hypersensitive post-orgasm. I knew how sensitive my cock was after I came, so I could imagine how his felt.
But he persisted, pushing himself past my lips and filling my mouth. I licked up and down and around his shaft. Then I licked under the carriage and around his heavy balls before making my way up his treasure trail of dark hair to clean off the load I'd shot on him.
My cum was thick and gooey, already beginning to dry in the fibers. But I licked him thoroughly clean, all around his tight stomach, then I twirled the tip of my tongue around his belly button. He let out an involuntary giggle, showing me a softer side to the stone-cold façade. But he cleared his throat and the mask drew over his face again. All business. No fun.
"That's good enough." He pushed me off him, looking away, and got out of bed to collect his robe.
"Why don't we take a shower?" I offered. "We can give ourselves some time to recover and then go for a second round."
"I don't think so." His tone was harsh, his words were clipped again.
"Okay," I said softly, getting out of bed on the opposite side so we wouldn't cross paths. After I slid on my shorts and collected a towel, I headed for the door. "I guess I'll be going then."
His back was turned to me when he said, "Same time tomorrow night?"
I broke into a wide smile, though he refused to turn around to witness it. "Yeah, absolutely."
"Just come here to the room," he said.
"If I may offer some advice..."
"What is it?"
"You should come without that weird goon. He draws a lot of attention. And don't wear those wigs and sunglasses."
"How do I avoid being recognized?" His voice was gentler. He seemed to appreciate that I was taking his secret seriously.
"Wear a pair of thick black-rimmed eyeglasses. Those will alter your appearance quite a bit. It seems to work for Superman, anyway. And maybe a fake mustache, but get a good, quality one from the studio."
He turned around and opened his mouth, presumably to once again claim he wasn't who he was and say he didn't work at a studio. But he seemed to think better of it, tightened his mouth, and just nodded.
"Have a nice evening," I said with a newly found optimism. And though I may have imagined it, I could swear I caught a glimpse of a smile forming at his lips.
"Night," he said plainly.
