He reaches for the lube again. This time, he applies it to his hole as he climbs on top of me, then guides my cock slowly inside of him as he rests his right hand on my abs.
His hips work up a rhythm, riding my cock like a bucking bronco. I moan through the sock in pleasure as he removes his hand from my abs and starts to choke his own cock. I feel myself starting to get close again.
“You want to be punished?” he asks and I nod in agreement.
I want to unload myself inside of him. To unload together. His hip movements become faster, more feral, and I can tell he is getting close. His ass pounds at a pace that’s both merciless and intense.
Just as I get close to climaxing, Alexander jumps off, pulls out the sock, and shoves his cock inside my mouth. His hips snap once, twice, and then his load explodes into the back of my throat, thicker and creamier than I’ve ever tasted.
He puts his hands on the wall above me as my head bangs against the wooden headboard and his load keeps coming, one burst after another.
When he finally stops, he collapses beside me.
My cock still stands upright, waiting for release.
“Damn, that was hot,” he whispers in my ear, grabbing the sock and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
I don’t know how to respond, so I lay there, still cuffed, and say nothing.
17.Alexander
Tuesday
Asolitary cream-filled, sugar-glazed donut, plucked out of the twelve-pack of Dunkin Donuts I found in my trailer this morning, demands my attention. A note left on top from Alfonso reads,It’s been a pleasure working with you on this film. I’m not sure I would call this experience pleasurable for anyone, but I’ll take the donuts.
If it wasn’t for the rest of my team getting their greasy hands on the box, I’d have demolished them all. I’d hoped the sugary sweetness would remove the bitter taste that lingers in my mouth.
Christopher’s distance over the last fifteen hours is the root cause.
I thought we’d gotten closer after Sunday night’s heart-to-heart, but after we’d had sex last night, he made his excuses and headed back to his room. I’d initially written off his aloofness to his tiredness and being busy with work. But now it seems like sheer avoidance.
He even chose to stay at the hotel today rather than joining me on set for the film’s wrap celebration. And he only agreed to fly on the private jet I’ve got for traveling to New York later,rather than going commercial, after I told him there were no middle seats. I’ve added all of this to the long list of things I need to discuss with Lee, who is presently staring back at me from my laptop in my first post-rehab therapy session.
“You know what they say about falling off a horse.” Her tone is cautious but cheerful.
“You’ve got to jump straight back on,” I say, unable to fight back a yawn.
I reach for my third iced coffee of the day, sitting next to the laptop, which has done little to keep me awake. Maybe Rob’s getting me decaf now?
“What’s the part that scares you the most?” The corners of her eyes crinkle, studying me with all the intensity of a detective holding a magnifying glass. I don’t know what she’s seeing, having chosen to hide my self-view on Zoom.
Let’s see.
Returning to New York, aka the scene of the crime.
Fucking up on live TV again.
Pushing my father even further away.
Losing Christopher again.
The list gets longer with every passing day.
“It’s the fear that something bad will happen again. That I’ll fuck everything up.”
Like I always do.
I scratch my beard and wipe the sugar-glaze stain from my black jeans.
