I liked that he wanted me to come back and that he didn’t seem to count it toward his obligatory dates. We were just two men hanging out. Two new friends having lunch. Nothing more.
Definitely not.
NINE
REX
It wasimpossible for me to concentrate if I thought about Perry, so I didn’t let myself go there. Not until the end of the day, after all the animals had been taken care of. Not until I was home and in the shower, sitting on the bench under the spray, letting the hot water soak the weariness out of my bones.
And then he was all I could think about. How had his day gone? Was it still going? What did he look like when he came? How did he move when he had sex? Was he as graceful as his lithe frame would have me believe, or did he turn into a powerhouse?
Perry wasn’t my boyfriend. He was just a guy doing me a favor, but if he was my boyfriend, I’d demand details. When he got home, I’d want to hear everything. Every touch. Every kiss. Every desperate sound. I’d want to know if he was satisfied, or if there were any itches left unscratched.
I understood on some level why people got possessive about their partners. They wanted loyalty. Faithfulness. They wantedsomeone to be their one and only. They wanted to feel like the most important person in someone’s life.
I was of the mind that you could be all those things, and yet not be completely monogamous. Someone could be just as loyal and faithful and devoted, even if they had sex with other people. Loyalty was defined by the people in the relationship. And personally, it didn’t bother me to be with someone who might have sex with other people but still chose me at the end of the day.
It was the choosing me part that I loved the best. Knowing that someone could have, and did have, experiences with other people and then came home to me. Maybe they’d curl up into my side and tell me all about it. Maybe they’d pin me down and kiss me senseless. But either way, they were there, choosing me.
All day I hadn’t let myself think about him, and now I couldn’t stop. My cock throbbed, neglected and needy. For a brief moment, I thought about not touching myself. Like it would cross some kind of boundary that neither of us had set. But the ache inside me wouldn’t be denied and without thought to what I was doing, my hands slid up my thighs.
Of their own volition, my legs spread wider, giving me room to cup my balls. The first touch had me leaning my head back and resting it against the tile. I kept my eyes closed as I took my dick in hand. It was already rock solid. Desperate for release.
If I’d have allowed it, it could’ve been over in a matter of seconds, but I didn’t want it to be quick and dirty. It had been entirely too long since I’d put any thought behind an orgasm. Usually I jerked in the shower, like I was doing now, but it was a quick thing. Something to relieve the pressure. I didn’t exactly get out much, and I’d grown tired of wading in the dating pool.
It wasn’t as though this orgasm was going to mean something, or that I wanted it to, but I knew that something quick wasn’t going to scratch the itch that built under my skin.
I killed the shower and toweled off. My cock didn’t even think of going down. If anything, it got harder. Redder. Angrier. Wetter, as a bead of precum leaked from the tip and ran down my shaft.
I put my towel down on the bed and rifled through my nightstand drawer until I found my favorite toy. It was a cock, a bit longer than you’d find on a man, but not any wider. I covered it in lube and stuck it to my headboard with a thud, attaching the suction cup to the smooth surface.
On my hands and knees, I reached behind me and teased my hole, making sure to get it nice and slick before sliding a finger in. The stretch wasn’t enough to burn, but it was close. It had been a while since I’d had sex with another man, and just about as long since I bothered with anything more than a perfunctory tug in the shower or before bed.
Two fingers made me hiss even though I was shamefully close to coming already. Bottoming was one of my favorite things to do in the bedroom. I wasn’t an exclusive bottom, and it wasn’t like I preferred it over anything else. But when I did bottom, it lit me up inside in ways that other things didn’t. It made me feel connected to someone, to let them in like this. Even if they were a stranger ten minutes before they slid inside me, the feeling of having someone like that, of letting them in, of feeling their breath on my neck and their arms around me, it did something for my soul that couldn’t be replicated in other ways.
The fake dick sliding into my hole didn’t whisper sweet nothings in my ear. It didn’t reach around and stroke my dick, or kiss my neck, or do anything except fill me, and for today that was enough. In this moment, with Perry on my mind, it was enough to think of him while I impaled myself on a fake cock, moaning through the stretch and burn of the initial intrusion. Part of me wondered if I shouldn’t have brought out the toy. Maybe I could have asked Perry to fuck me, to add another layerto the whole fake boyfriend experience. I’d have told him not to prep me and just let him slide inside, inch by torturous inch, until I was stuffed full of him.
I could only imagine the things he’d say to me as his fingers would dig into my skin leaving bruises in the shape of his grip that readPerry was here.
Alone in my room, my moans went unanswered. Both hands were planted onto the mattress, and I rocked back and forth, fucking myself on that fake dick, wishing it were Perry behind me.
But Perry wasn’t here. Perry was probably still at work. For all I knew, he was fucking or getting fucked at that very moment, and the agony of ecstasy tore through me, ripping an orgasm out of me as I thought about Perry, splayed out, fucked out, filled with someone else’s cum. Or maybe he wore it like a necklace.
Untouched, my cock throbbed as I came, my body wildly rocking back and forth, riding a rush of endorphins that flooded my brain. Cum shot out of me, the towel catching most of it and when I thought it was done, that there was nothing left in the tank, I reached down and grabbed my cock and jerked it. The first touch made me suck in a sharp breath because I was oversensitive from my orgasm, but that’s when I liked it the best.
The first orgasm was all pleasure. Soft and sweet and easy to achieve. The second orgasm, though, didn’t come without a bit of discomfort. The bite of not-quite-pain as I jerked my already spent cock. I shifted position, angling my body to let the cock hit my prostate better as I continued to stroke my cock.
God, it almost hurt. It was hard to keep touching myself in some moments. My brain told me that I should let go of my cock, but my body burned for the touch. It overrode everything else. The noise in my head, the battle to keep toying with my dick while my brain screamed at me to stop, even as instinct had me riding that cock harder and faster, drowned out everything else.
When my head was blissfully empty, I came again. My balls even managed to give me another sad spurt of cum as if to celebrate some kind of victory. I released my dick, my brain finally winning that war, and I eased off the cock on my headboard. Collapsing to the side of the towel, I lay there unmoving.
For a while, I just breathed. My head was empty. No thoughts. Nothing bothered me for the first few minutes after a release like that. I didn’t have the energy for anything beyond the basic functions of life. A heart that thrashed in my chest like a wild thing trying to be tame. A set of lungs that tried to steady the flow of air again. A body that was limp and sated and wholly uninterested in moving.
Sleep took me without me realizing it at first. But I woke sometime later, sprawled out on my bed with a slight ache in my ass. For a split second before my brain came online fully, I wondered if I’d been railed by a ghost while I slept. And then I groaned, remembering the dildo stuck to the headboard, the cum-covered towel that I’d fallen asleep next to, and the way I’d dragged two orgasms out of myself, all while wishing it were Perry inside me.
I buried my face in the bed and let out a frustrated groan. Post-nut clarity was a bitch.
I liked Perry. Both as a friend and maybe something more. But how could I even think of asking out my fake boyfriend in a real way? What if it didn’t work? Then I’d still be alone for that godforsaken wedding. Besides, even if Perry and I remained strictly friends, I liked being around him. Friends in my life were an increasingly rare commodity. It wouldn’t hurt to keep him as a friend.
