Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Before you begin
The previous chapter got cut off but is now fixed so if you have not read the full version, you’ll want to go back and finish it first!
Well, that was certainly something, John thought. He found himself staring at the front door which Riley had just left through after stopping by for a beer, a face fuck, and thanks to his own inability to avoid anything else, a slightly awkward conversation about his having hooked up with Carrie earlier that day.
You didn’t actually mention that it was earlier today, that annoying little voice that John could never quite seem to silence said in his head. Or that the “one-time thing” was really two times, three if we count by how many times you came.
Just shut up, he thought. He reached into the gym shorts he had put on after his earlier post-coital shower and adjusted his still semi-erect cock. Riley had left without even touching it, having cum in his mouth and then essentially bolted, presumably for whatever happy hour she had been ditching to come see him. Three times in one day is probably enough for anyone, anyway, right? he comforted himself. How often do girls suck their boyfriends off without getting to cum themselves? Happens all the time, I’m sure, hardly anything to be upset about. Still…
He made his way back to the kitchen, cock softening all the while, and retrieved his beer. He downed what was left of it, fetched another from the fridge, and then returned to the living room to zone out in front of the couch some more. The movie he had been only partially processing before Riley’s arrival was still paused around halfway through. He considered that he did not remember the name of the character whose faces was currently taking up the better part of the frozen screen and decided that he would be better off starting something new, so he exited that and began clicking through his options.
Comedies…action…sci-fi…Korean dramas… He found nothing particular piqued his interest. Ooh, erotic thrillers, he thought. He scrolled through the options in that category, unable to distinguish between the various “Affair”s and “Liaison”s, so he opted to stop on the next one that showed a large-chested woman on the poster. Poster? he thought Is that the right term? Cover? It’s not covering anything, but it’s also not really posted anywhere. He pushed his ruminations on semantics in the digital age to one side and pressed the play button without reading the description.
After skipping the opening credits, it took around two minutes before John decided that “thriller” was a bit of a misnomer and so he skipped around until he found what appeared to be a sex scene. He started playback at approximately one minute prior to where he judged the action to begin in order that he might get some rough idea of what the story was, but no luck. All he could gather was that this black haired girl, one with a sadly smaller chest than the one who had appeared on the poster, and this brown-haired fellow were involved somehow.
While the girl was attractive, the camera work was far too tasteful for his liking, with her tits mostly being hidden and only approximately two seconds of her bare ass at all. He became annoyed and shut it off once the scene had finished. What I really need is to hook up the laptop to the tv, like Riley did. But she’s not here and I have no idea how she accomplished that.
He looked outside and noted that it had grown dark while he’d been watching nothing in particular. He decided that he would try inserting the cord she had used and seeing if that would work, so he went upstairs, found his laptop and what he believed was the correct cord, and began the process of seeing which bits went where. To his pleasant surprise, technology worked out for him and with only a little fiddling, he had managed to get the tv to display the same thing as the laptop’s screen. Wonders never cease, he thought.
Now the real conundrum, he thought to himself, what to jerk off to? He opened his trusty stash and started with the trans folder. He scrolled through his options Asian ladyboy takes white cock, Latina tgirl takes bbc, ladyboy threesome, big dick girl dominates twink… He found himself remembering something Riley had said the previous Sunday, which they had spent much of fucking while porn played erzurum escort in the background. Something about identifying with the performers. He himself was hardly a twink, but he was also certainly not a trans woman. He wondered how closely one had to identify with the performers for it to be sufficient, then pushed the thought aside and brought up the video.
It had some semblance of a plot to it, the twink taking the part of a peeping tom of some sort. Out of sheer habit, John had fast-forwarded until he saw something that looked interesting, which in this case was the guy unveiling his cock as he watched the girl through partially opened bedroom door. Perhaps the guy was a step-brother or something? He was not willing to rewind to find out, but John had evidently missed more than just the set-up, as the girl had at some point already pulled out her own meaty cock and was stroking it, clad in only a bra, on the bed as the peeping tom watched.
John remembered how wonderful Riley’s cock had been in his mouth earlier, how thick and heavy it felt on his tongue. On screen, the girl seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit, teasing her asshole with one hand while she worked that fat cock with the other. John slid his shorts off and started working his own dick in time.
The guy on screen worked his own cock hungrily. He was, to John, not wholly unattractive, and John envisioned himself in the scene not as this guy, but rather as being with this guy, both of them jerking off while watching the beautiful girl do the same. Strange that there aren’t more scenes like that, he thought.
The scene came to its inevitable next step, the discovery of the peeping tom. Some almost charmingly badly delivered dialogue followed, and the guy was, of course, made to suck the girl off. She toyed with his ass while he sucked her, licking up the shaft. John was even pleased to see that the cameraman put at least some focus on the guy’s asshole while she fingered it, though the camera tended to linger far more lovingly on her cock. This was, of course, understandable, but in his mind’s eye, John was preparing to fuck the twink’s ass so he hoped for more of it.
Imagine sharing a guy with Riley like that, he thought. His hard cock in his hand, John suddenly had an idea. He located the phone in the shorts he’d taken off and, while continuing to massage his dick, managed to bring up his conversation with Riley and found the picture sending functionality.
It never looks as big in the picture as I hope it will, he thought as he lined up the shot. But that’s probably just some psychological thing. He vaguely remembered reading something once about the angles at which people see a dick from having some effect on their perception of the size. He brushed these thoughts aside and snapped a picture which he judged to be decent.
He sent the picture, put the phone down next to him, and turned his attention back to what was going on on screen. The guy was still sucking the girl off, but they had switched positions: he was now lying face up, his head hanging off the edge of the bed while the girl stood on the floor, fucking his face. John appreciated the camera work; the angle gave a nice view of the girl’s butthole as she moved her hips, the guy gagging on her hefty rod.
The sound of a rough face fuck were interrupted by that of a notification from his phone, so, with one hand he checked what it was.
dont send me dick pics
The words felt like a punch in the gut. He flicked his eyes back to the television, watched blankly a few more seconds of oral sex, then read the text again. While he was still processing it, another text came in from her.
sorry just somebody might see
Fair enough, he thought. He was about to reply as much when another text came in, then another.
work people
nice dick though
sorry I left you hanging
make it up to you next time
Very reasonable, he told himself, though it had little effect, and may have even made him feel worse, leaving him questioning if he was just an idiot. Of course I should not have sent her an unsolicited pic. Something’s wrong with me, probably. It was hardly the worst rejection of a sexual esat escort advance he’d ever made in his life but it still didn’t feel great. He texted back:
sorry
excited for next time that was one of the good things about gay porn. There was never these thoughts that at least some of the performers were not attracted to some of the other ones.
The guys had jammed their cocks back into her and the camera moved around to various positions, showcasing how roughly they were abusing her holes. John felt that he could probably cum at any time at this point if he wanted, but, with little else to do for the evening, he simply enjoyed the show.
As the guys once again showed off the Asian girl’s increasingly stretched asshole, now leaking precum for the zoomed-in camera, John thought back to how tight Carrie’s ass had been. It had been incredible; she had gone from a girl who refused to let him touch her ass to one who was fingering it herself before tasting it in the span of a few hours. Next time she probably won’t even bother with her pussy at all, at this rate.
There’s not going to be a next time, he quickly reminded himself. It was just a dumb hookup, remember? Still, it was hard not to think of, especially given the scene playing out before him.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed with another text. He picked it up, almost annoyed with himself for being so anxious to hear from Riley.
It was Carrie. forgot my shit, sorry
Come get it whenever, he replied.
Somewhere deep down, or not so deep down, you are hoping for a repeat performance, the annoying little voice in his head told him.
Shut up, he thought at himself. I could not possibly have replied more casually.
Sure, the voice replied.
John looked at the screen and, suddenly no longer in the mood, shut off the scene. He disconnected the laptop, put a dependably distracting playlist on his phone and went to work out.
…
The bell rang and John found himself gripping tightly the schedule in his hand just to keep from losing it among all the students hustling to their classes, moving and pushing in a directionless mass, indistinct faces blending together as they passed in what seemed somehow to be both an instant and an unending ordeal.
Without even glancing at the schedule, he knew where he needed to be: Gender and Power in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. But, for the life of him, he could not remember where this class was. He looked around to see the locker-lined hallways, now empty save for himself, as if doing so would jog his memory. It was not here. It was not this floor. The only thing to do was to take the stairs.
The stairs went up and back, up and back. He passed the second floor. This was not the correct floor. The stairs went up and back and up and back and up and back. He looked down the hallway of what seemed to him to be the 11th floor, though it was unmarked as such. The classroom doors were all closed tightly, the hum of fluorescent lights the only indication of any activity. This was not correct, but there were no more floors. The stairwell ended one half-flight above his current position, the stairs leading to a sort of platform with no evident purpose other than to hold a vacant desk, its own purpose lost on him and presumably whoever had placed it there ages ago.
The lockers on this floor were red, which he took to be a good sign; the first floor had had blue lockers and it seemed that the intervening floors had ranged over the spectrum between there and here. The basement had contained the purple lockers, he reminded himself. He approached the first door, and, sensing it to be correct, found his way inside.
“Welcome back,” E said. She was seated at the teacher’s desk at the front of the class, wearing a three-piece suit. Her hair was grown out on one side and shaved on the other. John was surprised to find how well she had matched the red hair dye on the grown-out side with her tie. She got to her feet and walked around the desk.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. He looked for his seat but they were all occupied by people he did not recognize, who were all staring out the window at something.
“Why don’t you join us.”
He approached the window, and he esenler escort found his eyes unable to adjust rapidly enough to the increasing intensity of the light. He placed his hands on the window sill and gazed down to the world below. The otherwise brown and featureless landscape, indistinct from this height, was dominated by a long, black, winding highway. He traced it with his eyes for what seemed like hours, unable to reach the horizon.
“It’s too fucking hot,” Carrie said from the passenger seat. He turned his eyes from the road, leaving one hand lazily guiding the steering wheel, knowing that they were unlikely to run into any traffic, and placed the other on her leg, which she had stretched across the armrest. Her skin was cool against his. She jerked her leg away from him, sitting up straight in the passenger seat.
She shimmied out of her cutoff jean shorts, pushing them down to the floor and releasing her cock. “That’s better,” she said. It was thick and floppy and uncut and John could almost taste it. “Pull over here,” she said.
John stopped the car and got out. He walked around the car, noting to himself that they would never get to Tucson at this rate. Carrie was already on her way to the diner; she seemed to have gotten a head start and was now too far ahead to catch her before she disappeared inside.
John took a seat in the corner booth Carrie had taken, though she had gone to the restroom at some point before he entered. He looked at the selection of pies available and tried to suss out whether there were any chocolate ones. Carried loved chocolate almost as much as she loved cum in her mouth.
“Is this your table?” the waitress asked. She was dressed smartly, more like an executive than a waitress and John got the impression that she was something of a big deal in these parts.
“I’m just waiting for my date,” John explained.
“I can help you with that,” Madison said. She sat across from him. She was as pretty as ever, stripping out of her business clothes. “This place is less than ideal,” she said, having stripped down to everything but her panties, the pink of which John could not see below the table, “but it’ll do. At least we’re not in school, right?”
She seemed unfazed by being topless in public, though this did not surprise him too much, as the diner was empty except for a handful of students who were too enthralled with their homework to pay any attention. She slipped under the table. “Just a blowjob for now,” she said, her voice surprisingly clear despite her position, “but you can have my butt later if you want.”
He felt her lips wrap around his cock and her fingertips begin to tickle his balls, but he couldn’t see under the table.
“It’s not so bad being a side piece,” Carrie said from across the table. Her sunglasses made it difficult to read her expression. They were big and pink and gaudy and John had bought them for her years ago. “Did you want anything besides a drink?”
John’s eyes snapped open the moment the alarm went off, or at least that is how he perceived it. “What a weird fucking dream,” he said out loud to nobody in particular. He smacked the alarm until it shut off, rubbed his eyes, and tried to remember what had happened before Carrie’s question.
Already the details were fading, leaving mostly the impression of a dry heat, but he had to concede that this could have just been his brain trying to fit the morning sun pouring into his bedroom window into the half-remembered context of the dream. He found himself looking down at the bed, thinking about how if he’d had this dream six months ago he would have been sitting in this same position, wondering whether or not to tell Carrie about it over breakfast. She had always liked hearing about her occasional appearances in his dreams, but something told him she would have appreciated his receiving a blowjob from an ex. Doesn’t matter now, he thought. He rose and began his morning routine.
…
The wonderful thing about starting a new consulting job on a Friday is that the people he was working for were rarely in the mood for starting any new thing, such as dealing with a new consultant, and were usually content to point him towards an open desk and ignore him until the imminent weekend. This job proved to be no exception, as a friendly but harried middle aged woman showed him where he would be working, informed him that he should get oriented and that they would probably get a more formal meeting set up the following week before disappearing into a maze of cubicles. He was not holding his breath waiting for that meeting to ever materialize.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
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