10. Myles #3
Keeping my eyes on the spot where I saw the moving branch, I undo my jeans and pull the V of my open fly as wide open as I can.
I don’t try to tease him or put on a show as I slide them down over my hips until they’re sitting under my ass.
This isn’t about playing a part and seducing him; it’s about getting off while he watches, and I’ll just end up looking stupid if I try to be something I’m not.
My cock is so hard it aches, and thanks to how it’s pressing up against my stomach, the head is peeking out from the top of my underwear.
My mouth waters as I remember how his taste exploded on my tongue.
I swipe my finger over the tip to collect the bead of precum on it, then press my finger against my tongue so I can taste myself.
The branch in front of me shakes gently.
Is that him telling me he likes what I’m doing?
Curiously, I do it again, but this time I suck on my finger. Even though he can’t hear me, I don’t bother covering up my moan when more of my taste fills my senses.
The branch shakes again.
Pride and something I can’t quite name fill me as more adrenaline pours out into my system. This is so much hotter than I thought it would be, and I haven’t really even started yet.
I keep sucking on my finger and use my other hand to give my length a long, slow stroke. Little tingles of pleasure move through me, and I wrap my tongue around my finger as memories of being forced to suck his dick filter through my mind.
I already know it’s fucked up that the idea of being forced to do anything turns me on as much as it does.
But it wasn’t so much the being forced part that got me so hot.
It was having permission to not fight. I could give in to the moment and enjoy it because he was in charge, and fighting back wasn’t an option.
I didn’t have to think, didn’t have to rationalize what I was doing or why.
I could just give into the moment and let myself enjoy one of my fucked-up fantasies guilt free because he had all the power.
My moan is loud, and I’m sure I’m making the world’s weirdest face, but whatever. He’s probably seen me look even weirder than I do right now, and if not, then hopefully he can focus on my dick and what I’m doing to it.
The branch in front of me wiggles again, and I start stroking myself in earnest. More of that pleasure coils through every part of me, and heat settles low in my belly as I work my dick and gently rock my hips, letting him see just how into this I am.
I want to turn him on. I want to make him hard, and the thought that he might be touching himself at the same time and getting off with me is way hotter than I’ll ever admit to anyone, even myself.
Everything about this situation is fucked up, and it doesn’t escape me that I’m once again the instigator, but I’m too far gone to care. Besides, it’s not like my life is exactly normal right now, so jerking it for my stalker really isn’t the craziest thing I could be doing.
Just to be a tease, and because I need to switch things up before I embarrass myself and come, I let go of my shaft and cup my balls. They’re already high and tight and feel so damn full, and another pulse of that incredible pleasure shoots through me when I roll them gently in my hand.
I’ve had my dick played with before him, but only by girls, and his touch was completely different from what I’m used to.
The girls I’ve been with were a lot like me, awkward and inexperienced, so their touches were soft and hesitant.
I enjoyed it, but even then, it felt like something was missing and it could be so much better.
He was rough and commanding and confident. He didn’t just work me over, he fucking owned me, and I’ve never come harder than I did when he had me pressed against that tree.
The fact that he got me off at all is still a shock.
I went into the game expecting him to do stuff to me, but I assumed he’d just use me to get off and that would be it.
Best case scenario: we’d part ways, and I’d be left with a giant boner that I’d have to take care of myself.
Worst case, I’d realize why some fantasies shouldn’t be acted out, especially not with a stranger who’s stalking you.
My dick pulses in front of me like a divining rod finding water, and I let go of my balls so I can stroke myself again. I’m so turned on I’m leaking like crazy, and I use my thumb to spread the drops of precum that keep welling up from my tip to use as lube.
The memory of his taste and how he held my head as he came down my throat and forced me to swallow it all makes my ass clench around nothing.
I might not have ever had sex with a guy, but I’m pretty sure I’m a bottom.
I’m curious about topping, but it doesn’t get me nearly as excited as the thought of feeling a big, powerful body over or behind me as I get fucked the way I’ve been fantasizing about since I figured out what my dick was for and that it’s possible for two guys to have sex.
I’ve played with toys and plugs, but they just don’t feel right.
They’re too rigid and fake, and having to do all the work myself doesn’t allow me to fully enjoy the moment.
It’s an okay substitute, but now that I know sucking a dick is as incredible as I thought it would be, I only want the real thing.
And not just a real dick attached to a person.
I want it all. The adrenaline and fear of being under the control of a literal stranger, the relief when I realize that I can’t fight even if I want to.
The strange feelings of safety and even protection as he uses me like I’m nothing more than a sex toy, and how having my power taken away by someone who could do anything to me was actually somehow empowering and made me feel more at peace with my kinks than I ever have.
Does he want to fuck me? Or does he only want my mouth?
An image of his cock flashes in my mind’s eye, and I have to let go of my dick so I don’t come. I haven’t seen a lot of dicks in real life, and never a hard one, but his was gorgeous. It feels weird to call a dick that, but that’s exactly what it was.
My ass clenches around nothing again, and my balls draw up even more as I imagine what it would feel like to have him inside me. He’s thick and long, but not freakishly so, and only a tad bigger than my favorite toy. I know he’d fill me so damn good my eyes would roll back in my head.
What would it feel like to have him over me?
To have that big body pin me down? Or maybe he’d tie me up again.
I’ve always been into bondage and figured I’d like it in real life, but the physical reminder that I wasn’t the one in control and he had all the power was almost as hot as being manhandled and used.
My body tightens, and I desperately try to rein in my orgasm. I’m so close, but I don’t want to come yet. I want to keep thinking about all the things he could do to me, all the things I want him to do to me, but I’m powerless to stop my pleasure as it spills out of me, and I come hard.
My cries are loud and strangled, and I’m fucking my fist like a man possessed as I shoot my load all over my floor. When my orgasm finally subsides, I’m left panting and holding my spent cock as reality slowly creeps back into my consciousness.
A shiver rips through me as my heated skin cools, and I let go of my dick so I can scoop my t-shirt off my desk chair and slip it back on. Ignoring the mess on my floor, I tuck myself away and do up my pants.
I should feel embarrassed or at least a little weird about what just happened, but I don’t.
It was hot, and I enjoyed it. Maybe I’ll regret it later, but right now, I’m feeling too good to care as I’m flooded with endorphins from my orgasm and the rush of being reckless and impulsive instead of always playing it safe.
Trying not to smile like a psycho, I walk back up to my dresser and pick up my notebook and the marker.
Did you like that?
The leaves in front of me shake violently.
Still grinning, I write out another message.
Do the things you did in my room mean something?
It’s the only way I can think to ask if he was trying to send me messages with the things he moved around. It won’t tell me why or what they are, but at least I’ll know if trying to figure them out is a waste of time.
The branches shake again.
My curiosity is definitely piqued, and instead of telling him to stay the fuck out of my room and leave me alone, I write out one last message.
Challenge accepted.