Chapter 3
MARK
Tim leans on the wall across the hallway, his arms folded like they were when he leaned up against the column in the basement of the house party. He has a smirk spread across his face.
I wonder if he thinks I was his victim. Doesn’t realize that he was really my victim. What I needed to push through my shitty breakup.
I’ve seen Tim around campus a few times since that night—even saw him dealing in the hall before I came to this class—but neither of us has made eye contact with the other. I’m curious if he’s told any of his buddies. Although, if he has, I haven’t heard about it.
And I’m not telling a soul.
I’m not ashamed of what we did. I needed it. It freed me in a way I’ve never felt before, and just seeing him outside the classroom makes me want to have a taste of that experience again. The look in his eyes seems to suggest he wouldn’t mind doing the same thing.
I glance around, worried someone else will catch on to what I’m so interested in.
Everyone is paying too much attention to Mrs. Belter’s lesson to notice.
I turn back to Tim, and he’s gone.
Disappointment rises within me.
But why? It’s not like I can just run out of class and hook up with him again.
Doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about it, though.
As Mrs. Belter drags out her lecture, I grow increasingly agitated.
I want to find Tim. Talk to him.
That’s a dumb idea. I know what everyone would think if they saw me with him, but I have this aching hunger for him—a hunger he left me with after the hot sex in the basement of that party.
And there must be hope that it could happen again considering he was just standing outside the room, looking as interested as ever.
One more time is all I need, but will that be enough? It was so explosive…so electric I figure I would need a thousand more fucks to feel satisfied. But the idea of having a chance to etch the experience in my mind for as long as possible gives me some hope.
When Mrs. Belter finishes talking and sits at her desk, giving us some time to read from our textbooks, I ask to be excused.
As I step into the hall, I check either way. I’m filled with hope and curiosity.
No sign of Tim.
The bathroom door on the other side of the hallway opens, and he steps out, tilting his head back as he runs a hand through his bangs.
He’s wearing his usual leather jacket, open to reveal the white tee beneath it.
He curls his thumb into the strap of his backpack, the only thing that makes him look like he belongs on campus.
He notices me and smirks like I’ve assured him he’s captured me under his spell.
I think about Keith, who he fucked around with last spring and well into the summer.
They hooked up occasionally, doing all sorts of nasty shit that Keith had never experienced before, and as much as Keith wanted to believe he could hit it and quit it, when Tim moved on, he was devastated.
And I was there to help him pick up the pieces—same as he’s doing for me since I found out what my ex was up to.
Am I making the same mistake as Keith?
No. I’m immune to thinking anything more could ever come of fucking around with Tim, but that’s what Keith thought too.
Although, a masochistic part of me doesn’t care if he tries to hurt me.
Because he can’t. But even if he could, I kind of deserve to be punished after what an idiot I was with Greg.
“Hey,” I mutter. I’m not sure why I’m so quiet about it. I was hardly nervous the night we hooked up. Perhaps subconsciously I worry about someone hearing me talking to him and getting word back to my parents.
He approaches me, sauntering across the hall like he belongs here, even though with one notice to security I could get him kicked off campus.
“Hey,” he replies, glancing up and down at me. His expression reveals his interest, letting me know his intentions the way it did that night at the party. It was what jolted my awareness of exactly what I wanted to do with him that night.
He looks back at the bathroom, and even though I know what he’s suggesting, I don’t like that it’s his idea. I want to have a say in this, perhaps because I want to convince myself I’m not totally under the spell of the hot lust he stirs within me.
I head down the hall to the stairwell at the end.
He follows me through the entryway, and I close the dual doors.
They click shut, and I turn to him. I can tell by his expression he’s impressed, and I’m pleased to know I can surprise him, but terrified at the same time.
“I don’t think you can handle all this,” he says, his gaze challenging me.
Maybe he’s right. But we have a good thirty minutes before the next class change, and this stairwell is so infrequently used that I’m not too concerned about anyone discovering us. Of course, knowing my luck, some random person will use this route to get to their next class early.
I won’t give myself a chance to chicken out, though.
“Try me,” I say, making a bold move toward him.
We kiss, and there’s that same electricity I felt the other night.
God, his lips are so soft.
I enjoy the minty taste of his mouth and the warmth of his breath across my face as we part briefly.
He shoves me back against the wall, pulls away, and says, “You’re a dirty little shit, aren’t you?”
My hands are already on his belt as I unfasten it before yanking his pants and boxer briefs down. I squat until I’m face-to-face with his fully erect cock. I open my mouth and take it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says.
I pull his dick out of my mouth and position my hands on his hips. I guide him around me, shifting on my knees. I push him back against the wall and slide his cock in my mouth again as he runs his hand through my hair, petting me like I’m a fucking dog.
Like I’m his next Keith.
I feel like I deserve to be humiliated a little bit. Like I’m hurting myself for how I let Greg and my best friend Morgan dupe me. I despise that while they were hooking up, they were thinking of me as this dumb fuck they could trick into believing anything.
Tim must know that’s how I feel and why I’m so reckless about us.
He runs in the same circles I do. Has heard the same stories as everyone else.
When the governor’s kid has issues, everyone hears about it.
Something I’ve had to get used to since I started high school and Mom first took office as a congresswoman.
I continue blowing Tim, working harder to please him than I ever did to please Greg.
He clutches onto my hair and pulls, but just enough to let me know he’s in charge.
I shove his cock deep, to the back of my throat as I work to impress not just him, but myself.
“Shit, shit,” he says.
I fight against his hold, moving my face away from his crotch.
His dick falls from my mouth.
“You got a condom on you?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“Give it to me.”
He removes his bookbag, sets it on the floor, and retrieves a condom and lube from his back pocket. Ripping off the edges of both with his teeth like he did that first time, he spits them out and hands the condom and lube to me.
I pull the condom out of the wrapper and place it in my mouth, positioning it with my tongue between my teeth before going back down on him, rolling it onto his dick as I do.
Then I suck the lube from the packet, wetting my mouth with it before sliding his cock back in and lubing the condom up.
Little tricks I learned from a very friendly and clever gay health counselor who works at the clinic where I get tested.
I pour some of the lube I left in the packet onto my fingers before I rise to my feet and drop my pants and underwear to my ankles. I lean up against the wall beside him and slide my fingers into my hole, offering myself a little something to make that giant dong of his easier to take.
He hurries behind me, pushes my hand out of his way, and presses his cock against my hole.
He takes his time, which surprises me considering how desperate it seems like we both are for this.
I want it in me deep. Now. But I know I need to be patient, and the suspense as he eases in is part of what’s driving me crazy—especially as he hits all those nerves on the way—stirring a powerful desire within me.
I glance behind me, checking the stairwells, two sets leading to the floors above and below. Just want to make sure no one will catch our quick fuck session. But I can’t imagine we’re going to get away with this.
There’s a part of me that feels like it’s so wrong we can’t get away with it. Like some universal force will interfere. I think it’s a product of life with my mother—always on edge, paranoid about being caught doing something that could put her career at risk.
I start to shake with excitement as he works his way deeper. Although I wonder if part of it is that I’m nervous as fuck about getting discovered.
His cock feels so good as it fills me.
I raise my hands as he removes my shirt.
His hands return to my body, stroking, making me appreciate my flesh as he enjoys the grooves between my muscles.
I kick off my shoes and step out of my pants as he leans forward so that his chest is pressed against my back. “You like me inside you?” he whispers into my ear. “Is this what you want? To feel like a cumdumpster? To feel like my little toy?”
“If you’re going to make me your dumpster, you’re going to have to do more than this.”
It’s a challenge—one I’m not sure I’m up for—but I won’t let him think I’m some prude. Because that’s all he thinks of me. That’s all anyone ever thinks of me, and it’s not untrue. That’s what happens when you’re raised in a glass house with an overprotective mother.
He pulls out swiftly, leaving me totally confused about what’s going on.
Gripping me by my shoulders, he forces me to turn around and then he squats.
As he puts his arms around my thighs, I intuit where he’s taking this.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up.
He carries me to the stairs. I release him and grip the rail behind me.
I can see eight sets of stairs above me.
Tim raises my legs higher as he maneuvers his cock back within me and fucks me.
My body shivers as those ripples of excitement overtake me.
I want to scream out like I did that first time because it feels so goddamn good.
My hard-on bounces on my abs, the head dripping with pre-come.
Tim watches my face like he wants to see my vulnerability, my body’s total submission to him, as I continue delighting in every inch of his girth.
“You’re really fucking big,” I confess.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says, glancing at my cock.
He looks back up at me, a conceited expression on his face. A bead of sweat rushes down his forehead.
A sharp push within me makes me twist as he hits my prostate.
“Oh, fuck.”
He hits it again—more powerfully—and a surge of delightful sensations moves through me.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down until we’re face-to-face, his gaze right on mine, like he’s trying to intimidate me.
I won’t look away. I won’t let him think he’s better than me. Or that I’m weak outside of allowing him to fuck the crap out of me.
I relax my arms, lowering myself until my back rests against the rail. With my hands free, I grab onto my cock to jerk off. Tim strokes his hand up and down my arm, as if he just wants to let me know he can force me to release my cock whenever he chooses.
“This what you want, you little prissy shit.”
He collects some saliva in his mouth and spits it across my face.
I lick my lip, tasting some of the spit like when we fucked last week.
He grips my face with his hand and shoves his thumb into my mouth, forcing my jaw open before spitting directly into my mouth.
His domination is almost as arousing as him slamming against my prostate.
He removes his thumb from my mouth and moves his hand down to my throat, clinging on, but not enough to block air. Just enough to let me know who’s in charge.
I glance up and notice a girl who looks like she’s in her early twenties.
She leans over the rail of the stairwell above, looking down at us.
Wearing a baseball cap and a backpack, she’s frozen in place, watching.
When we make eye contact, she hurries off, and my attention returns to Tim, who stares at me.
He caresses his thumb across my throat and then leans down quickly, pressing his lips against mine.
A hard kiss. A passionate kiss.
It’s like he’s been delaying this for too long and now he wants to make up for it.
I kiss back with as much passion.
This is what I really want from him.
And the intensity of the mind-blowing kiss is too much for me.
I curse as my body is overwhelmed with a fucking tsunami of pleasure. I shoot across myself.
He leans back and slides out of me, removing the condom quickly and tossing it on the floor.
“Get on your knees and suck me off,” he demands.
And I’m on my knees in no time, filling my mouth with his dick.
I expect it to take a moment, but the bitter, salty taste erupts in my mouth.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, as if he wasn’t expecting to come so quickly either.
But I swallow it with pride and then lick his dick in a frenzy, trying to get as much of him in me as I can.
He hisses, surely from how hypersensitive he must be right now.
He grips onto my hair and yanks my head away. I gaze up at him.
I’m nothing more than a sex toy for him.
He squats before me and offers another kiss, tasting himself on my tongue.
A rustling sound above us catches my attention. As I look up, I see that same girl looking down at us, her eyes wide with disbelief. She must’ve been too curious not to keep watching.
She turns and darts up the stairs.
Though she’d probably never admit it, she wouldn’t have stuck around if she wasn’t enjoying the show.
I turn back to Tim, who has a smile spread across his face, clearly amused by the exhibition.
“You like it when people watch?” I ask.
“Nothing wrong with an audience.”
He winks and rises, his cock dangling before me once again.