Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
My breath hitches.
My heart races.
My brain tells me to say red or yellow, but when I open my mouth, that’s not what comes out. “Green.” Because deep down, I crave being told I’m a good boy…I want it…maybe need it, no matter how much I don’t want to.
Sir grins. “Good boy.”
I try really hard not to show a reaction—how my muscles tighten because of my dislike of enjoying those two words, but also the way I want to melt into him because of them. I want to drop to my knees and have him tell me over and over how good I am.
“Take off your clothes.”
My dick twitches at his demand, but that voice is there too, the one in my head telling me I shouldn’t want this. That I’m in control of my life, and that giving any kind of power to anyone else will only hurt me, but like I do so many other things, I ignore it.
I start with my shoes, Sir standing in front of me, arms crossed, watching as I remove those and my socks. I begin unbuttoning the two buttons on my polo next, before removing it.
“Same rules and limits as last time?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Anything you specifically need from me?”
No. Yes. I don’t know.
My indecisiveness makes frustration burn at my nape, but it’s okay here. Sex is the only place it is. “No, Sir.” I fold my shirt and set it on the arm of the couch, my shoes lined up on the floor below it, one sock in each. I do the same with my slacks, remove and fold them, then my underwear, leaving a neat pile, before worrying they might fall off and setting them on the end table instead. “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong. I think it’s cute that you’re tidy.” He winks. Winks. It’s absolutely ridiculous. What am I doing here with this guy?
“I’m a forty-year-old man. I’m hardly cute.”
“Forty-year-old men can be cute. One is standing in front of me right now.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to try and do that—flatter and praise me. I don’t need that.” It’s not that I don’t believe I’m an attractive man. I’m your normal, everyday man my age. I’m fairly handsome and don’t really care about that, but hearing it from him isn’t why we’re here.
“I think you like praise more than you realize. We know you like some humiliation too, but in that pretty little head of yours, being told you’re cute is the same as being a good boy, isn’t it? You don’t think you should like the praise, but you do.” He reaches out, wrapping a hand around my already hard and leaking cock. “This twitched when I called you cute, just like it does when I say you’re a good boy.”
I whimper when he strokes me, all these unfamiliar good feelings ping-ponging around my brain.
“Jesus, you’re hungry for it, aren’t you? When was the last time you had this?”
“With us.” I moan when his hand twists around the head of my dick.
He frowns. “That was two months ago. You haven’t been with anyone since?”
“No, Sir.”
“How often do you jack off?”
“What?” The question pulls me out of the moment.
“You heard me. Answer.” He uses his other hand to play with my balls, and I swear, I’m almost weak in the knees.
“I don’t know…a couple times a month?”
“That’s it?”
“I’m busy,” I defend. “And it’s not always easy for me to come…not without the other stuff.”
I expect him to argue, expect him to tell me something is wrong with me, but he just watches me for a moment, brow creased before he nods. “Then we’ll have to make sure you come over and over today.”
“Yes, Sir.” Somehow, those two words sound like a plea.
“Lean over the back of the couch.”
“I…okay, Sir.” I rush over to do what he says, resting my forearms against the couch, my ass out. If I’d arrived before him, I would have brought lube and condoms downstairs in case we didn’t make it anywhere else, but I didn’t have time. My head begins to spin, worry weighing me down—that I messed this up, that he won’t have what he needs down here to fuck me and we’ll have to stop for me to get it…
I feel Sir’s eyes on me, look over to see him still in the same place, watching me. It’s hard to miss the bulge in his jeans, but as mouthwatering as that is, it’s not what draws my attention. No, it’s the intensity of his blue eyes on me. Is he already disappointed?
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. I just…if you want to fuck me, I can run up and get the lube and a condom. I meant to have supplies down here as well, but I was late and—”