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“I don’t mean it the way you’re taking it.” She cups the back of my head to stop me from moving away. “It’s just that I come every time. What if I can’t do the same for you? It’s a lot of pressure, and I don’t have nearly as much practice . . .” She lets the sentence hang.
“You’re worried about not being able to get me off?” I sound confused because, well, I don’t get it. There isn’t much skill involved in stroking a cock. It’s essentially an up and down motion. Women aren’t nearly as mechanically simple.
“Well, yeah. I mean that happens, right? Sometimes guys can’t—”
“Blast the cannon?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess. I mean, I’d have to have some serious whiskey dick, or maybe if I whacked off, like, twenty times that day I might have a problem, but a strong breeze is usually enough to get me hard.”
Her eyes dart down, and her hand moves from my chest to my waistband, palming me. “You’re already hard.”
“Uh, yeah. I got to watch you come on my fingers. For sure I’m hard.”
“That turns you on?” I can’t tell if she’s surprised or curious.
“Definitely.”
She gives me a squeeze. “Fingering me made you this hard?”
Those words coming out of her mouth, combined with the feel of her hand on my dick, even through my shorts, reroutes even more blood below my waist. There are a lot of factors that got me to this level of hardness. It’s the argument, followed by the make-out session, and the way I can still see her nipples through her shirt because her bra is pushed up. It’s how she’s sitting in the chair, that she’s fully dressed, that I watched what I was doing while I was getting her off—all of it together makes me this hard. And the fact that I haven’t whacked it since yesterday morning.
But the simple answer is, “Yeah. Fingering you makes me this hard.”
“Oh. That’s . . . wow. I make you really hard.”
I hold back a laugh. “You sure fucking do, Sunny Sunshine.”
She goes for the zipper, and I put my hand over hers.
My balls are going to hate me. But I can’t have her hand on me yet. I’ll embarrass myself, so I use the only reasonable excuse I have for not wanting her to touch my dick. “Baby, I’ve been traveling all night. I should probably get cleaned up before you go sticking your hand down there.”
“I don’t mind. You smell good to me.” She makes another attempt.
I grab her hand and lift it to my lips. “Sunny, sweets, I appreciate your enthusiasm, and I share it, but I could use a shower.”
“You could shower after. It probably won’t take long, right?”
I can’t stop the laugh this time. “I’d much rather you put your hand on my dick when it’s freshly washed and hasn’t been marinating in my pants all day. And to be honest, I’d feel a lot better if it did take a long time—you know, instead of two minutes or less.”
“Oh! Right. Of course. Longer is always better.” Her huge grin is a front-row seat to a sunrise. It makes the near-embarrassment worth it. She adjusts her bra so her boobs aren’t hanging out the bottom, then swings her legs over the edge of the chair, bouncing to her feet. She holds out her hand. “Come on!”
I rearrange my dick so I’m not tenting my shorts and lace my fingers with hers.
I grab my bags from the front hallway on our way to the second floor. Sunny’s parents are smart when it comes to protecting their only daughter’s virtue. Her bedroom is down the hall from theirs. To get there, you have to pass the master suite. There’s an office separating their rooms, and the spare bedroom is at the very opposite end of the hall. That’s also where the staircase leading to the third floor is. Her brother had the room there growing up.
The two times I’ve stayed here previously I slept in the spare room. It’s a landmine of squeaky spots to get all the way to Sunny. I sure as hell tried. Also, Titan sleeps outside her door; he might be small, but he’s got a loud, yappy bark. I had to pretend I forgot where the bathroom was when her mom came out to see why he was making so much noise.
I head for the spare room out of habit, but Sunny grabs my hand and leads me down the hall. “You can use my bathroom.”
Sunny’s room resembles a student apartment. She has a quilt made out of concert T-shirts in place of a duvet. A desk takes up one corner to create an office-like space. It’s separated with strings of beads hanging from the ceiling. Titan comes running through the room, making the beads jingle as he jumps up on her desk chair. It spins around as he sits there, tongue lolling.
