Charlie gives me a mischievous pout that I shouldn’t find attractive, that shouldn’t have me squeezing my thighs together, it shouldn’t have me biting my bottom lip with anticipation, but it does. It also makes me study his body once again.
Lean and lithe, Charlie’s body isn’t overly muscular, but it still looks perfectly sculpted. My eyes roam the dips and dives of his small biceps and triceps, and they happily graze over the broadest part of him – his hairless chest – before taking in the narrowing of his waist and the small trail of dark blond hair that leads down to the waistband of his boxers.
Boxers. Why is he still wearing boxers?
“Take them off!” I point at the offending items.
He pulls them down and kicks them away.
“Touch yourself,” I say.
Charlie wraps a hand around the base of his length and squeezes. I watch his dick swell and the head darken. I lick my lips.
“Like this?” he asks as he starts to stroke and his half-lidded eyes are all dark and swirly again, like crashing waves of the sea. I wish I didn’t notice but I do. I can’t seem to stop myself.
I push up to sit at the end of the bed and gesture for him to step closer. Sliding one hand behind one of his thighs, I nudge him closer and then cover Charlie’s fingers with my other hand, slowing his pace. I then lean in and spit on Charlie’s dick, as the saliva dribbles from my mouth I look up at him.
“Now who’s being filthy?” he teases, but his voice breaks, twice, before the end of the question.
With my spit as lube, he’s able to work his dick faster, smoother and I sit back and watch, mesmerised. People with dicks masturbating is not something I think about often, but I can’t deny the effect it’s having on me as his stomach muscles tense and his breath comes quicker, more ragged.
“Keep watching me like that, and I’ll come before I’m inside you,” he says and he brings his other hand to his balls and tugs them down.
“Now that would be a shame,” I say, feeling that it absolutely would be. “Condom?”
Charlie’s already moving, heading to his bedside table and opening the drawer. He rummages around until he finds what he’s looking for.
“Wait a minute,” he says, scrutinising the foil square. “I want to check it’s in date.”
Please be in date, please be in date, please be in date, I beg silently for to do so out loud would reveal far too much.
“February next year. Is that a bit risky?” Charlie looks up, his face full of real concern.
“That’s months away.”
“Not that many months.”
“Charlie, do you want to fuck or not?” I ask, taking my bra off.
“You’re not playing fair,” he says to my breasts then blinks his gaze away. “Seriously, Mina, you have to tell me if you’re comfortable with this.”
“It’s in date. I’m comfortable,” I say resolutely.
“Okay, I guess,” Charlie says, a little hesitantly.
I crawl over the bed towards him. “No, Charlie. I’m not having an ‘okay, I guess’ shag. You’re going to fuck me like you mean it.”
“Like I mean what?” he asks and it feels like a challenge.
“Like you want me,” I say, hoping it’s the safe ground I think it is.
“I do want you, Mina,” he says, his eyes coasting down my body again. “I want you so much I—“
“Then lie down,” I interrupt, making space for him. I’m not sure where that sentence was going but I’d heard enough.
With Charlie lying on his back, his hard dick coming to rest on his lower stomach, I throw one of my legs over his body and sit up high above his thighs.
“Pass me that,” I say, indicating the condom.
