After wiping the hope from my tone, I reply, “You thought we were gonna fuck?”
I’m a prick for smiling when she bobs her head, but I can’t help it. It’s either smile or bang my chest like a neanderthal. I went for the one that wouldn’t make me look like a dickhead.
The worry in Demi’s eyes clears away when I say, “I wasn’t lying when I said I can’t multitask. The whole time I was kissing your pussy, I was thinking about how it tastes as sweet as your mouth, so what will happen when I stuff my cock inside of you…” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “I’ll be thinking about the time my mouth was on your pussy. I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet. The first time I put my dick inside of you, his undivided attentionneedsto be on the task at hand. I don’t want to do a Flint.”
“Or a Ramsey,” Demi gabbles out with a giggle.
“Who?” I ask, certain she didn’t just mention another man’s name after riding my face like a carousel at the fair—over andoveragain.
Conscious the snip of anger in my tone isn’t in malice, she drags her teeth over her kiss- swollen lips before saying, “Robert Flint came in his pants. Luke Ramsey came while removing his cock from his pants.”
I angle my head to the side before arching a brow. “You did it twice?”
When she nods, gone is the sheepish woman who slowly climbed up my body to straddle my face, replaced with a woman who looks like she eats men for breakfast.
“That makes you proud, doesn’t it? You fuckin’ love that you have men making a mess in their pants from doing something as simple as looking at your sinfully sexy face.” I say my comment as if the face peering back at me isn’t messed-up compliments to a man’s hand.
Please note, I use the term ‘man’ looselyanytimeI’m referencing Col Petretti.
“It’s not my fault they have no clue what they’re doing,” Demi fires back, still giggling.
“Oh… burn,” I bark out with a laugh, not the slightest bit confronted we’re having this conversation in my bed of all places. Friends become lovers even quicker than strangers, and I want that for us more than anything. “I promise when we reachthatstage, I won’t leave you hanging like those dweebs. I’ve got you.”
Demi’s laughter immediately ends. After licking her lips that were more parched from her erotic screams than her uncle’s knuckles, she lowers her eyes to the crotch of my sleeping pants—theextendedcrotch of my sleeping pants. “Until then, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help yoursituation?”
Please, God, let me be a decent man for once.I believe in Karma, so I sure as hell believe she’ll gnaw the fuck out of my ass if I answeranyof the pleas my cock is currently dishing out. He begged to sink into Demi before we entered the bathroom. Now he’s straight-up demanding I get the job done.
“Not tonight.” I hate myself. I truly, madly, fucking deeply hate myself. “But how about we reconvene in the morning and reassess the situation?”
I’ll be dead in the morning due to a lack of blood supply to my brain!
I’m sentenced to an eternity in hell when I raise my eyes to the ceiling and whisper a stern, “fuck you,” to God when I spot Demi’s destroyed panties on the floor. I’m not really mad at him. I’m angry at myself. I’m the one who tugged Demi’s panties off so aggressively there’s no chance in hell they’re wearable, so I’m the one who should face the consequences of my actions when she slips beneath the sheets I’m holding open for her and shimmies to my side of the mattress in nothing but a bra.
“Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to relieve the pressure?” Demi asks when the throbbing rod of flesh between us digs into her naked backside.
I slam my fist into my thigh, wordlessly warning my cock he’s next on my hitlist before I draw Demi back as if I have no clue what she’s talking about.
Spooning will take care of my erection. It will have my cock slouching against my thigh like my nanna walked in on me masturbating. I’m not a snuggling type of guy. I can’t recall a single time I’ve hung around to cuddle after a hook-up, which most likely means it’s never occurred.
Unfortunately for me, emasculating moments of endearment don’t deflate my monster cock. He remains firm and erect, his throb growing more urgent when Demi asks, “Do you want me to switch off the light?”
Not once since the nineties has a man begged for clap lights as I am now.
“No. I’ll get it,” I reply when my pleas aren’t granted by an invisible genie.
With the light switch above Demi’s head closer than the one by the door, I stretch across her body to reach it. I’m almost there. My fingertip is a mere inch from the gleaming, plastic material—an inch I gain when I jerk my hips forward to fill the gap.
It’s the same inch that sees my cock popping the button in my sleeping pants.
The same inch that delves between Demi’s thigh gap in hunt for the wetness I’m struggling like fuck to ignore.
The same inch that causes Demi to moan like she’s on the brink of climax again.
And the same fucking inch that reminds me sometimes adulthood doesn’t start for men until they’re thirty.
I’m not strong enough for this.
He-Man wouldn’t be strong enough for this, and he kicks all the other superheroes’ asses.
