But now I’m in the worst possible predicament. I’m too worked up to turn back—there’s absolutely no way I can go on stage like this.
But the edge is elusive. I check the time—it’s been over fifteen minutes since I started trying to take care of this. I should’ve been drying off five minutes ago. If I waste any more time, I’ll be late. A twinge of anxiety pushes the edge even further back.
Fuck, my balls are tight. Not heat-tight, but tight enough to ache and throb.
My focus slips, convictions melting. I remember the planes of her stomach, the thrill in her voice as we hurtled around the racetrack, the sound of her panting breaths…
What if wedidhave sex? What if she pinned me under her weight and kissed me hard, what if she pressed her fingers onto my tongue to get them wet and then plunged them into my ass, getting me ready for her cock—
Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming—
My ass clenches, back arching out of the water as I climax hard, cum bursting from my cock and pouring down onto my hand and the water.
The image of Morgan over me, cock buried deep, lingers. My body shudders with echoes of pleasure, cum still dripping over my fingers.
I stay hard, have to force myself to take deep breaths before my cock finally goes down.
Two thoughts ring through my head at the same time.
God, that felt good.
AndI am playing with fire.
#
The end result of emptying my balls but doing so while fantasizing about Morgan is that I’m about as jumpy as before, but at least my cock isn’t as twitchy.
The fireside chat goes well, and I’m less nervous than the first two times. Then it’s another reception—networking for the first two rounds of drinks, and straight partying for the rest.
I’ve had enough alcohol to reach that blurry, relaxed state as a local Artemis employee tells me there’s a great local dancing scene and asks me to come out with the group.
I’m about to agree when his eyes flick up and behind me.
“Mor! I was just inviting Jamie to go out dancing. I’d invite you, but—”
“I’ll join,” Mor says casually.
“What, really? Younevercome out with us.Hellyeah.” He turns and bellows behind him, “Guys, Mor’s in!”
There are some whoops from a group of salespeople. I slowly put two and two together and realize I’m speaking to a regional head of sales.
“You’re buying,” he says, giving her a light punch to the shoulder.
“I’m getting a table,” she counters. “If you leave the table, you’re on your own.”
“Eh, close enough. Good to go?” He turns to me.
I down the remainder of my cocktail, then nod.
“Attaboy!” he says, clapping me on the shoulder and beckoning me out onto the street.
#
The nightclub is a dazzle of light and sound. Fog lingers in the air, setting off ribbons of laser light and flashes of confetti. The bass thumps through the floor and through my bones.
The way Morgan said ‘getting a table,’ I thought it might be somewhere else in the club. But it’s on the balcony overlooking the stage, and I lean against the railing, enjoying a perfect view of the DJ below.
I dance along, for once not worrying if I’m embarrassing myself as I let my hips ride the beat. At some point I stripped mysweater off, and I’m down to a black mesh t-shirt again. I hope I didn’t leave my sweater somewhere. I like that sweater.
