Milo’s thighs quivered as he strained, but the plug was peeking out. Inflated, it was easily the thickness of four of my fingers, maybe even my dick.
I sped up stroking him, squeezing the shaft and caressing the head. By now, I knew Milo’s body. He was close.
He slobbered over my cock and pushed the plug out. The thing hit me on the chin with a wet plop and rolled to the side. It would be comical if I weren’t lost in dancing on the edge of my orgasm while Milo was coming over my chest, spurt after spurt of my favorite liquid in the world. His hole was contracting as his body trembled, giving me the filthiest view I could dream of.
“I’m gonna blow—Milo, fuck…” I warned him right before I lost the composure that I’d been holding onto by the thinnest of threads and let go.
I shot into Milo’s mouth until he pulled my dick out and jerked it, massaging my balls in the process, letting me spill all over his bed.
He collapsed on top of me. Then, grunting, wiggled around to face me, spreading his sticky cum on my chest even more.
“That was awesome,” he said, resting his chin on his hands, meeting my gaze.
“It was.” I cupped his cheek, caressing the flushed skin there with my thumb. “Are you feeling okay? It wasn’t too much?”
He nuzzled the inside of my palm. “Just perfect.”
His hair was sticking out in all directions as usual, but more clumped in places.
“I think you have my cum in your hair.” I chuckled low.
He raked his fingers through the strands and licked his hand. “Yup. I’ll shower soon. I’m too comfortable like this for now.”
“I can clean you up if you want.”
He rolled over and star-spread on duvet. “Okay.”
I hopped off the bed and kissed him briefly. A short trip to the bathroom for wet towels would do the trick. With delicate touches, I cleaned up his puffed hole that looked okay apart from being well used, and the cum off his chest. I wiped my own in the process and dumped the towels in the washing machine. Having spent a weekend taking care of concussed Milo, then visiting him often after that, I was familiar with the layout of the house and how Milo operated. The place was a chaotic mess, but nothing was dirty—the laundry and dishwasher were on as soon as they filled up, and the floors had to be swept daily.
On my way back to his bedroom, I stopped at a shelf with his aunts’ books. Between the framed photographs stood an old Polaroid camera.
“Can I use this?” I asked, bringing it over.
“Sure. It was Anabelle’s.” His smirk grew wicked. “Do you want to take nudes with my aunt’s camera?”
“Maybe.” I climbed onto the bed and pulled him into the cradle of my legs, facing the mirror on the wall.
He giggled and kissed my biceps, wrapping my arm across his chest.
I nuzzled his cum-streaked hair. “You’re so beautiful.”
Milo rolled his eyes while grinning.
I snapped the picture, capturing the moment.
The old machine whirred and spat out a white-framed photograph. I set it on the nightstand to let it develop.
It was us at that point in time that I wanted to keep forever. Bottled up to open once in a while and sniff what was inside—remember this feeling in my chest. The picture was as close as I could get to that. It wasn’t enough. Nothing besides the real Milowould ever be enough. But I also couldn’t ask him to move with me to Chicago and leave the life he’d built in this cosy town.
I could be useful to him until then though.
“Are you ready to revise for the test?” I danced my fingers up his forearm and back.
“It’s a math one, not biology.” He wriggled out of my grasp and lay on his front. “Give me ten minutes and I will be.”
“I can bring the books to bed; we’ll make it comfortable.”
Milo snorted. “You’re such a geek.”
