Page 59 of Technical Advances

Benji stood framed by the door, a towel slung low around his slim waist, droplets gliding down his chest, his hair sticking up in adorable every-which-way curls, clearly having been quickly toweled dried. His suit coat, which he had tossed aside in the living room the night before, was draped over his arm, my glasses swinging in his hand.

“I waited for you,” I promised, stroking my cock back to fullness.

Benji smiled, dropping the jacket at my feet and placing my glasses on my face. His damp hands held me in place for a quick kiss before he walked around the bed, his eyes on me as he slid open his closet door. He turned quickly to find what he was looking for in the small space, a shirt and tie hung together. He draped them on the bed, next to the coat.

Then he pulled the towel off and ran it over his chest and back, his eyes on my dick while I watched him dry off, his pink skin glowing, his cock, nestled in a thick patch of hair as dark as his head, hanging low between his legs.

He stopped, with the towel pressed to his chest, watching me.

“You need to get dressed, sweetheart.”

“I need to suck you off again,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“No time, Benji.” I stopped my motion for a second. “Get dressed,” I ordered, trying to sound as domineering as he had when he’d told me to stop stroking myself and wait for him.

“I’ll just have to lie here and imagine it,” I continued, breathless. “You, bending over my achingly hard penis, facing me this time with those chocolate eyes. Your mouth, warm and wet, taking all of me in.” I resumed my motions, my hips getting in on the action, my eyes locked with his.

“You’d take all of me again, wouldn’t you? My tip hitting the back of your throat …” I thrust up, unsure what to say next. Surprised at myself for imagining that much.

Walking sideways to keep his eyes on me, Benji pulled open a dresser drawer, which, like everything else in his room, was substantial and well-built, made of some kind of natural wood, shellacked to a bright sheen. His hand emerged with a pair of black briefs and quickly pulled them on.

“Taking all of you in. God, Ani. I can’t wait to be on my knees for you.”

“Me either, sweetheart. And I can’t wait to be on mine for you. Or bent over …”

Benji was fiddling with the clothes on the hanger, but his head snapped up, and he completed my sentence while fighting the tie and the shirt buttons.

“Oh, God, yes. Bent over a desk in the lab while you fuck me. I’ve dreamed of that.”

“Or you fuck me.” We both watched the moisture dribbling down my hand. I would usually be two or three applications deep in lube by that point in pleasuring myself.

Our eyes locked, and I wanted to remind him once more that he needed to hurry, but instead, my hand began to fly, squeezing and flicking like it had a mind of its own. He watched, but he wasn’t watching the action, he was watching my face.

Slowly, he began to nod. “You going to come for me?”

“Yes!” I screamed as I did, writhing on his bed in a manner I rarely ever let myself experience, even in the privacy of my own home. I wanted to put on a show for him, and instinctively, I did as a white stream shot out of my dick like some slow-motion porn shot.

I may have grunted a few more “yeses” before I came down enough to shout one more time.

“Get dressed, Benji! You’ll be late.”

“Yes, sir.”

I cleaned myself with that really dirty towel once more before running to the bathroom. My hands and body devoid of any sticky residue, I returned in time to thread the pre-tied tie over Benji’s head.

I stood behind him, positioning him in front of the full-length mirror that doubled as his closet door. He began threading his fingers through his hair, but I stretched around his torso to hand him the brush he had on the dresser. While he brushed his hair, I adjusted the tie.

“Good?” I asked.

“The tie? Yeah. My hair. It will have to do. It will mostly be covered by the mortarboard.”

I looked at him in the mirror from over his shoulder. The difference in our ages was apparent as those images looked back at us, but we were both smiling, sated and content in each other’s space. I knew without a doubt that it was where I wanted to be. Benji appeared comfortable there too.

I desired to stay pressed up against him and memorize not only his happy look, but the feel of mine as well. Then I remembered that Benji was on a time clock.

I squeezed his ass, ignoring how much I liked his skimpy black briefs. “Pants,” I said, turning to grab them and hand them to him.

His phone pinged then, and he hopped over to where it lay on the desk while simultaneously lifting one leg to slip on his pants.