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Right now, as I watch Mills in his bed, the thing starts coming alive in my boxers. I have to reach inside and wrap my hand around it. If I don't, my balls get achy and my brain gets fogged up.
I rub a fingertip over the tip of it, the way I did with DG. Most people don’t think much about the little slit that’s up there, but I learned the hard way that it’s sensitive as fuck.
I think of DG, and my finger rubbing in his little wet spot. I pretend the dick I’m grabbing hold of is his. My knees tremble as I remember his head thrown back, his dark hair pressed against the base of my throat. I think of my hand, full of his cock. Rubbing at his cum-soaked briefs. My ears full of his moans, and how heavy he felt against me. Like an anchor.
I think of him in physics today, sliding glances at me, those dark lashes flickering against his cheeks. He thought I wasn't watching but I'm always watching. I know how he touches the tip of his thumb to the tip of all his other fingers on his hand when he's distracted—like a tic. He chews the inside of his cheek when Dr. Bumble rambles on and on, explaining something DG understands.
I can tell he's good at school. He raises his hand at times he doesn't have to, and when Bumble calls on him, he knows the answers. Every night, he comes upstairs after dinner and studies. He's got textbooks on his dresser, by his sketchbook. I'm not walking over there to see which ones they are, though. Better not to break the rules.
I work my dick until it’s fat and long and fucking hard as hell, until my balls are swollen up, needing to blow. I’ve always been a bigger guy. Even in peewee football, when we’d shower and stuff, I was bigger than the other kids. Until DG, I’ve never seen another guy as big as me. Like this thing is a ball bat and my balls are damn balloons. Well, his are too.
I hold my balls for a while, letting my dick ache like it deserves. I could probably come without touching the thing. Coming off those meds has taken my dick back to seventh grade; today I got a semi from pissing—in the school bathroom.
I start to bounce my palm under my balls, breathing deeper as that makes my junk vibrate with good feels. Then I grip the base of my cock and squeeze as I watch DG. He’s so big and tall and solid that it’s sort of funny how young he looks curled up in his bed.
He shifts onto his side, and I swear I can see a bulge in his boxer briefs. I think of pulling those briefs down, running my fingers down his crack, parting his cheeks and feeling for his little soft, tight, puckered hole. I’m sure no one’s ever sought it out. He doesn’t seem like the type to push things into himself—although of course, I could be wrong. I’m gonna bet he’s never taken one of his big fingers, never felt the jolt of being filled with something. The need to move around that thing, to clench and shift, as your balls harden and your dick juts and—
Oh God. I shut my eyes and let go of my cock before I come too fast. My heart rate slows and my dick aches as I remember Miller up against me, warm and sweaty, panting as I work him.
If I played with his hole, I’d give him two fingers, not one. I’d get them both lubed good and push them in and draw right out, and get more lube. I’d do that a few times, try to fill him up. Then, when he’s ready, I would give him three fingers. I’d stretch him out and push in deep. I’d push in deep enough to find his prostate. When I did, I bet he’d really start to fucking leak—all over the place.
I’m gripping my cockhead as DG’s hand goes to his dick and covers it.
Oh Jesus.
I imagine that I'm pumping his cock, hearing his hoarse, throaty noises. I imagine that he’s full of lube, his freckled cheeks all red from being fingered till his cock is aching. Till his balls are sensitive and sore. I imagine that he’s got his ass up in the air for me, and I’m rubbing some lube onto my cock. I’d rub my dickhead all around his hole. I’d kinda press down so he felt the pressure, so he’d start to want it more.
I’d make him beg.
And when he did, that’s how I’d know that he was ready. He’d be wanting me to push it into him and rub around, and push in more until his prostate got kissed by my cockhead. He’d be sagging on his shaking arms. Maybe he would rub his cock against the duvet. He would want it. He would want it.
