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I feel the pulsating veins against my fingers, and as the ridged muscles of his thick thighs flex and jerk on either side of my body, I know he’s already close. Taking a lesson from his book, I know that a little added pain will cause the pleasure to surmount ten-fold, so I take the hand fisted around his cock and slide it down until I cup it around his engorged sac. My palm is soaked from my saliva, and as I begin to carefully knead and rub him there, I slide his rock-hard erection between my lips, over my tongue, and to the back of my throat. Pulling my final trick, hoping it will be the thing to send him over the edge and give him the relief he needs, I take in a deep breath through my nose and let out a long, low moan at the same time I squeeze his balls in a firm but tender grip.
His whole body tenses, and he practically pulls himself into full crunch as he lets out a feral howl. His hands shoot to the back of my head, threading through my hair almost painfully as he forces my head to stay in place as he pumps his hips once…twice…and on the third thrust of his cock as I continue to moan, he detonates, shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum down my throat.
I’ve never swallowed semen before, always having pulled away at the last moment to finish Adam off with my hand, making him come on his own stomach. So as Travis’ body finally goes completely limp after the last jet coats my tongue, I take a moment to taste his essence. The mix of the salty taste and sticky texture isn’t as bad as I imagined, and I find myself bathing his still semi-hard cock with my mouth, lapping up the little bit that lingers at the very tip.
I’m so distracted by his dramatic climax and my discovery afterwards that I don’t notice until I look at him long moments later that he’s been watching me worship his manhood. The look on his face is one of complete and utter awe, and the feeling of pride and…something else…swells inside me, knowing I’ve just given him such intense pleasure.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I wake up before the alarm, hearing sounds of activity just outside my bedroom door. It’s fleeting, and I realize whoever they were had just been passing by. It’s the first sounds I’ve heard outside my door since I’ve been here; usually it stays completely quiet up and down the hallways. I roll over in my bed to look at the time. It’s five minutes before the alarm is set to go off at 7:30. I don’t know why they bother making me get up and dressed for the day, since I go nowhere. I sit in this room all damn day with nothing to do. I need some sunshine, and I need to start exercising because I’m starting to go stir-crazy.
There are only three entertaining things to do in this room—read books, watch a movie channel, or do an exercise video…that’s it. I’ve mostly been passing my time with reading. I’m currently skimming through Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and I’m actually having a little fun with it. The man had a wicked sense of humor, but because so much can be lost in translation, sometimes the irony gets hidden in the complexity of the story. It’s a book I haven’t read before, and I wish I had it growing up. There is only so much reading I can do, however, before I really get bored out of my mind.
I sit up and place my medicine that awaits me on the nightstand into the palm of my hand. I look up and notice a pretty little black dress hanging on the outside of my closet door, with matching shoes sitting underneath. My brow furrows, and I instantly go on high-alert. I haven’t had any clothes laid out for me since the second day I was here, which was seven days ago. Someone—presumably Nick—had my closet filled to the brim with new clothes.
The tallboy dresser in the room was also filled with undergarments and pajamas. I’m glad they put in a couple jeans and t-shirts, because I always want to wear those more than anything else. They’re comfortable, and really, why get dressed if I have no place to go? I ignore the dress; it will be there after my shower. I’m not really excited by anything anymore. I’ve been holed up here for a week now with no sign of a rescue. I shake the thoughts, trying not to lose hope. Where are you, Dad?
I place the pill in my mouth, take a sip of water, and swallow then make my way to the shower. This has been my routine for the past few days without hesitation. While I’m under the shower’s spray, feeling the warm water cascade over my body, I begin to speculate all the ‘what ifs’ of my current situation. I don’t like living with this type of mindset, but that’s exactly what I find myself doing. I could probably write an entire anthology of shoulda, coulda, wouldas, but they never solve anything, and it’s always a waste of time. I scoff at myself internally; time...that seems to be something I have a lot of lately.
