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The first time he did it was unintentional.
The second time is definitelyintentionalsince he squeezes me and asks, “Is that…”
“Uh-huh,” I answer, hoping he’ll drop it, and my bits, then pretend he never felt it.
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
I chuckle since laughter is slightly better than dying of embarrassment in this compromising position with a stranger of the same sex. “I, ah, guess you can reach inside my pants to confirm if you need to,” I tell him, liking that idea a lot more than I should. What if he does reach inside to touch me and I like it? Nope. Can’t have that. Time to distract him. “Oh, and you missed the gun in my back waistband, didn’t you?”
He immediately drops his hands from my dick. “Keep your hands up and turn back around.”
I do as I’m asked, which means when I turn around, he’s still kneeling on the ground, and his face is right in front of my bulge. His mouth is so close that of course I’m thinking about what it would feel like to fuck it.
Blowjobs are my favorite thing in the world. When given the choice between dick-in-pussy sex with a woman or a blowjob, well, I’m a selfish asshole who will put a woman on her knees every single time.
The tug on my belt buckle jolts me out of those happy memories. This asshole is actually going to undress me to confirm what he felt. Why? To embarrass me even more? Take a few pics and blackmail me? What a sick son of a bitch!
Yes, it’s embarrassing, but nothing compared to all the other embarrassments of my life when I screw up or have no clue what the people around me are talking about.
I wish I could control my dick better, but I can’t at the moment. It does what it wants, and right now, it’s long and hard.
Eyes focused on the task at hand, he has my belt undone a second later. The top button of my jean pops. Then he slowly, carefully lowers my zipper until my pants fall to my knees on their own, weighed down by the open belt, my phone, and yes, the gun he still hasn’t confiscated.
It’s awkward as shit being so exposed out here behind the row of port-a-potties, but what am I supposed to do? Knee him in the face and run with my pants around my ankles? The entire time I’ve been trying to avoid escalating things to the point where Isaac finds out I’m here with Bear and kills us both.
Finally, the fucker looks up at me as I stand there like an idiot with my arms still spread, my pale blue cotton boxer briefs bulging in the front.
“Seen enough yet?” I huff at the kneeling man.
“I did this to you?” he asks, sounding surprised by the sight of my erection. That makes two of us.
“What can I say? It’s been neglected, and it likes being touched.”
“No. You were already hard when I touched it.”
“Dude, you’ve got feminine hands that rubbed me up and down.”
He – no shit – holds up his gigantic palms in front of his face. “No, I don’t.”
“Fine, I don’t know why it did that, okay? It’s not like I’m gay or anything,” I tell him.
“Of course not,” it sounds like he murmurs before finally picking up my gun from the ground. Looking up at me again, his brow furrowed, he asks, “Why is it so light?”
“Rugers are small, light guns. That’s why I like carrying them.”
He holds it up to the light. “Where’s your clip?”
“It’s not in there?”
“No.”
“Shit. I must have left it at home when I was cleaning it.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
“You just felt me up and stripped my pants off! Where else would I hide a clip? Up my ass?”
Getting to his feet, he says, “You really came in here with a gun and no clip?”
