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“I don’t see how.”
I shrugged. “Linebackers,” I said dismissively.
Overall, the night had been a success. Back at our room, I watched Claude as he got undressed. God, was he getting hard to resist.
“Am I still a boxer?” he asked, referring to my suggestion that we not have sex.
That got me more than aroused. Having to cross my legs, I let the rush of heat leave my face before answering. I was sure I was turning bright red. He knew exactly what I was thinking about.
“Yes,” I told him. It actually hurt to say.
When he was standing in front of me wearing only his underwear that did nothing to hide his huge erection, he pointed at my pants and said,
“Are you sure you don’t need help with that?”
I was so turned on that I was threatening to pass out.
“I’m sure,” I forced out. “Excuse me,” I told him before getting up, heading to the bathroom, and taking things into my own hands.
“Are you sure you don’t need help in there?”
Jacking myself like there was no tomorrow, I ignored him and lost myself in the memory of his scent.
“Merri?”
“Ahhh,” I moaned, trying to be quiet but failing. When everything in me was out, I replied, out of breath, “No, I’m good.”
“Okay.”
“Just let me know.”
“I will,” I told him, wondering what I was doing. “Did you need to get in here next?”
“No, I’m good,” he told me, walking away from the door.
Apparently, Claude had no plans on relieving himself. Instead, he pressed his outrageously hard cock against my back all night as he held me.
What was he doing to me? Didn’t he know I was a weak gay boy who could only resist for so long? At least I no longer needed to try heroin. White-knuckling it through tonight was hard enough.
The strain I felt not rubbing my ass against his pole made my legs numb. Did I mention he was an asshole? Because by the time the sun rose, I was traumatized.
I did not do well without sleep. My only saving grace was that at some point he lost his erection. Did that stop my painful, aching lust? No. And because of it, I was not in a good mood the next day.
“So, we’re heading back to your place?” Claude asked me as I packed.
“Yes.”
“Are we going to do any more practices before the showcase?”
“No.”
“Are you mad at me?”
I turned to him. I was so sexually frustrated that I felt like any moment I could snap. But somehow I calmed myself, reined it all in and said, “Dick.” I thought it explained everything.
Every night after that was a nightmare. The man was torturing me. I was sure of it.
The only way I got through it was to relieve myself before we went to bed and then as soon as I got up. I wasn’t sure what he was doing. But he was hard every night before he fell asleep and sometimes for a while after that.
