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“Yeah, fine.” My chest heaves erratically. “I needed a hand. But I’m a guy.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t get it. I’m the one into guys, not you. Why would... ah.” Cruz tightens his grip but slows his pace, pulling me back from the edge, and that little tease has me straight up writhing into his hand like it’s the key to nirvana. “How are you so good at this?”
“I’m familiar with the equipment.” He chuckles.
My lust-addled brain doesn’t quite follow. “You’ve done this before? With another guy?”
“No, but I’ve got my own dick, so I know the drill. I’m not sure I’ll be as good at it as you are, but it’s better than nothing, right?”
I’m not sure I follow his logic. Personally, I’ve always thought the best part of being gay was being familiar with what you’re working with. Not that all men like to be handled the same way or anything, but having a cock makes it infinitely easier to understand what another man will feel when you’re playing with his. Although, I didn’t get the sense Cruz does a whole lot of playing, so…
“I thought you didn’t—Holy fuck,” I groan when he starts massaging my balls, partly because he’s denied me release once again and partly because it feels so damn good to have his big, warm hand rolling them around his palm. “I thought you didn’t…do this. To yourself I mean.”
“I said I don’t do it as often, not that I never do it.”
“Feels like you do it a…oh. Oh God that’s good.” He gives my sac a firm tug before moving back to my shaft and pumping it rhythmically, adding the little wrist flick I’ve made no surprise of enjoying, and even though I haven’t quite wrapped my mind about what’s happening or why, I don’t have the mental capacity to question it anymore. So, I don’t. I just close my eyes and savor the pleasure radiating throughout my body as Cruz gives me a truly magnificent hand job. Quite possibly the best I’ve ever had.
While I’m fairly certain he recognizes and catalogs what I like, he doesn’t focus on it the way some of my past hookups have.
It’s possible that’s not a fair comparison. All my other encounters have been rushed in an effort to not get caught, so if it was clear something was pushing me toward the edge they kept doing it. Even Aiden and I have been sort of frenzied since all our hookups have been in quiet corners during his frat parties.
But there’s no urgency with Cruz. So, either he’s being really thorough, taking infinite time to explore what I like and make this good for me, or this is what he does to himself on the rare occasions the mood strikes.
I wonder if mimicking what he does to himself on me would put him in one of those moods.
I’m not pressed against him there, so I’m not sure this is having any effect, and given the way he describes himself it’s probably not. But I am in heaven.
I actually sort of love that he keeps changing things up on me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still desperate to come—my whole body is vibrating with need—but this whole hovering on the verge of detonation is hot as fuck. I mean, my cock is a steel pipe and my balls are heavier than they’ve ever been before, and it feels fantastic. Like, I’m sort of wondering if I’ll come so hard I pass out fantastic.
Cruz gives my sac a couple firm pulls and wraps his hand around my shaft again, stroking harder and faster. My head rolls from side to side against his broad chest as my hips punch forward, fucking my cock into his fist like it’s possessed. I’m pretty sure it might be since I couldn’t stop thrusting if I tried.
A slew of noises erupt from my throat—grunts, moans, maybe even something between a whimper and a cry—causing Cruz to cover my mouth with his hand.
“This is why I know what you do in the shower every night, noisy fucker.” Since he laughs as he says that I know he’s teasing, sort of. “Keep it down so we don’t get interrupted before we finish.”
I try holding my breath, and between that and the hand over my mouth, I keep it down. Mostly. But it’s hard to stay totally silent when your dick is so hard it could cut glass, and it’s being furiously stroked by a man as sexy as Cruz.
Damn it’s hot to watch my crown push through his fist. To see the tendons in his hand flex as he squeezes with each pump.
My calves ache from rising on my toes to follow his grip. Abs too. But the slight burn is worth the impending freefall. I thrash my head back and forth like I’m struggling to breathe when really I’m trying to warn him of the fact I’m about to go supernova, and when he keeps pumping mercilessly despite the fact my hips have gone out, I do.
I wail into the palm covering my mouth as my cock jerks in his hand, which keeps traveling my length as if on a mission to make sure I’m empty. Slide after sensual slide, his grip relaxes only slightly as he spreads my cum over my quivering dick, stopping only when my tremors do. That’s when the last of my strength leaves me, and Cruz has to crush my body against his to keep me from hitting the floor.
“I gotchu,” he rumbles next to my ear as he takes his hand off my mouth and pins his arm to my chest, holding me upright.
“You keep saying that,” I slur. “Why?”
I feel his shoulders rise behind me as my dick lurches, and it’s only after I can’t connect those two things that I realize he’s still holding it. Well, that’s…not unpleasant at all.
“Can you stand?” Cruz asks.
“Better not assume that.” My voice quivers as I try, and fail, to push off his chest.
Cruz shifts his hand from my cock to my waist, pulling my shorts up in the process, and helps me shuffle to the bed, where I fall boneless onto the mattress.
“Are you okay? You don’t usually look this out of it after your showers.”
