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“Think you can come like this? Or do you need more?”
“More, I think.”
I take Cruz’s hand and wrap it around our lengths, leaving mine atop his so we can work together even though I’ll be little help. “You squeeze and I’ll set the pace. Good?”
He licks his lips as his eyes fall to our dicks. “Yeah.”
We start slowly at first, his hand traveling steadily from root to tip as he adjusts his grip to the pressure that has us both moaning aloud. Then we really move.
The muscles in Cruz’s forearm surge with the effort of maintaining his firm grip while he pumps us according to the frantic pace I set. With each pass I let my thumb slide over our crowns, adding a tiny hint of friction to the intense pull on our shafts. Like a butterfly kiss sprinkled between a violent clash of tongues.
Whether it’s the slight contrast between hard and soft or the slickness of our arousal being spread around I can’t say, but the pleasure overload has my balls drawing tight almost instantly, and a constant stream of carnal grunts rumbling from my chest.
Being trapped between Cruz’s cock and his fist is heaven. It’s hot, hard, and as filthy as it is beautiful. Seeing our crowns morph from pink to red to purple, watching our precum mix together as it trickles from our slits… I’m afraid to breathe lest my heaving chest block the view.
“Holy fuck, Cruz. Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
When he merely grunts in response I bring my eyes to his face, and my heart sputters inside my chest.
Cruz’s mouth is slightly parted, full pink lips slightly glossy from his tongue running over them. Sweat pools on his temples, and his cheeks are flushed with exertion. But it’s his crystal blue eyes, hooded with a mixture of desire and awe, that are my undoing.
“Coming. Shit, I’m coming.” My hips start to buck wildly as the telltale spark of an impending orgasm ignites inside me, growing from a tiny flicker to a full-blown inferno in a matter of seconds.
My cock spasms as cum spurts from my tip, coating both of us and dribbling down our lengths so that Cruz’s fist slides even faster over our shafts. The increased pace pulls another wave of release from my body, causing my toes to curl and cramp inside the shoes I’m still wearing. And just when I think my spent cock is too sensitive to endure any more, Cruz’s release joins mine, slicking down me and drawing a final, feeble spurt from my tip.
My head falls to his shoulder as I bask in the sensation of our dicks twitching in unison, reveling in the tiny miracle of his naked skin flush against mine. And the fact that he’s still cradling us both in his palm has butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
It’s nice, this lingering post-orgasm touching. I’m used to having to hurry and tuck myself away, like it's a race once things are over. And I'm no stranger to the cold emptiness smothering the euphoric bliss before it could run its course. But now, here with Cruz, I can enjoy it to the fullest. I can exist in this sweet paradise until sleep claims me or my cramped limbs demand to move, whichever comes first.
Unless Cruz breaks the silence.
Which he does.
“You weren’t grinding on me this time.”
“I’m sorry?” I lift my head off his shoulder to look at him and find an almost thoughtful expression on his face.
“You weren’t grinding on me. Something else made me hard.”
“Something…” I prompt, following his gaze as it drifts to our dicks, which are now soft yet still resting together.
“I think touching you did it.” A faint line spears across his forehead as he continues. “I can tell you like it, and I think maybe I like that you like it.”
“Seeing me turned on turns you on?” I bite my lip to keep from grinning. He’s processing, not flirting. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
His now soft and vulnerable blue eyes find mine. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes, it makes sense. That’s why people watch porn or read erotic books. It triggers their own arousal.”
His eyes fall to our groins again. “Why do you think that’s never happened before? I mean, I’ve seen other people make out and never felt anything. And I’ve tried it myself a few times, with girls, and nothing happened. Do you think that means I’m gay, too?”
Selfishly, I want that to be the answer. Not just because the guy is gorgeous, but because he’s kind, genuine, and loyal. The kind of person I’d want as a boyfriend. But even if he does turn out to be gay, that doesn’t mean he’d feel the same about me. I have to assume these encounters are just a way for him to explore who he is, not the start of something bigger.
“It could. Or it could just mean you’re comfortable with me in a way you haven’t been with other people. We do share a room.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Knowing Cruz can get anxious when he thinks too hard on how to define himself, I figure it’s time for a subject change.
