Page 17 of Loosened Up for My Bud

I take a greedy gulp of my own water. My throat is raw from all the noises I’ve been making. “You’d better set an alarm."

The predatory gleam in his eye is back. He downs the rest of his water in one go, crushes the plastic bottle in his fist, and tosses it into the recycling bin. A perfect, three-point shot. Of course.

“Don’t need one,” he says, winking. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway.”

“You’re gonna wear me out, Stone.”

“That’s the idea.” He stretches, muscles pulling taut. “Gonna shower. Coming?”

“Yeah, in a sec.” I need a minute. My brain is still trying to catch up with my body. I can still feel him inside me, a phantom fullness. A phantom warmth. I lean against the desk, feeling the cum cooling on my stomach, the sweat drying on my skin, and watch him walk into the bathroom. That same confident, cocky stride I’ve seen a thousand times. But now I know what it feels like to have him on top of me. Inside me. I know the taste of his kiss, the sound of his groan.

I run a hand through my messy hair, then wince as I touch the side of my neck. A definite hickey is blooming there—a mark.

The water starts in the shower. A loud, familiar hiss. I hear Stone humming, some off-key pop song he’s been blasting all week. It’s so normal. So us. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’d hallucinated the last few hours.

Then I see the purple plug on the nightstand, next to the half-used bottle of lube. It’s streaked with fluids. A grimy little trophy. I pick it up.

The thing that started all this. A stupid dare. A month of laundry and a gaming chair.

Best bet I ever made.

I toss the plug onto Stone’s pillow, a little gift for him to find later, and head for the shower.

Time to get dirty again.

The End