Page 2 of Forfeits

“Okay, fine. I guess I’ll risk it. I have good instincts,” he said. “Hold on.”

He let go of my hand and went up to the bartender, pointing at me. I waved and smiled, so they’d know I was a good guy—tired and lost, maybe, but a decent man deep down, despite what I was doing with the twink.

The bartender nodded, and the twink pranced back and took my hand again.

“Come on, old man,” he said, “Where’s your car?”

He straddled me in the passenger seat and took my cock out, even though I’d said I wanted to blow him.

“Oh, yes, I needed to see this,” he murmured, wiggling with glee as he stroked my erection up and down like a kid playing with a new toy.

“I just… I wanted to…”

“I know, I know. I’ll let you. Trust me. But first I want to play with yours. Is that okay?” He blinked baby blue eyes at me, and how could I resist?

I couldn’t.

“Oh God,” I groaned as he touched me. It had been so long. I stopped him from going so fast. “Wait. You’re gonna make me—”

“Already?” the twink said, with a cheeky grin, but he slowed his hand as I gripped the locked door and the console.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my head starting to swim with alcohol and regret. “I’m so sorry.”

“You want me to make you come? You can suck me if you want but…we’ll have to move…”

I shook my head, feeling dizzy and old. “You don’t have to…”

“It’s okay. I can make you come, baby. I like giving handys.”

I watched open-mouthed as the pretty twink lifted his palm and licked it like a cat preparing to groom itself, the blue polish on his nails glinting in the light from the streetlamps. He held my gaze as he took my cock again and began to stroke me in earnest.

My breaths stuttered in my chest as I gripped his bare knees, my gaze falling on the bulge in his little, cut-off shorts.

“Oh yeah, you are so hot, whoever you are. You are so fucking hard. You want me to get you off? You need that, baby?”

I moaned and nodded, desperate for it, blitzed by the whiskey and the need and the fucking desperation.

“Please,” I said. “Please.”

Whimpers. Begging. Almost sobs.

“Oh yeah, baby. You really want it, don’t you?”

I hoped he didn’t notice the tears spilling down my cheeks when my cock erupted in his hand, as I choked on a moan.

It was as if I were watching myself. I felt disconnected, even as my cock and body throbbed with the vaguely familiar sensation of being jerked off by another man.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

“S’okay. That was fun. You needed it.”

I stared at the floor of the car. As the pleasure faded much too quickly, the whiskey took over and the guilt, and I couldn’t look at him.

“Do you want to suck me? It’s okay if you don’t…”

He sounded unsure, wary all of a sudden.

“I—I—”

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