Page 63 of Boyfriend
It’s just your ordinary Thursday night right here at the Marriott, with me setting up to tug one out in the bathtub on a video call with my fuck buddy. Luckily, the hotel bathtub has a shelf that stretches across it—for your glass of wine, I guess—with a groove across it for your e-reader or whatever. I prop up my phone on the shelf, which frees up my hands.
Then I grab the little body wash bottle and squirt some into my palm. Now my hand is all slicked up, and I run it casually over my chest and my neck, while Abbi lets out a breathy gasp. “If I were there, I’d do that for you,” she whispers.
I feel her gaze like a caress. Enough teasing. I drop my hand to my stiff cock and take myself in a firm, slick grip. I tease the underside with my thumb, and it feels so good I let out a horny groan.
“Whew,” Abbi sighs. “It’s suddenly really hot in here.”
I don’t respond, because I’m watching her flushed face on the screen as she licks her lips. She likes this. A lot. Then I see her slide a hand up under her top.
“Are you…oh hell yes.” She’s touching her breasts under her shirt. I see the form of her hand circling her nipple. And now her eyes are going dark and dreamy.
Damn this is fun. And I love pushing Abbi’s boundaries just a little bit.
A few minutes ago I’d called myself slutty. Except I’ve never done this before. I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school, and therefore nobody to get freaky on camera with.
I pump myself and realize two things at once. The first is that this isn’t going to take very long. Abbi’s heated gaze is burning me up.
The second is that this only looks slutty. It’s actually just the opposite. You have to trust someone an awful lot to stroke your cock while she watches. You have to trust that she’ll find it hot instead of ridiculous. And that she won’t take screenshots and post them on the Internet.
Abbi would never do that. I know it with perfect confidence. Just like I also know that I haven’t trusted anyone else like that in a long time. I haven’t wanted to. I haven’t seen the point.
But suddenly it’s clear as day that I do trust her, as I tip my head back against the tile and work my slick hand up and down my shaft. Then I drop my free hand down to tug on my balls.
Abbi lets out a little moan when I do that. And I swear the sound is what starts to push me over the edge. “Fuuuuck, honey. Miss you.” My hand pumps away. Release is calling my name.
“Miss you, Weston,” she whispers. “Wish I could show you how much.”
And that’s what gets me off. My balls go tight and then sweet relief finally arrives. She gasps as I come on my chest. My jaw is locked tight as I milk it for all it’s worth.
But then I sag against the porcelain. I feel strangely wrecked. Now I’m just a messy guy in a cooling tub, who wishes he could curl up in a bed with the bright-eyed sweetheart on the screen.
If I wasn’t ridiculous before, I am now, right? This is why they never show you the aftermath in porn. I look red faced and crazy eyed. And I feel almost hung over.
So I reach up and turn off my camera. Then I lift the phone to my ear. “Well, I hope that was better than what’s on TV,” I say casually.
Abbi lets out a hungry moan in my ear. “That was…” She swallows. “Wow.”
I smile through my unexpected embarrassment. “Sunday night, then?”
“You know it,” she says with a little laugh.
“Eight o’clock,” I whisper.
“Okay,” she agrees. “I might bring the ingredients for a cake.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“No. But you like cake, right? I’m not sleeping with some kind of psycho?”
“You know I like cake.” I open the drain on the bathtub. “But I don’t know how much sleeping I’m going to let you do. Bring your toothbrush anyway.”
“I will. Good night, Westie.”
“Good night, Abbster. I’ll dream about you.” That’s another thing I’ve never said before. I’m racking up all the firsts tonight.
We sign off, and I stand up and shower myself off. I feel a little skittish now, and it’s hard to say why. It’s just a little fun with Abbi. No big deal, right?
Right. No big deal.
