Page 50 of Judging Duke

I reached down and touched myself, stroking the underside of my dick. It swelled, tenting the fabric. Not wanting to sully the sheets, I shucked it down to my knees, baring my dick to the cool night air.

I could still hear Simon whispering outside and the soft music from the terrace below.

I wondered what would happen if I ventured out onto the balcony. Would he see me? Did I want him to?

Stupid fucking question. Of course I did. It had always been a fantasy of mine that he’d find me when I’d stay over, that he’d take me in his hand, making me come.

That image filled my head now, only we were no longer young. He was as he was now.

Tall and fit with dark-blond hair, messy from exertion. His brilliant blue eyes bore into me as he stroked me, and I whimpered at his touch.

Did I make that sound out loud? Could he hear me?

I didn’t care. This was my fantasy.

I raised my hips from the bed and tightened my grip, thrusting through the circle of my hand.

“That’s it, baby,” he said. “I love it when you moan my name. Say it, Duke. Say my name.”

“Simon,” I said, breathless, as I chased the orgasm, stopping when I got close. It couldn’t be over yet.

I squeezed tighter, grunting as I edged closer to my release. Pumping it harder and harder, my buttocks clenched as I fucked my own hand. Precum made it slick; my foreskin pulled back, exposing the dark head of my cock.

“Fuck, yeah,” I said through gritted teeth. My legs straightened, and I flexed my toes as I neared my release. A moment longer, that’s all I needed.

I held my breath as my stomach muscles contracted. Here was me hoping for a quick wank, but this was sapping my energy, taking everything I had.

My hand blurred until finally, I erupted. Ropes of cum shot out of my dick, landing on my neck and chest. Spurt after spurt hit me, each one progressively weaker until there was nothing left but a slow trickle of spunk.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. Pounding in my chest made me realise how fucking hard I’d worked for that orgasm.

I wondered how loud I’d been. Had I shouted out when I came? I didn’t know. As long as I hadn’t called out Simon’s name, I was good.

I found a wipe from my bag and cleaned myself as best I could. The rooms didn’t have ensuite facilities, and right now, I didn’t fancy making the walk down the hallway to the bathroom.

Simon was no longer talking, and soft murmurs came from below. Even though it was still early, my bed beckoned.

I fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of the waves breaking on the shore below.

A sudden banging woke me with a start. At first, I thought I was back in Liverpool. Some nights, the sound of gunshots rang out, swiftly followed by sirens.

This was different.

The sound of people saying good night and the slamming of doors had woken me, and I cursed them, only then realising it wasn’t that late at all. Barely midnight.

But now I needed to pee.

I slipped on a pair of shorts and opened the door just enough that I could see out.

The dimly lit hallway was clear as far as I could tell, the door to the bathroom a couple of doors down. I tiptoed towards it, not wishing to make too much noise.

I glanced around me before turning the handle and pushing it open.

There, in all his nakedness, stood Simon.

Fuck it. I might have guessed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

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