Page 5 of Mitch

I gripped my shaft, squeezing as my breath hitched. I stopped only for a moment, to spit in my hand, to get myselfrealwet and slippery. I slid my boxers off, needing the freedom of movement. Underneath the covers, I throbbed with need. I grabbed myselfonce more, lathering my cock in my spit.

The touch of my hand against my rock hard cock, my thumb brushing over my rigid veins feltso good.

And then the strangest thought popped into my brain.

A hot, wet tongue licking my shaft, from my balls to my head, taking me into the back ofhisthroat, while he cupped my balls, squeezing them until I?—

Before I could even process such an anomaly of thought, I came.

“Oh fuck...” I cursed under my breath, scrambling to cover the spewing geyser that was my cock, if only because I didn’t want dried jizz on the inside of my comforter.

My body shook as my cock pulsed, coating my hand, and my entire body practically melted into the mattress.

“Everyone has an off day, Penn, that’s all it is,” I told myself, swallowing harshly as the thought dissipated in my brain.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said, reaching in my drawer for a towel with my free, clean hand.

I took my time cleaning up, trying to focus onanythingbut the weird imagemy mind had formed to get me off.

What was my deal today?

First that hot stranger, now this?

Maybe my lack of a sex life really was affecting my mental state. I should probably look into that.

Pulling my underwear back on, I settled into bed once more, but a harsh object poked me in the back.

“Ow!” I yelped as I reached behind me, pulling out my phone.

Of course, how could I have forgotten.

Just as I went to plug it in, I noticed I’d been tagged. Or more or less, the bakery had been tagged. The bakery’s Facebook page saw more action than my personal one, which was just another reason I’d given up on socializing.

I scrolled through the images of the wedding, coming across some beautiful images of the cake. Truly, I’d never seen images like them before. The angles, the detail. I wondered if I could use said pictures for my cake portfolio.

I clicked my way around until I found the name of the photographer.

De*Vil Photography was the name of the company. Clicking on the page, I noted their tagline wasthe devil’s in thedetails,pasted across a collage of artfully done black and white images that captured people in various states. Silhouettes of brides, little kid hands inside of their parents holding flowers, even an image of two men embracing on Main Street under the streetlights, the light refracting off the puddles of rain.

I squinted as I tried to make out their dark features. One of them looked like that Rhodes guy, the one who was always in the paper. Weston or Westley or something or other.

Scrolling down the page, I looked for their information, fully intent on emailing them to ask if I could use their photos, when an idea popped into my head.

As I clicked through their portfolio, it was apparent that they were really good at what they did, not just by the photos they’d posted of the wedding tonight already, but in every wedding album, the photographs of the cakes, the cookies.

I knew mom and dad had no clue when it came to social media, or digital content.

I’d started an Instagram in college for the bakery as a side project, but untilrecently I hadn’t focused on it at all, being as I wasn’t home.

I’d showed my mom numerous times how to take a picture with her phone and upload it, but clearly she wasn’t as invested in the technological advances of business nowadays.

But that was my job, wasn’t it?

To take over the operations?

To bring Penn’s bakery into the twenty-first century?

Which was why I didn’t think twice about messaging Mr. De*Vil about the use of his photos of my masterpiece, as well as potentially collaborating on a social media campaign for the bakery.

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