Page 50 of Vasily the Nail

I cut him off with, “May I?” because I know I don’t have to do this. Iwantto do this, but — and I realize how ridiculous this might sound considering how I ended up here — I won’t if he doesn’t want me to.

His jaw tightens, and his pronounced Adam’s apple bobs as he nods.

That’s enough encouragement for me to shimmy his waistband down. He leans forward to let me slide it under his butt so it doesn’t get in my way.

I’ve seen his cock before. Of course. Not at the club because of the blindfold, but in the gym? I got a really good view of it. And I’m fully aware that flaccid and erect look different, but I didn’t fully understand the difference. I had no concept of how it would look other than smaller.

It rests against his thigh, slightly bent as though it’s curled up, sleeping. His testicles are like a pillow that’s lost its loft over time. His piercings have gathered somewhat, understandably. If he’s not at his full length, they’re not going to have that length to stretch over. What I wasn’t expecting, though, was that rim that he enjoyed me tucking my lips under to suck and lick at the cum beading on the divot in the tip is gone.

I run my finger over it, and two things happen.

The first is his cock hops. Enough that I lean back and glance up at his face to see if he’s okay, but the only change is a mischievous curl at one corner of his lips. I guess this is normal, and yes, it definitely moved about when he came, but I honestly wasn’t sure how much was his cock and how much was him moving in a way that carried into his shaft. This was definitely the penis moving on its own.

The second thing is I discover that extra flesh has gathered over the head of his cock. It’s soft and wrinkled, and when I probe it, nudging my finger inside the opening at the end of it,I find the smoother, spongier flesh that I’d been expecting has been engulfed by it.

Also, sticking my finger into the loose skin has Vasily shifting in his seat and his cock plumping rapidly. I’m fascinated watching it jerk as it lifts itself up and expands, the ladder of piercings spreading out.

“Zvyozdochka,” Vasily says, his voice strained. “You are killing me.”

I believe him, too. But I have to ask, “What is this? Is this always here?”

“My cock is always here,da.”

I giggle. “Not that!”

His grin tells me he knew all along. “Is foreskin.”

The thickening of his accent and the imperfect English does happy things in my belly. He always seems very much in control no matter what’s going on, but he’s relaxed and letting me take charge here, and that makes him different. I like that. “Ooh,” I say, unable to resist leaning down to get a slightly closer look. “Why haven’t I seen it before—on you,” I add quickly before he gives me another sassy response.

“Put your hand around me like this,” he says, guiding my fingers around the tip to cup it loosely. “And now pull it down.”

Together, we snag the excess flesh and pull it back, revealing the head I was expecting. I’m delighted to find that the foreskin is just snug enough that when I let go, it stays where it’s supposed to be. “That’s so cool!” I squeal, cringing afterwardbecause I don’t want him to think I’m not . . . impressed or whatever by his dick. Very manly. Such virility.

But oh my God, with the right amount of pressure I can pull it right back over and back down again.

“I’m glad you like it,” Vasily says tightly. “Some American women don’t.”

That’s just crazy to me, but to each their own. “Is this how you, umm, masturbate?” I ask, dragging the skin back up. “Since the piercings can’t . . .” Ulk, I sound like a toddler. It’s embarrassing that at nineteen, I don’t know the words to use. Also, I’m going to be setting some poor priest’s hair on fire in confessional after service tomorrow. This is going to be, like, a hundred Hail Marys, I swear.

Vasily is in no way bothered by this. “The piercings don’t get in the way at all,” he tells me. He speaks calmly, but he’s taking deep, perfectly timed breaths now. I think he’s trying to get his control back, and I love that, for once, I get to be the one driving him wild. It’s been very unbalanced.

I’m the one who brings our eyes and our lips together as I rise up on my knees and say, “Show me.”

Whatever Vasily says to that is definitely not English, but I can’t say it’s human, either. Probably Russian, I know, but it’s a dark, guttural sound that I swear goes right between my legs.

As though knowing exactly where that sound went, Vasily finally gives up on the game, setting the controller aside and placing me on his lap, my knees straddling his thighs. He guides each of my fingers around his shaft individually, resting them between the rungs as though the distance between them wasdesigned just for this. Not my fingers, though, I could probably fit two in each space and I feel weirdly like I’m back in my piano lessons with the way my fingers deliberately fan, but Vasily’s fingers are so much bigger than mine. I bet they fit just right.

“I want to watch you jerk yourself off,” I blurt out, and when my cheeks warm over saying something so explicit, it’s Camilla’s voice in my head sayingput your big girl panties on, Laces.

Heck yeah, I want to see it. This great big man sitting just like this with his cock in his hand, stroking himself until cum spurts out, splashing all over his chest? As he stares at me the whole time? That sounds sexy as all get-out. I even feel the crotch of my pajama pants dampen and cool at the thought, and I’m not ashamed at all. These are my big girl panties right here.

The way he startles me by lurching forward with a rough kiss, demanding access to my mouth, tells me he’s also interested in this. His body even starts to move beneath me, his cock forcing its way through my grip. Something damp slithers down the back of my hand, and once he gives me space again, I look down to see pre-cum leaking from his tip.

“Not now,” he says. “You do this now.”

“How?” Of all the sexual things I’ve wished I had some instruction on, I never in a million years guessed that this would stymy me — because I didn’t know penile piercings were a thing.

He once again engulfs my hand in his, his fingers aligning between mine so we lock together without him adding pressure. His cock is warm in my hand, throbbing, the skin silky, but my grip is more on the capture balls. When he lifts my hand, it’s the piercings that are moving, lifting the skin with them.

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