Page 59 of Bad at Love

“You want me to watch?” I ask, my dick already swelling. This isn’t surprising, as the day I caught him touching himself was the first morning I woke up with cum in my pants from a wet dream. I hadn’t wanted to accept that’s what it was then, but I know now that’s what it was.

I’m attracted to him. My body’s reaction to him makes that obvious. I’m excited to watch him. I like this idea.

With a nod gesturing toward the chair in the corner of the room, he says, “Sit there. Watch me. Do not get up, do not touch yourself.”

My pants grow tight around my crotch as I walk over to the chair.

“If you listen,” he begins, running his tongue along his lips. “I’ll suck your cock when I finish.”

I like that. A lot, actually. It’s been more than a day since I’ve come, and I am eager for it again. I feel like a teenage boy who has figured out masturbation for the first time. Well, I guess that’s sort of what I am, only the age is different. Now I understand all the jokes about boys going through puberty.

Sitting in the chair, I lean back and get comfortable. Storm uncaps the lubrication and pours some into his hand before lathering it all over his dick.

I find watching him more difficult than him watching me. I feel weird doing this, like it’s something I’m not supposed to be doing, and that has me thinking all sorts of weird things and having to force my mother’s voice out of my head.

It doesn’t take long for Storm to make sounds. Low moans, heavy breathing. The wet, slicked sounds of his hand going up and down on his length are also kind of sexy. I switch from watching his face to his hand. I like both, enjoy everything I’m seeing. The more he gets into it, the less I think about how weird this feels and just enjoy it.

He cups his balls with his free hand, squeezing gently and tugging as he jerks off with the other. A quick pace, focusing mostly around the head. I’m so hard now, and desperate for him to touch me. My hands twitch, wanting to touch myself. I think of crawling on the bed to get a better look, but he told me not to move. If I move, I won’t get my reward and I really want my reward. Next time, I’ll have to ask if I can lie on the bed with him to get a better look.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hips moving off the bed to thrust harder into his hand. His moans grow louder, and the muscles in his arms tense. He has a beautiful body. It’s a work of art. More defined than mine, but overall not much bigger. Just shaped a little differently.

“You like watching me, Gabriel?” he asks in a raspy tone.

He’s been calling me Gabriel a lot lately, and I really like it.

“Yes,” I manage to say.

“Like the sounds I’m making?”

“Very much.”

“I’ll make these sounds for you, you know.” He groans, still working his dick. “When my cock is in your mouth, and you’re sucking it so fucking good, I’ll moan for you. I’ll say your name. Tell you how good you feel.”

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, the only thing holding me back is the threat of him not touching me if I move. I don’t know if he’s lying or not. If it’s just something he said to get me to do what he wants, but I can’t risk it. I need to come right now. I have no patience for this, I’ve learned. When I’m hard, I need to get off. Ineedit.

“Are you going to come?” I whisper.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m so close, Gabriel. So fucking close.”

My chest heaves, my eyes glued to where his hand strokes his dick. I hardly blink, not wanting to miss when he comes. I want to see it, see what it looks like. See if it’s the kind of dirty he said is a sexy dirty. I’d prefer he just say this isn’t dirty at all, because I don’t think it is. It is messy though, and there’s no way around that. My water bill is about to go up because we’re going to be taking a lot more showers in this house. Now that I’m watching him like this, my appetite for him is going to increase. I don’t just want my dick touched now; I want to touch his, too. This opens up a whole new world for me, and I can already tell it’s something I won’t get enough of. This is dangerous. So dangerous.

Who knew this was what getting a roommate would lead to?

“Fuck, Gabriel—” He chokes out a groan. “I’m coming. Fuck, it feels so good.”

He slows his strokes, a long rope of cum rocketing from the tip of his dick and landing on his chest. There’s another, then another and another. It seems to go on forever, leaving a sticky mess on his chest. All I can do is stare and pant as I look at his cum all over his body and the way his chest is heaving, stomach muscles tense. It’s a mess. Such a mess.

But it’s a dirty, sexy mess, and I think now I finally understand what he means by that.

“Is it my turn now?” I ask.

He opens his eyes, smirking at me.

“Need me to get you off next?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, please.”

“So polite,” he growls, getting up and using the discarded towel to wipe his chest.

---