Page 15 of Kiss-Fist
The foam roller digs into my shoulders, my sore muscles screaming at me, but what makes this worse is the way Thom looks hovering over me, like he’s fucking into me.
That damn backward baseball cap. It’s a terror.
I close my eyes, shutting him out, but I can still feel him, the way he gently and slowly rocks me against the roller. And my imagination soars, picturing all sorts of filthy things. Thom naked, his body glistening with sweat, his muscles flexing as he slides that dick in and out of my hole.
My eyes pop open, and Thom is staring down at me, his cheeks red, his mouth parted slightly.
‘Better?’ he fingerspells. I was not expecting him to use any sort of ASL, but I decide not to think too hard about it.
Or I’ll get harder.
I begin to shake my head and then change my mind and nod. What the hell am I doing?
‘Good.’
Then he manhandles me into another position, one where I’m on my stomach, my knee bent up near my chest as the roller moves up and down the back of my thigh. This is even worse because his fingers are on my legs, so close to my ass. And I happen to love this position when being fucked. It goes so damn deep this way.
I groan, knowing he heard it because he stutters slightly before continuing on with the movements, working one legand then the other, all while I’m biting my lip and trying not to come in my pants.
Me, Robert J. Austen, doctor of ancient history, is on the floor of a gym, trying not to pre-ejaculate into his jockstrap.
I need help. Seriously. This is a disaster.
Someone save me from myself!
Thom suddenly stops, and I peer over my shoulder at him.
His eyes meet mine, and he winks before circling his finger in the air, and I reluctantly turn over and tuck my knees into my chest to keep myself from possibly, most likely actually, showing him my hard dick. My pants better not have made a wet spot on my crotch, or I will slink away like a gothic creature, never to return.
He holds up my phone, and I see a note asking if I want to do one more.
I almost whimper, wanting so badly to shake my head no, but I end up nodding and letting him put me on my hands and knees as he moves in front of me, pulling each arm down onto the foam roller and dragging me forward.
My face goes right into his crotch, and I can smell him: musky, manly.
My mouth is now drooling just as much as my dick. I can’t stand this. This is too much. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to have some kind of clue. A man that hot doesn’tnotknow these things.
This must be a game to him. There’s no other explanation.
He switches my arms, and my hand accidentally brushes against his groin, and I feel something shift inside of me.
I peer up at him, and he grins shyly.
Sorry, he mouths and then gets back to work.
By the time he’s done, I should be angry, should be upset that he could, maybe, possibly be making fun of me, but I can’t. Not when he grins at me and winks, helping me stand and bringing me over to a treadmill.
While we walk, I look down at my crotch and thank whoever is in the sky that it’s not wet. That I didn’t leak through like some broken fountain.
When we come to a stop, he holds up my phone again and tells me to get on.
I shake my head, making him laugh, those eyes lighting up.
Thom: I help u
I don’t know what he can do to help me. Well, I do know. He could sink to his knees and suck my cock and give me some relief, but of course he doesn’t do that. Instead, he grabs onto my hips and helps me stand on the treadmill before pushing a few buttons. It turns on with a long lag, the machine moving almost insultingly slow.
I turn to look at him as my hands grasp onto the handles beside me.
