Page 13 of Learn Your Limits
“I can’t believe we’ve been talking for this long,” I rasp, fighting back the urge to close my eyes. I’m surprised Milo hasn’t passed out on me yet, though he did mention making another cup of coffee a while ago. I’ve never had a conversation last this long. I’ve neverwanteda conversation to last this long.
I’m just thankful that among everything else we talked about, I did manage to ask about the pronunciation of his name. I felt weird asking, but I was avoiding saying it because I didn’t want to get it wrong.
“You’re too tempting to let go, but my bed is calling to me. I’m an old man up way past his bedtime, Cal,” Milo says through a yawn into the phone.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” I say slowly, my words practically jumbled together with the need for sleep pressing in. “But thanks to how long we’ve been on the phone, tomorrow is officially the last day before the semester starts. We’ve been talking for”—I pull my phone away from my ear to check the time—“three hours. I’m honestly kinda surprised you’re still able to pull an all-nighter at your age,” I tease. I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable with someone. Every aspect of our conversation has been more than I could’ve anticipated, never once settling into an awkward silence.
“I’m taking note to show you a proper all-nighter sometime soon, you brat. Then you may speak to me about stamina,” Milo responds.
“I guess you’ll just have to prove it to me,” I chuckle, heat zapping through me at him calling me a brat.
Why do I like that so much?
Another thirty minutes of flirtatious teasing passes before we finally call it a night, both desperate to keep talking but ultimately giving in to the need for sleep. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off, and when I do, it’s to visions of being curled up in bed with Milo.
I wake with a groan and find my hand wrapped around my hard cock, arousal pooled at the tip. Last night was the first time I’ve ever allowed myself to truly fantasize about what it would be like to be with another man, and each scenario my mind produced was hotter than the one before it. Milo definitely has more of a dominant personality, of that much I’m sure, though for as long as we were on the phone, our conversation never turned strictly sexual. The idea of mutual masturbation, as heput it, remained in the back of my mind while we talked, but I didn’t know how to steer the conversation in that direction.
I’ve never been very vocal in bed, and I’ve only ever been with women. I’m not sure I even know what dirty talk with another man would look like. If I’ve learned anything about Milo, it’s that he’s just as patient as he is kind. He’s been nothing but understanding, and I get the feeling that avoiding any kind of phone sex was out of respect for me and my inexperience. Still, he found plenty of ways to work in remarks about me being a good boy.
Thinking of the way the term of endearmentMuñecorolls off his tongue has me tightening my grip around my cock, stroking my hand up and down my length as I use the other to grab my phone. I clumsily swipe across the screen to open the app and message Milo. I’m tempted to send him proof of exactly what he does to me.
CallMeCal:I woke up thinking about you...
I swipe through all of the photos we exchanged last night before settling on the one of him shirtless and lying in bed, his pajama pants slung low on his hips. I gaze at it for a moment, my eyes following the slight V line of his abs and the path of dark hair that trails beneath the waistband of his pants. The outline of his dick is visible through the fabric, and my grip tightens as I swirl my thumb over the crown, giving it a squeeze and bringing more pre-cum to the surface. Rubbing the palm of my hand over the head of my cock, I gather the lubrication and quicken my pace.
I want to know what it’s like to be embraced, kissed, and touched by him. I’m dying to know how it feels to have a man’s hands—hishands—explore my body. How much different will his hand feel from my own? Are his hands soft or rough? Whatwill the stubble on his jaw feel like against my bare skin? Will he be gentle or ravenous when we kiss?
My phone vibrates in my hand as a message from Milo comes in, momentarily blocking my view of his photo.
JustMilo:And what will you do about that?
His words spur me on, my orgasm already rising to the surface. A deep groan slips from my chest, and I stop it by holding my breath. The lack of oxygen only intensifies the need for release. I allow myself to take in a slow breath as I close out of our chat and open up my camera, swiping to the video option.
Am I really about to show him this?
I move my hand down to grip the base of my cock as I hit the record button and then resume my quick pace, intent on making myself come. My hips thrust up into my palm as I twist my hand over the crown with every few upstrokes. This time, I don’t hold back the heavy breaths and noises that escape my lips. I want him to hear every sound.
Just thinking about him watching me has heat spreading throughout my veins, flames dancing across my skin and pooling at the base of my spine. I imagine that he’s beside me in bed, his body hovering over mine as he strokes me. I think of the way his cologne might smell, of the way his lips would feel pressed against mine, and what it would be like to feel his cock in my hand. In my mouth.
“I'm gonna come. Fuck, Milo.” My stomach clenches as my orgasm rips through me, his name falling from my lips with a deep, guttural groan as cum spills from my cock and paints my bare stomach. I end the recording and drop my head back against my pillow, chest heaving as I swipe back to the app and send the video to him.
Chapter twelve
Emiliano
This is not the sight I imagined I’d be looking at while I have my morning coffee. Butfuck, is it a welcome one. I didn’t think my teasing remark would be answered with this.
Cal’s cock is beautiful. Not only in an arousing way, but it’s just so smooth, prettily flushed, and hardfor me. My coffee sits wholly forgotten on the kitchen counter as I watch him thrust into his hand, twist his palm over his shaft while he moans and swears. It’s almost as if he's trying to amplify the noise just formyears andmyenjoyment.
The moaning of my name is what does me in. I’m not necessarily proud of having my cock out in the middle of making my breakfast. My tip springs from my boxers and smears along the cabinet the second I pull myself out, desperate to make my pace match his.
I’m way too worked up from the last couple of days of talking to him to make this last more than a few minutes. I fist myself, pulling back the foreskin at my tip and exposing myself to the cool air of my home as I increase my already fast pace.
I don’t fucking dare close my eyes and miss a second of his orgasm. It’s all encompassing—his groans and the shaking of his body are only for me at this moment, and I consider myself the luckiest man on Earth.
Imagining the cum coating his lightly-freckled skin is mine and not his own is what sets off my orgasm. He would be wanton and begging me to mark him, I know it.
With that thought, I grip the counter painfully while thrusting my cock into my hand one more time. Letting the image of a ruined Cal drive me through it. I revel in the aftershocks of my peak, milking the last few white drops and letting them pool in my palm.
