Page 30 of Dirty Air
“You sound good like that, with your mouth full.”
Fritz whines around his fingers, bucking up into nothing. Hewants to touch himself, but even more than that, he wants to be good for Henry.
“That’s enough. I want you to circle just one of your nipples, get it wet with your spit. Once it’s nice and soaked, I want you to blow on it. You can do that for me, right, Fritz?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I love it when you call me that.”
Fritz circles his nipple, gliding his finger over the soft bud and feeling a little silly. He’s not sure this is something that works for him, but his erection doesn’t falter, it bobs each time he dutifully follows one of Henry’s directives. Once his nipple is wet enough to shine, he blows.
The sensation is instantaneous. He wails, his back arching off the bed as electricity strikes him. It’s over as soon as it begins, and he gasps for breath as he tries to understand what just happened.
“Wha—”
“Pinch it,” Henry orders. “Keep your fingers wet and roll your nipple between them, as firmly as you can handle.”
Fritz grasps the hardened numb and applies pressure. It’s oversensitive, but each squeeze sends a jolt through his chest straight to his dick and leaves him gasping.
“Put me on speaker, I want you to work both at the same time.”
It’s less of a shock when he blows on his other nipple, though it riles him up just as much. He’s panting, tugging at the buds. “Please, Henry!”
“Are you close?”
“Yes!”
“Just from having your nipples played with? What are we going to do with you?” Henry’s breathing is ragged against the phone. “Build up your tolerance, of course. Train you to handle pleasure for longer intervals. Introduce additional stimuli.”
Henry is sexiest when he’s analytical. When he’s dissecting Fritz’s performance, helping him improve. It almost sounds like he’s writing in his fucking notebook, diagnosing Fritz, examining him.
Fritz has never been more turned on in his life.
“Let me touch myself.Pleaselet me come.” Fritz is rock hard, and precum pools in the dip of his stomach. He might be able to get away with a squeeze, but he doesn’t want to.
He’ll do it properly, be a good specimen.
“Come for me, Fritz. Give me everything you have.”
Fritz grasps himself and moans with relief. It only takes a few pumps, a tweak of his nipple with the other hand, before he’s coming in ropes on his own chest.
He sinks into the mattress, boneless, and strains his ears to listen to the other end. He’s afraid, for a moment, when he doesn’t hear anything, but there’s a quiet gasp and a deep exhale that Fritz recognizes.
They stay like that, their breathing haggard, neither of them speaking. It’s intimate, almost, sharing that silence afterwards. Fritz feels like he’s floating. He never gets like this after a quick wanking session.
“Was it as good for you?” he asks the quiet room.
The voice on the other line snorts.
“Laughing is not a good sign.”
“It was very enjoyable, Fritz, thank you.”
He says it almost sarcastically, but Fritz knows Henry’s probably just overthinking again. He won’t let him run away this time.
“Great! Same time next week, then?”
P9, two points.
