He glowers, but in the next play runs an angle route for a completion. How long does it take to piss and get me a drink? Not as long as Masters has been gone.
Jack’s opponent, a floppy-haired dirty blond who introduces himself as Eric—call me God—Goodwin, scowls. “Man, you can’t have a coach in here with you. Not fair.”
Jack shoots his middle finger at Goodwin and mutters under his breath to me, “Pass or run?”
It’s third and two, and he’s got Frank Gore. Duh. “Run.”
Jack chooses a trap play, and when the defensive predictably runs toward the opening, Gore shoots through and runs all the way down to the end zone. The room erupts. Jack throws down the controller and starts slapping his hand in the air as if he’s spanking someone. His teammates start hugging him and Jack glows. Literally glows, with the broadest, happiest smile on his face. Eric drops his head into his hands in misery.
Jack turns to me. “You ready to go?”
“You have a quarter left.” I point to the screen.
“Yeah, no quitting until this game is over. You owe me, man,” Eric protests.
“My sister needs an escort home.”
“Masters will walk her home.” Eric turns back to the screen as if that’s the only acceptable answer in the room.
Jack looks uncertainly at me and then at the television. He wants to stay and play. This isn’t about the video game; it’s a bonding moment, and he’s being accepted into a fraternity more difficult to get into than any house on Greek row.
“I can wait.”
“You sure?” he asks.
I wink. “Of course, but I need to use the bathroom. Where is it?”
“Upstairs. Third door on the left.” Eric waggles a finger in my face. “It’s private. No circulating that and no taking a bunch of chicks up with you.”
“I swear to keep your little cum domain a secret.” I roll my eyes.
The room howls and Jack shakes his head, as if to say that he can’t take me anywhere.
I jog up the stairs. I’ll potty and then get the hell out of this place.
Third door on the left reveals one bed, a desk, and an old-fashioned Coke machine, its iconic red and white lines visible even in the dimly lit room. I shut the door quietly behind me and walk past the soda dispenser. There’s a door slightly ajar and a sliver of light spills out.
I hear a grunt, then a pant, and then a familiar voice let out a frustrated, “Fuuuuck.”
I shouldn’t look. I tell myself it’s because I’m worried or maybe I want to prove to myself that Masters is a lying dog, sexing up some girl after dry humping me on the dance floor. Wouldn’t be the first player to do that. Won’t be the last. I reach around the frame and push the door open a tiny bit more.
There, in a pool of light, stands Masters, one hand on the sink and one hand gripping the biggest, hardest, longest dick I have ever seen.
10 Knox
When the door to Hammer’s bedroom opens, I’m so close to shooting my wad that it’s criminal I’m interrupted. My free hand darts out to grab the doorknob and slam it shut when I hear a gasp, and then a set of pretty fingers nudge the door open a hair more.
Aw, God. I don’t know whether to curse or pray, but this fap job just got a shit ton more exciting, because I know it’s Ellie out there, breathing heavy and eating me up with her big brown eyes. I shift slightly, and rest my hand on the counter so my weak knees don’t completely give out on me.
“I can hear you.”
“Holy mother of God. Maybe you're a virgin because you’re too frickin’ big for a girl,” she blurts out. Her gait is unsteady and she has to grasp the door to stand upright.
A surprised bark of laughter escapes me. “You're not making it any smaller with your big eyes and your compliments,” I choke out.
Her audible gasps are like lighter fluid on a campfire. Maybe I should feel embarrassed that I got caught rubbing one out in the middle of a party, but instead I feel myself swelling, hotter under her intense gaze. And she’s not going anywhere.
Neither am I.
Before I’d had a nice little fantasy of slipping Ellie’s skirt up on the dance floor and pushing my fingers into what I know is the wettest, tightest pussy ever. When she began riding my thigh, I thought I’d burn up right there on the dance floor. Here lies Knox Masters, turned to ash by his unsatisfied lust.
My vaunted self-control slipped, and while I’m sure of her, I know she’s not sure of me. Not yet anyway. So I came up here to relieve myself, gain a measure of composure, and go back downstairs loose and ready for round two. Or three.
Only, before I could finish, she appears like my fucking fantasy come to life. Her eyes devour me and her lips part as she struggles to catch her breath. I run my gaze over her gorgeous face and enjoy the sight of her sweet tits doing a little dance inside her sparkly tank top as she pants lightly.
I could come this instant, but I want to prolong this moment. How often do I have a girl as hot as Ellie standing transfixed watching me pleasure myself? I’m milking this moment—pun intended—until I experience the best orgasm of my life. The first of many with Ellie. The first of many.
I’ve done this so many times by myself that the pleasure from it is a little rote, but not now. I feel the blaze torch me from my legs up into my brain. The burn inside me is that pleasure-pain you get when you butt up against the first barrier of your body that says no, but you push on anyway and that endorphin rush floods you as a reward for your persistence.