Right - Sex Stories

Right

... just said quietly, but firmly, “We deserve so much better than decent.” The conversation trailed off as he said, “Yes…. one of these days…” and I nodded, then repeated his words nearly verbatim. It hung there in the warming air, though neither of us acknowledged more than the conversation itself. * Over the next few days, we barely saw each other, and he was nearing his departure day. I texted him to let him know that if he needed to stay longer, he was welcome without any more remuneration. He answered that he’d love to but his airline ticket would be too expensive to change again. Then he suggested we hang out that night if I wasn’t working. We caught a bite at a nice sidewalk cafe, shared stories and people watched. We picked out girls we’d like to meet and take home as they sauntered by. He mentioned that he didn’t look for guys so much in that way, but then he pointed to a young good looking male who he thought he might maybe want, “If the guy’s not an asshole.” I said, “Let’s find a nice couple and k**nap them both. We could share. Have a little of each flavor.” It was all done with that sarcastic low-keyed humor that men banter with in public, but there was something underneath it all that neither of us would mention, barely even to ourselves. To me though, it rang in my ears with every passing comment. Back at my place, it was getting late. We talked about his last full day’s schedule, and about his trip to the airport the following morning. He headed off to clean up ...

... and get some rest. But at one point, before he closed his door, he yelled out again, half-jokingly, “I’m going to read some more of your bi porn and whack myself off to sl**p. Try not to listen!” “I don’t know, you sound pretty good!”, I retorted, not letting on that I actually did hear him. There was a bit of a long silent pause. I yelled again for fun, “Did you cum yet? Was it good for you?” I heard from the back room, “Shut up, I’m reading smut and I’m hard.” My body was quietly trembling. I could feel my mind actually considering just going back there, walking in on him and grabbing his cock for… well, a little but of everything - swallowing, riding and then some. But I had no idea if it would be welcome, or what kind of weird mess it could make. God knows, he looked good enough to dive into, but that’s not everything. I could hear the soft beginnings of his panting, the kind from someone stroking himself upward into his pleasure dome. The house was completely still except for his gently mounting sexual noises and mutterings. I found myself holding my breath just to listen to every nuance. I had my own cock in my hand and was beginning to masturbate along with him, thinking, ‘he’s just down the hall…’. I was about to say something to him, to finally test the waters, even just to peek in and watch him cum to my story - I had no fucking idea what - when a text came through on my phone. I was grateful for the break in the sexual tension. But it was him. Texting from the back ...