Chapter 3

“What’s going on?” I asked, acting like a victim, under his potent spell, and loving every minute of it.

“Nasty. Dirty. Shit. This isn’t what our parents want to know about.”

He made sure my wrists weren’t loose. Then he checked my ankles. I asked, “What’s the safe word this evening?”

“Juxtaposition.”

“Why that word?”

“Why not? I just kind of like it.”

My cock was in his mouth for the next ten minutes and then he sat on it, bouncing up and down on the thing, riding it and fucking himself. He jacked himself off and he came a second time. His semen sprayed the kitchen floor, splattering against the imported Spanish title.

And after his rough ride on my dick, he said, “Watch this, Paul,” and fell to his knees and started to lick up every drop of ejaculate from the floor, using his outstretched tongue, dragging his hard and veined dick along the floor’s surface, into his strange sex show.

* * * *

Now…

I liked him; I would always like him…maybe too much, but I couldn’t help it.