Oops

Today was sort of a shit day that turned into sort of a great day.

The shit started when Graham came home unexpectedly. Guess he had a client cancel and thought he’d surprise me with dinner out. See, it’s kind of a bone of contention between us that I don’t ever have dinner waiting for him when he gets home, but just because I get home earlier and I’m the bottom doesn’t make me anybody’s personal chef. That’s what I say.

So there’s kind of a clusterfuck every day when he gets home about well, what are we going to eat? And today I guess this client cancelled and Graham decided he’d take me out to dinner instead.

Nice surprise, right?

Only the thing was, I didn’t hear him come in. I was watching porn with the sound way up cuz this bottom was getting absolutely fucking railed. Top had a nice dick, too.

Mind you, I’ve never complained about Graham’s dick. It’s a good size and he knows how to use it. He gets super hard and he goes balls deep, really all the way in, you know? Positively drills me. Which was what this top was doing to this bottom—giving it to him hard—and he was screaming almost like pain but that good spot where it’s half pain and half loving it.

I was stroking and turning green with envy at the same time and there was a part of me wondering why I was rubbing one out to this twink getting railed instead of waiting for Graham to come home so I could sit down on a fat dick my own self. Graham would’ve given it to me. Of course he would’ve. He’s always wanting it and I’m the one saying no.

But whatever. That wasn’t what happened.

Instead, while I’m jerking it to the soundtrack of a twink squealing, Graham comes home and I don’t even notice, not even when he comes all the way into the spare bedroom we use as a study, not even when he’s standing right over me watching me work my dick.

So he waits until I’m almost there, which he can tell. You don’t live with a guy three years without knowing when he’s about to jizz.  And then he clears his throat and I damn near jump through the roof. A little trickle of come got out, that’s how close I was, but the pleasure wilted before I could feel it.

I pulled my pants up and tried to act like everything was normal, like hey, Graham you’re home early, but he wasn’t buying it. He sat down in front of the computer and I guess I’m a stupid man because it’s never occurred to me to clear my browser history. We have separate logins so we can each have our own passwords saved and stuff and it’s not like there’s an anti-porn rule. We’re both men. He jerks as good as I do, I’m sure.

But yeah, he sits down and starts prowling through my history folder and after a minute he says, “Is this what you do while I’m earning us a living?” because it’s all laid out for him—day after day, hour after hour, the full extent of my porn and masturbation addiction.

Can I call it an addiction? Every guy jerks it, like I said, but with my whole history in front of my eyes, even I could see that I might have a problem.

Graham pulls up a clip from yesterday and plays it. The bottom in it looks a lot like me, with dark hair and a medium-ish skin tone, and the top looks a lot like Graham—a big dude with blond hair that’s just a smidgen too long to call professional. Graham starts stroking himself to it, right with me there in the room, so I pulled my dick back out and started stroking too, but Graham shut that down quick.

“I think you’ve done enough of that,” he says. He gives a hard tug on my wrist so I end up down on my knees next to the office chair where I have a close-up view of his big ole rod and his hand stroking it.

It’s pretty hot, actually.

His dick starts to drip so I stick out my tongue and Graham lets me suck him until he shoots his load and then that’s it. He just shuts down the browser and walks out of the room, goes into the kitchen and makes himself dinner without even asking me if I want anything, and all he’ll say if I try him is, “I’m still mad at you.”

So that was it, I figured. I’d had an idea the end was coming but then bang. You still don’t expect it.

I’m lucky Graham’s a good guy and a lot more mature than I am, because just before ten, when I’m normally getting ready for bed and there I am wondering if I’m supposed to go on to bed or find a motel or what, he called me over to him.

I climbed across his lap, straddling him. We used to sit like that all the time, both for snuggling and for sex. Graham loved having me ride him while he just kicked back like he was a fucking God, and I loved being held that way afterwards because I felt small and protected.

I felt small then, too, and sad and sorry and afraid, just this mess of emotion, and being on Graham’s lap, even though he was mad at me, felt like the best place I could be when all that was going on inside me.

“You know we can’t go on like this,” he said, and I nodded.

“A relationship requires intimacy. And truth.”

I nodded at that too.

“I think your jerking off is part of the problem.”

I was like the king of nodding, but what else could I do? Graham was right. About every bit of it.

Then he asked me if I thought I could stop. “I’m not saying you can’t ever jerk off,” he says, “just save it for excess sexual energy. Make me your primary source of release.”

And I agreed because at that point, I really, really wanted to fuck. Graham had had an orgasm, earlier, but I hadn’t t because of how he just left without returning the favor. He said I could jerk myself off (since that was what I was good at—ba da bing) but I didn’t have it in me right then. When you’re sad, all the stiff goes out of your stiffy.

So there I was on Graham’s lap, aroused, sad, wanting things to work out with him, remembering all the good fucks we’d had in the past and feeling like maybe we could have them again. When I’d been on my knees there in the study, it’d felt right, felt like it used to, and the only difference was I hadn’t gotten myself off before he came home.

So I told him yes. Absolutely. I’ll stop jerking off when I get home from work.

He said, “I love you, Allie,” which was another thing he hadn’t done in a while—called me Allie—then he picked me up and took me into the bedroom, thank God, because my dick was used to dumping several loads a day and all it’d gotten so far was a long tease.

“You could’ve waited another thirty seconds,” I told him, and he said, “I could’ve,” with a big smirk, which is how I know he totally timed that to be orgasm-mus interruptus on purposus.

Then he put his dick in me and I stopped talking.

His cock is even better than the one on the video, FYI. I’m not saying that to brag. It’s just the truth. And I came really hard, moaning all the time just like that bottom boy was doing.

I could’ve fallen asleep in a minute after that. Graham sure did. But I made myself get up to write this blog post because I want to make this vow in writing, to myself and to my readers. (OK, ha ha, I know I don’t have any readers.)

Listen up universe: I will not jerk off before Graham gets home.

Promise.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *