2

After leaving the club, I am left to contemplate how to go about getting rid of Johnathon without compromising my situation with Ethan. It's too late to pretend I'm not interested in Ethan, because Johnathon won't fall for that. There is also the niggling little detail that I hate losing. Giving up Ethan would be like losing, to Johnathon of all people. I can't lose to Johnathon; I especially cannot lose Ethan to Johnathon. Ethan has the potential to become my greatest lay ever.

Once I arrive home, I immediately strip off my clothes and put them in the washing machine. I brush my teeth quickly, and then jump into the shower. I hate the smell of stale smoke and the taste of old beer on my tongue.

Under the warm spray of water, I get hard thinking about Ethan. I soap up my hands and jerk off imagining Ethan's plump, juicy lips. He's got an amazing mouth; I definitely want to get my dick in it, maybe even more than I want to get it into his tight ass. I stroke myself in time with fantasy Ethan's fast-moving mouth. The water pounds soothingly against my neck and back and I come fast. I imagine pulling almost completely out of Ethan's mouth and watching myself come on his tongue and it makes my toes curl.

Satisfied for the time being, I finish showering and dry off in the bathroom. I keep my house set at a decent temperature and my blinds closed up for a reason, and tonight is like any other night. I roam my house naked, as I prefer to do, and munch on an apple as I try to talk myself into going to bed. It's late and I should go to sleep, but I can't get my mind off of Ethan and I know if I go to bed, I'll probably just end up jerking off again, and possibly again, and then again if I'm still not asleep. I'm prone to binge-jerking when bored and horny, as most men are, but with the possibility of getting my dick played with by Ethan himself, I really don't want to make it sore by overdoing it. And by overdoing it, I mean jacking off repeatedly, which I will do because Ethan is hot, and now I'm hard again.

Biting off the last chunk of my apple, I toss it in the trash then make my way back to my entry hall where my washer and dryer is. I switch the washed clothes into the dryer, and when I'm reaching for a lone sock that's at the far bottom of the washer, my hot, painfully hard cock rubs against the cold, unforgiving hard metal wash machine. I gasp and pull away, then push against it again, because I kind of like the painful, yet pleasurable feeling.

My phone beeps and Johnathon's name shows up on the screen, flashing that I have '1 New Text'. I almost expect it to say 'I see you humping your washing machine, Jazzy' but it doesn't. I stop humping my washing machine though because who does that? It's creepy. Humping Johnathon would be better than humping a washing machine.

I shudder at the thought and take it back. Humping a washer is definitely better than ever putting my dick anywhere near Johnathon. I grab my discarded phone, wallet, and Ethan's card and go to my couch, where I lay on my erection to hopefully squish it to death. I make myself promise not to hump the couch because the leather will cause some serious chafing and I really want my dick un-chafed for Ethan.

I read Johnathon's text, which is just the number eight, some equal signs, a capital 'D', and some squiggly lines, arranged in that order to make a text penis that is jizzing. I delete the message and set my phone down, but as soon as I do, it lights up again with another text from Johnathon:

Ethan's pictures still get the job done.

I groan and delete the message. I'm incredibly jealous that Johnathon has pictures of Ethan jerking his cock. Johnathon of course knows this and will taunt me mercilessly until I give in to whatever it is that he wants. Right now, I'm thinking that he wants me to sleep with him, and right now, the prospect of sleeping with someone isn't looking so bad.

The problem is not that Johnathon is unattractive, he's actually very good-looking, and I was actually attracted to him at one point. The problem is that he's gay. Like, life partner gay. He wants to make me his mate, or something like that, and it's such a huge turn off for me. Were he not so blatantly obvious and flamboyantly homo, I could probably actually just get it over with and do him, but he just... wants it too much. Maybe one day he'll learn to tone it down and pretend that he's the one out of my league, and maybe I'll be horny enough to fuck him, but for now, no amount of horniness, or number of sexy pictures, would get him into my pants. I can, and will, wait to see Ethan's cock.

I grab Ethan's card and study it for a while. The card is boring, to say the least. It's white and crisp and uptight, and I wonder if Ethan is much like this card. I don't think he is. I think he's probably well-rounded, considering he's a lawyer, but I think there is another side to him. There is a website listed on the card, so I set the card down and grab my laptop.

I know I kind of, not really, promised I wouldn't look him up on the internet, but I'm curious. On the website, there is a picture with some people I do not recognize, and two that I do. William, I recognize from commercials and ads and Ethan I definitely know. A group of men and women are standing on a stone staircase in front of a huge building with glass windows, dressed in expensive looking suits. Ethan looks very serious, and very sexy, surrounded by the mostly older crowd.

I click on a link that says, 'The Bennetts' and it brings me to a page with a picture of three men and two women. Under the picture it says, 'Ed Bennett, Irina Bennett, William Bennett, Emily Bennett, and Ethan Bennett'.

Ethan is noticeably related to the men, though I can't find a single likeness between him and any of the women. I assume the picture holds three generations of Bennetts: Ed, the grandfather; William, the father; and Ethan, the son. I assume 'Emily' is probably Ethan's mother, but there is no resemblance at all. William looks like Irina—who is obviously his mother—with his blonde hair and blue eyes, but his face and body appear very similar to Ethan's. I have no idea where Ethan's bronze hair and green eyes came from. A family throwback, maybe.

Or a scandal. Perhaps that is why he didn't want me searching the internet for him. Ethan Bennett, attorney at law, and illegitimate son? Yeah, I definitely smell a scandal.

Bored, and still not tired—and desperately wanting to feel someone's mouth on my cock—I grab my handy sketch pad and a discarded pencil. I quickly sketch William and Ed's profiles onto the paper, and then I rigorously render Ethan's profile on the page. Every last detail of his face is transferred onto the paper. His jaw and eyes are difficult to replicate, but I do my best off of memory and the pictures still up on my laptop. I save his lips for last, knowing I won't be able to resist imagining them doing delightful things to me again. I'm not wrong; as soon as I start shaping them, I grow hard again. I spend a long time filling in the details—the fullness, the shape, the shadows, the creases. It all has to be just right. My dick starts to ache from being hard so long with the weight of my body pressing it into the couch, so I put my book aside and roll over.

I don't have any lube nearby, so I spit on my hand and start stroking myself slowly.

I want to know what Ethan tastes like. His mouth and his neck and his nipples and his fingers, I want to lick them. I want to lick all of him. I want to kiss his chest and stomach, to dip my tongue into his belly button, to tease the sensitive skin near his hips with my tongue and to just taste him. I want to feel his cock in my mouth, to taste him on the back of my tongue and in my throat. I want to tease the slit of his cock with the tip of my tongue to press my lips against his balls while he's deep in my throat. I want to taste his come in my mouth, to feel him coming in my mouth.

I groan and slide my hand along my shaft more quickly as I imagine what he'd feel like coming against my tongue.

I want to feel his hands in my hair as he fucks my mouth. I want to feel the pressure of the head of his cock pressing into my throat, to hear him grunt my name as he nears climax and watches his cock my mouth. I want to see him jump and hear him hiss when I press my fingers between his ass cheeks. I want to see him throw his head back when he can't take it anymore. I want to hear him coming undone, to know that he wants it as I tease his ass, to see the way he looks at me when he realizes how good it feels.

I want to be the one who changes him; I want so badly to teach him how much he is missing. I want him to want my cock and I want him to want to give me his cock. I just want him.

I feel myself getting close and I throw my head back against the sofa, closing my eyes to imagine him better as I focus on the head of my cock, knowing it'll get me off. I imagine him going down on me again, the unsure and shy look he'll give me as he licks my dick for the first time.

I twist my hand over the top of my cock, gathering the moisture there and spread it around my head. I can feel my thighs starting to tense and my neck arches back as I groan. I think about Ethan looking up at me as he takes me into his mouth, his hair falling into his eyes as he sucks and licks at my head. My hips start to buck against my hand, and I feel the indicative tightening in my stomach and testicles.

I slow my movements as my climax builds, drawing it out and edging for as long as I can take it. My thighs quiver and I hear myself whimper unintentionally as the pleasure becomes nearly painful from the prolongment. Finally, I can't take it anymore and I fist the head of my cock. My hips press up hard with quick, jerky thrusts against my hand as I grunt and groan through the pleasure.

I come hard—much harder than normal for a self-induced orgasm, but Ethan already seems capable of bringing me so much pleasure. I can feel my cum on my stomach and my hand, but I don't care, I ignore it and close my eyes. The euphoria of the orgasm keeps my body tingling and my mind numb while I try to catch my breath.

Post climax, I want to call Ethan, but logically I know I can't do that. One of the most important steps to the process is to always be on your game. Calling him immediately after an orgasm because I want to hear his voice before he has any idea what is going on is about as far from 'on my game' as I can get.

But still, I pick up my phone and program his name and number in, saving it into my contacts for easy access for any time I may need it.