Page 115 of Shroom for Improvement

“Me neither.”

“So, give me a couple of minutes to look at you. Please,” Claude begged. He sat on the end of the bed, and for a while he simply let his gaze flit over my nearly naked body, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip, his breath growing increasingly ragged. “I can’t believe you’re here with me. Turn around.”

I did, and I felt the elastic waistband of my boxers being lifted away and dragged down over my ass. And then Claude’s lips were on my skin at the base of my spine—warm and wet. His tongue. The vibrations of his moans. He placed a thumb or finger against the flared base of the plug and pushed. I cried out... tried to resist the urge to back up onto his face.

“This ass is perfect,” he said. “Everything about you is perfect. You have these dimples, right here and... fuck, they are just adorable.” His voice was deep, gravelled. Sex-Claude was confident and self-assured. There was no hesitance, no reticence. It was unbelievably hot. “Tell me what you like, Sonny. What do you want me to do to you? How do you like to be touched?”

“I... want you to take control,” I said, not turning to look at him. “Full control.”

He pushed his thumb against the plug, and I whined.

I continued. “I like to be told what to do.”

Another stroke. I realised he was rewarding me with touch for telling him what I liked.

“I want... gods, I want you to use me, Claude. Do whatever you want with me. I’m entirely yours. Fuck me how you like to fuck. Hold me down and break me. Don’t be polite, just take everything from me. Tell me to take my filthy feet off the train’s table.”

He laughed, stroked his thumbs over the divots in my lower back. “Do you like praise?”

“Yes,” I whined. “But I prefer punishment.”

“Oh, fuck, Sonny.” He spun me back round to face him and freed my cock from the front of my boxers, letting them drop to the floor with the rest of our clothes. He stared at it, at the sticky trail of precum that had been building since I stepped out of the shower thirty minutes ago. “Look how slick you are for me.”

I motioned to touch myself, to wrap my fingers around my length and swipe the head clean, but Claude caught my wrist in his hand and pinned it by my hip.

“We’re not touching your cock tonight,” he said.

“At all?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Let’s see if we can find another way to make you come.”

“Oh,” was all I could say in return.

A prostate orgasm? I hadn’t had one of those since I’d discovered the magic button in my much, much younger years. And that had been an accident. A complete fluke. The product of overeagerness and the inability to stop or slow down. I didn’t know if it was even still a possibility to come without friction to my cock.

I’d wager my fist would be wrapped around my dick before the end of the night.

Claude’s fingers dug into my ass cheeks and pulled me closer to him. His nose and mouth butted against the flesh between my cock—which he pointedly ignored—and my hip. Heclosed his eyes and inhaled, holding the scent of me in his lungs and then slowly releasing it.

“I need you on the bed,” he said, standing up and stripping his underpants off.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up at him, waiting for his next command. Fuck, why was it so hot to be bossed around like this?

A smile ticked the corners of his mouth. “Ass up. Let me taste you.”

I needed friction, needed to jam the heel of my palm against the head of my cock. I gritted my teeth, but my hand twitched towards my dick. Claude clocked it. He raised a brow.Tsked.

He leant down... planted his lips next to my ear. “Would you like me to tie you up?”

“Holy fuck.” The words slipped out, but I was already obsessed with the idea. “If I touch myself, you’ll punish me by tying me up?”

Claude didn’t respond, not with words. A smile ticked the corner of his mouth. I took it as a yes.

Without sparing a second more to think it through, I wrapped my fingers around the base of my cock and roughly stroked upwards, crying out at the instant relief the friction brought.

Claude’s grin tripled in size. “Disobedient little fae.”

I would have been grinning back, but I was too far gone for that. My breaths were coming out as pants, my chest heaving. I held my wrists in front of his face, ready for him.

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