Page 5 of Screens Apart

thick boy in laceFuck yes. I want that so much

mr. smithThen I’d slide my fingers in, getting you ready for my dick. Teasing you until you beg

mr. smithWould you beg for me sweet boy?

Yes. Yes. Oh holy fuck, yes I would.

I could barely type a response. My phone slid through my fingers several times and nearly hit me in the face before I rolled onto my stomach, tucking my knees underneath me and sticking my ass in the air before placing my phone on the mattress in front of me. I wrapped my fingers around my cock tightly as I slowly fucked into my hand.

I desperately wanted something in my ass, needed that perfect pleasure that came from being filled, but I didn’t want to stop touching myself to grab a toy out of the drawer. All I could think about was Mr. Smith. I couldn’t stop imagining him here, holding me down and whispering in my ear as his fat cock filled me.

God, I wanted that so much.

thick boy in laceYeah, I would. I need you inside me

thick boy in lacePlease

thick boy in laceWanna be good for you

mr. smithI know you do

mr. smithYou’d be so good for me

mr. smithAnd I’m gonna make you scream as I fuck you. Pound that thick ass of yours until you forget your own name

mr. smithAre you touching yourself for me?

thick boy in laceYes

I fucked my hand faster, rutting against the sheets as I chased my release. My breath was coming in pants, and I heard myself moaning and gasping, desperately trying to keep quiet as pleasure thrummed through me. I felt my orgasm approaching like a freight train, all I needed was a tiny push to send me careening over the edge.

mr. smithCome for me

“Oh fuck. Fuck!” My orgasm crashed through me making stars burst behind my eyes as ropes of creamy cum shot onto the sheets beneath me.

I collapsed onto the mattress, pulling my hand from underneath me as I tried to catch my breath. I knew I was lying in the wet spot and that I’d probably need another shower at some point, but I was too worn out to care.

I smiled as I looked at the next message Mr. Smith had sent me, chuckling to myself as I typed out a response.

mr. smithWell?

mr. smithI don’t know about you but I’m a mess now

thick boy in laceThat was really good ;)

thick boy in laceAnd yup, I’m lying in a wet patch

thick boy in laceI think I’m stuck to the sheets. Ick

We exchanged a few more messages before I finally said goodnight and rolled onto the drier side of the bed. I knew I should get up and shower again, but I figured I’d just wait until the morning and sneak in before Steve was awake.

Instead, I lost myself in thoughts of Taylor, replaying our conversations over and over in my mind until I drifted off to sleep.

The next day, after ordering a stupidly large package of batteries from Amazon, I tried to forget about the previous night.

Every time my brain tried to tempt me back to thoughts of Taylor by reminding meexactlywhat he’d said, I shut it down and forced myself to think about work. I spent the whole day focusing on orders and spreadsheets. By the time I finished, I almost had a headache from concentrating so hard. I still forced myself to go to the gym afterwards and spent nearly two hours lost in the rhythm of lifting weights.

Even though I wasn’t particularly fond of my body, or exercise, I found weightlifting calming. I could just focus on what I was doing instead of worrying about something else, and I almost liked the burn in my muscles that told me I’d done a good job.

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