Page 53 of The Fireman and the Flirt

My moves were fast and full of craving. I pushed him against the wall and untangled his legs from my waist. I undid his pants, while he did the same to me. I grabbed both of our cocks and stroked us as we moaned into each other’s mouths. Cary tried to help out, but I wanted to do it all on my own. I wanted to feel our flesh rub against each other.

“Oh my God,” Cary said over and over again, mumbling in tongues. “I want you so fucking bad.”

Watching him writhe and pant from my touch made me stroke us harder and faster.

Cary’s moans got more desperate sounding, his voice cracking.

“Gonna come,” he said with his last bits of sanity.

In a dash of quick thinking, I pulled my knit cap from my coat pocket and covered our cocks like they were a live grenade. We spilled our seed at damn near the same time, the milky liquid seeping through the stitches.

When I let go of Cary, he slid down the wall.

“Nope. We definitely shouldn’t do that again,” I said.

16

CARY

We definitely didn’t do that again. Nope, not at all. We definitely did not hook up in two more empty model homes that week. Derek absolutely did not go down on me in a butler’s pantry, and I absolutely did not go down on him in a mud room. There was no conceivable way that Derek and I made out like teenagers before and after sucking each other off.

Nope. None of that happened.

And it was all spectacular.

I’d forgotten how great hooking up could be, how my lips could be sore from kissing. I nearly felt the urge to start a LiveJournal to pour out my thoughts. Was LiveJournal still a thing or was that something else the techbro overlords had taken from us?

In all fairness, I was still doing my job and showing Derek houses. We simply hadn’t found any he’d liked. And once we crossed a house off our list, it became fair game for fooling around in. We never hooked up in someone’s actual home, only completely empty, uninhabited houses.

I tried giving myself pep talks before meeting up with Derek, reminding myself that I was a professional tasked with helping Derek find a home. But then I’d see him, and he’d smile at me in that way I’d fantasized about every day in high school, and all good sense went out the window. I was a strong, independent man, but there was no better feeling than when a cute guylookedat you.

The attraction between us was combustible, and I was addicted. This was over twenty years of pent up wanting and pining set against the backdrop of new construction homes.

There was a brand-new home available in another development, Wooden Crest (seriously, where did they come up with these development names?), that I convinced Derek to take a look at. He hadn’t seemed interested from the listing pictures, but I had an idea to get him more on board.

I got to the house fifteen minutes before I told him to arrive. I made sure everything was in order. The lights worked. It was clean. There were no unexpected dealbreakers not seen in the pictures. It was a very nice house with an updated kitchen, brand-new HVAC system, and a giant, clawfoot tub in the bathroom off the main bedroom.

To get Derek more on board, I did what any dedicated agent would do: I stripped naked and got in the bathtub, which also doubled as a Jacuzzi. I didn’t turn it on, though. That would’ve been weird.

Was this insane? Possibly. Would this seal the deal for Derek to buy this house? Possibly. Was the idea of Derek climbing into the tub and having his way with his buck naked real estate agent overriding any sensible thoughts in my mind? Definitely.

I checked myself out in the mirror. I looked good. I was having a good hair day, upstairs and downstairs. Derek would be arriving any minute. To the random outsider, this probably looked strange. But if they knew how it felt to have his hands on my body, they would have no choice but to understand. And if this could help Derek paint the picture for this house, then all the better.

Right on cue, I heard the front door open. My dick hardened at the prospect of Derek walking through that bathroom door, ripping off his T-shirt, and rubbing his hairy chest against me like a loofah. How he would ravage me.

Except, unless the echo was unusually strong, I heard multiple footsteps walk through the front door.

“Check out this coat closet. It’s humongous,” said a female voice that definitely, absolutely, in no conceivable way was Derek’s.

“Shit,” I whispered.

Maybe I was imagining things.

“I love the crown molding,” said another female voice.

This wasn’t happening.

“Mommy! Daddy! This place is huge!!” screamed a little girl.

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