Page 41 of Just A Little Fling

With my encouragement, Nico resumed his movements. We landed upon steadily jacking each other. At some point, what started as words turned into babble then simply grunts and groans as we raced toward the edge. Our breathing turned harsher as our orgasms threatened to overwhelm us.

“Sweet Boy, I need you to come for me. I want all of you. Can you come for me, baby? You look so sexy like this with your body open and letting me touch every part of you. I can see your beautiful cock. You’re so pretty, baby.”

There was no sign of the put-together personal assistant I’d met months ago at Christmas. Instead, I had a lapful of a sweating, writhing boy chasing an orgasm. I knew I was the only one who could give it to him. That thought alone put me on the edge of the cliff. When Nico couldn’t hold out any longer, I whispered words of encouragement to jack me faster. Nico did the best he could, but his orgasm was too close for him to do anything but let the sensations wash over him, and his movements were jerky and uneven. He let out a sharp gasp and ropes of cum spurted from his dick.

I reached down and grabbed his hand under mine and directed his hand against my cock faster and faster. In another stroke or two, my own release erupted from my cock. Our shouts of release were followed by harsh pants while we tried to force air back into our lungs.

Nico collapsed over me, and I rubbed soothing circles over his sweaty back. It could’ve been a minute or an hour. Either way, I wasn’t moving a muscle until I was forced to. Far too often in our quick hotel visits, we’d done the deed and then it’d been time for one or both of us to go. I wanted to soak in him.

I’m not sure how long it was, but finally, Nico stirred in my arms and put his hands on my shoulder to push himself into a sitting position. “Babbo, we a mess.”

“We sure are. I think we need to shower and get cleaned up, or we’re gonna stick together.”

“Silly, if we stick together, how will we get anything done?”

I kissed him on the nose, which earned me another giggle. It was so sweet and cute, and I made a mental note to find more ways to hear it.

“I guess you’ll have to come with me everywhere like my own personal monkey.”

“You get tired of me.”

“Baby, I would never get tired of you, but I would like to clean up this mess.”

* * *

“All right, one toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” I said when I slid his sandwich off the spatula. “Do you want to cut in squares or triangles?”

“Triangles, please.” After this morning’s jack-off session, we popped into the shower and spent the rest of the morning playing video games. Nico played a round or two of war games but asked for a few silly ones as well. I was happy to play along with either. When we played games out in his bungalow, he gravitated toward the more violent ones, but now he seemed to prefer racing or coloring games, not anything where people got hurt.

“Done. Are you okay to fill out our list while we do lunch, or wait until after?”

“Let’s just do them now. That way, we can talk about them after lunch.”

I nodded and went up to the office to get our printed sheets of paper, along with a pen for each of us to use. With only quick encounters in the hotel room, we hadn’t bothered doing a checklist. Most of the time we were there for such a short period that nothing elaborate would happen anyway, so we’d only covered basic consent. But since we’d decided to move forward with whatever this was, we needed boundaries and expectations in place to avoid miscommunication and misunderstanding. And to remind me this was causal. Hopefully

I handed the paper to Nico, and he immediately started checking things off. He was pretty decisive about most of his movements, which was nice. There wasn’t a lot of second-guessing.

“Here’s my list, Babbo.” Nico dropped his list on the table with a flourish and a Cheshire grin. “Is it your age that makes you slow?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… I am barely older than you. You’re like twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six. Thank you very much.”

“And I’m thirty-four, thankyouvery much.”

“Right. So you’re old, and that’s why you’re slow with your list, which I might like to point out.” Nico paused to give my paper a pointed look. “You’ve only got halfway finished.”

“Yes, because I am methodical and careful and want to make sure that I give my answers the proper consideration they deserve.” I folded my hands and dropped them on the table as if at the negotiating table. “Don’t you want me to get it right?”

“Is there a way to get it wrong?”

I paused to think about what he was saying. I understood that this was mostly all a joke, but it was possible to get it wrong. Like really, really wrong. Maybe wrong wasn’t always the correct word, but it was definitely possible to get it not right.

“Sorry, Sweet Boy, it’s just who I am. I need to ensure all theIs are dotted and theTs are crossed. I need to know what you need from me.” My left turn into sappy land put Nico into a quiet, contemplative space.

“I’m not sure anyone’s ever put in that much effort.”

“If taking the time to make a compatibility list for someone you hope to be in a situationship with qualifies as going out of my way, then who the fuck have you been dating?”

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