Page 74 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

It didn’t help. Unfortunately.

I just wanted George more.

Wanted to press my hips into his ass, catch my cock between his cheeks, grinding till his pajamas were sticky with sweat and cum and that pretty hole was clenching.

I wouldn’t do that.

Of course not.

Not without his consent.

I refused to hurt George again.

I wanted to protect him.

The glimpses I’d seen of how…skittish he could be only made that desire more prevalent. I had the feeling that his ex had been more than “hard” to deal with. Made me so fucking angry. But I pushed the thoughts aside, doing my best to get back to sleep given the current circumstances.

Eventually, I did manage to pass out. Unfortunately for me—maybe karma? I don’t know—my dreams were plagued with slick tongues and eager red cocks. With tight, wet little holes, and chin dimples. And sticky white streaks of cum. When I woke the next morning I discovered my hard dick pressed against the swell of George’s supple ass.

Mortified? Guilty? Yes.

Surprised? No.

Fuck.

George made the sweetest noise as his hips hitched back into mine. As I stayed impossibly still, frozen, George’s ass cheeks parted, and my cock slid right where it’d so desperately wanted to go the night before. It was a practiced movement. Like in his sleep he’d already done this exact motion countless times. Judging by how sticky my boxers were, it could’ve been going on for ages.

George pushed his pelvis back again, seeking friction. I could hardly breathe, terrified of moving now that my dick was effectively trapped, held hostage. His body was inviting me to rut into the tight, hot space—but it was simply that, his body. Not him. Despite wanting nothing more than to lose myself against him, I practiced self-control.

Yay for me.

Pulling my hips back so he couldn't reach, my dick pulsed in mourning.

The last thing I was going to do was betray his trust. Especially after he’d come to me for comfort the night before.

“George.” My voice was lower than normal, scratchy from a combination of sleep and arousal.

George stirred, his long limbs stretching, his body loose and soft as his slutty ass shuffled back, hunting for my dick again. I had to grab on to his hip to stop him. Which ended up being a mistake, because his t-shirt had riddenup, and he was so fucking warm, all naked, soft skin. And my pelvis twitched forward of its own accord, a primal need to fuck rising to the surface.

“George,” I repeated, strained. My hand spasmed on his hip, and he frowned.

When his eyes drifted open, all that sleepy relaxation fled. His cheeks blazed a ruddy, splotchy red. He glared at me, the sweet, scared man from the night before gone with the last dregs of indigo sky.

Horror dawned on him, his eyes widening the moment he realized he’d been the one grinding onme.

“I didn’t—” I started again, unsure what I wanted to say. “Iwouldn’t. I stopped you. Not because I don’t want to but because I—George, it’s okay. It happens—it’s?—”

George was unzipping the sleeping bag before I could blink, or finish my sentence. His gorgeous ass was right in my face, sticky patch from my precum on the back of his shorts, as he crawled toward the tent flap. I groaned, salivating after him, before I shook my head to force my brain back on track.

“Wait, wait—it’s okay—don’t be embarrassed!” I attempted to reassure.

George ignored me, shoving his feet inside his sneakers as quickly as he could. He had nice feet. Bigger than you’d expect, lovely arches. Strong but delicate, even in the slutty knee-high white socks he apparently favored. God, what a nerd.

Sexynerd.

Who could make a mean steak and lovedLOTR.

“George, wait!” I tried one last time to no avail.

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