Page 53 of Sweat

I blink my screen on and immediately, my eyes feast on the gloriously shocking sight of Tommy’s veiny, raging cock. Tucking my phone right up close to my chest, I skim the message while struggling not to drool over how pink and wet his flared head looks, like he’s already been stroking. Background suggests he’s sequestered in the family bathroom.

Tommy

Room for dessert later?

The implication has my body temp rising. Hooking up without the pretext of working out would just be hooking up. Like what I did with minivan-guy.

Another text appears while I’m caught up in my nerves.

Tommy

Please? Wanna taste you too

My dick swells. How can it not? I’ve wanted to feel Tommy’s mouth around me almost more than I’ve wanted him on first string, but I’ve been too paranoid to coax him down on my lap whenever my cock is out. Paranoid that it’ll feel too much like something sick and desperate. Paranoid that Tommy won’t like it, or that he’ll like it too much. Paranoid that I’m corrupting him, turning him gay and taking advantage of him.

He’s only two years younger than me, but that baby face gets to me sometimes. So pretty and flawless. Coming in his hand is one thing, but coming in that perfect face is a game changer. Just the thought is enough to push me over the edge when I’m beating off solo, but there’s guilt laced in my desire to follow through.

I don’t decide until Xia says, “You should go out with him later. It’s Friday night. Have some fun.”

“Can I go too?” Olive asks, hopping in her chair and grinning like the answer is already yes.

“No,” Xia tells her.

Me

Did you cum yet?

Tommy

Not yet. I’m close

Me

Don’t cum. I’ll pull up in an hour and a half.

Tommy

I can cum again

Me

Do as daddy says

Tommy

Fuck

Ok

You better not be late

Is it possible to blush while smirking like a fiend? If so, I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m doing until Xia snaps again and tells me enough is enough with thephone.

I know I always say fifteen minutes early is on time, but when little kids are a factor in my timeliness, there’s only so much I can do. When Tommy drops into my passenger seat, he pays me a look that is almost pained. The little sadist in me finds it adorable, and when I reach over and feel Tommy’s lap to find his cock is still hard as a rock, I’m beyond pleased.

“Mmm,” I moan, feeling my own cock press against my fly. “You were a good boy, weren’t you?”

“I hate you,” he says, nostrils flared. He presses his hand on mine, and that rigid tool in his pants throbs against my palm.

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