Page 113 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“Wash up, Vincent,” Lia says.
“Thank you!” he says, heading for the sink. “My foreperson is keeping me in line.”
After we eat, Lia supervises Vincent for another hour, taking a break for a story from me about a girl learning to ride a bicycle. When we reach the end, her yawning cues me.
“Sweetie, I think I’m going to take you home. Your parents will expect you soon. It’s almost dinnertime.”
“But how will Vincent work without a foreperson?”
“I’m not sure,” he says, picking her up for a goodbye hug. “But you’ll have to help me the next time you come over.”
“You did a good job,” Lia tells Vincent. She kisses his chin, and my chest fills with a sense of warmth and tenderness, touched by her sweet gesture.
“So did you.” He gives her a peck on the cheek at the door. “I’m going to jump in the shower.” Vincent gives me a wink.
“I’ll be back with dinner.”
When I return from Gillian’s, I hear the shower running and “Songbird” blasting from the bathroom. I’m not sure how long he’s been in there, but after dropping the takeout in the kitchen, I head in to investigate.
Standing in the bathroom doorway, I study him. He’s in the shower, standing outside the cascade of water, scrubbing. I can’t tell if he’s caught in a loop, but when he catches me watching him, he flashes a genuine smile, and I’m confident he’s okay.
“Be out in a minute.” Vincent’s hands glide down his lower back. He’s turned, giving me a view of his beautiful butt. “Why don’t you hop in after me?”
“Is your mood … ”
“Peak.” He cranes his neck and flashes his teeth.
I tug my shirt over my neck and grab my toothbrush. Juggling the brush in one hand, I struggle to unbutton my pants with the other, finally managing to shimmy out of them.
Vincent laughs in the shower, watching me trip and almost fall. The urgency of his words prods me to hurry. When I’m naked with a clean mouth, sensing he’s almost finished, I hop in. In the cramped shower, we’re squeezed tightly together, barely able to move.
“Hey,” he says. Without taking my eyes off him, I can feel his cock poking against my thigh.
“Hey.”
Vincent leans over and kisses me softly. “Don’t take too long.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever washed so quickly, but I’m careful to clean well. If I want Vincent to enjoy this truly, I need to be spotless.
Toweling off, I enter our bedroom, and he’s on the floor. Kneeling near the foot of the bed.
“Why are you on the … ”
“Sit.” Vincent pats the bed.
I do as I’m told, resting on the comforter, legs spread, my cock already springing to life at the thought of what he might be planning.
“Let me be your good boy,” he says, “and you enjoy the view.”
He’s positioned me directly across from the floor-length mirror. With his knees spread, his ass sways in the reflection, and I’m able to glimpse his beautiful hole.
“Fuck, smoothie, you’re all worked up.”
“It was all the building.”
“Noted,” I say, followed by a quick gasp as he swallows my dick down to the base.
“There we go.” I lower my voice because I know the timbre drives Vincent wild. “Take my dick like a good boy.”
