“What else do I like?” he asks.
My voice shakes as I say, “You like it when your hair is pulled while you’re going down on … someone.” I’m trying to avoid pronouns, because reminding him of women while doing this without one present diminishes what we’re doing. I want him to only be thinking of me, just like my focus is on him and everything I already know about getting him off. I want to be the one on his mind as he comes tonight.
Miller groans in appreciation, and his wrist flicks the button on his jeans.
“Take them off.” Didn’t take much for my bossy side to come out.
“Give me a sec.” He puts his phone down so I’m staring at his ceiling.
When he appears on my screen again, a shy smile ghosts his lips. “Is it weird that I’m nervous? I mean … considering the stuff we’ve done …”
“This is different,” I whisper. “This is us. Only us.”
Miller disappears again, and the view goes wonky. I see an arm and a flash of his tat on his pec, and then the picture steadies. Bare ass fills the screen, and I catch a quick peek of his surgical scar running down the back of his hamstring. I don’t have time to ask about it, because Miller climbs back onto his mattress, and I can’t help loving the image I’m seeing.
He’s placed his phone on his dresser, giving me a view of his entire room.
If asked my favorite body part on someone, a few months ago, my answer never would’ve been Miller’s thick and powerful thighs. But as he lies down and lifts the leg closest to the camera, hiding his monster cock, my mouth dries at the sight.
His eyes meet mine. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get yourself off” falls out of my mouth, and I hope he doesn’t call me on my obviousness. I’m not so lucky. Of course not. This is Miller. The only guy in the world to truly call me on my shit.
“Oh. I thought you, like, wanted me to knit you a sweater or something.”
I go to snipe back, but all playfulness leaves when he drops that powerful thigh and exposes the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. And I’ve lived in locker rooms. I’ve noticed way too many for a supposed straight guy. “I don’t think you’d be able to knit with that.”
Miller throws his head back and laughs, but then he stares down at his cock as he reaches for it.
His erection is long and thick and only appears bigger when his beefy hand wraps around the hard shaft. He strokes himself slowly, and I swallow hard.
“Are you hard?” he asks, his voice husky.
Am I hard? I don’t think I’ve been so fucking horny in my life.
I palm my cock through my boxers. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he closes his eyes, and his lips part.
Licking his hand, he uses his spit as lube and strokes himself faster. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Miller do this—one of our many favorite things we used to do was have him get himself off while he watched me with someone else—but it’s the first time I’ve actually paid real attention to his hand while he’s doing it.
Precum leaks in my boxers, and I pull the waistband down and tuck it under my balls so my cock springs free.
Miller doesn’t make a move to watch me. When he does open his eyes, his focus stays on his cock as the muscles in his arm flex.
Someone moans, and I think it’s me, but I honestly can’t be sure. My attention is only on Miller as he works his hand up and down, slowly increasing pace.
His hips buck off the bed as he fucks his own hand, and that’s the image that makes me give in to my own need.
The first touch has my whole body shuddering. I’m not going to last long. The last time jerking off felt this good was during training camp, right after I got Miller to his room. These past few weeks, when I’ve been exploring many, many clips of gay porn, none of those orgasms compare to the one building inside me.
No more words are spoken, and I don’t even know if Miller’s aware of what I’m doing. He closes his eyes, and his jaw hardens as if he’s gritting his teeth, but it’s when he makes the telltale grunt right before he comes that has me spilling into my own hand.
My muscles tense to the point of aching and drag out my orgasm until I’m completely spent.
Five seconds later, white ropes of cum cover Miller’s stomach, and he collapses back, sinking into his mattress.
The only sound between us is heavy breathing, and Miller still refuses to look at me, but I can’t stop staring at his long body.