Page 114 of Vicious Intentions
“Well, I won’t know unless I try, now will I?” He pauses, considering the merits of my argument.
“Fine. We’ll play it by ear, agreed?”
“Agreed.” I smile widely, sitting on my hands so I don’t clap in excitement.
My gaze never leaves him as his hand cradles the crook of his neck, easing whatever knot he has there, before drifting downover his chest, still frustratingly hidden beneath a black T-shirt. My eyes become two slits when his hand stops at the elastic band of his sweats, a visible bulge already aimed north where his fingers tug at the band.
I hear him take another breath before arching slightly upward and using both hands to pull his sweats down his legs, leaving him only in his boxers. Large muscular thighs come into full view, but my gaze remains fixed on the bulge he’s trying so hard to avoid touching.
I bite the corner of my lips as he decides to stand up for a second to remove the last stitch of clothing covering what I’m so curious to see.
Dear God…. what is that?!
My eyes widen as I take in his long length and girth, standing proudly at attention.
“I hate it when you don’t talk to me,” he says worriedly. “I’m not sure if you look disappointed or stunned.”
Stunned isn’t the word I’d use to describe what I’m feeling right now. Terrified. Panicked. Alarmed. All those adjectives would have worked better… but sure, let’s stick with stunned.
How is that ever going to fit…
Nope. I’m not going to think about that now. He said we’d play this by ear, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. No use thinking about how that monster is going to take my virginity one day. Maybe. Hopefully.
Though take doesn’t seem like a good verb either. More like that thing looks like it’s going to break my virginity, shatter it into a million pieces, just by looking at it.
And is it angry at me?
It looks all purply and veiny. Sure, I’ve never seen a man’s dick before, but I’m pretty sure his is mad at me for some reason.
“Um…is it always that…angry?”
“It’s not angry. Let me show you just how happy it is to see you,” he chuckles but then grunts when he strokes it from his tip down. “It likes you just fine. Believe me.”
“Are you sure? It looks pretty mad to me.”
“Fuck no. Not hearing your voice is what gets him angry.”
I lick my lips and imagine myself stroking it like he just did, the way it must feel in my hand. It’s so big that my hand would look tiny in comparison. Maybe I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my hand around it at all, with how girthy it is.
He then begins to show me how he jerks off to the memory of my little moans. The sounds that leave him get me hot all over, my thighs pressing against each other just to relieve the sudden ache building from the image on the screen.
“You look flushed, sweetheart,” he moans out after a while. “Is something the matter?”
I know he’s teasing me. So I turn the tables on him and tease him right back.
“Where am I right now?”
“What do you mean?” he asks in confusion.
“Am I just watching you touch yourself in your room… or is that my hand on you, stroking you?”
“Fuck, Anna… wait…”
“Or am I on my knees in front of you, watching you play with it?”
“Fuck,” he groans, a white spurt gathering at the tip. “I forget what a quick study you are,” he adds, his free, veiny hand gripping the edge of his bed, his knuckles turning white while his other hand tightens around his member.
Good. It’s working. But it’s not enough. I want him to lose his mind, like he makes me lose mine every night.
