Page 27 of Twisted Little Game

Tate

Good morning.

Your Guardian Fucking Angel

Good morning, Blondin.

Did you sleep well?

I set my phone down on the blanket beside me, stretching out on the bed and squinting in the early morning light.

I look down and see the massive tent my morning wood is making under the sheets, and I wrap my fist around my dick, giving it a tight squeeze.

I’ve been texting Roman.

Every day.

It was initially a joke when I told him I’d send good morning texts, but… I started doing it after that day in the dining hall, and now I can’t stop. I’ve lost count of how many good morning texts I’ve sent him at this point, and usually the conversation doesn’t go much further than that.

Finally, my phone buzzes again.

Didn’t sleep much. Did you?

I had a dream about you.

Hm. Tell me.

I don’t think you want to know about it. I was sitting on your lap.

That’s pretty G-rated, Tate.

...I was sitting on your lap completely naked, facing you, while I sank down onto your cock.

My cock throbs as I send the message.

I don’t know if I should have sent it.

I’m too honest with everyone, and I always say too much, but at the end of the day I’m not trying to piss Roman off or push a boundary.

I reach below my sheets and grip my cock, and finally, my phone vibrates again.

Your Guardian Fucking Angel

You could not handle my cock.

I moan out loud when a photo comes through, and it’s a picture of Roman’s groin. He’s wearing thick grey sweatpants, and there is a distinct outline of his cock pressed up against his leg beneath.

It’s massive.

I had gotten an impression of it that night at the party, but I had no clue it was like this.

Obscenely fucking huge, lying against his leg as it presses through the grey cotton. I don’t even know if I’m seeing the entire thing, because the picture is dark and probably taken while he’s still in bed.

You sent that fucking picture just to brag. Holy shit, Roman.

You brought it up. I am not shy about my body.

How many inches is that?