White turns off the TV. The sun's gone down. The room is dark except for a bit of light radiating from the bathroom. Freddy sighs as White's hand moves lower. The guy must have gotten his start picking pockets or shoplifting or something, because he's got Freddy's jeans unbuttoned and unzipped in one stealthy movement.
Yeah, that's nice. White's fingers trace his dick and balls through his boxers. Freddy gets hard faster than he should considering he just got off a couple of hours ago. His days of multiple jerk-off sessions are a few years behind him. Not tonight, though. White's got the magic touch.
He looks down, licking his lips as White draws his dick out through the slit in his boxers. Shadowy panther. White's hand wrapped around him, stroking slowly. He closes his eyes. White lets him go for a second. The sound of spitting. Then his hand's back, wet.
"Fuck, man..." Freddy breathes, staring up at the ceiling.
He has to be quiet. Doesn't need anyone banging on the wall or knocking on the door. White's hand moves slick and slow. Unhurried, like one of those late-night insomnia jerk-offs. Too slow. Freddy plants his foot and rocks up into it, his hand edging under his t-shirt. Way too slow. White's driving him crazy here. His fingers dig into his bare stomach.
"Pull it up," White says.
He's tugging up the hem of his t-shirt before he even really thinks about it. Can't think, not with White's hand slowly twisting. He wonders if this is how White jerks off. Serious. Slow. Steady as smoking a cigarette. He plays with his nipples, still sensitive from White sucking the hell out of them. Feels good, but it's nothing to the way White's looking down at him, like he's got his own private porno.
"Come on," Freddy whispers, pulling on his nipple and pushing into White's grip. "Please."
A little faster, and that's all he needs. He twists his nipple hard as he comes, breathing hard, feeling the wet drip of it over his stomach. His heel digs into the floor. His head pushes back against White's thigh. Then White's fingers are dragging through the mess on his stomach. At his mouth, slick and salty.
His insides are melted. His brain's gone home for the day. He opens his mouth, looking up at White with dazed eyes as he licks his own come off White's fingers.
Good thing it's dark. His face is on fire. He's never done anything like this in his life.
"Hey," White says, fingers out and patting Freddy damp on the cheek like he's reading his mind. "Don't worry about it. I ain't gonna tell anyone."
Of course not. Everything's cool. White's fingers slide through his hair, and Freddy clumsily gets his dick put away and his jeans done up. He lies there for a little while, catching his breath. Then he closes his eyes and feels himself sink down, warm and tired and feeling just fine.
Re: Orange/White, shaving kink - FILL: "Cut My Throat" 9/10
Yeah, that's nice. White's fingers trace his dick and balls through his boxers. Freddy gets hard faster than he should considering he just got off a couple of hours ago. His days of multiple jerk-off sessions are a few years behind him. Not tonight, though. White's got the magic touch.
He looks down, licking his lips as White draws his dick out through the slit in his boxers. Shadowy panther. White's hand wrapped around him, stroking slowly. He closes his eyes. White lets him go for a second. The sound of spitting. Then his hand's back, wet.
"Fuck, man..." Freddy breathes, staring up at the ceiling.
He has to be quiet. Doesn't need anyone banging on the wall or knocking on the door. White's hand moves slick and slow. Unhurried, like one of those late-night insomnia jerk-offs. Too slow. Freddy plants his foot and rocks up into it, his hand edging under his t-shirt. Way too slow. White's driving him crazy here. His fingers dig into his bare stomach.
"Pull it up," White says.
He's tugging up the hem of his t-shirt before he even really thinks about it. Can't think, not with White's hand slowly twisting. He wonders if this is how White jerks off. Serious. Slow. Steady as smoking a cigarette. He plays with his nipples, still sensitive from White sucking the hell out of them. Feels good, but it's nothing to the way White's looking down at him, like he's got his own private porno.
"Come on," Freddy whispers, pulling on his nipple and pushing into White's grip. "Please."
A little faster, and that's all he needs. He twists his nipple hard as he comes, breathing hard, feeling the wet drip of it over his stomach. His heel digs into the floor. His head pushes back against White's thigh. Then White's fingers are dragging through the mess on his stomach. At his mouth, slick and salty.
His insides are melted. His brain's gone home for the day. He opens his mouth, looking up at White with dazed eyes as he licks his own come off White's fingers.
Good thing it's dark. His face is on fire. He's never done anything like this in his life.
"Hey," White says, fingers out and patting Freddy damp on the cheek like he's reading his mind. "Don't worry about it. I ain't gonna tell anyone."
Of course not. Everything's cool. White's fingers slide through his hair, and Freddy clumsily gets his dick put away and his jeans done up. He lies there for a little while, catching his breath. Then he closes his eyes and feels himself sink down, warm and tired and feeling just fine.