It’s Saturday afternoon, and I am on my back on the bed, enjoying Bear’s attention. He is stroking my cock with the help of some baby oil, and he’s finding a pattern that gets me more and more excited. It’s been a bit over 5 weeks since I last came, and so it doesn’t take long before I say
“I’m getting close, Sir.”
“Don’t come,” Bear says with a smirk playing over his face. He’s stroking down and he doesn’t stop, just slows down a little.
“Sir, please, I’m getting — aaaaahh!!!!” as Bear strokes up again, and starts another down-stroke.
“Don’t come,” he repeats, that smirk getting broader. His hand is off my dick.
“Yes, Sir,” I breathe. I don’t come, somehow.
Bear hovers a finger over my cock, grinning.
“If I touch it, is it going to explode?”
He doesn’t touch me again.
If I had a sexual bucket list, saying “Sir, please, I’m getting — aaaaahh!!!!” in an honest, natural, it-arose-from-the-moment way would most certainly be on it.
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