Page 55 of Jack Frosting

His hand flew to my cock and finished me off in less than a minute. Half of my load covered his hand; the other half coated my stomach.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Clayton said, taking a second to stare at me and my blissed-out form.

I felt his fingers on my abs, which brought me back to reality. He was scooping up my cum and about to lick it off his fingers.

“Wait a minute.”

“What?” Clayton asked.

“Fuck me with it.”

“What?”

“Fuck me with my cum,” I said.

Clayton bit his lip, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to do what I asked, then I felt him pull out and his fingers replaced his cock.

I rested my head back on the cross and concentrated on squeezing my hole around him as he restarted his thrusts.

* * *

“Thank you,” Clayton said.

I glanced down at Clayton whose hands were busy soaping my chest. “For what?” I asked.

“For letting me do that to you.”

“I may have been tied up, but I can assure you that I was a willing participant.” I smiled. “And you’re welcome. It is a goddamn gift to be inside my butthole, isn’t it?”

“Amen!” Clayton laughed. After giving my neck a gentle kiss, he asked me to turn around. He continued to massage the soap into my body. “I’m glad I didn’t leave a mark anywhere.”

He might not have left a mark on my body, but he was definitely on my mind more now than ever, and perhaps starting to work his way in elsewhere.

It was fast, but it wasn’t something I could control. Feelings were feelings.

“I should also thank you,” I said. “That was…definitely an experience.” I turned around and pulled him close to me, wrapping my arms around him.

“You want to put our bathrobes on, make cocoa, and stay up late watching movies and snuggling in my bed tonight?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was holding a mug of warm cocoa and snuggled against Clayton in his bed with Bridget Jones’s Diary streaming on the suspended television. I didn’t care that it was early; it was my favorite Christmas movie.

“How do you think I should approach the Henry situation?”

“The one where he knows about us, or the one where he might be questioning his sexuality?” I asked.

“Both?”

I was touched that he would want my opinion about it. Henry was his son. I had only known both of them for a short time.

“I’m not sure what to say. I’m not one to really-”

“But you are! He’s said more to you about his feelings the last few months than he has with me in years. I really want to know your opinion.”

“Okay.” I thought about it for a minute. “I’d probably leave it for now. He’s not necessarily struggling, or getting teased or anything. He’s still processing, I think.” I glanced up at Clayton to see he was deep in thought. “As for talking to him about us, it didn’t seem to matter to him. He was fine with it.”

I wanted to tell him to talk to Henry about us as soon as possible. I didn’t want to keep hiding, not that I really needed to, but there were moments when I wanted to grab him in the kitchen, or spoon on the couch while football was on. And now, all of that was almost possible if only Clayton wanted it to be that way.