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But, of course, he had Layla. Luscious, beautiful, sexy Layla.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
As I walked away from Chef Mac’s classroom, I tried to calm my hard-on. But it refused to relax. My cock absolutely refused to forget what I’d just seen. On the contrary, the visions of her face, her cries of passion, her clinging to Mac wanting more and more... those visions were burned into my brain. It would be weeks if not more before the images faded away.
And yet, there was a part of me that was excited and aroused like never before at the mere sight of her. Damn it. Even in the arms of another man, she was all I could think of.
How could I go through the rest of the day without finding some relief? It was impossible.
Over the course of the past week, I’d repeatedly called upon Tilly to come over and relieve me of my hunger for Layla.
Of course, the poor girl had no idea that my cock simply reacted to the image in my head of Layla. It never, in any way, had anything to do with Tilly. I wondered if it would even matter to her.
I often thought of that forbidden fruit. Was it only because I couldn’t allow myself to have Layla that I wanted her so bad?
Maybe if I could just fuck her one time, I would get her out of my system.
I couldn’t allow that to happen. I couldn’t sink so low as to fuck a country hick. Damn it. I was a King. I was Errol King’s son. I was important here and I could have any girl that I wanted.
Except her.
Fuck it, I thought as Layla’s face, tits and ass repeatedly flashed through my mind.
I was going around in circles, thinking of her, telling myself not to think of her, only to think of her some more. I knew that the images of Layla would remain in my head, prompting the need to tend to my raging cock over and over again.
All week, I had headed straight home, eager to take a cold shower, open a cold beer and call Tilly over. I didn’t want to give myself tendinitis by repeatedly jerking off thinking of Layla. I needed Tilly to do that for me.
There had been days when I would arrive home in a bad mood. One night, I had arrived to find Kobe fixing himself a sandwich.
“You’re Errol King’s son and you have an important part in this culinary academy and you made yourself a sandwich?”
He’d taken a bite of his sandwich and looked at me. “Hey. Don’t knock it. This is pretty good.”
“Right.”
“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” Kobe had said. “You’ve been moody all week. Are you tired of teaching at the academy? Are you tired of being Errol King’s prodigal son?”
I’d glared up at him. “That Layla bitch is getting on my nerves, and I need to find a way to get rid of her. We need to devise a plan to make her leave.”
“We?” Kobe said. “Hey, man. Keep me out of this. If you have issues with that girl, that’s your problem. From my end, I know that Kat thinks that Layla is pretty cool, and I think she would be upset if Layla was to leave.”
“Who the fuck cares what Kat thinks?” I looked at my brother, wondering how fraternity twins could be so diametrically different. Sure, we looked alike on the outside, but on the inside, we were barely like brothers, much less like twins.
I knew that Kobe had met Kat at some summer camp a few years back, but I had no idea that he had a thing for her.
But I hardly cared one way or the other. None of that mattered to me.
Most nights, Tilly would come over and service me again and again, marveling at my ability to get it up so quickly.
“You’re going to give me lockjaw if this continues,” she had said with a laugh.
I don’t care, I’d thought. Just suck on it until I can’t stand it anymore.
“We could remedy that by going up into your room and making love,” she suggested. “It would give my mouth a break, and... well... you know. I want your cock inside me, Axel. I want all of you.”
“Not tonight,” I’d said. Every time it was the same story. She wanted more and I wanted only relief. I would simply stand and pull my pants up. “I’m tired. I think that’s enough for tonight.”
“But... you just said... you wanted me to...”
