Page 31 of American Love Story

“Let me see it.” Apparently I no longer spoke, I just growled.

He raised the hand with the toy up to the screen and the head was glistening with lube. My hands shook, wanting so badly to be the one putting it inside him.

“Let me see how hard you are? But don’t touch yourself yet.” I stroked my cock again, running my thumb over the head of my dick. I was so turned on, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer.

Easton shuddered out another breath and shook his head. “I’m so hard right now, baby, let me touch myself, please.”

His words were like lightning crackling through me. I was never one for endearments, and neither was Easton, but when we were like this, delirious from wanting each other, all the rules went out the window.

“No cheri mwen, don’t touch.”

He turned the phone and I could see the vee of his legs, his knees drawn up, thighs spread and his cock sticking straight up. The force of how much I wanted him was almost overwhelming. My entire body seemed to be focused on Easton’s every move.

“Tell me what to do, baby.” His voice shook when he spoke, and I could barely keep it together between seeing how turned on he was and hearing the need in his voice.

“Fuck yourself with the vibrator. Turn it on and put it in slowly.”

He moved the phone back so I could see his face and nodded frantically. He squirmed as he held the phone with one hand and himself with the other. The cords of his neck were tight and his mouth went slack as he worked it in.

At this point, I was just gripping the base of my dick, just so I wouldn’t blow before he even got the vibrator in all the way.

“Tell me how it feels.”

His face was pure ecstasy, his mouth slack. “So good.”

“Does it feel like when I’m inside you?”

He shook his head hard, the phone shaking as he did. “Nothing feels like you. No one feels like you.”

His words hit me hard. I was writhing from how turned on I was and how much I wanted to respond in kind, tell him that nothing felt like this for me either.

Easton could just say things like that. Tell me exactly what I was to him. No reservations, and it was fucking terrifying. I was so close to saying reckless shit to Easton, but the way he was moaning as he played with himself got me back in the game.

“Those sounds you make. Are you hitting your spot? I know how hard you can come when I hit you just right.”

“Uh huh,” he said, completely lost in what he was doing. “Ungh, the tip is tapping right against it. I’m so close.” He gasped and tightened his jaw.

I was stroking myself just enough, but I knew one hard and fast stroke would set me off.

“Turn it up, I want to see your face when that thing really starts drilling you hard. Are you leaking baby?”

After a second, he let out a long, husky moan and started muttering a long string of “Oh fuck, oh fuuuuuck.”

“Oh shit.” I was rambling right along with him, barely hanging on until he came. “Jesus, you look hot,” I said, already feeling my orgasm build, that tight heat in my groin making my ass clench.

“Shit.” I shuddered. “I’m coming.”

Just as I sped my hand up, I saw Easton push his head hard into the pillow and his mouth open in a silent moan, eyes tightly shut. He looked so beautiful like that. Lost in chasing his orgasm at all costs.

I dropped my phone and ran my hand over my chest until I found a nipple, twisting it just enough to take me over the edge. My vision whited out and in the distance, I heard Easton swearing through his own orgasm. Long ropes of come spurted out, hitting my stomach and neck. As I came out of from the fogof my orgasm, for a second, the sated bliss was edged out by a hint of regret.

But as I picked up my phone again and found Easton on the screen, looking like the very picture of pliable contented man, I pushed my worrying out and decided to enjoy this moment.

I was about to speak, but Easton beat me to it. “I’d act like this was unexpected, but I’ve been hoping for you to do this with me since the moment you got to Ithaca.”

Easton

I was sitting up against the headboard and Patrice was doing the same, somewhere in Yonkers. His big body at rest, the tattoo on his chest, the one with the Haitian and American flags in the shape of a human heart, moving as he took deep breaths. He had that secret smile I’d noticed only happen when I was being a particular brand of bratty.