Page 7 of Double Shot

I heard the guy huff in amusement. “Sure,” he said. “A handjob would be great. Thanks.”

A tingly little shiver ran up my spine at the sound of his voice. All deep and dark and a little growly.

He sounded tall.

With my free hand, I fanned my face, this bathroom stall suddenly feeling hot and stuffy. With the other, I began jerking his dick at a nice, steady pace, watching in a lusty stupor as his foreskin slid up and down over the flushed head with every stroke of my fist.

The guy grunted once, just a tiny sound, but he was pretty quiet otherwise. His breathing hadn’t even sped up all that much. Embarrassed heat rushed to my cheeks. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind, right? No one stuck their dick through a glory hole for a basic handjob. At the very least, I should suck him off.

I started to shift onto my knees on the floor, but stopped myself. No, I couldn’t. That was too much. Going too far. I could not go back out there and finish my date with Clarence while I had the taste of someone else’s cum in my mouth.

But I needed to do something to make this better though. More enjoyable for this stranger with the beautiful dick. My knees a little weak and trembly with lust and adrenaline, I leaned forward just enough to spit directly on the stiff cock in my hand.

The guy groaned, a lower and longer sound this time, as his prick jerked in my fist. My breath caught with excitement, teeth sinking back into my lower lip as I watched myself spread the saliva over the thick, throbbing length, making it slippery and a little shiny. I spat into my palm as well to make sure he was slick all over.

A few seconds later, the guy groaned again—a more helpless, desperate sound—and tried to slide his cock through my fist, but only succeeded in banging his hip bones into the partition wall, making it rattle.

“Sh-shit,” he panted, suddenly sounding way, way closer to the edge than he had just a few seconds ago. “Fu… A-are you… an incubus?”

“Yeah,” I croaked, voice hoarse with lust. My dick was painfully hard, leaking into my briefs.

“Oh fuck,” the dick owner moaned, seeming not to care that he was practically humping the stall wall now, trying to fuck my fist.

I smiled, a unique bubble of happiness swelling in my stomach. I loved making people feel good, and it was intoxicating to be able to make people feel this good.

Incubus saliva—in fact, most incubus bodily fluids—contained high concentrations of the pheromones that drew people to us and made them desperate to fuck us, heightening all the sensations during sex.

“I really needed this,” I admitted as I stroked him nice and slow, adding a little twist to my fist at the head. “I am on the worst date. Seriously. And I feel bad saying that, but it’s true. Dating sucks, huh?”

“Nnngh.” The guy seemed to actually make some effort to try and pay attention to what I was saying. “It—I—Y-yeah, it does s-suck.”

“I don’t even know what it is about him.” I crossed my legs again and leaned my elbow on my knee so I could rest my chin on my fist. “But something about him just… skeeves me out.”

“Y-you should… l-listen to your g-gut,” the guy wheezed, his cock leaking pre-cum all over my fist.

“Yeah, I know.” I sighed, pausing at the head to swirl my thumb around the tip. He gasped in pleasure, cock throbbing in my fist. “It’s just… how many weird guys am I gonna have to go on shitty dates with before I find The One, you know?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered through a tiny whimper. The stall wall rattled even harder, and long, pale fingers suddenly clamped over the top edge, gripping on tight. “F-fuck, don’t stop—”

“I either find hot, funny, cute guys who only want to fuck me, or guys who seem nice and cute and stuff to begin with and act like they want to date me, but then they end up being weird or creepy. Or still just want to fuck me and nothing else.” I pouted, back to stroking my fist up and down his length at a steady pace. “Like this guy. He said some really weird stuff over dinner, and then he tried to hit on another guy when we got in here! Like, seriously—right in front of me? You know? I mean, the guy was super hot, and honestly, I probably would’ve hit on him too if I’d had the chance, but… that’s different. I’m not enjoying this date. He is. I think. I’m not sure.”

“C-could you go a little f-faster—”

“What if he’s not enjoying the date?” I nibbled on my lower lip. “What if he’s already left? Wait, I should be relieved, right? But… why would he not be enjoying the date? I’m a catch.”

“P-please—”

“Oh, right. Faster. Sorry.” I sped up just a touch—I didn’t want this to end too soon, because I could feel that little knot of restlessness inside me relaxing, loosening, swelling with fulfilment from the sexual energy pouring off this guy.

If I could get him to come decently hard, this would probably sustain me for at least a few days.

How long had I been in here? What if Clarence came looking for me? Shit. That would be bad.

Maybe he had left already.

“I don’t understand why I can’t find a nice, hot guy who just wants to be with me,” I whined over the slick, rhythmic sound of my fist pumping up and down the disembodied cock. “Who wants to fuck me and wants to snuggle up on the couch with me and cook me spaghetti and listen to all my stories about the weird customers I get at work.”

“Jesus,” the guy wheezed, still trying to frantically hump the wall and my fist. “I—uh—I’m sure you w-will—”