I didn't knock. Especially not on Jack's door, since yesterday, something had come between us that was hard to describe as anything other than a shared secret.
I slipped in quietly. Jack was sitting in a chair at his desk, with his back to me. Naked. Broad back, tense shoulders, a perfect line of spine all the way down to his hips. I didn't know exactly what he was doing until I looked lower.
His legs were spread apart. And between them, there was movement. Slow. Rhythmic. Wet. Something was covering his cock, some kind of transparent cylinder, slightly shiny. I heard a quiet sound of sucking, wet friction. It took me a moment to realize what it was.
"What's that?" I asked without thinking, intrigued.
He didn't flinch. He wasn't even surprised.
"Sometimes I like to play with this," he replied calmly, as if he were talking about making coffee.
I stepped closer. And then it dawned on me what I was seeing.
A clear stroker. A silicone sleeve, slick with lube and wrapped tightly around his cock. The head pressed visibly against the closed end of the toy with each slow thrust, and the shaft looked thick and slightly distorted through the glossy material. Jack moved his hips slowly, as if testing the rhythm.
I stopped a few steps away from him.
"And does it… work well?"
"Good enough. But it's not the same."
I didn't say anything for a moment. I wasn't sure if he was doing this on purpose in front of me or if he just didn't care that I was watching.
"Can I watch?" I asked finally.
Jack tilted his head back and gave a slight nod.
"Sure."
And he continued. As if it were the most normal sight in the world. As if he knew I'd be closer anyway.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, maybe two meters away from him. Jack didn't stop for a moment. His movements were slow, calm, but precise. The clear stroker slid up and down his cock, glistening slightly with lube. And that's when it hit me, how huge he was inside that thing.
The plastic sleeve seemed too small. His cock was pushing it apart from the inside, thick, veiny, all taut. Every thrust of his hips drove the head deep into the toy, and then he'd pull it back out, leaving a thin string of lube stretching to the rim.
I stared at it without saying a word. I felt tension in my neck. My own cock began to harden under my pants, as if my body knew better than I did that this scene wouldn't end with just watching.
Jack was breathing deeper, but he was still controlling the pace. I noticed something strange, though.
The look on his face. Calm, focused, but… there was something about it. As if something was missing. As if all of this wasn't quite giving him what he wanted.
And then, without looking at me, he said:
"Honestly… I'd rather have your hand."
Silence. I didn't know if I'd heard right. I froze, staring at his back, at his movements, at his body.
He said it as if offhand. But he wasn't joking.
I felt my throat tighten slightly. My heart raced.
"If you want... I can," I replied cautiously. "But this time, I do it my way. No thrusting. No helping. My hand, my rhythm."
Jack stopped. For the first time, he looked me in the eyes.
"Then get started," he said. And he slid the toy off himself.
I heard a quiet, wet sound of detachment. His cock sprang out of the toy, hard, slick, swollen, looking even bigger now that it wasn't hidden anymore.
He turned in his chair to face me. Completely naked. He sat with his legs spread, his body tense, his chest rising and falling slightly. He leaned forward slightly, never taking his eyes off me.
"I'm ready," he said quietly.
I stood up slowly. My heart was pounding in my chest, but my hands were steady. I stepped closer, took the lube from the table, unscrewed the cap, and squeezed a generous amount straight onto his cock. He looked at me from under half-closed eyelids as the cool gel touched his skin.
I spread it with one hand, starting at the base, running my fingers along the entire shaft, thoroughly, evenly. Then I wrapped my whole hand around it tightly. It was slippery, hard, warm.
I started slowly. Movements from the base all the way to the tip. I took my time. I could feel every inch of his cock sliding beneath my skin. How it reacted. How it pulsed. The lube made everything glide perfectly, my hand slid over him like the smoothest fabric.
Jack tilted his head back. He moaned softly, a guttural sound. His stomach tensed with every movement of mine. The muscles in his thighs twitched gently. And I just kept the rhythm. My rhythm.
I started using my other hand, massaging his head with my thumb, feeling the precum already gathering there, hot and sticky. His body moved under my touch. He opened his mouth but said nothing. What I was doing was enough.
I was fully focused. On his breath. On the pulse of his cock. On how much it turned me on. How much control I had over him.
His hips began to tremble under my hand. The movements were irregular, as if his body had decided on its own that there was no turning back. Jack opened his eyes, looked up at me, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed with arousal. He was breathing shallowly, quickly, and his cock pulsed harder with every beat of his heart.
I sped up. I tightened my grip, sliding my hand rhythmically along his entire length. I could feel it tensing beneath my fingers, his whole body focused on a single point. With my other hand, I grabbed his thigh, steadying him. His head fell back. He moaned deeply.
And then I felt the first spasm.
His cock shook violently. Jack moaned louder, as if something had snapped inside him, as if he'd just crossed a threshold. Hot cum shot out of him in a powerful stream, hitting my hand directly, then a second wave onto his stomach. More spurted over my fingers, dripping onto the floor. There was a lot of it. He was all wet, and so was I.
I didn't stop my hand until his body began to relax. He was breathing heavily, slowly coming back to himself.I could smell it, sharp, fresh, purely sexual.
Silence. Calm, thick.
And then we heard the front door slam.
"We're back!" someone shouted from the hallway.
Jack glanced at me quickly. In a second, he grabbed his T-shirt and wiped his stomach, then slung it over his shoulder. I grabbed the towel from the nightstand and wiped my hand, but my heart was still pounding like crazy.
We looked at each other again. Briefly. Intensely.
This wasn't the end.
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