Go Ahead, Touch It
“It's okay,” I said, voice low, steady, eyes locked on his. “I liked it.”
Oliver froze. His hand still hovered close to my lap, his face flushed, lips parted like he wasn’t sure whether to say something or bolt.
I leaned in a little more, letting the tension simmer. “You wanna take a peek?”
His eyes darted down for the briefest second before snapping back to mine, like he couldn’t help himself.
“I know you do,” I murmured. “You’ve been looking at me since day one. All those little glances, those fake-ass stretches just to get a better angle when I’m walking around in my towel.”
His cheeks went crimson, but he didn’t deny it. He just swallowed hard, still not breathing right.
“You didn’t have to pretend,” I continued, tilting my hips slightly so the remote slid off my lap. “Brushing against my bulge like that? C’mon, Olly. If you wanna look… just look.”
I reached down slowly and peeled my shorts off, letting them drop low enough to show the outline of everything he’d clearly been imagining for weeks. My cock was straining against my briefs, thick and hard, begging for attention.
His breath caught. “Damn, bro. Fuck…”
I gave him a grin—slow, deliberate—and leaned back just a little, letting the bulge stand out in full view. “You wanna touch it?”
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide, nervous, but burning with something he could no longer hide. He didn’t speak, just nodded once.
“Go ahead,” I said, voice a whisper now. “Slowly.”
Oliver reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to rest over the fabric, fingers grazing the heat, the shape. I bit my lip, groaning low as he finally gave in.
He started slow, just exploring the shape, the weight. I could feel him holding back, not sure how far I’d let him go. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to.
His thumb traced along the shaft through the fabric, gentle but curious, like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I watched him the whole time, loving how flustered he was, how turned on.
The room was dead silent except for the sound of both our breathing. Heavy. Unsteady.
“You ever done this before?” I asked.
He shook his head.
I grinned. “That’s okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving the outline of my cock. He ran his palm along it, slow and unsure, like he was memorizing every inch through the cotton.
My hips bucked just slightly against his hand.
He looked up, startled, like he thought he’d done something wrong.
I gave him a slow nod. “Feels good.”
That seemed to unlock something in him. His fingers curled a little firmer, pressure building as he gripped the length through my briefs. I groaned again, louder this time, letting my head fall back for a second.
“Fuck, Olly…”
He flinched at the sound of his name like he wasn’t used to hearing it in a voice like mine. Rough. Turned on. In control.
“You like how that feels?” I asked, glancing back down at him.
He nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah. It’s… big.”
I laughed softly, cock twitching at the way he said it. “Yeah? That turning you on?”
He nodded again, more eagerly this time. His hand was no longer timid—still gentle, but confident now. Like he was past the point of pretending he didn’t want this.
I let him touch me like that for a long moment, just watching the way his fingers traced the outline, the way he reacted to every twitch, every groan I gave him. His cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide, and his breath was shaky, uneven, like he was seconds from losing it.
Then I leaned in, my voice just above a whisper.
“You wanna taste it, Olly?”
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