But the loneliness never left me
I always took it with me
Internal screaming intensifies.
What has Red's life been until now, that the sacrifice of a boner and feeling a bit dizzy to keep him from collapse counts as being lovely? This thought occupies a very small part of your brain as his fingers caress your knuckles; another, louder part is desperately begging you to pull him back down, take his cheek and show him just how lovely you can be.
Buttragically thankfully he's gone before you have the chance to act upon those baser urges, disappearing through the door and leaving you blissfully, terribly alone to, ahem, take care of yourself.
We'll give you your privacy as you jack off- I doubt anyone reading needs me to tell them about the images that dance behind your eyes. It doesn't take long, fired up as you already are; afterwards you collapse back onto the bed, panting and grateful that the pressure in your balls has subsided.
Before descending you pull on a better shirt, then run your fingers through your hair and breathe into your palm, wincing at your breath. Why? Who cares? It's Red, after all. No reason to get all gussied up, because even if you did want to make anything happen, well...
He trusts you. And though sinful thoughts of something more might plague you like mosquitoes, you're determined to slap every one down. Sam doesn't need a horny old man with a bad past and an alcohol problem chasing him down. He needs a friend, someone to rely on. Someone to trust.
That's what you repeat in your head like mantra, descending the stairs and studiously staring at the ground, unsure where your eyes should be.
What has Red's life been until now, that the sacrifice of a boner and feeling a bit dizzy to keep him from collapse counts as being lovely? This thought occupies a very small part of your brain as his fingers caress your knuckles; another, louder part is desperately begging you to pull him back down, take his cheek and show him just how lovely you can be.
But
We'll give you your privacy as you jack off- I doubt anyone reading needs me to tell them about the images that dance behind your eyes. It doesn't take long, fired up as you already are; afterwards you collapse back onto the bed, panting and grateful that the pressure in your balls has subsided.
Before descending you pull on a better shirt, then run your fingers through your hair and breathe into your palm, wincing at your breath. Why? Who cares? It's Red, after all. No reason to get all gussied up, because even if you did want to make anything happen, well...
He trusts you. And though sinful thoughts of something more might plague you like mosquitoes, you're determined to slap every one down. Sam doesn't need a horny old man with a bad past and an alcohol problem chasing him down. He needs a friend, someone to rely on. Someone to trust.
That's what you repeat in your head like mantra, descending the stairs and studiously staring at the ground, unsure where your eyes should be.
but I can put it down
in the pleasure of your company
ZEPHYR
Base Code by Sky!
