Study Session With My Lover

Study Session With My Lover Chapter 3

"Dude you wore socks right?" Randy asks half jokingly, catching his breath.

His cheeks flush warmly as comprehension dawns - yes, they had most definitely engaged in protected intercourse despite their earlier precautions. In his zealous pursuit of mutual pleasure, safety measures were relegated to what saved them from being paved as "gay", was forgotten amid base instinct. "Well, um..." Justin clears his throat, unsure how to navigate this sensitive topic without offending Randy or casting a shadow over their fragile connection. Glancing sidelong at his friend, he sees only wariness etched on those cherubic features - no accusation, simply genuine apprehension. "Don't know yet," Justin admits reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck in an uneasy gesture. He offers a hesitant smile, hoping it will assuage any growing anxieties between them.

Lurching upright, Justin hastily tries to disentangle himself from Randy's thrashing form, anxiety dictating his clumsy actions as he scrambles to extricate his still-inserted member from the youthful body now tensely clenched around it. "Just gotta pull out, steady..." Justin mutters in hushed tones, wrestling to contain the sudden adrenaline surging through his veins. His breathing grows shallow and rapid as he endeavors to gently coax his thick length free from Randy's resistant channel, wincing at the slick pop echoing through the room as each inch separates them. "It's fine, really... probably nothing to worry—" Justin's reassurance dissolves into a pained grunt as the very tip of his cock sticks stubbornly, refusing to relinquish its claim upon the delicate tissue it breached mere moments prior.

Randy, already exasperated, tells Justin with an annoyed tone, "Pull out already dude".

Swallowing hard, Justin focuses every ounce of concentration on withdrawing the remainder of his straining erection from Randy's clenching passage. The process proves agonizingly slow, each tentative millimeter a battle won against resistance fueled by primal fear and lingering desire.

Finally, with a guttural exhale, Justin manages to disengage completely, his softening member slipping free with a wet, obscene sound that fills the tense air between them. A bead of blood oozes from the abused entrance, causing Justin's stomach to twist into knots as dread constricts his chest.

Startled by Justin's sudden movement, Randy jerks back, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to retreat further. "Shh, quiet!" he hisses frantically, the moonlight streaming through the window casts eerie shadows on his frantic face, illuminating the panic simmering in his wide, bloodshot teary eyes. Justin's usually charming smile has given way to a twisted grimace, as he battles the overwhelming urge to bolt from the room and never return. "Please, just...let me deal with this," Justin begs hoarsely, pleading with Randy to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Randy asks, too tired to keep up with Justin's rambling "Deal with what?"

Biting back a grimaced acknowledgment of Randy's observation, Justin shifts uncomfortably, unconsciously rubbing his thigh over the denim of his now empty pocket—as if physically attempting to assuage the gnawing discomfort eating away at his mind. His brow furrows deeply as dark contemplations swirl in a maddening vortex. He breaks off abruptly, choking back the rising anxiety lest the weight of doubt settles ominously upon their precarious alliance "you were wearing socks right? Or did you make it gay on purpose??! By the way where is the condom you just used earlier?" Justin gives a guilty look and looks down at Randy's ass then back at his face. "IS IT STILL INSIDE ME? You're gonna be the one to take it out or so help me god. I don't even know how I let you inside me in the first place." Randy rambles angrily with his legs spread and arms crossed lying on his back muttering "You fucking idiot."

Embarrassment flames crimson across Justin's cheeks as he struggles valiantly to extract the persistent condom, his digits twisting awkwardly amidst the clinging warmth of Randy's insides. Each hesitant attempt elicits a fresh burst of Randy's stifled whimpers, filling the room with a shameful cocktail of guilt and lustful reminiscence. "T-take it easy, dude," Justin whispers hoarsely, more to soothe his flustered nerves than provide comfort to the younger boy writhing beneath him. His fingertips graze sensitive nerve endings, sparking involuntary twitches along Randy's tensed frame as he probes delicately, searching for purchase.