Jerome's Hidden Desires: Bedspacer Confessions

Chapter 8: A Risky Experience with Carlo

The next day, Jerome found himself nursing a throbbing hangover. The aftermath of the previous night's indulgence lingered in his body, making him feel sluggish and worn out. Deciding to take it easy, he chose to spend the day in his room, wrapped up in blankets, hoping sleep would help clear the fog in his head. Josh had left earlier, leaving Jerome in the quiet apartment, where only the faint sounds of life outside trickled in.

It wasn't until past midnight that Jerome finally stirred. The room was dark, the quietness of the night wrapping around him like a blanket. He rolled out of bed, still feeling groggy, and made his way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. As he left his room, he noticed the faint glow of the television coming from the next apartment over. Carlo was sitting on the couch, his body reclined as he watched TV alone.

Carlo flashed Jerome a lazy smile, a casual greeting that Jerome returned. "Don't have any plans for the night?" Jerome asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

"Nah, just hanging out here," Carlo replied, his eyes not leaving Jerome's for a moment. And then, out of the corner of Jerome's eye, he saw Carlo's hand move, his fingers brushing against the front of his shorts in a slow, teasing motion. Jerome's stomach fluttered, but he quickly brushed it off, not wanting to acknowledge the growing tension between them.

"I'll just hit the shower," Jerome muttered, trying to shake off the strange sensation that had started to build. He headed to the far end of the shower stalls, where he could have some privacy. Once inside, he locked the door, the sound of the latch clicking echoing in the small space. The hot water soon cascaded over his body, soothing his aching muscles and clouding the glass with steam. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth wash away the remnants of his hangover.

But then, something caught his attention. Through the foggy reflection on the wet tiles, Jerome noticed movement. The stall next to his had opened, and through the misted glass, he could just make out the familiar shape of Carlo. A nervous jolt shot through him. He blinked, trying to focus on the reflection, watching as Carlo's towel dropped to the floor, leaving him fully exposed.

Jerome's pulse quickened. He tried to ignore it, tried to stay focused on his own shower, but his eyes betrayed him. They were glued to Carlo's naked form, his body silhouetted in the reflection. Carlo stood tall, his lean, muscular frame illuminated faintly by the overhead light. And then, Jerome saw it—Carlo's hand wrapping around his length, stroking himself slowly.

A knot of heat coiled in Jerome's stomach. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. His body reacted involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat as he watched Carlo's movements grow more deliberate, more rhythmic. The sound of water splashing against the tile was drowned out by the pulse of his own heartbeat. He could feel himself hardening, despite his best efforts to suppress it.

Then, without warning, there was a soft knock on Jerome's shower door. His heart leaped into his throat. He froze, barely breathing as he heard Carlo's voice, low and steady. "Jerome, bro... you there?"

Jerome hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached for the door handle. He unlocked it, opening it just enough to see Carlo standing there with nothing but a towel slung loosely over his shoulder. Carlo stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Before Jerome could say anything, Carlo's hands were on him—strong, insistent. Carlo's fingers gripped Jerome's shoulders, pushing him down toward his waist. The air in the small, steamy stall grew thick with anticipation. Jerome felt a wave of nervous energy rush through him, but he obeyed Carlo's silent command, his knees bending until he was kneeling in front of him.

Carlo's manhood stood erect, hard and throbbing, a full seven inches. Jerome's breath hitched as he looked up at Carlo, who gazed down at him with a mixture of desire and dominance. He could feel the intensity of the moment, the dangerous excitement of it all. Without thinking, he wrapped his lips around Carlo's manhood, taking him deep into his mouth.

Carlo groaned softly, his hips pressing forward as Jerome began to suck, his mouth sliding up and down Carlo's shaft. The taste of him filled Jerome's senses, the salt of his skin mixed with the warmth of the shower. He could feel Carlo's hands tightening in his hair, guiding him, urging him to go deeper.

The rhythm of their movements grew more urgent as Carlo thrust into Jerome's mouth, his moans barely audible over the sound of the running water. Jerome could sense the risk in the air—someone could walk in at any moment, discover them in this compromising position. But the thrill of it only fueled his desire, making him more determined to please Carlo.

Carlo's thrusts became faster, more intense. Jerome struggled to keep up, his lips stretched wide around Carlo's girth as he moved in and out. He could feel the pressure building, the telltale signs of Carlo's impending climax. And then, with a deep groan, Carlo's body tensed, his hips bucking forward as he released his seed into Jerome's mouth.

Jerome swallowed every drop, the warmth of it spreading through him. He could feel Carlo shuddering above him, his body trembling as the aftershocks of his orgasm washed over him. Slowly, Jerome pulled back, letting Carlo's manhood slip from his lips. He wiped his mouth, his heart still racing, as Carlo looked down at him with a satisfied smirk.

"Thanks, bro," Carlo murmured, his voice low and husky. He stepped out of the stall, leaving Jerome alone once more.

Jerome stood there for a moment, the water still pouring down over him, trying to process what had just happened. His body buzzed with the remnants of desire, his own manhood still hard and aching. He reached down, stroking himself as he relived the moment, the taste of Carlo still lingering on his lips. His strokes quickened, and soon enough, he found his own release, his pleasure spilling onto the shower floor.

As the water washed away the evidence of their secret encounter, Jerome leaned against the cool tile, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The risk had been real, the danger palpable. But there was no denying the thrill of it.