Ben and Me

6: The First Shirt That Came to Hand

I woke up around 2:20am, still fully clothed and in the same position as when I fell onto the bed at 4pm the previous day. I must've been tired. After 2 or 3 minutes, I pulled myself out of bed, got undressed into just by boxer shorts, washed my face, brushed my teeth and then got back into bed. Somehow, even after 10 hours sleep, I will still tired. Its like I'm a sloth.

I decided to go onto my phone before I tried to get back to sleep again, and as I was scrolling through Instagram, I see him. I see a photo of Ben at a house party with some of his other friends. He was wearing some jeans, a vans jumper, and a typical pair of converse shoes. He's so hot. My mind starts buzzing lightly, and images of him start popping up into my head. Images that I've conjured up by myself, like him just in his shorts, on top of me, or him just laid in bed, fully naked. Images also came into my head that were real, like the image I saw today. Him, in his uniform, sat outside Mr Willow's room with that smug look on his face, cock bulging, abs defined, asking me if I liked what I saw.

What I would do to just reply yes, leap onto his lap and start kissing him as he kissed me back and touched my body, embracing each other. I imagined him forcing me onto my knees, slowly undoing his belt and teasing me with his bulge, asking me if I liked what I saw. He would grab my hand, make me ask nicely to let me touch him, to allow me to feel his body, and when he nodded approval, I would place my hand onto him. I would glide it across his stomach, feeling his abs, then go further down to the top of his cock. I would simply look up, innocence and need in my eyes, and he would place his hand on my cheek, guiding me onto his crotch. Kissing him through his boxer shorts. Caressing him and touching all his parts that are most sensitive.

This though gets me so worked up. Without realising my cock grows to full size, with a dark patch being visible on my boxer shorts where I have leaked from excitement. I can hardly contain myself, so I reach down and pull it out. Slowly, I work my hand in ways that only I know how to work it, all to achieve maximum pleasure. As I touch myself, I keep thinking about this scenario. I keep thinking about being his good boy. I keep thinking about what I would do even if I only had just 2 minutes with him. I keep thinking about him.

After around 5 minutes of moaning and stroking, I begin to get close. I go faster, still making sure that I maintain the same movement that makes me feel so good and so sensitive. I keep thinking of him using me, and as I get closer and closer, I imagine how rough I want him to be. His hand around my throat as we kiss. Him slapping my ass, thighs, face, wherever when I disobey him. Him telling me that he owns me and that I belong to nobody but him. These thoughts soon become too much and I come to a climax. I slapped my hand onto my mouth to stop myself from moaning so loudly because of how intense the feeling was. I came all over my chest, reaching my neck, and I instantly realised truly how badly I wanted him.

I craved his touch. I craved his attention. I craved his smell. I craved his hands. I craved his voice. I craved him.

I laid there, covered in my mess, knowing it was going to be a pain to clean. I reached down on the floor and grabbed the first shirt that came to hand and began to clean myself. Very soon after, I practically passed out again, sleeping all the way until morning.