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One simple brush of the man’s hands on his lips, seven simple
words, and Jack’s entire body was poised on the edge of an earth shattering
orgasm. Jack had never become so aroused so fast in his entire life.
Jack could feel his cock throbbing in his jeans. He closed his
eyes and clenched his fists. He tried to wish his hard on away but the only
thing he could see was the strange man’s deep copper colored eyes as they
stared back at him. Jack groaned as another wave of desire flashed through
him.
Spinning around, he opened his eyes and hurried to the men’s
room. Thankfully, it was vacant when he went inside. Going into one of the
stalls Jack closed the door and locked it. He leaned back against the side of
the stall and reached for the zipper of his jeans.
Pulling his cock free, Jack stroked himself fiercely. He could
feel the fire in his blood licking its way up his spine. He panted, his cock
throbbing in his hand. He was on edge, but no matter how fast he stroked
himself he couldn’t seem to fall over that edge into orgasmic bliss.
Suddenly, a picture of the man slipped into his mind. Jack
cried out and came instantly, spurting all over his hand and the bathroom
stall. His knees shook and threatened to give out on him. Jack quickly sat
down on the toilet seat, his chest heaving with the intensity of his release.
Jack looked down at himself and grimaced. He was covered in
spunk. He had jerked off in the men’s room of a bar to the mental picture of a
complete stranger. He was crazy. He had lost his ever-lovin mind.
He suddenly didn’t feel so well. In fact, he felt pretty
woozy. His stomach was churning and the orgasm he had experienced just moments
before now felt somehow lacking. Oh, it had been one of the best orgasms Jack
had felt in quite a long time, better even than several times he had been with
a partner. And if that didn’t confuse Jack, he didn’t know what did.
Well, besides the fact that he had gotten off over some
stranger…a stranger that had been staring at him for weeks and called him
pretty baby in the deepest, sexiest whiskey voice Jack had ever heard.
Jack knew he had good looks. He had all of his life. Still, no
one had ever made the words pretty baby sound quite the way that man
had. It was spoken almost as an endearment and just thinking about it made
Jack’s cock begin to rise again.
Jack groaned and reached for some toilet paper to clean
himself off. Tossing the tissue into the toilet, he shoved his semi-hard cock
back in his jeans and zipped them up. He was so fucking pathetic.
Shaking his head in disgust at himself, Jack unlocked the
stall door and crossed to the sink. He washed his hands and cleaned a bit of
his shirt where he had splattered cum. Then he wet a napkin and ran it over
his face. He felt flushed.
Jack tossed the napkin in the trash and looked at himself in
the mirror. He had the looks, the muscle bound body, the blond hair, the blue
eyes. He had the whole package and sometimes he wished that he didn’t.
He couldn’t count the number of times he had found some nice
guy and took him home only to find out the next morning that they were just
sleeping with him because they wanted to brag to their friends that they had
bagged the hot guy.
None of them seemed to want to stick around to find out what
type of guy he was beyond his looks. None of them wanted to get to know the
real him. He was more than a gorgeous body. He was also a mind and a heart and
a soul and—Oh, to hell with it. Jack was going home. Alone!
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