6 Chapter 6

“Take me,” Hendrix said. “There on the bed.” It was a bit of bad storytelling on Robin’s part, he realized. That line should have been his, because of the way his insides burned for Hendrix to fill him there.

“After you take me,” Robin said. “Right here against the window.” There. That was better.

Robin’s words were barely out before he climaxed for real, upward into the dark pelt that ran in a thick, feathered line up his gut. He strummed the semen-matted wisps as if playing a guitar, then offered cum-coated fingertips to his imaginary lover, Hendrix. In reality a streak formed across the windowpane, where his reflection accepted the tasty offering across his lips, then stared back seductively, as Robin finally tasted it himself.

“Wow!”