I hear a grunt, then a pant, and then a familiar voice let out a frustrated, “Fuuuuck.”

I shouldn’t look. I tell myself it’s because I’m worried or maybe I want to prove to myself that Masters is a lying dog, sexing up some girl after dry humping me on the dance floor. Wouldn’t be the first player to do that. Won’t be the last. I reach around the frame and push the door open a tiny bit more.

There, in a pool of light, stands Masters, one hand on the sink and one hand gripping the biggest, hardest, longest dick I have ever seen.

10 Knox

When the door to Hammer’s bedroom opens, I’m so close to shooting my wad that it’s criminal I’m interrupted. My free hand darts out to grab the doorknob and slam it shut when I hear a gasp, and then a set of pretty fingers nudge the door open a hair more.

Aw, God. I don’t know whether to curse or pray, but this fap job just got a shit ton more exciting, because I know it’s Ellie out there, breathing heavy and eating me up with her big brown eyes. I shift slightly, and rest my hand on the counter so my weak knees don’t completely give out on me.

“I can hear you.”

“Holy mother of God. Maybe you're a virgin because you’re too frickin’ big for a girl,” she blurts out. Her gait is unsteady and she has to grasp the door to stand upright.

A surprised bark of laughter escapes me. “You're not making it any smaller with your big eyes and your compliments,” I choke out.

Her audible gasps are like lighter fluid on a campfire. Maybe I should feel embarrassed that I got caught rubbing one out in the middle of a party, but instead I feel myself swelling, hotter under her intense gaze. And she’s not going anywhere.

Neither am I.

Before I’d had a nice little fantasy of slipping Ellie’s skirt up on the dance floor and pushing my fingers into what I know is the wettest, tightest pussy ever. When she began riding my thigh, I thought I’d burn up right there on the dance floor. Here lies Knox Masters, turned to ash by his unsatisfied lust.

My vaunted self-control slipped, and while I’m sure of her, I know she’s not sure of me. Not yet anyway. So I came up here to relieve myself, gain a measure of composure, and go back downstairs loose and ready for round two. Or three.

Only, before I could finish, she appears like my fucking fantasy come to life. Her eyes devour me and her lips part as she struggles to catch her breath. I run my gaze over her gorgeous face and enjoy the sight of her sweet tits doing a little dance inside her sparkly tank top as she pants lightly.

I could come this instant, but I want to prolong this moment. How often do I have a girl as hot as Ellie standing transfixed watching me pleasure myself? I’m milking this moment—pun intended—until I experience the best orgasm of my life. The first of many with Ellie. The first of many.

I’ve done this so many times by myself that the pleasure from it is a little rote, but not now. I feel the blaze torch me from my legs up into my brain. The burn inside me is that pleasure-pain you get when you butt up against the first barrier of your body that says no, but you push on anyway and that endorphin rush floods you as a reward for your persistence.

“Was it the dancing?” she asks huskily, like she’s conducting a scientific study.

The cock in my hand grows harder than ever, and I’m leaking so much pre-come I don’t even need lube.

“It’s you, baby,” I tell her. “It’s all you. Your tight body rubbing up against mine. The smell of the honey of your hair. Your sweet lips pressing against my chest when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. All you.”

“I should leave,” she says, but makes no move in the direction of the bedroom. If anything, I swear she opens the bathroom door even more.

I slow my strokes down to a snail’s pace, squeezing hard at the base so I don’t blow. “Only if you want to.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers out. Her eyes glue to my dick.

“Are you?” She’s not even a little sorry. She’s intrigued as all hell. I want to grab her arm and pull her against me, but I know touching her while I’m in this condition is asking for it.

“Kind of but…obviously I’m not leaving.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Her embarrassment at enjoying this is too fucking much, but my laughter doesn’t kill off a gram of my arousal. As long as she’s standing there enjoying the show, my body is primed for her. “You don’t have to leave. This is all for you.”

11 Ellie

His voice is a low, husky sound that plucks at the already sensitive nerves under my skin. A small sliver of his chiseled abdomen is on display where his T-shirt rucks up. A sparse trail of dark hair arrows down to a shadowed space covered half by his hand and half by his pants. His hand pulls at his dick in hard, swift jerks, and I know in the space a heartbeat two things: I get why it’s called jacking it, and I’m not leaving unless the entire Warriors football team comes up and drags me away.

The most illicit, hot porn scene I have ever laid eyes on is taking place in full HD color in front of me. If the house went up in flames at this precise moment, I’d burn down with it because I can’t tear my gaze away.

The round, red head of his dick plays peek-a-boo with each twist of his wrist. I notice that he pauses right before he hits the top, almost flicking the ridged area of his circumcised head with a large finger, and that he drags his hand downward with more force that I’d think would feel pleasurable. Not for the first time, I’m struck by how very large he is.

Huge is not at all an overstatement. His fist is big, but it doesn’t completely cover his shaft. I clench my legs together, part in fear and part in arousal. Sweet baby Jesus, Tumblr did not prepare me for this.

“How does it feel?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

“Good. Real good. Better since you arrived.” His wrist flicks again in steady, even motions. The muscles in his forearms ripple with every down stroke and bunch together at the upstroke. He looks so beautiful and profane at the same time.

I struggled to gulp one breath after the other. There’s no air in this bathroom. It’s sucked up by Masters’ presence. I let out a shaky stream of air.

Masters groans and I feel it. The sound is like a touch, winding its way across my body and then under my skin.

“What are you thinking about?” I’m so screwed.

He doesn’t hesitate. “You. I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about laying my tongue on your body for the first time. What you’d taste like. I’d want to lick you everywhere. I want to know what every inch of you tastes like.”

I must have whimpered because Masters lets out another low, rough noise. “You turned on, baby?”

I press my lips together, but can’t stop my head from nodding. If he touches me, he’ll know how aroused I am. My skin burns. My panties are wet. I’ve never felt so turned on and he hasn’t even laid a finger on me.

“I’m glad.” His voice sounds full of aching want. “I’m so close, baby. Help me. How would you want me to take care of you?”

“I…I don’t know,” I stutter out because this is completely new territory for me. I’ve never watched anyone touch themselves, at least not in real life. I’ve never heard anyone, ever, ask how they could take care of me. The sad truth is I don’t have much experience with what feels good either.

The guys I’ve slept with—all three of them—have been entirely forgettable. I can barely conjure the face of the guy I slept with the summer before I went to college. My junior college hookup was a guy I worked with in Alumni and Development.