Marked for Love 1 Read Online Free PDF

the wall of the shower. I’d be able to feel the rough tiles against my chest and cock. The grout between the tiles would rub against my cock, causing me sensations of rough pleasure. He would keep one hand on my shoulder to keep me in my place; he’d bite the back of my neck, and I'd be feeling the fullness of his cock behind me as it rose and beat the inside of my cheeks over and over. His dick would dominate me. He would pound me, striking my balls harder and harder, punishing me for giving him just a moment of hesitant disobedience, until my hole begged for him to come inside me.
    With that fantasy in my head, I reached my hand behind my back and took a firm grip of my right cheek. With my soapy left hand, I reached back and started to finger my ass. First I went slowly, warming myself up, then I thrust my fingers in harder, just like I imagined he would do to me. With every thrust, I imagined he was back there, owning me, teaching me my place, fucking me.
    I let go of my ass cheek and used my right hand to encircle my long and thick cock. Many men had told me they liked the look of it, large and pulsing, in contrast with my boyishly pale skin and soft, pink nipples. They liked sucking on my mushroom head and my bite-sized balls. They liked the way I moaned uncontrollably until it morphed into a scream. I could be brought to pleasure for hours if a man had the right kind of patience. By the time I blew, my throat would be so sore from moaning and screaming that it felt shredded.
    I imagined this man, Buck, bringing me to that kind of pleasure, and I couldn’t control my need to jack off. I was just getting started, lathering up my dick with slow strokes when - BANG! I jumped and screamed in the most unmanly way possible. Through the glass of the shower doors, I saw something’s darkened silhouette lurking right outside the bathroom doorway.
    I frantically wiped the soap out of my eyes, first with my right hand, then with my left, when I realized that the soap on my right hand was only making it worse. Through the rivets in the glass, Buck looked like a morphed, broader, scruffier version of himself.
    “Time for bed,” he said, in the gravelly voice that I recognized, the sound reverberating off the tile floors.
    “Oh,” I said. I wasn’t used to someone telling me what time I should go to bed. After all, I was 21 years old. But there was a big brother, someone almost like a sexy older uncle quality he had that made me want to obey and please him. “Okay,” I replied, rinsing myself off and cracking the shower door open just enough to grab the towel, all of a sudden incredibly self-conscious about my nakedness.
    This whole situation was strange, I knew. Even in all the times that I had to beg for places to sleep, I had never gotten myself into a situation like this. Hitching a ride from a total stranger, coming to his house, giving him a blow job. He seemed controlling and he seemed dangerous. At times, I felt like I should run away from here as fast as I could, or maybe I should do whatever I could to stay with him. The instability of terror and thrill was both a turn on and gave me that fight or flight feeling I didn’t quite know what to do with.
    I half expected him to demand that I get into bed with him. It was both a relief and a disappointment when he yelled from somewhere else down the hall, “There’s a blanket and sheet on the couch.”
    “Okay,” I said, sighing. Maybe it was better this way. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t destroy me with one thrust.
    “Sleep tight,” he said tenderly, and for some reason, those words stayed with me. Maybe he felt badly, taking advantage of me after him giving me a ride. Maybe he felt as lonely as I had over the years of giving myself to men for the hope of a glimpse of love and partnership. As it turned out, most of them already had partners, or worse yet, wives and children, and I always felt like the third wheel. I felt like I was the guy you can