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Sweet Decadence

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John took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the thin cotton jumper draped over his head. He relaxed further into his comfortable mattress, the one thing he had allowed himself to splurge on in his otherwise spartan room in the flat he shared with two of his mates.

He’d been out in the park playing a round of five-a-side after work with some of the lads from the office, including Tozer from security and maintenance.

The jumper that was now so inelegantly stuffed over his face, as if he had been trying to put it on and lost his enthusiasm halfway through, had originally been on that very man.

Tozer, after winning against John’s team by a mile, must have noticed that John was nearly shivering in the cold evening breeze in just his t-shirt. In one quick motion his jumper was pulled off.

He had offered it to John, a simple red cotton affair made of soft, worn materials with some kind of logo John didn’t recognize stitched onto the breast.

Tozer had insisted he put it on to take the bus home, even though John had protested vehemently, sure that he was blushing but hoping it could be blamed on the exercise.

It usually didn’t fair well for him when he seemed too interested in those kinds of guys, the bloke-ish rugby players with a penchant for expressing intimacy via brutal slaps on the back and a fear of anything that could be interpreted as vaguely homoerotic.

So John had taken the jumper and put it on over the rapidly beating heart in his chest.

On the bus he had tried hard not to think about just how big it was on him, or he would have had to deal with more than one awkward situation.

Sighing into the darkness of his room, he tried to relax his jittery nerves. His flatmates would be out all night, there was no need to hurry. He could take his time with this.

Breathing deeply in and out he let one of his hands wander down over his chest towards the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it with the other.

Dancing fingertips made him shudder, dragging over his sides before moving up to his nipples. He didn’t dare stay there for too long, already over-sensitive and not wanting to end things so quickly. A simple touch and the muscles in his belly seized like a shock going right to his groin.

He bit his tongue trying not to moan out loud, a habit from living with flatmates in a place with walls as thin as theirs.

Ghosting his hand over the noticeable bulge beneath the comfortable joggers he was still wearing from earlier felt electrifying, like it wasn’t John but someone else teasing him. He took another deep breath, inhaling the musky aroma from the jumper around his head.

His mind was simultaneously firing out signals on all ends and curiously empty, almost weightless despite his racing heart, his anxiety and anticipation about what was about to happen.

Tozer had big hands. He’d seen them, passing him in the hallway. Once or twice John had even allowed himself to linger on his broad shoulders when Tozer was standing with his back to him, his dress shirt stretched taut.

His broad, powerful thighs on the green earlier. Of course he had been giving the game his all, sweat glistening on his brow from running across the field. Probably dripping down his body as well, seeping right into his clothes.

John increased the pressure on his strokes, still keeping on the protective cotton layer of his joggers, already twitching with pleasure.

If only Tozer could see him now, squirming in place just from the stimulation of his fingers on his clothed dick, huffing out little breaths.

The thought made John moan in ernest, grabbing himself tightly.

What if Tozer were to walk in on him debasing himself like this. One look and he would know, know how much John needed it. With the dirty jumper on his face there would be no mistaking how depraved John really was.

Maybe Tozer would be disgusted by the shameful display of John sticking his hand into his joggers, hissing when cold fingers met with sensitive skin, raking the blunt fingernails of his other hand over his quivering abs.

He’d grip John’s wrists and pull them away from where he was so wantonly pleasuring himself, pinning both of them down on the mattress over his head with one massive hand.

John would be mortified. Worst of all, he didn’t think he could stop himself from continuing to moan, to beg Tozer to do something, anything. To take him, please.

Maybe that would be what finally makes Tozer snap, pull down John’s trousers and pants to his ankles and wrench his knees apart.

John was panting heavily now, opening his legs to match his fantasy, stroking himself faster.

In his imagination, Tozer spat on his fingers before breaching John, going in with two big fingers at once, entering him quick and deep.

John let his fingers wander from his belly to the space between his legs, planting his feet firmly and tilting his hips to gain better access.

Without any lube he didn’t dare live out his fantasy, tentatively playing with his rim instead.

If he was a braver man, he would bring himself to buy a dildo, something to fill him up for real. As it was, he had to make do like this.

Sol wouldn’t care about John’s inexperience. He’d be amused by his tightness, even, his nerves.

John flexed his muscle around the one finger that he had managed to barely get inside of him.

In his imagination, spit was enough for Tozer to add another digit, stretching him out like never before. He would be screaming with pain and pleasure.

Tozer would tell him to shut up, maybe even threaten to gag him if he couldn’t control the noise.

John had to still his movements before he could go on, nearly driving himself too close to the edge. He lay still for a moment, the only sounds in the quiet darkness his panting breaths and beating heart, blood rushing in his ears.

The jumper was making it difficult to get enough oxygen into his lungs, and he had to take deep, heaving gasps, his chest lifting up from the mattress. He could feel the cold air in his room making the hair on his arms stand up.

Maybe Tozer would let John suck him off. He wanted to see him so badly. He’d be big, big enough for John to struggle trying to fit all of him into his mouth.

Tozer would be annoyed with his amateurish moves, grabbing John’s head to feed his dick to him, pushing in deeper and deeper.

In reality, John had never sucked on anything more than his fingers in a desperate attempt to simulate what he actually wanted, but in his head, he could feel Tozer bumping into the back of his throat.

He would fuck John’s face like that, tangling his fingers in his short hair, pulling and twisting.

John’s thighs were shaking now, his hips thrusting upwards to meet his strokes.

He could almost hear Tozer’s grunts mixed in with the slick sounds of sex filling the space around him.

Tozer would speed up towards his climax, press John’s face to his crotch and shoot liquid heat down John’s throat until he was twitching out his last spurts, and only then would he allow John to break free, to finally catch his breath.

Or he would pull out, making John whine for it, stick out his greedy tongue to catch everything Tozer gave him, leaving him dripping in it. He might even appreciate the view of John on his knees, face wet, so undeniably hard and needy.

John swallowed, the image of himself like that, of being seen like that, filling his belly with a warm sensation.

Maybe Tozer would simply jerk off into his own hand, present it to John as if he should know what to do. And he would, is the thing, he would know exactly what Tozer wanted, and he’d do it gladly, licking off every drop. If he was being good, perhaps he would allow him to sit by Tozer’s feet to get off afterwards, frantically pulling himself off with his head on one of Tozer’s thighs.

John could feel his toes flex at the thought, his entire body twisting with pleasure. He was leaking by now, an obscene wetness easing his strokes.

Although it felt nearly impossible, John let go of himself and removed his single digit from where he was still carefully fingering himself to turn around and lie on his front, moving with caution so as to not dislodge the sweater surrounding his head.

Tozer would simply grab him and throw him onto his belly, his strong arms flexing.

John was painfully aware of the position he found himself in, his backside on full display now.

Tozer could do whatever he wanted with John like this, spank him until he was red and sobbing, screw his broad thumbs into him, use his tongue to make him plead for more.

With his forearms braced next to his head for support, John ground down against the mattress, dragging deliciously along the bedsheets. He let out a shuddering groan.

Pulling in his knees, he tilted his hips until he could display his arse, legs spread and shaking, dick bobbing uselessly beneath him.

If he presented himself in this way, Tozer would definitely call him a slut.

John keened.

And he’d be right, John was a slut. He wanted him, he wanted to be looked at.

It would only take one night with him for anyone to find out just how depraved he was, how much he was hungering for it, what kind of dirty secrets he was hiding.

There was a reason he wasn’t out at work, or anywhere for that matter.

Tozer always had a group around him, he was popular with the other guys. Probably told them everything. He’d have no qualms telling everyone at the office about John’s proclivities. About how easily John spread his legs, how he craved to be tossed around, filled up. How he loved it, taking Tozer in, begged for it, really.

They’d all have a good laugh about that. Uptight John Irving from middle management was a bit of a slag. Don’t let the cross around his neck fool you, he’ll gladly suck you off in the toilets. Have you had him yet? You should go for it, he’s eager for any cock he can get.

John shuddered, moving his hips through the air with tight thrusts, hands grasping at his bedding.

He imagined Tozer kneeling on the bed behind him, over him, his muscled body engulfing John.

They’d move in unison, Tozer an unbearably huge intrusion inside of him, deliciously agonising, as he would drag in and out, in and out.

Taking in big gulps from within the stuffy heat of the jumper, he took himself in hand again, stroking frantically. He was almost ridiculously wet now.

Tozer would bear down on him just like this, pressing himself ever deeper until he would find his release within John, finally filling him up just right.

Eyes nearly rolling back into his head, John couldn’t stop himself from gasping Tozer’s name over and over, letting out one long moan when he felt his pleasure reaching its climax.

Desperate not to scream out loud, to keep one last shred of dignity, he bit into a mouthful of cotton, dry on his tongue.

He crashed down onto the mattress, rolling onto his back again, arms and legs spread out wide, heart beating a brutal rhythm in his chest.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he gently put his fingers back on his twitching dick. His abdominal muscles were trembling ceaselessly now.

Careful strokes up and down made him tense and release in turn all over, as if his nerves didn’t know how to handle the overstimulation.

His moans were weaker now, more akin to small whimpers as he shook and twisted, imagining Tozer’s unrelenting hands on him, going for a second orgasm.

The sensation was becoming painful now and he let go with a sob, simply breathing in the silence filling the room.

He took a moment before gathering himself enough to pull the jumper from his head. There was a wet spot were he had used it as an impromptu gag. For some reason, this was making him blush more than anything else.

How in the name of anything holy was he supposed to look Tozer in they eye at work now? He looked at the bunched up jumper, slowly dragging it over the wetness on his belly and crotch. It’d have to go into the wash anyway, John reasoned.

Seeing his release on Tozer’s clothes pulled at something in his belly as he dabbed off the last of it.

Maybe Tozer would do this, too. Clean him up afterwards, make sure he’d get a cloth with warm water and gently scrub away the evidence of John’s shame.

He let his hand stroke over his chest and stomach, his sides, imagining Tozer’s tender hands instead of his own.

Maybe he would even stroke back his sweaty fringe.

For the first time, John thought of what it might be like to kiss him. To be kissed by him. To be held, and feel Tozer’s arms around him as he fell asleep, sated and tired. Safe.

John stripped off the rest of his clothes, pulling his duvet all the way up to his chin. He could still feel the occasional muscle twitch in his legs.

How he was supposed to give back the jumper to Tozer without wanting to sink into the earth was a question for the next morning.

And anyway, there was nothing to say he couldn’t make the most of it while he still had it.