Page 37 of Teach Me To Sin
He stares at us, trying to process, until he finally wakes up enough to find words. “My kindergarten teacher taught us that taking dares is bad.”
“No more truth or dare.” I nod sagely to Benji. “His kindergarten teacher said no.”
Alek punches my shoulder with surprising force. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
Benji’s still snickering and planning his next dare when we file off the plane. After we fetch our bags and find a cab, they both fall asleep again while I watch the singularly uninteresting skyline of a place I never thought I’d visit highlighted against a bright summer sky.
In the hotel lobby, Benji beelines toward an energy drink vending machine while Alek checks us in. It’s the sort of plain, sensible place a nonprofit would book for its employees, where everything is clean but cheap and the continental breakfast only serves bananas and cornflakes. To my surprise, Alek returns with two key cards and hands one of them to me. “You guys are sharing?” I glance at Benji happily popping the tab of a neon blue can. “And should he be drinking that stuff before a meet?”
“One, I’m not made of money, and two, have you tried telling him what to do?” I can’t tell if Alek’s joking or just annoyed. “We’re in the room next to yours, down here.”
As we trail down the hall with its dizzying orange and maroon carpet that makes me feel like I just took drugs, I can’t stop thinking about those two in a room together. It plays in my head like a movie–Benji will come out of the shower, water glistening on his soft skin, and climb onto Alek’s bed seductively. They won’t just fuck; I know they won’t. They’ll play and explore, licking every inch of each other, fingering each other gently as Benji teaches Alek how his ass works and he responds with helpless moans and–
“Um, hello?”
When I blink back to reality, both men are standing outside a room, watching me curiously. Benji gives a little smirk, like he can read my mind.
“Your room’s there,” Alek offers helpfully, pointing one door back the way we came.
“Yes, sorry.” I hurry to my door and start fumbling with the lock. Since they’re watching, it takes me three tries to get the card to work.
“What about meeting up for dinner?” Alek calls after me, confused.
I just wave a hand over my shoulder. “Do what you want. I’ll get room service if I’m hungry.” Then I’m alone in a small, very air-conditioned room full of worn but tidy furniture. I flinch when I sit on the bed, which feels both firm and lumpy at the same time. The pillows are completely flat, like feather-stuffed roadkill. “Great.”
Trying to keep my mind on anything but the high-definition porn channel playing in my head, I turn off the excessive air con, grab a t-shirt and sweats, and take a blisteringly hot shower followed by a freezing rinse. It’s agony, but I feel much better after.
Room service consists of three offerings–a burger, salmon, or a steak. I don’t trust seafood from Ohio or steak from a Midwest chain hotel, so I call for a burger with no tomato and extra ranch sauce for the fries. The silence gets more and more oppressive as I wait. I’m comfortable with being lonely in my house, surrounded by my things and my dogs. This is just depressing. I turn on the TV, but all it has is an infomercial channel and a true crime documentary. I let the narrator describe a serial killer hiding in the closet of his victim’s room while I pull up the app that controls a dog cam I installed at knee height in the kitchen.
When the feed connects, I tap the button to make a soft chiming sound. Within seconds, my two favorite long snouts are bouncing around in front of the camera. Cringing at myself, I activate the microphone. “Hey, lord and lady. Have you driven your sitter mad yet?”
Both of them go nuts looking around the kitchen for me. Hamlet disappears, then prances back with an ugly bit of tree branch in his mouth. The sly boy makes it his life mission to sneak as many sticks into the house as possible. Clearly his sitter wasn’t prepared. “Oh, I see. You’ve done a very good job, haven’t you?”
Triss goes for the other end of the stick, and they start wrestling and growling. Even though I’m smiling, I feel vaguely sick, like something has been ripped away from me. If this is how much it hurts to leave my dogs behind for two days, I wonder just how wretched it will feel to text Alek and Benji when I’m halfway across the world with no plans to come back.
Refusing to acknowledge that thought, I shut off the app and go check the door. There’s a tray on the carpet outside with a charred burger and undercooked fries. A quick check of the boys’ door shows they didn’t call for room service. They must have gone to a restaurant, which makes this the perfect time to sort myself out.
Dropping the burger on the nightstand, I settle back against the headboard and pull down the waistband of my sweats and boxers. I’m already a little hard; I have been most of the day. I can take the edge off now, do it again after the burger, and then go to sleep in peace.
I wrap my hand around my cock like I’ve done far, far too many times in the last few weeks. It’s not even fun anymore, for me or my dick–just a chore we’re sick of but need to get out of the way. Taking a deep breath, I stroke the hardening shaft quickly and roll my balls with my free hand.
I don’t realize the flimsy headboard is tapping the wall behind me with each stroke until my phone buzzes. Releasing my balls, I pull it closer and tap the notification.
Benji: Need help with that?
I freeze, then text back,Go away. After a minute of fidgeting around, I find a position on my back where the bed doesn’t move and resume the slow climb to my first orgasm.
It’s like hewaitsuntil the exact moment it starts to feel good before he texts again.Still shucking corn in there?
I ignore him, but that doesn’t deter him from sending a follow up.Truth or dare?
My hand stills, wrapped around my firm, slick length, while I consider my options.Truth. But only if I get to play too.
B: Deal.
Since the roadkill pillows aren’t good for anything else, I roll over and arrange them under my hips, making a gap to slide my cock through. Now I can work my hips with both hands free for texting. After a painfully long time, the question arrives.Which of us are you thinking about while you do it? Me or Alek?
The first whisper of actual pleasure sparks in my cock, and I thrust faster against the bed.Neither.