Ryan was always a little nervous about jacking off in the pool house.
Yeah, it was his bedroom, but it was also a pool house, with
what amounted to glass walls, which meant anyone could be watching.
Sometimes that was just the twist he needed to get off: anyone
could be watching. On certain nights, when he felt like admitting
things to himself, Ryan fixated on the fact that "anyone" included Seth.
::
It
was well after midnight and Ryan had had an incredibly long day. It had
started early, since Sandy was trying to teach Ryan to surf and the
best waves were to be had long before Ryan was usually out of bed. He'd
gone to work after that and endured the distain of Newport's finest as
he'd bused their tables at the crab shack. The bright spot had been
when Seth had dropped by, skateboard under his arm, seemingly just to
check up on Ryan. Seth had nattered at him about comics and the cracks
in the boardwalk he was learning to jump over on his skateboard, but
Ryan had just been glad of the company, Seth's company. When Seth had
been about to leave, Ryan had given him one of his rare bright smiles.
Seth had beamed back at him.
In bed in the pool house, Ryan's eyes slid closed remembering the
warmth of that smile. Seth. SethSethSeth. Seth who could be
watching ... right ... now.
Ryan thought about turning off the light, but if Seth wanted to watch,
well, he'd better leave it on, just in case. Ryan slid his hands down
his chest, over the front of his dark gray sweatpants. He tugged at the
waistband, lowering it only fractionally. He wanted to give his
imaginary audience a show.
Eyes still closed, Ryan slid his
right hand into his pants and cupped his hardening cock while his left
hand tickled along the waistband of his sweats. He toyed with himself a
bit, hoping he was making Seth pant, hoping he was making Seth want.
Ryan fantasized that he saw Seth with his forehead pressed against a
window, his quick breaths steaming it up, a hand of his own down his
pants. Ryan tugged his sweats down over his hips then ran both hands
back up to his cock. He gave himself a couple of long, slow strokes,
the kind he knew would make Seth impatient with want. Then he rose to
his knees, cock standing out at a jaunty angle, and rummaged around in
his night stand drawer until he found a bottle of lotion. He lay back
down, slicked himself up, and set to work bringing himself off.
He'd only gotten in a couple of deliciously hard strokes when he
paused. Reasoning that if Seth were
watching him, he would be to the right of the doors where the motion
lights wouldn't sense him, Ryan turned a bit so Seth could really see,
could really see his hands working over his cock, cupping his balls,
touching, teasing. Ryan grunted into his own grip, thrusting his hips
up just a bit, working his hand just a little faster. SethSethSeth.
Seth's name was in his rhythm. Ryan's breath came a bit faster. He was
close, close to coming, close to shouting out Seth's name. He closed
one fist over the tip of his cock, curling the other around himself
further down the shaft, and he thrust up into his tight grip, making
his hips do the work, making himself grunt with exertion and
satisfaction and pleasure. In Ryan's fantasy, Seth chose this moment to
slip in the through the unlocked door, heard Ryan plead, "Seth, please,
make me come," and knelt between Ryan's spread thighs, replacing Ryan's
hands with his mouth, sucking for the briefest of moments until Ryan
came, panting, whimpering, grunting.
In reality, Ryan's slick grip tightened just a bit more and he came.
"Seth. Seth! YesyesyesSeth."
Ryan
lay back spread-eagle on his bed, breathing hard, satisfied, but still
wanting. He cleaned up, turned off the light, and settled down to sleep.
::
Outside
the pool house, eyes wide and hands sticky, Seth skipped his usual
shortcut back to the house so he wouldn't trip the motion lights.