Why can’t I stop myself?  He breezes into my cabin and sits on the bed with that cocky grin and knows I have no power to stop myself from giving in.  He doesn’t have to say or do anything: he just looks at me and I all my self-control vanishes.

He’s always the one in control.  I always thought that being bottom meant giving up control, being submissive.  There’s nothing submissive about him, not even when he has my cock in his ass and he’s coming over my hand. 

Why does he want this from me?  Why did he choose me?  Does he do this with others on the boat?  He’s so beautiful he could have anyone.  I think it gives him a thrill to know that I don’t want to do this, that I feel guilty as soon as my cock returns to it’s soft state.  He knows that fucking him goes against my moral code.  He likes it: it gives him power.  Little bastard.

He’s wearing the jeans today.  They fit a little better than everything else in his wardrobe.  He’s tossed his overshirt on my chair and is leaning back on my bed smirking at me.  I wish I could tell him to fuck off out of my cabin but there’s no way those words will pass my lips.  My cock has been hard ever since he opened the door.

The first time this happened I apologised afterwards.  Funny now to think that I assumed myself the aggressor in that encounter.  I was shepherded very carefully into that situation; he’s not just a genius at manipulating numbers.  Days of brushing past me, innocent comments, pretended hero-worship…as if he could worship anyone less intelligent as himself.  I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet that qualifies there.

He’s displaying for me, stretching out and stroking his nipples through his tee.  I want to go over there and bite them, I want to…but I’ll wait.  He sprawls out; spreading his legs and letting me see the outline of his cock starting to push the crotch of his jeans out.  My own cock starts to throb so I loosen the fastenings on the front of my uniform.  He sees and grins, and beckons me over.  I’ll wait thanks; I’ll wait until I can’t hold back.  No words are spoken, he knows I’ll snap eventually.

The longer I wait the harder and faster it’ll be.

Sometimes he wants me to go slow.  If he wanted that today he’d be over here, playing with me.  Since he’s over there playing with himself he wants it rough.  See, he’s controlling this situation, he knows how I work, what buttons to push, how to get me to roll over and beg. 

His hands are moving down now.  Slowly, over his ribs, his stomach.  Light, teasing touches across the waistband of his jeans.  Those jeans are looking tighter now.  He has a surprisingly large cock, a perfect uncut cock, straight and thick and slightly darker than the pale skin of his stomach.  I want/don’t want him to pull open his jeans and show me.

Damn, I’ve been sitting here licking my lips.  He’s amused, so glad I can entertain you, you manipulative little slut.  I wonder how he’d react if I said that out loud?  Would he leave in a huff or laugh?  Maybe I’ll try it some day?  Not today though, not when he’s sliding himself out of his clothes like that.  When did he kick off his shoes?

God, I want to get off.  My cock is hard as iron and sticking out of my pants.  It’s practically pointing straight at him.  I daren’t touch it or I’ll shoot before I get anywhere near his ass.  And I do want his ass, oh yes.

What is it about thick socks, boxers and a tee shirt that turns me on so bad?  Apart from the obvious fact that it’s him wearing them, and I can see his cock tenting out his boxers and his nipples poking through his tee.

Okay, the tee is gone and his cock is pulling the elastic of his boxers away from his skin, I can just see his treasure trail shading the skin there…

That’s it, I can’t wait any longer.

God!  He tastes so good.  Boxers…off!  I’m being too rough, I know he’s younger than me and I should be careful and responsible and gentle…but that’s not what he wants and right now I’m too horny to even consider it.  I have lube somewhere…got it.

He’s still grinning at me, his cock is hard and I have him bent in half with his ankles up near his ears and he still looks like I’m just a toy he’s playing with. 

Fuck getting undressed, I just need to get loose.

Better.

Lube…and in.  Hard.  Hold back.

Okay, I’m okay now.  Squeezing there hurts but I’m not in danger of coming now. 

Hard and fast, I can see it hurts him, not that it seems to bother him much.  I know I’m at the wrong angle to hit his prostate and his cock is softening.  I’d like to fuck him badly, screw him painfully and leave him wanting.  Maybe then he wouldn’t come back.

I’m weak: I move him up a little and pump my cock over his sweet spot.  I know I’m red and sweating, he looks cool and calm.  The only things that betray his arousal are his hard cock and the darkness of his eyes. 

As always he comes silently.

As always I howl his name.

He smirks and gets dressed and I clean myself up and start on the usual round of guilt and self-disgust as I hear the door shut behind him.

Damn you Lucas.  Why won’t you leave me alone?
 

The End

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