“Take it out and play with it,” I said and he obeyed fast.
The feeling of him moaning around my shaft as he jacked himself off was indescribably good. I didn’t want to wait to bury myself in his tight, virgin ass, but that wasn’t part of the deal I made with myself. At the very least, I had to wait.
“Suck me harder,” I moaned.
Morrison’s mouth working my tip and his hand stroking my base as he choked on my dick was almost enough to put me over the edge. What did it was looking down and seeing him come all over the floor even as he sputtered to get his breath.
“Oh god,” I groaned.
With that, my cock began spurting thick, hot ropes of cum down Morrison’s throat. He swallowed every drop and sucked harder until that load was spent. I liked that.
When I was done, I tucked my cock back into my pants and zipped up. “Go get a towel and clean this shit up. And put your cock away before I spank your ass. I told you no pleasure for you.”
Without a word, Morrison got up and scrambled off. When he returned from what I assumed was the bathroom, he had a towel. He cleaned up the cum from the floor and then waited for more instructions. I liked that too.
“Go put the towel away, baby. You did good tonight but you should get home before anyone tries to find you. I don’t want to fuck this up. I’ve got more fun in mind for you.”
Morrison gave me the address of where the yacht would be docked and told me what time to abduct him from the party. Before he walked out the door, I grabbed him and kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” I whispered in his ear before kissing his neck. I had no idea why I did that, but it felt right. I’d used him but I didn’t want him to leave feeling used.
When he was gone, I looked around the warehouse. The area where I was hiding was a swanky apartment, and I had to admit I’d spent time in worse places waiting for a job. The floors all looked to be made of dark hardwood. The furnishings were a little aged but it was obvious they were high- quality.
There was beer in the fridge and a big-screen TV in the living area. Morrison had an extensive collection of movies on demand, and there was a high-end laptop sitting on the mahogany coffee table. I assumed that it was fine for me to use it during my stay.
I used the computer to research the area where I was to kidnap Morrison. I thought about the power play he’d made earlier and I began to wonder if I had to abduct him for real to survive. He’d fallen in line when our cocks were out, but could I trust him any other time?
As I pondered my next move, the weight of the decision pressed down on me. I paced the room, the soft creaks of the hardwood floor echoing in the otherwise quiet space. The flickering light from the television cast shadows on the walls, creating an almost surreal atmosphere.
I opened the laptop and began to search for information about the location I was supposed to take him to. Maps, safety protocols, anything that could give me an edge. My fingers flew over the keyboard as I pulled up various websites, my mind racing with thoughts of the plan.
Suddenly, a notification popped up on the screen. It was an email from Morrison, sent only minutes earlier. My heart raced as I clicked it open, half-expecting a warning or a demand. Instead, it was a casual message, asking if I wanted to grab a drink later that week. I was taken aback—was he genuinely interested in spending time with me, or was this just a game?
I stared at the screen, torn between my instincts and the unexpected warmth I felt toward him. Could I really go through with my original plan? Maybe there was a chance for something more, something that didn’t involve manipulation and deceit. But the world I was part of didn’t allow for such luxuries, did it?
I closed the laptop and leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The flicker of the TV reflected my inner turmoil. I had to make a decision. Was I willing to risk everything for a fleeting connection, or would I stick to the plan and ensure my survival, no matter the cost?
As the minutes ticked by, the sound of my heartbeat filled the silence. I could hear the distant rumble of the city outside, a reminder that life went on beyond these walls. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my choices bearing down on me. Whatever I decided, there was no turning back.
The air was thick with tension as I weighed my options. On one hand, there was the promise of a normal life, of laughter over drinks with someone who seemed to genuinely care. Morrison had a charm about him, a warmth that made the coldness of my world feel a little less suffocating. But on the other hand, there was the reality of my situation—a web of obligations and expectations that had been woven around me since I could remember.
I glanced back at the laptop, the screen still glowing with Morrison's email. His casual invitation felt like a lifeline, but it was also a distraction. I couldn’t afford to lose focus now. The stakes were too high. If I faltered, if I let my guard down, it could cost me everything. The plan was already set in motion, and I had to see it through. Or did I?
The thought of abandoning my mission for a moment of connection gnawed at me. What if Morrison was sincere? What if he could help me escape this life I loathed? But then, what if it was all part of a larger scheme? Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not in my line of work.
I stood up, running my fingers through my hair as I paced again, each step igniting a new wave of anxiety. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, half-expecting another message from Morrison. Instead, it was a reminder of the meeting I had scheduled for tomorrow—a critical step in my plan. The urgency of it all crashed over me like a wave, dragging me back to the present moment.
I needed clarity. I needed to think. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds around me—the creaking of the floorboards, the distant city noise, the low hum of the television. I imagined what it would be like to sit across from Morrison, to share a drink and let down my defenses. But could I truly allow myself that vulnerability?
With a deep breath, I resolved to stick to the plan for now. I would attend the meeting, gather the necessary information, and complete my task. After that, I could reassess. I could take a step back and evaluate my feelings towards Morrison without the immediate pressure of a decision hanging over me.
I opened my eyes and returned to the laptop, my fingers hovering above the keyboard. I would research more about the location, double-check the safety protocols, and prepare myself for whatever lay ahead. The thrill of the chase—the game I had played for so long—was still there, but now it felt slightly tainted by the thought of what could be.
I typed in the coordinates for the meeting location, my mind racing with possibilities. Maybe I could have both—a chance at normalcy and my old life. The prospect was enticing, but I knew better than to let hope cloud my judgment.
As the screen filled with information, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. Whatever path I chose, I would face it head-on. And no matter what happened, I would not let fear dictate my actions. The decision could wait, but I would be ready when the time came.