Meet the peeping Tom

You walk over to Toms bed. You don't actually bother getting dressed, since Tom already saw everything and then some. When you're halfway across the room when he suddenly notices you and stops jerking off. You walk up to him and sit down at the edge of his bed. "Are you having fun?" You whisper to him.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... You know... It wasn't like..." You can't help but giggle, which interrupts Tom's stammering. "Don't worry," you tell him, "and you don't have to stop on my account. Just pretend I'm not here. Or that I am, that seems to be working for you." Tom looks at you with a great deal of puzzlement before his hand starts to move slowly again. You never really knew that a guy jerking off over you was such a turn-on, but apparently it is.

"I'm Sarah-Lynn, by the way," you tell him. "Tom," he mumbles. Now that you're closer you can actually get a better look at Tom. He's not the type you usually go for. He's overweight, there's a pair of glasses on his night stand and comic book posters over his bed. Apparently Tom is quite the nerd.

"So, does Brad do this more often?" You ask Tom. "What? Bring girls home?" He answers. "Yeah, and fuck them right in front of you," you clarify.

"Well, sometimes. Maybe once every two weeks. They never really seem to like that I'm here, though." Tom's wanking has gotten more vigorous, and you're actually shaking a little sitting on the bed with him. "And does it turn you on?" You ask him. "Well, I, uhh, I don't know." As he's answering you, Tom doesn't look at your face. His eyes can't seem to decide wether to stick to your breasts or between your legs. "It's ok if it does," you try to coax him, "it kinda turns me on that you were watching."

"Yeah, it turns me on," he admits. He is tugging so hard now that you're afraid that Brad might wake up. You slowly sneak your hand under the covers. "And do they ever come and say hi," you ask him. He stops masturbating and suddenly looks you in the eye when your hand makes contact with his through his boxer shorts. He looks kinda scared. You slip your hand inside, past his hand and start massaging his balls. "Well, do they?"

"N... N... No," he answers, as he resumes moving his hand. "They never come and play with your balls while you wank it for them?" You ask him. "No." You take his hand and pull it off his cock. Then you grab his dick and start jerking. "They never come here to take your man meat and give you a proper thank you for enjoying their show?" You punctuate your words by quickly licking your lips. His "no" sounds a little more labored now. You pick up the pace and start wanking in earnest now. "They never come here to get some? To find out what a real fuck feels like, after the disappointment by the asshole on the other side of the room?"

Tom's answer isn't coming from his lips. Instead you feel his dick twitching in your hand, and feel a wet warmth spread inside of his boxers. You slow down your handiwork, while the the subject of it comes down from his orgasm with a few last convulsions. You take your hand out of the sticky mess under the blankets, take a lick of the salty goop between your fingers and say: "Sweet dreams. I know I'll be having them."

As you walk back to Brad's bed and lay down, you hear Tom utter a final thank you. Tom walks to the bathroom to clean up and even before he returns, you're already fast asleep. Even Brad's snoring doesn't bother you.