Brandon’s a bad boy. I watch him do things: Under-tip the waiter. Leave his dirty dishes on the table. Toss his socks on the floor.

And when I catch him being bad, if I’m in the mood, I get what I want. And what I want is for him to pay.

Just the other day, I picked up some worn socks right in front of him and saw his face change. He went from confident to sheepish in a split second.

“What’s this?” I asked softly. Too softly.

He snatched them from me and looked away as he said, “Sorry. I forgot them.”

“Do I really need more pointless excuses for your bad behavior?”

His face reddened, but when I glanced down at his jeans, I saw his cock was already swelling. A hard mound fighting against his zipper.

“Go put these... Read More