IV

Unsurprisingly Elias was quiet and scarce the next day, which suited me fine. Of course you can’t get too far from each other while living on what is basically a plot-sized island, but he made sure to be out on the pier as much as possible, even when it started to rain. I finally saw Jen talk him into joining her for dinner. Good for him.

Me, I focused on working on the house, doing what I could, which was far less than I wanted.

V

It probably doesn’t speak well of me that I was back to spying on Elias the very next morning.

This time was different though. 

He walked to the shower a little stiffly, no doubt still sore between the thighs. I had been rather rough on his virgin plums, after all. Stepping into the tub, he stood there for a moment with his back to me, and then turned all the way around, looking right at the peephole!

I pulled back with a soft gasp. He couldn’t possibly see me, but clearly he knew of the hole. I leaned in again slowly, my curiosity besting my shame.

Elias was still there with his eyes fixed on the peephole, now stroking on his erection. His expression was a queer one, a mixture of vulnerability and determination, his stance not quite confident, yet still defiant.

I slid out of my shorts and panties while keeping an eye to the hole, grabbing the big hammer and propping it up underneath myself. I didn’t hold back my moan as I settled onto the handle, and I could see his ears perking and angling, his hand sliding faster along his length in response.

I rode the hammer, matching the pace he was setting with his hand, surreptitiously letting him control the act. Of course it didn’t feel nearly as good as that sweet length of his had, only affirming to me that I would have to collect rent again soon.

Elias took me by surprise as he slid his free hand down, capturing that swaying sac in his fist. He had to still be sore, but as I watched, he squeezed and pulled down on his pair, letting out an adorable mewl as he did.

It was almost enough to make me peak, my eye glued to the hole as I watched him torture himself in homage to our first time together. His hand was flying up and down his shaft now, forcing my hips to work hard just to keep up.

In the end I did arrive before him, moaning out against the wall as my nectar drooled along the hammer’s shaft. Hearing my pleasure, Elias let go of his straining sac, and soon unleashed his hot seed all over the bathroom floor, the heavy ropes splatting against the planks audibly.

As I knelt there, panting and shivering from the last remnants of the climax still coursing through me, I watched him turn, and without even turning the water on first, begin to piss loudly into the tub. His head was still turned towards me, his watery eyes squarely on the hole, gazing in defiance as he held his semi-hard shaft and just emptied his bladder before proceeding to shower.

Filthy boy!

I slid off the tool and leaned my back to the wall, trying to make sense of his display. He didn’t think he somehow had the upper hand, did he, just from having been inside of me? Maybe I should wait a little before collecting again, after all.

VI

Aside from those moments at the peephole, the next week was almost normal around the house. I watched Elias masturbate in a variety of positions, the focus always on providing me with a good view, so I felt almost obligated to turn up for it every day. 

Silly, I know. He was there for me after all, not the other way around.

Otherwise, I did notice him watching me occasionally, but every time I fixed him with my gaze, he would quickly look away, sometimes even blushing before wandering off with some excuse or another.

This just made it all the more surprising when he turned up at my door.