Halloween Party - Part 5

The bathroom was a world of its own — hot, cramped, the faint drip of the faucet keeping rhythm with the pounding of my heart. My hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, chest heaving. He pressed into me again, hips rocking, cock hard and unforgiving against mine.

“You’re mine,” he whispered through the mask, voice low, almost teasing. “Feel that?”

I moaned, grinding against him, my own cock slick with pre-cum. His hands gripped my hips, holding me steady, fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me further into the sink. The porcelain was cold against my thighs, but nothing else mattered except the feel of him, warm and impossible, moving over me.

He jerked me off first, fast, merciless, letting his thumb rub my slit in ways that made me see stars. I gasped, my back arching, hips bucking. Every stroke, every press of his hand made me wetter, harder, so desperate I thought I’d explode right there.

“Fuck—” I groaned, my name trapped in my own throat.

Then he pressed me against the sink, grinding into me. I felt his cock against my ass, hard, needy, slipping past the fabric of my pants until he found me, slick and ready.

My knees hit the cold tiles as he thrust, slow at first, just teasing, and then faster, harder, every motion shoving me into the porcelain, his hips slamming against mine. I gasped, clutching the edge of the sink, teeth biting my lip to keep from screaming.

And then he did it.

He moaned my name.

It cut through me like lightning. “Wait—” I gasped between thrusts. “Do… do you know me?”

His hands tightened on my hips, but his head ducked, muffling a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl. My cock throbbed, my ass burned, and I could barely breathe. He leaned into me, and every brush of his chest against mine sent waves of need pulsing down.

I came first, spilling hot and heavy across the cold porcelain, my hips jerking uncontrollably. But he wasn’t done. He grabbed me tighter, gritting his teeth, shoving his cock deeper inside me, and the next wave of pleasure hit like fire.

“Ah—fuck—yes!” I shouted, leaning against him, too lost to think.

And then it happened — the mask slipped. Just for a second, it fell.

I froze. My eyes widened. The face behind the silver mask.

Brody.

My roommate. Brody. The quiet, shy kid who never left his dorm, who barely said two words all week. Brody was inside me. Fuck, Brody was inside me.

He stilled for a fraction of a second, wide-eyed, and I could see the panic in his eyes.

“Shit!” he hissed, fumbling for the mask. Clothes followed, shoved on in a flurry. In less than a heartbeat, he was gone — sprinting from the bathroom, leaving me trembling, dripping, and reeling against the sink.

I sank to my knees, cock still hard, body shaking, mind spinning. The realization hit me like a punch to the chest: all night, the stranger, the mystery, the thrill… it had been Brody all along.

I leaned back against the wall, fingers tracing the slick trail I’d left on the sink. My mouth hung open. My heart hammered. My body ached for him.

And I had no idea if I wanted to scream at him, laugh, or beg him to come back.

But one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same.