Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies)

It wasn’t ideal for anyone involved, but did she have to look so traumatized?

She seemed to like the food, at least, having reached for the chocolate mousse like it was going to be banned in the morning. Which it was, in a way. Tasty desserts were one of many things out of reach now thanks to this lockdown, unless one already had them around.

Maybe her reaction was a natural response to the circumstances. I couldn’t blame her, really, even if she did treat me like a jailer. At least she was somewhat polite about it.

Caring for Petra wasn’t what I’d had in mind for my immediate future but there was nothing to be done about it. When I had thought about it further, I had decided that, as much as I didn’t want her snooping around and finding out about certain proclivities I had that I liked to keep private, it really wasn’t fair to keep her limited to one floor. Not when she was clearly such a free-spirited girl.

William Blake’s clever observations about caging birds and the ire it raised from the heavens danced in the back of my mind. Far be it for me to put all of heaven in a rage. I already had quite enough trouble.

Difficult as it might be, I decided I would have to at least get used to Petra, if not accept her constant presence. I could always avoid her if that was what was needed to keep my desired solitude intact.

It wasn’t that I never had visitors. They just usually left when we were finished having our fun together.

As the sun simmered its rays on the window of each room, morning came, and a new day began. I started my routine, not particularly noticing that there was someone else in the house. With the song “Buffalo” by those famous British weirdos Stump thumping like a heartbeat, I went through the motions that helped me maintain my shape. I wasn’t bulky in any real sense, but I was muscled just the same, and I liked staying that way.

After I finished my workout, I was wondering what I should make for breakfast and I decided to simply ask Petra what she would like for breakfast, trying to give her as many choices as possible, even in such a strange situation such as this.

If anything, I could identify with her obvious objection to being here, valuing my own freedom as well. The main difference was that Petra longed for freedom of movement, whereas my preference was for the freedom of isolation. I’d noticed years ago that the powers that be had a hard time controlling you if they couldn’t actually find you.

“Petra,” I called, knocking lightly on the door.

There was no response, which made me wonder if the knock was perhaps a bit too light. Seized by an unnamed madness, I opened the door. It was only a crack— just enough to look in.

I was filled with fear that something might have happened. An iron desire drove me to make sure she was okay, although I was unsure what I would do if she wasn’t.

I didn’t even notice at first. The sweet relief of her gentle, yet perceptible breathing, overshadowed everything else going on, including the fact that beautiful Petra was quite naked, posed like one of Manet’s nudes.

She was even more gorgeous than I could have ever imagined, the truth far outpacing any fantasy that mortal minds could muster. Her shape was a complex collection of edges and curves, coming together in pure perfection of the sort that would send the pens of poets flying.

I heard a stir and a moan, and I was off, not wanting her to catch me looking, even if I had done so with the purest of motivations.

Considering the circumstances, not to mention the age difference between us, it would be inconceivable to convince anyone that I wasn’t being pervy, even if I swore before the Pope on a stack of Bibles that my motivations were strictly ethical. Or at least ninety-five percent, anyhow.

Images of Petra and her luscious curves haunted my mind, until I could no longer resist. The swelling in my pajama pants was getting to a critical mass. Direct and extraordinary action was required.

Breakfast a distant abstraction, I rushed back to my room, minding the marble floors, and got to my bed. Relief brought a deep sigh to my lips as I pulled down my pants, unleashing my cock to open air.

Deep breathing myself back into a state of relative calm, I took the matter in hand, literally, as I began stroking my cock along the stiff, throbbing shaft, playing my fingers over the head at the top of each stroke. Cupping my balls with my free hand, I started to stroke a little harder, putting a bit of a turn on each tug as I thought about all the things I wanted to do to Petra.