Stefan arrived at the bus stop on the narrow street of terraced houses by seven thirty.
He’d barely slept. His d**k was sore from overuse during the night, and his skin burned with the need to be touched. He’d go off the minute Daz touched him. And then he’d beg for more. He’d probably scream the place down. He’d have to be gagged—oh God, maybe Daz would use that steel gag he’d threatened Stefan with the other day…
The cold air did nothing to cool his skin as he waited at the stop. His face was flushed; his d**k would be even more so. He felt like he couldn’t quite breathe. He’d smoked the last of his weed last night, and it had done nothing to take the edge off. He needed this. He needed Daz, right now, and he knew he’d do anything, absolutely anything, that Daz demanded.
Oh God, he wa
