In the bathroom, Andy loosened his trousers and allowed them to fall to the floor. His underpants soon followed. His d**k appreciated the freedom and slapped up against his belly before sticking out straight ahead. “Jesus, what happened in there?” he asked his reflection in the mirror.
Feeling a little odd doing it—though he wasn’t sure why—Andy grabbed hold of his c**k and began to stroke. Closing his eyes he had no problem in conjuring up an image of Luke, but the Luke in his imagining wasn’t bruised, nor did he have an arm in a cast. Less than a minute after starting, Andy felt a tingling in his groin. Usually he would slow down and enjoy the sensation, but this time it was more about releasing pressure than enjoyment. So he sped up and soon painted the bathroom tiles with his semen.
