Arthur's testicles and belly tightened and he tired to slow his strokes, his thrusts, tried to hold himself on that acute edge of perfect sensation, there with Al on his knees, every position and entrance at once, tight and alive, very alive—

Arthur came, hard, tumbling over the edge of the canyon, stroking his cock the whole way down until it hurt, until he was drained.

He lay and panted and waited for the thumping of his heart to slow. He wondered how many times he could wank like that over the coming weekend, and if it would drain him of Alfred Jones. He could certainly give it a try. In between bouts of work, of course.

First he'd need to take his laptop to a fast and discreet technician. Arthur rolled over onto his sticky stomach and slept.