I take a deep breath, my mind racing with what comes next. Will he quiz me on how much water the condom can hold again? An absurd image flashes through my mind—me, throwing the water-filled condom at him like a balloon, watching it explode across his perfectly composed face. The thought almost makes me smile, despite the tension in the room.
But Frost has other plans. “Open the condom,” he instructs, his voice cool and matter-of-fact.
I blink, caught off guard even though I technically expected it. “Okay…” I say, my voice trailing off as I tear open the foil packet with trembling fingers. The latex feels slick and alien against my skin as I extract it.
Frost watches me intently, then says, “Now, blow into the condom.”
“What?” my eyes bug out, sure I must have misheard.
“You heard me,” he says, his never leaving mine.
I stare at the condom in my hand, then back at Frost. “Is there… a reason for this?” I ask, the idea so vulgar I can barely get the words out.
A ghost of a smile plays at his lips. “You’ll find out when you’re done blowing.”
The way he says blowing makes my mind go places it shouldn’t. Suddenly, I’m thinking of his cock, remembering how it felt in my hands when I tried to place the condom over it last week. For a brief, wild moment, I imagine putting it in my mouth. I swallow hard, trying to banish the thought.
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