He's left hard and wanting but there's no real helping it. Keeping his head lowered and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, John struggles to get to his feet slowly and tucks his hard cock away in his trousers, zipping up with a sniffle. He looks like a fucked out mess. He knows. He either doesn't care or he's proud of it. Maybe a bit of both.

"Come back and finish me off sometime," he asks without really holding out hope that they'll cross paths again. He can be a little desperate from time to time, but he's not stupid.