Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“What’s your favorite?”
“Favorite what?”
“Kind of Doritos.”
“Cool Ranch.” The moment the words left my mouth, I closed the door. I had no business flirting with him. None at all.
I turned off the television and ate my cold grilled-chicken sandwich and salad in silence.
The evening passed with the sound of crickets and bullfrogs, while I sat on the screened porch. Daniel would have hated it out here. He didn’t like nature, and only wanted to be outside if he was in the city. In some ways, our relationship had been complicated from the start. Initially, we’d wanted the same thing—no kids, no marriage. Daniel was everything I’d thought I wanted, but I was shit at being that for him. He loved my attention, and I didn’t give it to him enough. He’d get so mad at me, stomping around and throwing a fit, but in a cute way that always reeled me in. I was never the best at paying attention, at being in the moment and showing him how I felt until he made sure I knew I’d screwed up.
He complained about my lack of attention often, so one time I decided I was going to throw him a birthday party. I spent nearly four months planning it, wanting it to be a day devoted to him so he knew that even if I didn’t do well at saying it daily, he meant the world to me.
The day had gone off without a hitch, but afterward, it was clear he’d been upset.
“What are you doing? It’s your birthday. You don’t have to clean up,” I told him when the last guest left and he began straightening up the apartment.
“It’s fine.”
“Daniel.” I wrapped my arms around him, kissed his neck, but he immediately tensed up. “Are you mad at me?” His lack of response told me everything I needed to know. “What did I do wrong this time? I’ve been planning this party for months, for you, and it’s still not good enough.”
He sighed and shook his head. “You didn’t do this for me, Bentley. You did it for you.”
I shook those memories.
It was ten when I tried to go to sleep, but hours passed and rest didn’t come. I tossed and turned, thoughts of everything and nothing keeping me awake.
Frustrated, I flicked on the bedside lamp, plucked my laptop from the other side of the mattress, and thought maybe an orgasm would help me sleep.
I wasn’t one for staged porn. I liked things that felt more natural, closer to real life, so I logged in to MensClub. A few of the pages I subscribed to had new material out, but instead of clicking on the videos, I browsed through some of the advertisements for something different.
It was on the second page that I saw a video called: Jerking it to a guy on my route. It was a newer page, had only been around for a couple of months, but they were running a promotion for a free week, trying to drum up business. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, I subscribed, then clicked on the video that had caught my attention.
I grabbed the lube and slicked up my cock as he started stroking his own. The guy had a great body—tight, with lean muscles, a sexy v-line, a light dusting of hair between his pecs, the fur slightly thicker in his happy trail, leading to the guy’s thick erection and tight balls.
I wasn’t completely hard, but I played with myself, trying to get there. He hadn’t shown his face yet, and I didn’t often watch headless porn. I liked to see who I was getting off to.
He adjusted himself in the computer chair where he sat, reaching down with his left hand to fondle his sac. He made small whimpering sounds, then groaned, but had yet to speak.
I liked words during sex, loved talking dirty and hearing all the filthy things someone wanted to do to me, and so far, his lack of speech, coupled with not seeing his face, wasn’t doing it for me.
I was about to close the video when he unclenched his right fist, the one around his cock, to squirt a bit more lube into it, and… “Holy fuck,” fell from my lips when I saw the familiar thumb ring, the black nail.
Blood immediately rushed to my groin, heating up my skin, making me hard. Knowing it was Sam was like a drug, one I knew I shouldn’t take but couldn’t stop myself from ingesting. It wasn’t wrong to watch him. Sam had put the video online. He wanted to be seen, wanted men to jerk off to him, but it was clear he also didn’t want anyone to know who he was.
My conscience argued with my desire. This felt personal, like invading his space, but again, he had it out there, posted online for the world to see.