I could ask Silas, but it was Friday so he’d be over later anyway and I’d just ask him then.
Betty?
Betty the Betta??? BFFRL Smith.
Bruce
No wonder you’re single
Speaking of, have you found someone to pop that other cherry of yours yet?
You’d be the first person to know if I did.
Should I be honored?
I tossed my phone onto the bed and frowned at the fish tank.
“Is your name Betty?” I asked.
The fish ignored me.
“Bruce?”
Still ignored.
“You’re gorgeous either way,” I said, reaching again for my phone and muttering, “Beautiful names.”
Typing the ask into my search bar, hundreds of baby name websites popped up with all the names you’d expect, but there was one that caught my eye.
“Cassandra?” I asked.
The fish stopped and floated to the side, facing me head on.
“Is your name Cassandra?”
The look said yes.
“Okay, Cassandra. Welcome home.”
Cassandra looked at me for a couple more seconds then resumed their exploration of their new home. I dropped my phone back onto the bed and decided to follow their lead. There were plenty of boxes I hadn’t unpacked yet, so I busied myself with pulling books out of boxes and stacking them against the wall. There was definitely no bookshelf to be found in my little studio, but I didn’t hate the look of the haphazard and mismatched stacks beneath the window.
An hour later, I’d had enough of unpacking. With about two hours until Silas was due to arrive, I decided it was better to focus on money than on misery. I took a quick shower, styled my hair, then found the place in the studio that had the bestlight. It was—by design—my bed, tucked behind that corner with the setting sun coming in hot through the windows. I set up my tripod and my ring light, then realized that unless I wanted to film a hand job video, I had to find the box with all of my sex toys in it.
Fifteen minutes later, I found it in the bathroom. I lugged the whole thing to my dresser and used the bottom drawer to house all the toys. I grabbed lube and an average length dildo that had a thick knot near the base, set my phone to record, and climbed naked onto the bed.
On my knees, I made a show of fellating the pretend cock, stroking my own dick to hardness when the knot pressed against my teeth. Gagging, I tipped my head back and pulled the toy out of my mouth, making sure to let spit roll down my chin when I did. This was all I’d needed, maybe. Back in my element, back in my body.
I slammed the suction base of the toy against the wall, hoping it was strong enough to hold, then I made a show of using lube-slick fingers to prep myself for the larger penetration. It felt good to be filled. I hadn’t been fucked since Smith, and I groaned happily as I pushed my asshole against the blunt tip of the dildo.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered straight into the camera, stare rapt on the mirrored reflection of myself in the screen. Backing up until the flared knot kissed my rim, I sucked in a breath to steady myself, then I started to move.
I fucked myself on the toy, murmuring all kinds of generic things about how good it felt to be filled, about how the cock was so thick and my body so stretched. This was the type of video that always seemed to sell well. People didn’t even care if the penetration could be seen. It was the eye contact and the noises that always earned me the most money, so I made sure to deliver on both.
It wasn’t like I was really acting or anything. The toy felt really fucking good, and I knew if I could manage to get that knot into my ass, it would feel even better. The problem was, at the end of the day, it was still a toy and what I wanted the most was a real hot cock attached to a body with real strong hands. I didn’t even care anymore about being dominant or not. I just wanted to be touched in a way that would lead to something that wasn’t platonic.
I could call Ethan again, I thought, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from moaning his name and ruining the video. Instead, I licked the palm of my hand and reached between my legs to stroke myself. I’d set a manageable pace, but as soon as I touched my dick, the need to come turned into something unavoidable.
“I’m so close,” I told the camera. “You’re gonna make me come, oh, God…”
