Kroy and Carson keep tabs on it. They find it amusing. I’m glad that they don’t get offended when it’s not them being approached. The boys understand that it’s not anything otherthan our celebrity status that gets attention. And our bank accounts. Thankfully, they just ride with it.
“That one?” Kroy says, nodding his head in the direction of a high-top table.
There’s a single girl there, her finger tracing the rim of a glass that doesn’t look like it’s been sipped from at all. Her chin is on the palm of her other hand as she stares, bored, at the bodies on the dance floor. If there’s ever a posture that says ‘I don’t want to be here,’ it’s that one right there.
I swallow back the rest of my drink and set the glass on the bar. As a pack, we approach. She doesn’t notice us until we’re maybe a dozen feet away. Then she’s wary.
Which is fine and I like that expression. She should be wary of five men approaching her. I’d be more concerned—and just as likely to nix her as an option—if she wasn’t wary. But what I’m really looking for is a glimmer of recognition as she scans our faces. Her eyes dart between us as she sits up straight.
“Hey,” Kroy says and her eyes land on him. Since he’s probably the most charming of all of us, he’s often the one to break the ice. He can flirt with you, and you’ll be sucked right in before you even know it. He does it to us just to see if he can and the smug look he gives us when we realize says it all. “We’d love to dance with you, if you’re interested.”
Her eyes widen. “All of you?”
Kroy nods, smiling. “All of us.”
She shivers. It’s subtle, but we don’t miss it.
Dancing first is mandatory for no other reason to gauge how much she’s had to drink. Not whether she can dance. It also gives me enough time to watch her, making sure she doesn’t recognize us and to see if her interest grows.
However, she has to agree first.
The woman isn’t quick to do so, but eventually, she nods, and we even earn a shy smile as she gets to her feet, abandoning her drink entirely.
I glance on the dance floor and nearly stop when I think I see Felton. Which is ridiculous. He wouldn’t be here. No, it’s just the guy’s massive frame that made me think it was him. Shaking my head, I follow my friends and the girl to the dance floor, pushing Felton from my mind entirely.
TWO
FELTON “COCK SUCKER” BADCOCK
I’ve keptmy body pretty generic as far as markings go. There’s a single star on my hip bone that I got when I was eighteen that very few people ever see. Unless my pants are hanging low, it’s almost always covered in public. I’d done that on purpose as a kind of rite of passage when I officially,legally,became an adult.
While I don’t try to put a lot of thought into it, I kind of think it was a bit of rebellion against my father too. Maybe a ‘fuck you’ that I’ve never been brave enough to voice.
However, the little star is only visible when I’m in my underwear, a Speedo, or very low-rise pants. I like it that way. It’s a private symbol that only people who are close to me ever get to see.
Or when I’m faceless.
My moaning fills the screen and I stare as Daddy Del rails me with his thick dick over a bench. It appears like we’re in a park, but we’re on a mutual friend’s property. Another creator who owns this big ranch and basically has different aesthetics set up all over it for this kind of thing. He rents it out to other creators, hence why we’re using it.
You can’t really get fucked in a public park without being arrested unless you’re absolutely silent. I am not silent. It’s impossible to be when getting fucked with a dick like Daddy Del’s.
“Good,” Del says. I glance at the tablet where our video call is streaming. “This shoot’s yours, right?” he asks.
We filmed three different shoots that day—one for each of our accounts and then a third that we’ll both post. The rest of the day, we took teaser shots.
“Yep. This one is my favorite.”
“Because your orgasm was like a fountain,” he says, chuckling.
I grin. Daddy Del is in his forties. I think he’s even pushing fifty. You wouldn’t know it because he’s hot as fuck, fit, has a smattering of tattoos, and fucks like a porn star. Because he is a porn star.
The guy is hot. When I reached out for a collab, he turned out to be really cool too.
He’s only the third collab I’ve done because I have to be cautious in choosing my partners. They actually see my face in person while the screen sees me completely masked. I spend a lot of time vetting them for drama and scandal, watching their work, and basically becoming an online stalker before I even reach out.
Rarely do I even acknowledge those who reach out to me.
It’s a lot of stress, but the release I get from filming and posting is really the only time I feel in control of anything in my life. I feel good—about myself, my performance, my body—just,everything. There’s no stress. No pressure. This is for fun and it’s the only time when I get to have that fun.
