I pat my shoulder, letting Barbara know it’s time to exit the room. A tingle pulses through my heart, and then it’s gone, and we’re all alone.
I stand and caress my bulge, gently squeezing as my onlookers watch, sending endless emojis displaying their varied levels of lust. A bell chimes, and when I stare at the chat window, I see Daddy McSnack has returned.
“Daddy,” I whisper, my heart fluttering.
“I took a picture for you,” he writes. “Can we switch to DM?”
Nodding, I open another tab so my viewers don’t miss the show. Once I’ve messaged Daddy, I wait patiently for his response, tellingmy viewers, “Daddy McSnack is probably going to show me his butt, so I’m going to talk to him instead of you, but I’ll still let you see me come.”
In the DM, Daddy says, “You might not like it. The last one I took had better lighting.”
“I’ll like anything you send me. Promise,” I say into the camera, and then I worry he may have used trick lighting to make it look so pretty in his profile picture, and I don’t want him scared I’ll be upset if that’s the case. I don’t know why his ass looks so familiar, but it does. Like an old friend. “You don’t have to worry about something as silly as lighting. Even if it was the hairiest, flabbiest ass in the whole world, I’d still think it’s cute, you know.”
“You would?”
I nod emphatically. “I do. I promise, I do.”
I await his reply with bated breath, my fingertips twitching against my bare thighs. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait too long before the picture loads.
“Oh my fucking God,” I breathe. The picture he’s sent puts his profile picture to shame. In it, he’s wearing coveralls that look a lot like the ones The Core Four wear to work, but they’ve been pushed down. He’s in an industrial-style public bathroom like the one at Bubba’s new machine shop, and his phone is aimed at a mirror. Daddy’s back is to the camera, and he’s wearing a white shirt, but it’s lifted up, revealing half an inch of his lower back.
“Fuck. It’s so pretty, sir,” I whisper.
It takes him a moment, but he replies, “I like when you call me that. Do you want to touch it?”
“I want to do more than touch it. I want to worship it. Write sonnets in its honor.”
“You look real pretty right now, Ez.”
Strange. None of my subscribers call me Ez. Only Johnny, usually, but Daddy McSnack can’t be Johnny, because Johnny is hard at work, working to steal the man I … care for.
“Thank you,” I tell him, stroking myself faster. “I’m gonna cum so hard for you, sir. I promise. I’m gonna bust so fucking hard.”
“Come for me,” he says. “Come for me, Little Dick.”
My mind flashes back to Johnny. At the lake, he claimed he hadn’t called me Little Dick. No one else ever has, either, so it’s really fucking weird to hear it twice in one week, from two different people.
“It’s not little,” I lie, but when I look down, the truth is right there. I’m maybe four inches at best. It’s just as small as the rest of me, and it’s embarrassing, because Johnny and Bubba are both so big. It makes me feel like I’m not as worthy, like I can’t ever please Bubba the way Johnny could, given the chance. Maybe I should just bow out gracefully. Give Bubba to Johnny, because he’s better suited for the job at hand.
“It is,” Daddy McSnack says. “But that don’t mean it ain’t beautiful.”
I blush. “You think so?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s perfect, Little Dick. Can you make it come for me?”
I nod. “I will, sir.” My hand moves faster, gliding up and down my shaft as the head turns a vicious shade of red. I know I promised to come for this guy, but as I stare at his ass, all I see is Johnny. Johnny in his coveralls, showing me his ass. Bending over and exposing his entrance. Oh, fuck, I bet it’s beautiful. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close, baby.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I look into the camera, blinking slowly, hazily. “Johnny,” I whisper.
“Jesus, Ezra. Come for him. Come for Johnny.”
“Johnny,” I whine, and as soon as the name is out, I bust my load, firing a shot far enough it splashes against my laptop screen. Another lands on my chest, and I quickly scoop it up, licking it off my finger as I whimper, “Johnny,” picturing his ass. Fuck, he’s got such an incredible ass.
I keep stroking and stroking until the tapers off, leaving me in that hazy state of post-nut clarity.
I came for Johnny. Because of Johnny. Looking up, I notice Daddy McSnack sign off, and a bitter, disappointed feeling settles in my gut. I want him to come back. I want him to stay. I wish he would have stayed just a little longer, but I can’t turn back the clock and beg him not to go, so I focus on my subscribers instead.
