I reach out and grip his thigh with one hand while filming.
Like I’m reaching out and touching a fantasy.
He arches his back a little as I run my fingertips along the edge of his huge tattoo.
“Knew you were my number one fan,” he whispers, and I can tell he’s close from the way his breath is a little broken.
“You’re the one who’s about to come for me. You know what? I changed my mind.”
“What did you change your mind about?”
I bite down on my lower lip then let it go, reaching for the toy again. I slowly push it inside him.
“We’re not calling this off.”
Something flashes in his eyes, and his breath hitches. “Is that right?”
I push the toy deeper, leaning in.
“We’re still going to fake it. And you’re going to pretend to be my boyfriend while I treat yousowell you’ll wish you still had me after the New Year’s party.”
He lets out a groan as I shove the toy in again as far as it goes.
“Fuck, Ashford?—”
A moment later he’s coming, shooting white up onto his stomach because ofme.
I’ve never felt anything like this.
Getting to watch him.
The object of my fantasies for a long while now, losing it because of things I’m doing. I get to see the expression on his face as he loses control. It’s just another thing I’ve never gotten to see before.
No oneon his private account gets to see his face.
That’s just for me.
A white streak of his cum lands on my arm as I’m holding the phone camera just above him. As he catches his breath, I finally tap the button on the camera screen to stop recording, and I put it down on the table.
I expect him to revel in this.
To act like he’s won, now that I’ve told him the truth.
But instead, it’s like he’s gotten spooked the moment he finishes.
There’s a haunted look in the ice blue of his eyes, and his expression’s unreadable once he catches his breath. He brings a hand down to rest on mine and gently guides me off of the toy inside him. He pulls it out, then stands up.
“I need to grab a shower,” he tells me. “You might want to wash your sheets, unless you like sleeping covered in cum.”
He grabs his phone and his clothes nearby, balls them up, and covers his bulge with it.
He smacks my ass before he heads for the door and doesn’t even bother closing it as he walks across the hallway toward the shower.
And then he’s just gone.
And I’m here, alone in my room, my arm still streakedwith his cum and my head absolutely swimming in thoughts of him.
Maybe it’s normal.
