But his eyes, I swear to god, are glowing in the light.
It’s a video, but he’s not speaking, so there aren’t captions. I turn up the volume all the way and press it to my ear so I can catch a hint of some kind of club music. Of course this guy would work out to EDM.
And yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Instead, I pull the phone away from my head and watch him for too long—a loop of him doing bicep curls over and over until my dick is hard.
God help me.
I scroll down a little lower and see comments. He’s replyingto them. Each and every one. I tell myself not to open them, but I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
Most of them are just reactions to his very obvious thirst trap. But then there’s one that goes on longer than just one reply. It goes on for six. Her icon shows a pretty woman with long dark hair, and when I click on it, her profile is private, but her bio saysfitness, so of course he’s replying.
Of course he’s into it. Why wouldn’t he be?
She’s perfect.
He tells her that in the last comment, and she leaves a blushing emoji.
Now I have a boner, but I’m fucking pissed and hurt and…you know what, fuck it. It doesn’t matter. Dex is nothing to me. He’s just some hearing guy. The brother of my ex-hookup’s new boyfriend. He knows like six phrases of ASL, and okay, maybe he gets my dick going like no guy I’ve ever been with, but that doesn’t matter.
He mostly likes women. I was probably just some drunken experiment. I mean, I’d lost my mind at the club, anyway. I still don’t know what I was thinking following him home. Or into the shower at the gym. Or showing up at his house last night, horny and practically gagging for it.
Jesus, I need therapy. Or an exorcist.
Or three years away from the source of all my problems.
By the time I go back, I won’t even remember his name.
I bury my face into the pillow, feeling sleep tugging at my edges despite the fact that I’m still hard, starving for food, and it’s not even sunset. But screw it. I have no real obligations until next week. I can lie here for a while, ignore my boner, and rot.
I wake up slowly, my eyes blinking. It’s still dark out, and I realize when I look at my phone, it’s far too early. I’m all fucked-up from the time change. This is going to be a hellish few days while I adjust.
Even worse, my dick is still hard.
It seems pissed that I fell asleep with Dex on my mind—the man I’m supposed to forget about—and did nothing about it. Something warm wells up in my belly, and I shift onto my back, running the heel of my palm down my hard length. My hips arch up, and I try to stop myself from making a bad decision.
But it seems my dick has overruled my mind.
I grab my phone and pull up the video I was supposed to delete. The one of me sucking his cock, my eyes watering, my lips spread wide.
Without thinking, I slide my hand down my pants and turn the volume up all the way. That allows me to hear the faint rumble of Dex’s moans.
Fuck, he sounds amazing.
My fist tightens around my cock, and I start to stroke it, my eyes taking everything in. The way his abs flex, the V of his hips, the sheen of his cock as I bob my head back and forth, taking every inch of him.
I’d lost my mind that night. Following him home, getting on my knees, but a secret part of me doesn’t regret it.
Maybe I knew this would happen. Maybe that’s why I asked him to record it, so I could look back on my time with him. But then I followed him into the shower and got on my knees again.
I knew then that it would be a bad habit. An addiction.
I gasp when I see his cum sliding out of my mouth. My tongue peeking out as I lick at my lips. I can almost taste him again.
I want to choke on his dick while he forces me to take him.
My balls draw up, and my orgasm rushes through me. Breath leaves my lungs, and I fall back against the pillow, trying to not pass out.
When I regain some sort of consciousness, I realize my hand is sticky from my cum, and my pants are fucked, so I kick them off, using them to wipe my hand clean before shutting off my phone and tossing it aside. I won’t be looking at that again. In fact, I’m going to delete it.
