Trent
Magnus's roomis a study in academics. Every available inch of space is taken up with projects, books, and papers, so we always sit on my bed with my laptop for movie night. We had dinner at the campus cafeteria and then came back to our suite. He’s fiddling with his phone while I set up the laptop on a lap stand between us.
“Do you know what you want to watch tonight?” I ask. He didn’t spend his formative years watching TV or going to see movies, so I’ve spent the last year and half with him reliving my childhood in some ways.
“You choose. I haven’t looked through your porn history, so I don’t know what you would prefer,” he replies distractedly.
I swivel my head to look at him. “What?”
He looks up from his phone, confusion on his face. “We’re masturbating first.”
My mouth drops at his matter-of-fact tone. “I don’t remember having this conversation.”
He gives me a confused look. “You were working up to it, weren’t you? I just skipped the weirdness.”
“Fucker. You arenota mind reader.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have to be. I knowyou,” he responds, waving at the laptop. “Pick your porn. I don’t have preferences yet.”
“Sometimes I want to throttle you,” I grumble, knowing I’ve lost because he’s right.
“Erotic asphyxiation happens in six months; you can wait until then,” he snorts, going back to his phone.
While I bring up a favorite, figuring I’m going to need the inspiration, he twiddles with his phone, moves the suction cup stand from the back to the front of the phone, then stands it up with the back facing us on the laptop stand.
“What’re you doing?” I question, suspicious of the phone.
“I’m recording our first video,” he states like it’s obvious, and to be fair, it is.
“This isn’t our first video. This is a trial run,” I argue.
He snorts a laugh. “We’re fixing to watch porn and masturbate to see if you can start a porn channel with me. I’m certain you read the scripts I gave you, and this is the first one, so I’m recording this. It will make the research more authentic if you know I’ll be posting it when we’re done.”
I clench my fist at him, flip him off, and then give in to the inevitable and flip the phone off too. Looking into the camera of the device, I say, “Magnus wants to create porn for some kind of sociology research, and I’m the best friend who got roped into his ridiculous plan. Please fucking comment so he can use you as a guinea pig for his research, too.” This is the line we’re trying to sell, and if he’s going to post it, I’m going to sell it.
“Take off your shirt. People want to see the goods,” Magnus says, pulling his shirt over his head and giggling. “I just realized that if any of my students subscribe, they’ll finally get to see what I look like naked. Do you know how many of them gossip about my body?”
I snort and toss our shirts off-screen. “Yes. Yes, I do. Maybe we can sell subscriptions to people on campus just so they can ogle their ridiculously buff, tiny professor.”
“Bet,” Magnus agrees, holding out his hand. “If I get ten subs from students, you start an Instagram account to promote our porn.”
I’m supposed to do that anyway. And a Bluesky and a Snapchat and… Well, one thing at a time. “I bet I get more subs, and if that happens, you buy me a whole pint that I don’t have to share with you.”
“You have to eat it on camera,” he agrees.
“No problem,” I chuckle.
“Start the video, Trent.”
I lean forward, connect the sound to a pair of earbuds we can share, and hit play on the video. We’re not allowed to show or use the sound from other porn in our videos, so this works for what we’re doing.
Fucking masturbating on video. I can’t believe he suckered me into this, but to be fair, his reasoning and research are pretty easy to sell. So, I put the fact that he’s right next to me out of my head, latch on to the woman getting railed in the video, and let the mood take me.
It’s surprisingly easy to pull my dick out and start rubbing one out while being recorded. The most distracting part is Magnus doing the same, but somehow the distraction is titillating rather than off-putting. Like I’m getting away with doing something and my co-conspirator is egging me on.
The edge comes tantalizingly close, and then Magnus groans. My eyes stray to his cock just as he shoots off, and that pushes me over. Watching him come sets off my own explosion of pleasure. I stroke myself through it, until we’re both spent and limp.
Magnus turns off the recording and grins at me, dick still hanging out, chest covered in cum. “That was perfect! Except we didn’t grab anything to clean up with. Did you look at my dick? It was in the script, but I forgot to remind you.”
