“Doing what?”
“Degrading your boyfriend like this and letting me take pictures?”
“I like it. He likes it, and you definitely like it.” I nod to his tented pants where he’s been sporting an erection all night. I hope he has blue balls. “This is my peace offering. Maybe it’ll give you a little artistic direction. And get you to stop talking shit about me to Adam because you’re just as bad as me.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. Don’t be a little bitch about it now. You came in here, you picked up the camera, and you participated whole-heartedly. I bet you’d even try to fuck him if I weren’t here to stop you, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” he says, affronted.
“Liar. Doesn’t matter though because that fine piece of ass belongs to me. But you can watch.”
“If I’m Barbie, does that make you Ken?” Adam asks, having his epiphany at last.
“No, Ken doesn’t have a dick and I do.” I yank down the elastic waistband of my pants to show him. The focus in his baby blues is suddenly sharp as he licks his fat lower lip.
“I should go,” Elliot says, but as I walk over to Adam and drag him back to the bed by his hair, Elliot remains, near enough that there is nothing obstructing his view of my naked, fine-as-fuck boyfriend wearing heels and nothing else. I remove Adam’s plug and lube him up a little more, then sink deep inside him. One stroke. He’s the perfect sleeve for a man of sizable length and girth. Tight but not too delicate, and he likes a little burn. Other bottoms have complained about my size, but not Adam. He just whimpers while his asshole throbs and flares, and then he’s predictably slutty, thrusting backwards on my dick, trying to ride me in the horizontal position.
“More… faster… harder,” he demands like a broken record with an occasionalpleasethrown in for good measure.
I shove his face into the mattress and drill down into him, banging into him so hard that his ass jiggles and the muscles in his lower back tense with each assault. How can anything feel this good? Better than any sex I’ve ever had before—athletic and inspired. I’ve ridden a good many men in my time, but Adam is a fucking thoroughbred.
“Yes, Barbie, squeeze my dick like the little cock-starved cunt that you are,” I coax, and Adam obeys. I lift his head long enough to make sure he’s breathing, then resume my unrelenting rhythm. I’d forget about Elliot’s presence entirely if it weren’t for the pop and whir of the camera. Fucking hypocrite.
“Can I—” Adam sputters.
“No.”
The pressure around my dick gets insanely tight and he whimpers like a dog who’s pissed inside the house because he came without my permission, again.
“I warned you,” I tell him.
His discomfort at being overstimulated makes it even more thrilling. With every little moan of displeasure he makes, I go harder. Adam cries out suddenly, bleating like a lamb, and it sends me right over the edge. I shudder as I unload inside him, coating him thickly with my spunk, then lay on top of him for a few moments to catch my breath.
“Very good,” I murmur, kissing his neck and licking the droplets of sweat that have gathered on his nape. “Good bitch.”
“How many calories did I burn?” he asks, probably not realizing he said it out loud.
“Hardly any. I did all the work.”
“I did some of the work. How’d I do as slutty Barbie?”
“Aces, babe. Academy Award-winning performance. What do you think, Elliot?” I roll off Adam so he can turn over and see what Elliot has to say.
“Great,” Elliot mutters, looking at the camera but not him, unable to even say his name.
While Adam attaches himself to me like a barnacle in our post-coital languor, Elliot collects his photographs and leaves. I give Adam a feather boa to amuse himself while I set the room to rights. I clean the makeup off his face because if I don’t, he’ll be griping about his clogged pores tomorrow. I also check him over for any excessive wear-and-tear.
“How’s your asshole?” I ask.
“Still humming. Did it work?” he says, and it could mean any number of things but I’m practically fluent in his drug-laden gibberish by now.
“I think we inspired him. Hopefully he’ll produce something worth hanging on my walls.”
“That’s all it is, huh?” he says, looking at me with a canny perception.
“What else would it be?” He shrugs, rolls his eyes, and acts generally disinterested. “Answer me, Adam.”
