Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
He saw it.
He actually fucking saw it.
“How…why…” I start, then abandon it entirely. “You son of a bitch. You Oscar-winning, criminally deceptive asshole!”
This stone-faced bastard has been walking around for weeks like a perfectly normal, innocent mechanic while I’ve been having full-blown, spontaneous dick panics every single time I remember how I accidentally sentthatvideo.
George doesn’t even flinch.
“Trust me,” he replies, clearly fighting a smirk as he reads every panicked thought flashing across my face. “You have no idea how hard it was to pretend I didn’t.”
I open my mouth, but nothing escapes except for the sound of my soul leaving my body.
He reaches down and playfully flicks my painfully hard cock. We both watch it bob aggressively, then leak a fat bead of precum that stretches into a thin, obscene string before it finally breaks and falls to the floor.
I stifle a moan, biting down my lower lip.
George’s eyes stay locked on it for a second too long.
Then he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, casual as hell, like he’s about to watch the evening news. He turns his attentionto the laptop. The video is still playing—me, on my knees, riding that same dildo, moaning like I just discovered religion.
George watches me fuck myself on camera with the calm intensity of a man studying engine schematics.
His face is completely unreadable.
And somehow that’s worse than if he’d laughed.
“You record every time?” he asks, without looking up.
“Most times.”
He finally returns his gaze to me. Those dark eyes pin me in place.
“Use them,” he commands. He nods at the toys on the bed. “On camera. Now.”
My pulse fucking explodes. Heat floods my entire body so fast I feel dizzy.
“You’re…watching?” I ask, voice cracking like a teenager.
“Yes,” George says simply. No hesitation. No mercy.
I gulp. With shaky hands, I adjust the tripod, angling the phone so it captures the whole bed. George drags the chair from the desk, drops into it, and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. His stare is heavy, unblinking, locked on me.
I climb onto the bed, heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand first and slick my fingers generously. I start with the beads because they’re the most familiar, the safest.
I kneel with my back to the camera, reach behind myself, and press the first bead against my hole. It slips in easily. The second follows. I breathe through the stretch as I slowly push them in one by one, until the largest one pops past my rim with a filthy sound that feels way too loud in the room.
The sudden fullness makes my cock twitch hard and leak a bit onto the sheets.
George’s voice cuts through the silence. “How deep do you usually take them?”
“All the way,” I answer, already a little breathless. “Until I feel the pull when I move.”
I rock back slowly, letting the beads shift inside me. The pressure builds beautifully, pressing against all the right places. A broken moan slips out when the biggest one grinds against my prostate.
George makes a hungry sound in his throat. “Again.”
