voice was a full-on caress, velvety and soft rubbing over my skin with a crazy kind of aural friction that made me writhe. Tension wound around my spine, the signal smoke of impending orgasm, but I nodded anyway and tried to keep my focus from blowing apart every time he glanced up from the screen.
9
Jesse
Rule #1 of filming a sexy-as-hell football player jerking off. You do not go into that scenario hot. I’d made sure to take care of myself an hour beforehand and was even wearing an extra-tight set of briefs.
But I had vastly underestimated the nuclear heat level of a living Thor covered in oil and writhing on an armchair as he played with his presumably virgin hole in front of me. Had I been transported to the center of the earth? Because this shit was magmatic.
Whose idea had this been?
Oh. Right.
Scooting closer, I filled the phone’s screen with Sam from the neck down as he rested his head back against the cushy chair and closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell with a hypnotic steadiness as he rubbed the heel of his hand up and down his shaft, then deviated up to his pecs, teasing his fingertips over his nipple until it formed a fine point that he rubbed with his thumb.
He arched his back, licked the pad of his thumb, and rolled it over his nipple again, making the tight brown flesh gleam with spit.
I knew right then that nothing short of a straitjacket would’ve kept my dick in check. I’d never ever watched a guy jerk off in front of me before, not like this. Sure, maybe some of the dudes I’d been with got a head start, but this was the thrill of voyeurism the likes of which I’d never experienced before.
I focused on keeping my own breathing steady and zoomed in on his pecs, then followed his hand back down to his ass where he rimmed himself with the tip of a finger. God, was he going to push it inside? I might come in my pants.
So much saliva flooded my mouth that I had to swallow twice to clear it.
“Fuck,” he muttered on a gasp, hips arching into his grip. “I never get to do this when I’m filming it myself. Always have the phone in one hand. This is awesome.”
I nodded in mute agreement that it was indeed awesome.
The other hand still played with his nipple, but now his thigh and calf muscles tensed with each slow thrust as he moved his hand up to his massive dick and stroked it.
Fucking hell it was big, like the T-rex of cocks, with a juicy fat mushroom head all shiny and plump with blood flow, so stiff I had to bite back a moan as I imagined how much a dick like that would stretch me. It was some kind of cock. Correction, it wasn’t a cock. In the hierarchy of dicks, this one definitely registered as a schlong. I’d made that size queen comment in the kitchen mostly as a joke, but the joke was on me because I was fucking starstruck by his XXL rocket ship and would’ve tripped over my own feet for the chance to help him achieve liftoff.
Precum oozed from his tip, and Sam smeared it down the side of his shaft before corkscrewing his fist and concentrating all the action on the head.
He caught my eye, and I gave him the thumbs-up that we were all good. Then he really started working it.
Here’s the thing. I mentioned before that I’d seen a lot of porn. Amateur, professional, whatever, and I’d been with my fair share of guys. I’d had some good sex and some not so good sex, and some that I barely remembered, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing someone enjoy a solo session so much.
As I’d previously noticed when watching Sam’s videos—before I knew it was Sam—he seemed to genuinely take pleasure in…pleasuring himself. There were plenty of guys who seemed like they were just getting off because they were bored, and watching them was akin to watching someone yank on a piece of taffy: a lot of mechanical jerking with no enthusiasm.
Not Sam. I thought it was probably why his videos were so popular. He was just so damn into it.
Even with me filming him, I could tell when he started to lose himself in the pleasure. His gaze went distant, and his moans grew increasingly uninhibited, like he’d forgotten I was there.
This