by Nora Phoenix
Rebel lays back with the Fleshjack in one hand and his hardening cock in the other. I match his strokes, my eyes roaming over his body the same way I wish my tongue could. What I wouldn’t give to taste every inch of his tan flesh or run my fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest and stomach.
He slicks his cock with lube, a sticky sloshing clearly audible. Then the camera pans in for a close up as he attempts to position his tip at the now slippery entrance of the toy.
My ass twitches, imaging Rebel lining up his cock to fuck me. I reach between my legs with my free hand and tease my middle finger around my fluttering hole. On screen Rebel's broad, purplish head enters the toy with even more obscenely wet slurping sounds.
“Ooooh. Wow.” Rebel gasps, his hand stilling.
The veins on his thick cock throb, and his balls are already pulled tight. My mouth waters imagining the musky taste on my tongue as I’d suck and lick his full, heavy balls.
My own cock aches, a clear sting of pre-cum rolls down along the little V where the head meets my shaft. I gather it with my thumb and rub it around the head, shuddering with restraint. I could come in seconds flat if I just fucked into my fist hard and fast. But I want to draw it out. I want it to build until I’m sure I’ll go insane if I don’t come.
Rebel strokes himself with the Fleshjack in a long, smooth motion. His hips twitch and his breathing is heavy. He lets out desperate little moans that grab onto my balls and don’t let go. That’s what I fucking love about Rebel. You don’t feel like he’s hamming it up for the camera. It feels like every gasp and moan is just for you.
“Fuck, this is really good. It’s so fucking tight. Holy fuck.”
I can see the tremble in Rebel’s muscles that lets me know he’s close, so I speed up my own tugs, adding a little twist at the head.
“Oh fuck, fuck. I want to come so bad.”
“Yeah, come,” I encourage through the screen.
Rebel lets out a long, low moan and whips the toy off and grips himself with his other hand. I gasp out my own impending pleasure as I put my feet flat on my bed and thrust into the tunnel of my fist.
I close my eyes and just listen to every strangled groan as Rebel is wracked by his orgasm. I imagine him kneeling over me, thick ropes of cum spurting from his cock onto my stomach, his head thrown back and his muscles taut.
The tight ring of my ass clamps down around my finger shoved inside, and heat rushes from my center and out through my cock. Every hot spurt drains the tension I’d been feeling when I woke up.
I open my eyes just a slit as aftershocks ripple through me. Rebel's expression isn’t far off mine as he plays with the cooling cum on his skin and uses his eyes to flirt with the camera just a few seconds longer.
“Thanks for cumming,” he says and then winks again before the screen goes blank.
Fuckin A’ I love my Ballsy Boys.
I let out a long breath and close my laptop. Then I reach for a crumpled shirt beside the bed and use it to mop up my release. I chuck the soiled shirt in the direction of my hamper and grab a joint out of the little box beside my bed. I light it and inhale the acrid smoke into my lungs, holding it until my head starts to swim a little and my lungs and throat burn.
Somewhere in my apartment I can hear the alarm notification on my phone chiming.
“Oh, fuck.”
I’m going to be late to my morning class if I don’t get my ass out the door. I take a few more hits before stubbing out my joint and placing it back in my stash box. Then I roll out of bed and throw on a pair of worn in jeans and a red henley. I run my fingers through my hair, likely making a worse mess of it, but fuck it.
I find my phone under my couch, and then I’m out the door, only a few minutes late, so basically, I’m crushing it this morning.