Page 29 of Kylan

It wasn’t long before the video-me was sinking down on the dildo, rising up on my knees only to sink a bit lower on the way back down. I was vocal, moaning and whimpering for my daddies.

Yes, plural.

Then video-me was stroking my dick through my panties, which I had no recollection of doing. I’d been so into it, convincing myself that I was with Leon and Marek. That it was Leon’s cock inside me, that it was Marek’s hands on me, their whispered words of pleasure...

Then video-me was stroking myself, taking the dildo faster and rocking back and forth. “Daddy, please. Please daddy.”

Fitch made a weird sound, and when I looked at his face, his mouth was open, his eyes were transfixed on the screen. He raised a hand. “Shh. Don’t interrupt.”

I chuckled and went back to watching too.

I was looking more at the lighting, the angles, the sound quality, and it was much easier then. To look at itobjectively, the way I’d watched Fitch’s video. I wasn’t watching it as porn, I was watching it as a... producer?

I wasn’t sure.

Then video-me was coming, the dildo firmly seated in my trembling arse, my cock shooting stripes of come, and my strangled cry and heavy breaths that followed.

I hit Stop and turned to Fitch.

He was still staring at the screen. “Fuck, dude.” His wide eyes met mine. “That was so hot. It’s definitely going into my wank fodder folder. Jesus fucking Christ.” He let out a rush of air. “Thank god I’m seeing Dom tonight.”

“So you were totally paying attention to things like lighting and sound quality, right?”

“Oh, sure,” he said, making a face. “One hundred percent.”

He absolutely was not.

“I didn’t say their names, so that’s good.”

Fitch still seemed stunned. “You know what? I’m gonna go make another video. No point in wasting a hard-on.” He clapped my shoulder. “Thanks, bro.”

He stood up, and yes, he was sporting a bulge. “Okay, that’s not weird, at all.”

He laughed as he disappeared into Benji’s old room, then he turned and poked his head out, smiling, of course. “This won’t take long.” Then he was gone.

I laughed and let out a long sigh. It had been a strange twenty-four hours, but I felt good. Happy, and even a little content.

I felt good about myself, and that was a first in a very long time.

While I was in an honest mood, I took out my phone and sent Benji a text.

How are things?

I miss your face

His text bubble appeared, then disappeared, and then my phone rang. It was him.

“Hey,” I answered. “Everything okay?”

“Very. Just figured it was easier to talk than text.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed. “How are things with you. I miss your face too.”

“Good. I’m good. I just wanted . . .”

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