1. Aiden
1
AIDEN
W elcome to Savannah! Passengers, please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened until the plane has come to a complete stop.
I released my white-knuckle grip on my armrests and exhaled. At twenty-one years old, I’d only been on a plane four times in my life, and I still couldn’t shake the sensation that I was traveling in a rattling, metal coffin whenever I flew.
I pulled out my phone and flicked it out of airplane mode. Now that we were on the ground, I could access the internet without paying for the super-expensive plane Wi-Fi. With a glance at my seatmate—a middle-aged woman who was furiously finishing a crossword puzzle—I opened my CamFans account. I’d only been offline for a night, but I’d learned that my subscribers hated long absences.
Sure enough, I had messages waiting for me.
@Spacegurl4u: Sam, honey, how’re you doing? Haven’t seen your beautiful face for a bit, hope you’re okay!
@JimPawcette1943: Hey Sport, gorgeous sunrise today, would be even better with a pic of your gorgeous ass to go with it.
@ASDFIDGAF: can u send me ur used underwear i’ll pay extra
@Purplecumluvr: I jerked off thinking about fucking that sweet hole of yours last night. I think about you all the time when I cum
@ HungTopXL: I’m gonna pound your tight little ass until it’s gaping open permanently and you have to wear adult diapers.
In other words, just another Sunday.
I turned my screen off and decided to look outside instead of answering any of those just yet. Pushing the window shade up, I blinked against the sudden brightness. I’d taken a red-eye from California, and it had been dark when I left LA. Well, as dark as LA ever got. The night sky in the city never got darker than a bruise, the light pollution painting everything a mottled purple-pink.
Here in Savannah, palmettos swayed in the breeze and some sort of pink climbing flower tumbled down the side of a maintenance building that we passed on our way to the gate. I wasn’t even off the plane yet, and things already seemed impossibly twee. How did people live like this?
How did Gabe live like this, specifically? Granted, he didn’t live in Savannah. But I couldn’t imagine that the tiny town of Adair, on Summersea Island, would be less quaint than an international airport.
My brother had moved to south Georgia from Chicago, and he claimed to have fallen in love with it, which I didn’t get. I mean, sure, he’d fallen in love with a guy too, but didn’t being back in a small town remind him of the tiny, flyspeck village we’d grown up in? How could he stand it?
Granted, Gabe’s childhood hadn’t been quite as thoroughly shitty as mine. Our parents probably shouldn’t have had kids, much less stayed married, but at least Gabe only disappointed them by existing. I disappointed and offended them—by existing, by being gay, by sucking at school, by getting beat up when I came out in high school and expecting my parents to actually give a shit, instead of telling me that maybe I should have stayed in the closet if I didn’t want to get hate-crimed.
Things went further downhill after Gabe left for college. Without my jock of an older brother around to look menacingly at people, the bullying got worse, as did the apathy from my parents, and the whispers and outright slurs from all fifteen-hundred people in our little farming community. I left two days after I graduated high school. I wasn’t good enough at school to get into college, so I’d moved to LA instead.
The plan had been to make it in acting. Being attractive was pretty much my only skill. That, and having a thick skin. I wasn’t glad I’d been targeted so much in high school, but it had at least helped me develop a fuck you, I don’t care what you think attitude that I figured would help in Hollywood.
Plus, my sophomore-year English teacher, who was also the head of the drama department, had told me she thought I was talented. Unfortunately, she was either wrong, or being talented, hot, and generally impervious to shame wasn’t actually enough to guarantee success, because I’d spent the past three years trying to break into acting while working at a coffee shop, and I’d made a lot more money at Cap they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them,” the man intoned.
I was pretty sure that was a bible quote, though I’d stopped going to church in high school, so my knowledge was a bit rusty.
“No one’s making you look,” I snapped. “If you don’t like it, move. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have an essay to finish.” I paused, then smiled. “Do you think, ‘ Breed me, Daddy ,’ sounds like something an eighteen-year-old would say? Maybe I should go with, ‘ Give me your cum, Daddy .’ A little more—Jesus, ow! What the fuck?”
I looked down at my lap in shock. I was soaking wet—not with cum from my hypothetical stepdad and all his buddies, but with coffee from the man’s cup. Little droplets of it clung to my phone screen, and when I looked up, the man was shaking his now-inverted cup in my direction.
“How clumsy of me,” he said when he caught me looking. He smiled coldly. “I pray that God shows you the error of your ways.”
“The error of my ways? Buddy, if anyone’s ways are in error, it’s—”
But it was too late. He was already walking away. People were staring at me now, but none of them were close enough to have heard the earlier parts of our interaction. To their eyes, I just looked like an asshole with a lapful of coffee, yelling at an old man.
I could have screamed. I could have cried. But I wasn’t going to. Even though nothing about today was going right, I didn’t need to make myself look even dumber in front of a bunch of strangers.
I stood up, my hands balled into fists. I was going to find the bathroom on this ferry, put on a fresh change of clothes, and—
“Fuck!” I said, louder than I meant to. Heads turned in my direction, and it was all I could do not to let out a wordless yell at the sky.
I wasn’t going to put on a fresh change of clothes because I didn’t have one. My bags were in fucking Missouri. I wiped my phone screen on my pants—they were ruined anyway—and hit ‘ Publish ’ on my post. I wasn’t taking sixteen ounces of scalding hot coffee to the groin for nothing.
Then I went to look for a bathroom. Maybe I couldn’t change, but I could at least try to clean up a bit. That, or have a mental breakdown in private.
Eventually, I found a little one-stall unisex bathroom tucked beneath a stairwell to the upper level. I ducked in and slammed the door behind me, then leaned against it for a minute. I was fine. I was going to be fine. Everything would be fine…someday.
I looked down at my legs and sighed, then kicked out of my shoes. I tried not to think about all the germs now touching the bottom of my socks as I stripped my jeans off and, after a moment’s thought, my briefs too.
I was going to be soaking wet regardless, but maybe I could rinse some of the coffee out of my clothes in the sink. The water that came out of the tap was frigid. It was hard to tell if my clothes were getting any lighter, but the sink basin did turn a satisfying brown.
I was wringing my underwear out when my phone pinged, then pinged again, and again, a cascade of notifications from CamFans pouring in. I left my briefs draped over the edge of the sink, then walked over to the window ledge and picked my phone up.
@Spacegurl4u: So fucking hot. I love your imagination!
@DaddysInCharge: You’re insatiable, aren’t you? I would love to give you what you need, along with all my friends. Love, Daddy
@Purplecumluvr: I love to think about you touching yourself as you wrote this. I wonder if you played with your cock or if you fingered your hole
I snorted. I could only imagine how that man on the bench would have reacted if I’d started jerking off as I wrote that post. Getting arrested for indecent exposure might have been worth it, just to see the look on his face.
I was decidedly not hard right now—hot coffee burning your dick tends to have that effect—but I took a hold of my cock and gave it an experimental tug. What was it I’d said to him about getting railed on a pile of life vests? Maybe the ferry captain was hot. Or the first mate.
There was something kind of gay about the title first mate , wasn’t there? It just sounded queer. I stroked myself, getting harder as I played a scene out in my head—me standing against the railing of the deck, and a hot-but-vague guy in a sailor’s suit coming up behind me.
I could almost feel the press of his erection against my ass, could hear the way I would whine as he rubbed it against me. I’d reach back and find he’d already freed himself from his pants, feel his long, thick cock in my hand. He’d shove my jeans down, pressing the head of his dick to my hole.
Fuck, that was hot. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I pulled up the camera on my phone. This wasn’t quite the video I’d planned, but nothing said I couldn’t film two in one day.
I brought one leg up, bracing my foot on the edge of the sink, then flipped my camera around and pressed ‘ Record .’
“You got me so hot with your comments,” I said, biting my lip as I looked into the camera, “that I couldn’t wait. I had to jerk off, right now.”
I panned the camera down my body to my dick, teasing the head with my fingers, then stroking my shaft.
“I keep thinking about what you’d do to me if you were here,” I said, making my voice needy. “If you’d take me right now, even knowing that people could walk by right outside. If you’d put a hand over my mouth so I didn’t make too much noise, or if you’d let me be as loud as I wanted so anyone who passed by would know what was happening in here.”
I tilted the camera down and back, sliding a finger towards my hole. It was an awkward angle, but I knew my subscribers liked my ass even more than my cock.
I was actually turning myself on a bit as I talked. It was all a silly fantasy, but there was something exciting about doing this in a semi-public place. Besides, it wasn’t as if anybody was going to—
I froze, my finger just breaching my hole, as I remembered something in horror. I’d never locked the door. My gaze flew across the room, but it was too late. As though summoned by my thoughts, the handle started to turn.