10. Jackson
10
JACKSON
I felt like a fucking idiot.
I was standing in front my bedroom mirror, basically naked, except for the tight shiny gold leopard print thong Marcus had ordered and recommended I wear to film my first video.
He’d also suggested I watch Magic Mike films to get ‘inspiration’ for my sexy moves and slather about ten litres of baby oil over every inch of my body to make me look more ‘defined and shiny’.
Jesus.
On the bed was a pile of different cleaning tools he’d also bought as ‘props’, including a mop and bucket (what the hell I was supposed to do with the bucket, I had no idea), a pink feather duster, yellow rubber gloves, a broom and a selection of brightly coloured cloths.
I’d set up my phone on a tripod (also courtesy of Marcus) and had lit the room so it was bright enough to show my body clearly, but still dim enough to create a ‘ sexy atmosphere’—whatever that was. So technically, I was good to go.
But I had no idea how to perform .
Don’t get me wrong. I’d had a lot of experience in the bedroom. Once I’d started earning good money, one of the first things I’d done was spend a fortune on nice clothes. I’d gone to the best barber in London once a week. Plus, I’d started working out at the gym.
To other people, it might sound superficial, but after being taunted by the bullies for years because of my clothes, hair and gangly frame, it felt amazing to finally feel like I looked good.
Soon after changing my appearance, I noticed that the kind of women that’d always ignored me started making it very clear that they were interested. Including a woman who was fourteen years older. And she taught me a lot about how to please a lady in the bedroom.
We were only together for seven months, but being with her was like being enrolled in an intensive sex masterclass and graduating with honours. After that, my confidence with women rocketed. Barely a week went by without me sleeping with someone new.
Sometimes I did repeats, but more often than not, I’d meet a woman at a bar, on the street or at the gym and we’d fuck. I may not have lost my virginity until I was twenty-two, which was pretty late compared to my friends, but once I did, I was like a kid in a sweet shop. I made up for lost time and then some.
I spent most of my twenties sowing my wild oats (safely, of course) and having pretty much any woman I wanted, until almost two years ago when I screwed the wrong one and got totally fucked over .
Anyway, my point was that I wasn’t shy in the bedroom. I’d tried a lot of different things. Role play, threesomes, all sorts. But one thing I’d never done was film anyone or perform in front of the camera myself. So knowing that I was about to make a video that could be seen by hundreds of people freaked me out.
I needed to get over my fear, though. Mum was depending on me.
Marcus said I just needed to do a short video. A few minutes. That was all.
As much as I hated the fact that I was standing here dressed like a greasy Tarzan wannabe, I was grateful that Marcus had been so supportive.
He’d set up my profile on the website, chosen my name—the Filthy Cleaner—and was taking care of all of the admin. And he’d paid for the props, including a set of dodgy male thongs. I was lucky to have a friend like him.
Thinking about that gave me extra motivation. Buying this stuff couldn’t have been cheap, so I couldn’t waste his money or let him down either.
I took a deep breath, then scanned the items on the bed. My eyes were drawn to the pink feather duster. That’d look great on camera.
After picking it up, I blasted Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ from my iPad to get me in the right mindset. This might be my first rodeo (pun totally intended), but I knew that no one would want to watch my video with a flaccid dick, so I had to find a way to get hard.
I contemplated going onto one of the ethical porn sites I knew, but then an even better source of inspiration flashed into my head.
Jane .
When Jess had said I’d be working with Celeste in the bookshop earlier today, I’d been gutted. I’d hoped that I’d get more time to chat to Jane. There was so much I wanted to find out about her.
Had she gone to UCL to study English literature like she’d always hoped? I bet she graduated with a first-class honours degree.
Where did she work once she’d graduated?
And was she dating anyone?
No, scrap that last question. Like I’d said before, it was irrelevant. I wasn’t available. Which was something I’d had to mention at least twice whilst Celeste was training me in the bookshop.
Celeste had made it very clear that she’d be open to becoming more than just colleagues. Multiple times. All the eyelash fluttering, playing with her hair, biting her lip and touching my bicep became a bit full on after a few hours.
And when she suggested we go down to the stockroom together after work and have some ‘fun’, I had to nip that shit in the bud and tell her that I wasn’t down for that.
A couple of years ago, if Celeste was a few years older, I might have considered her offer. She was pretty, but I was a different man now.
I had to hand it to her, though. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and went for it. And she hadn’t taken offence or seemed too bothered when I’d turned her down. All she’d said was, “Oh well, your loss. So, do you reckon you can use the till by yourself now? I’m going on a break.”
Anyway, as pretty as Celeste was, it was Jane that I was interested in. Correction: if I was interested in dating someone right now, which I wasn’t, I’d prefer someone like Jane.
I loved her big brown eyes, how effortlessly sexy she looked in those silk blouses she liked to wear, how good her legs and arse looked in those skirts. And I’d love to tug on that bun she always wore and watch her hair tumble past her shoulders. And she was so smart. Intelligent women were my kryptonite.
What Marcus had said the other day wasn’t wrong. I really would’ve loved to pin Jane against that bookcase and…
No. I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking Jane.
She might’ve been my childhood crush, but we were colleagues, and like I just said, I couldn’t date anyone right now.
My brain might understand that, but another part of my anatomy hadn’t got the message.
When I glanced down at my cock, it was hard as steel.
I wasn’t proud of the filthy thoughts I’d just been having about my new co-worker, but on the plus side, right now, this boner was a good thing. It meant that it was showtime.
After switching off the music (Marcus said he’d add a track during editing that was copyright-free), I set the timer on my phone, placed the feather duster in front of my dick, then when the countdown ended and recording started, I thrust my hips back and forth suggestively before whipping away the duster to dramatically reveal the massive boner straining against the hideous shiny gold fabric of the thong.
I ran the duster suggestively over my chest, then along my six-pack, before rubbing it against my hard-on repeatedly whilst winding my hips in a circle, then flicking them like I was grinding against a woman on the dance floor.
Next I slid the feather duster between my legs and attempted to push my embarrassment out of my mind as I started riding the cleaning tool like a cowboy.
As I thrust, I imagined it wasn’t a damn pink feather duster beneath me but that it was Jane I was fucking instead, which made me even harder.
Jesus. Dancing on camera like this was one thing, but I wasn’t going to come in my pants on camera, no way.
I was pretty sure I’d been doing this for a few minutes, so now was a good time to start winding down before I lost control.
After skimming the duster over my thick thighs, I turned slowly to show my arse to the camera, brushed the soft pink feathers across my butt cheeks, then spun back around to give the camera one last look at my raging boner before sliding my hands inside my pants and squeezing my cock.
I held still for a few beats like Marcus had told me to do at the end to make it easier for him to edit the video, pulled my hand off my dick, stopped the recording, then plucked the phone from the tripod before flopping onto the bed.
I blew out a breath.
I’d done it.
I’d made my first video.
I knew it wouldn’t be perfect, but the important thing was, I’d pushed myself out of my comfort zone and given it my best shot.
When I watched the video back, I was surprised. Whilst I was doing it, I’d felt awkward, but on camera, it actually looked like I was really into it.
Sure, I knew how to move my hips. But I knew it wasn’t my dancing skills I had to thank for the authenticity that came across from the video: it was the woman I was thinking about whilst I was grinding my dick against the duster.
As a vision of her bending over to pick up the books on the floor that first day I’d come to the library flashed into my head again, my dick twitched. I knew Marcus had said I should send him the video as soon as I finished filming, but I needed a few more minutes.
Scrap that. Given how hard I was right now, I’d be done in seconds.
After dropping the phone on the bed, I dragged down the hideous thong and gripped my dick.
And as I moved my palm back and forth whilst I thought about the hot librarian I was growing dangerously attracted to, I exploded into my hand.