Chapter 8
Magnus
Objectively speaking, Trent’s penis is ideal.
I didn’t realize there would be an ideal cock for porn, but after hours of research, I’ve realized that Trent is the gold standard of penis size and shape.
Of course there are variations depending on a person’s preferences, but as far as the stats for our intended audience’s visual preferences, eight inches with a diameter of about one and a half inches on the shaft, nearly two at the base, and a flared head without an excessive amount of foreskin is perfect.
“Why are you staring at my cock?”
Trent’s question brings me out of my rumination as I set up the cameras for our next masturbatory recording. This morning we hiked along the river, and I have some footage from that adventure waiting to get spliced with this and the meal Trent plans to cook afterward.
“I bought access to a photographer’s gallery of penis photos.
According to the popularity of downloads and illegal distributions, your penis is ideal.
I think we should have a photo shoot with our dicks and sell digital copies and prints,” I explain, checking the angle on the camera so it captures Trent perfectly.
He’s sitting on his bed nude and hard. The arousal is a by-product of having baby oil rubbed on him; we’re trying for a more artistic mood today and filming in black and white. We both lathered up to make our skin shiny, and according to the camera, we succeeded.
“I can’t say I’ve ever paid attention to other men’s dicks, and I’m not sure how to take this information,” he admits.
I shrug and join him on the bed, sitting close enough that the camera will capture me as well. I’m also hard, but after setting up the camera, my dick is waning, so I give it a few maintenance strokes. “You have a nice cock. Take it as a compliment.”
Trent’s ears turn red, but I’m sure the black and white video won’t pick up on it. “Thanks, I guess.”
I grin at him because the cameras are rolling and this is going to be fun for our subscribers. “Why don’t we leave it for our subscribers to vote? If they think we should photograph and sell prints of your cock, they can tell us in the comments!”
Trent’s grip on his penis tightens slightly, and he gives it a little frown. “That sounds like a great way to end up with dick pics online.”
I giggle at the ridiculousness of that statement. “Undoubtedly, but I’ll do it too so there’s no inequality between us even though, statistically speaking, my penis is less attractive than yours.”
Trent releases his dick and pats mine, startling us both, but he only pauses for a second before grinning at me. “All dicks are beautiful.” Then he winks at the camera and says, “Isn’t that right?”
I stroke my shaft to erase the heat of his hand on it and organize my thoughts for this performance.
Admittedly, the accidental touching is a good flare for our goal, and so are the true reactions that we both had to it.
Hopefully that brings the “shippers” in and spreads the word among their friends so we get more subscribers.
We’re almost to the goal I set for the end of next week, and I’m excited about what that means for the experiment and our future.
Trent also strokes his shaft as he continues talking to our audience.
“Remember to leave as many comments as you like, but this is a safe space, so don’t be assholes, because we will block your asses so fast and still keep your comment for Magnus's research. He’s writing some kind of dissertation about you guys. ”
I laugh and elbow him. “Enough. They’re not here for a lecture. Start the video.”
Trent’s smirk turns a little wicked. “I picked this one out just for you.”
I have no idea what to expect, but he starts the clip on his laptop, and the first thing I hear is “Professor Magnum? Is there anything I can do to bring my grade up?” and I know this is going to be the most challenging orgasm I’ve ever had to pull off.
Trent thinks he’s cute, but most professors, including me, do not think of our students in such a blatantly sexual way. The idea is as abhorrent as other social taboos that have been ingrained in us. It stirs up revulsion, not arousal, and…
“I don’t think I can use this,” I confess as my hard-on softens in my hand. “This isn’t a fantasy that will ever work for me.”
Trent immediately stops the video, turning concerned eyes on me. “Yeah? I'm sorry. You ok? I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I take a deep breath and try to get back into the fun headspace, but it feels like a losing battle. “I might not be able to masturbate with you. Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll see if I can get it up again. If not, no big deal.”
Trent glances at the camera and nods. He quickly switches to a more traditional set up with two women and a man having fun.
He watches as he strokes himself, and for some reason, instead of watching the throuple on screen, my eyes keep wandering to Trent.
His strokes are sure with a little twist, and he looks like he’s enjoying himself.
The sight of his pre-cum beading up somehow makes my cock harden again, and automatically, I take myself in hand to pursue that tingle of arousal.
I glance at the video on screen, watching it for a minute before my eyes are inevitably drawn back to Trent, his hand, his cock, and the staccato of his breathing.
The edge of my orgasm ramps up, causing my balls to tighten and a warm tingle to start at the base of my spine.
As the first jet of his cum splatters across his chest, my cock explodes.
Pleasure blinds me for a few short moments, then laconic exhaustion noodles my bones. I lean back, glancing over at Trent, who’s wearing a self-satisfied smile. He runs a finger through the cum on his chest and licks it up, staring at the camera the whole time.
I huff a laugh. “Who tastes their own ejaculate?”
Trent chuckles with me. “You get used to it when your partner insists you clean up after you’ve made a mess.”
My eyebrows rise to my hairline. “Is that something you do?” I didn’t think Trent would be reckless enough to not use condoms.
Trent smirks. “I see you judging me. My ex liked being licked. I’d come on her chest and lick her clean, and that got her off. I’m all about pleasing my partner.”
That sounds more like Trent. I hum thoughtfully, scooping up a bit of my cum and tasting it. I grimace and shake my head. “I suspect it’s an acquired taste.”
Trent laughs, offering me a couple of tissues. “Probably.”
I clean up and stop the recording, rolling off the bed to pull on a pair of pajama pants. I catch Trent doing the same, back turned to me. He also has an excellent butt. I bet we could make bank off naked prints of him.
“I wonder if our non-women subscribers will be interested in prints of your body?” I say aloud.
“Our target audience is women professionals with excess income, but we will probably attract non-heterosexual men and maybe non-binary people, too. I have a feeling that men would be more likely to decorate personal space with erotic art than women would because of societal constraints on femininity and feminism. That might be an interesting sociological study, too.”
Trent considers my theory for a moment before answering with a shrug. “One way to find out.”
I can’t help but smile at him. This exact response is the reason he’s become my best friend; it’s the reason I want him in my life for the rest of it. “So I’ll call around for a photographer, then?”
Trent huffs a laugh and nods, grabbing an apron he bought sometime this week and slipping it over his head. The front says, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
I laugh at his apron choice. “That won’t be true forever.”
Trent smirks, and for some reason my stomach feels like it does before I meet a new class. I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. That’s strange.
“It’s true today, and I feel like it’s a very important reminder for our subscribers in case the food is barely edible.”
I giggle at his reasoning and agree, slipping my shoes on and grabbing the camera and my keys. We stashed our groceries in the mostly unused dorm kitchen before the shoot, so we’re heading there next. “If you follow the recipe, the only thing to blame would be the author if it's inedible.”
Trent opens the door for me and steps aside. “I’m going to make sure I tell everyone what you just said.”
Laughing, I follow him to the elevator, happy and a tiny bit nervous. Maybe it’s the idea of eating food from a novice?