Chapter 6 #2
“Alright, maybe it’s a little messed-up,” I say with a quirk of my lips. “But in case you haven’t noticed, dirty boy, messed-up, creepy, taboo shit is your catnip. You like being naughty and inappropriate…it gives you a thrill.”
“Fuck…” he says with a soft groan.
I chuckle. “I’ll take that as agreement.”
“I don’t want to be into this shit,” he grumbles. “I want to be normal.”
I let out a soft laugh. “We had this talk last night—cocktails and beer, remember? You’ve had a lifetime of normal, now you want to be a trashy whore slutting it up on camera for his boss.”
I hear that tell-tale gasp again and am about to chide him when my phone buzzes with a text.
Damon Forrester
[Photo]
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Appreciate the donation,” I drawl, not taking my eyes off the thick, straining erection on my phone screen. “If you could manage to put it away for five minutes that’d be great. We were in the middle of a conversation.”
“Fucking hell. Anyone would think I’m the one who’s been lusting after you for weeks,” he grumbles.
I let out a snort of laughter. “You should know by now baiting me is a fruitless endeavor. Even more so when you’re sending me free milk…”
“Damn it,” he mutters, then lets out a frustrated groan. “Fuck, I can’t believe I actually did that. Jesus…this is who I am now—I do creepy shit without even thinking and don’t realize until—”
“This is exactly what I was talking about before,” I cut in. “You know it’s okay to send me that picture, so what’s with the negativity?”
“I—I didn’t even ask…I just sent it.”
I frown. I know that’s not the actual issue but I decide not to push for the moment. “Okay. Send me another one then,” I suggest. “No, actually—send me a video. Just a short one,” I clarify. “Like, ten seconds. No cum shot required.”
“Okay… Hang on, I’ll call you back in a minute.”
He ends the call and I take the opportunity to rummage through the fridge for milk, yoghurt and berries.
I’m expecting the video to come through in about thirty seconds, maybe a minute at most; but, to my surprise, I not only have time to thoroughly blend and pour my shake, but I’ve also rinsed the blender and stacked it in the dishwasher by the time my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
And when I see the video, the reason for the delay is obvious.
It’s only about fifteen seconds long and—as per my request—doesn’t include a cum shot, but it’s a little more…
elaborate than I’d anticipated, and clearly took time to set up.
To begin with, it’s not just a close-up of his cock like earlier, it’s a full body shot of him lazing on the sofa, his legs spread wide and bent at the knees with his feet propped on the coffee table in front of him. And he’s naked…
“The dirty little slut,” I mutter, my shake forgotten as I salivate over Damon’s ridiculously sexy body, my cock throbbing painfully at the sound of those wanton moans.
My phone screen is way too fucking small to properly appreciate this so I save the video file to my shared home drive before striding over to the living area and flicking on my TV, navigating to the shared files.
Thanks to my top-quality sound system, the second I press play on the video my entire living room is filled with the sound of Damon’s desperate moans and panted gasps. And that’s the moment my phone buzzes with his return call.
I make no effort to turn off the video or lower the volume as I answer.
“I’m curious to know what your family thinks you’re up to while you’re holed away in your bedroom making OnlyFans videos,” I say by way of greeting, my eyes still glued to the TV as I watch Damon’s right hand slide lazily over his cock while his left fondles his balls.
He groans. “I know, it’s fucking Thanksgiving. What the fuck am I doing?”
“Enjoying yourself,” I say simply. “Listen.” I put the call on speaker and let him hear himself moaning in pleasure.
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s you being a filthy slut and loving every second,” I tell him, taking the call off speaker. “You sound great through my sound system, dirty boy. And you look incredible on my TV.”
“Are you serious?” The question comes out as a breathless gasp and I can tell he finds the idea of me watching that video on my home theater system incredibly arousing.
Figuring I could do without the distraction, I flick the TV off and return to the kitchen.
“I think we should do a little exercise,” I tell him. “I want you to cast your mind back and tell me what you were feeling when you made that video.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
He lets out a huff of resignation. “Fine…I was turned on.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s try to dig a little deeper, dirty boy. What were you feeling? What was going through your head? Be completely honest—it’s for your own benefit.”
“Fuck, okay…” There’s a long stretch of silence and then he finally confesses in a breathless whisper, “Slutty… I felt like such a slut. I loved it. Loved seeing myself like that. Loved knowing you’d see me like that…”
My brows creep up in curiosity. “You watched it?”
“Yeah…came so hard…”
Well, fuck… “Damn, dirty boy—I haven’t even got to that part yet. What else?”
“Naughty…reckless…exhilarated…”
“Anything negative?” I press. “Any point where you felt uncomfortable or agitated?”
He takes a moment to think. “I was frustrated about your no cumshot rule. I really wanted to come all over myself on the video,” he says wistfully. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to jerk off to it straight away so silver linings, I guess.”
“That’s not exactly what—” Before I can get the comment out, my phone buzzes with a text and this time it’s impossible to hold in a groan. “Jesus fuck…”
I rub my hand over the front of my sweats, finally giving in to the relentless throbbing in my cock as I stare at the picture on my screen.
Damon is sprawled on his bed, the camera held up to capture his entire upper body, which is covered in cum. But it’s not just your regular cumshot; he’s smeared the mess all over his chest and on his face. And I’m betting he didn’t stop to wipe his hand before posing with it buried in his hair…
“Are you actually planning to shower before you return to your family?” I tease, finally managing to gather myself.
“Already taken care of,” he says wryly. “I wanted to nip it in the bud.”
My brows shoot up. “How uncharacteristically prudent. Seeing as how you’re all refreshed and rejuvenated I’ll let you get back to your family, but I’m setting some homework for you.”
“What kind of homework?” he asks warily.
“The kind you’ll like,” I assure him. “I’ll text later with instructions.”