Tessa
I sighed and set my phone down on the kitchen counter.
I didn't want to deal with that asshole Derrick right now. All I wanted was to crack open a tub of my beloved pistachio ice cream, curl up in front of my laptop, and lose myself in my favourite porn site.
Yes, you heard that right.
No one would ever have guessed. To everyone else, I was a cold-hearted, unapproachable bitch who didn't know how to have fun. In reality, I had a healthy appetite for life... and sex.
The only problem was that I hadn't met the right partner yet. Someone I could explore all the things I secretly wanted to try.
Besides, I doubted anyone would benefit from knowing exactly what turned me on. Those desires belonged to a darker, more private corner of myself, one I preferred to keep hidden deep in the shadows of my horny soul.
I cast a deadpan glance at my phone when another irritating email notification chimed. Honestly, I didn't even know why I paid an entire team to assist me. Somehow, I still ended up dealing with everything myself because half the messages that landed in my inbox involved problems my employees apparently weren't qualified to handle.
Maybe my company needed a different management approach.
Or maybe it needed an entirely new team.
The truth was, I needed a vacation. Desperately.
I mean I loved my work, but lately it had become really exhausting.
When I'd first started building my own little website where people could meet other people matched by their sexual preferences, I had never imagined it would grow into the thriving company it was today. It had brought me success, wealth, and more opportunities than I'd ever dreamed of.
But I'd also completely underestimated the pressure that came with being the person in charge. And I certainly hadn't expected to spend so much of my time fending off wealthy creeps like Derrick, who seemed incapable of taking "no" for an answer.
I was certain he still held a grudge over my latest rejection. The man treated rejection like a loyalty program. Six attempts in and he still thought the next one came with a prize. I was already sick of hearing his cheap and endless comments about my 'sexy boobs' and no, I'd never be desperate enough to sleep with him. Even if he was the son of the man who invested ridiculously big amounts of money into my company. Heck, especially because he was who he was.
And it wasn't like I couldn't satisfy myself perfectly well on my own.
As long as a tub of pistachio ice cream waited patiently in the freezer, all I needed to feel good was that, a glass of wine, my own hand, and my favorite porn creator.
He called himself Lostboy.
I adored that man.
Sending a silent 'fuck you' to all the problems waiting for me outside, I quickly silenced my phone, opened the laptop, and settled comfortably in front of the screen with my ice cream and a glass of my finest wine.
The moment I sat down, I navigated straight to Lostboy's profile, where I knew all the best content would be waiting.
To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure why I was so obsessed with that guy.
Was it the mask, with its irresistible air of mystery?
The way it revealed nothing but his full lips and sharply defined jawline?
Or perhaps it was his expressive gray eyes, which squeezed tightly shut in a mix of pain and pleasure whenever another man took him from behind, tears clinging to his thick black lashes...
Maybe it was that tiny, bratty smirk he wore after every particularly intense scene.
That single smile awakened an almost unbearable urge to punish him myself every fucking time.
Well, after discovering him and his content, I was convinced that I had some serious mental issues to solve, and also that Lostboy would be the death of me one day.
In other words, I was a hopeless disaster. Every time I looked at him, even for a second, a wave of uncontrollable excitement rushed through me, leaving my body burning with anticipation. And if I were ever lucky enough to meet this piece of art in person, I'd definitely make a complete fool of myself within the first few seconds.
Not that I'd ever get a chance of meeting him or something. The chat beneath his videos was always active, overflowing with users begging to meet him, but he never replied.
Why would he?
He was insanely popular and probably didn't have the time to read even a fraction of the messages. Besides, most of them were probably sketchy anyway.
There wasn't even an option to send him a private message, making the fantasy of contacting him feel completely pointless.
Not that I would do it even if I could. That just wasn't me.
Because ironically, while I was the owner and the CEO of a successful kink-oriented dating platform, deep down I still felt like the quiet, shy girl back in highschool.
The fat girl, to be exact.
The one who had learned never to meet anyone's eyes because she didn't want them to notice her or comment on the shape of her body.
And even now, with my perfectly fit body, I sometimes still felt like that same insecure girl.
I scooped up another spoonful of pistachio ice cream and nearly moaned at the rich sweetness melting on my tongue, perfectly in sync with the sounds coming from my Macbook.
Today's video featured Lostboy wearing a slim, golden jockstrap that left almost nothing to the imagination. The shimmering fabric framed his strong, muscular body in elegant, teasing lines, while an opening at the front revealed his member completely. It was remarkable how such a small, seemingly impractical piece of clothing could transform the entire scene. Rather than concealing anything, it drew the eye exactly where it wanted, making the performance feel even more intimate and artfully composed.
To me, it was beautiful.
Lostboy let out a particularly sharp moan, and I immediately knew the rough, invisible hands behind him had found exactly what they were looking for. My entire body tensed at the thought of what the camera wasn't showing, my imagination eagerly filling in the gaps.
His expressive gray eyes began to shimmer with fresh tears now, before drifting downward, his face flushing with obvious vulnerability.
"Shh, baby," the anonymous man currently standing behind Lostboy and pleasuring him with his fingers said in a low, husky voice. "You know you have to stay quiet for this part."
Lostboy answered with a soft, pitiful whimper before obediently falling silent, his body growing almost perfectly still.
"Good boy," the older man murmured, clearly pleased. "Look at the camera. That's it. Don't hide. Don't be shy. They're all here for you, baby. Watching you. Admiring you."
And I certainly did.
As I sat there, shamelessly fingering my core to the beautiful performance unfolding on the screen, I could already feel the tension inside me building to its peak.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Lostboy's face, no doubt stirred by the whispered praise and all the dirty talk his partner was murmering, before his full lips slowly parted. His breathing became uneven, each breath shorter and more unsteady than the last.
"Come on, baby. Cum for me. You can do it," the other man moaned, his arm moving back and forth behind his slender body with deep, purposeful strokes. "Just one last push."
After a while, the movements became unsteady and erratic before the man's fingers delivered one final, deliberate thrust. A series of sinful, breathless moans spilled from Lostboy's lips, both men suddenly going completely still.
My own pulse thundered in my ears, my body growing even hotter at the sight of his swollen, slightly open lips, bitten raw from struggling to stay quiet. His gorgeous, sweat-slicked body trembled with tiny aftershocks of pleasure as his long, glistering cock errupted, spilling thick streams of cum. One of the older man's hands quickly covered Lostboy's mouth, effectively muffling his loud moaning, while the younger man emptied himself into the large hand around his cock.
"Good boy, let it all out", the rough voice murmered, lazily stroking Lostboy's twitching member and causing my own hand to go faster and faster. Heat flooded my face from the overwhelming pleasure, and I let out a long, helpless moan that matched the ones echoing from the screen.
"Fuck," I breathed.
It was too much.
Too much anticipation.
Too much pleasure.
Too much stimulation.
My body trembled as the tension it'd been building toward finally snapped. Wave after wave of pleasure ripped through my core, leaving me breathless as it surrendered to the moment.
For several long seconds, I remained frozen, caught in the warm haze that followed.
I barely registered the moment when the video stopped playing, Lostboy's disoriented, tearful gaze frozen on the display.
Then, somewhere beyond the ringing in my ears, a notification chimed.
Not from my phone this time.
It came right from my laptop.
