Coming To Home

Ali dropped me off at home around 5am....

Foggy.

E-mail had nothing entertaining. The spam filter forgot to catch one of those porn sites. Normally I just hit delete and am done with it, but curiosity and that lingering lust after dancing led me to open the website that was being advertised. "Live Interactive" it read. "Choose your dream." I managed a small laugh of marketing disgust and skipped to the link to see how much a trial access to the site would cost. $2.99, inconveniently re-billed at the low monthly cost of $29.99. I swear these sites know how to milk it. After the credit card information is cleared, I'm in.

Four live feeds going. I was surprised at this hour in the morning to have so much activity, but what do I know about this stuff? I choose "Ethan" to watch and once the buffering is finished, he appears on the screen with a green tank top and a matching pair of Paul Frank, low-cut briefs. The tank top is body tight. He doesn't look that built but lean, maybe 5'9" or 5'10" and probably 150-155 lbs. Every movement he makes, flexes some muscle because that's all there is on his body. The other guys in the chat room are chiding him to take something off. His face looks like someone shedding his baby skin and just starting to grown into his manhood. Hair is a bottled shade of light chocolate brown with a few streaks of platinum white; very very straight and it moves like feathers at each tilt of his head. It just barely covers the top of his ears. Apparently, I came in at a good time because he hasn't come yet. Phew. Ethan starts typing back to the room. "I'm not sure I can do it by myself. Maybe if someone wants to go private with me."

More marketing and sales. Not only do they get you to pay for the site, but when you actually want to watch the models do something you pay extra for the pleasure of talking one-on-one with the models. A pretty face--or an attractive piece of equipment--is all it takes to draw you in. It doesn't hurt that the drinks from the night before are still circulating in me and pulsing in the pleasure zones of my body. I've managed to undress down to my boxers by the time I decide to take him private so I can stop reading all this crap that the others are typing.

"Hiya Stud." He writes as the private is initiated. Stud? I'm stupid for being skeptical while still desiring to get off.

"Hi Ethan. You're hot." That was entirely inadequate, and after typing it I felt this totally 'duh' feeling come over me.

"Thanks stud. Where are you?"
"California."
"Oh, a Cali stud. That's hot. What can I do to get you hotter?"

Here I was paying for the time and attention of this willing, attentive cyber-figure and when he posed the question, I had no idea what it is that I wanted to see him do. I mean, was I really doing this? I decided to start with the basics. "Can you take your tank top off?"

"Ah baby, you know it." He pushed the keyboard aside and got up on his knees. As he did this, it became conspicuously obvious that this very tight, low-cut briefs would not contain the outline of what was inside should it become erect. It looked like it was ready to burst out of the little Paul Frank monkey's mouth as it was. Ethan's arms crossed in front of his abs and grabbed the sides of the tank top. The lighting of the room was perfect at catching both triceps and biceps. The tank top started going up and it revealed not only the six taut and symmetrical muscles for abs, but a cute silver belly button ring.

He didn't move back to the keyboard right away. Instead, he stayed on his knees. Then, he leaned back and grabbed his ankles which thrust his crotch upward for a perfect view of the wrapped package. But he didn't stop there, he let his arms unclasp his ankles and his body continued to fall backward, stretch and flexing his thigh muscles until his back was completely flat on the bed and his arms were above his head. This gave a different perspective of the package and suddenly his body seemed so small in comparison. Proportions seemed off.

"Fuck!" I find myself typing and sending. "You are totally hot. I wish I was there or you were here." He saw that I had typed something and without using his hands, he pulled himself back up to his knees and grabbed the keyboard.

"Me too babe. Then you could take these clothes off of me."

I was so fixated on him that I hardly noticed that a draft had formed below the waist from the opening in the boxer's fly. Someone had popped out and wanted to watch Ethan too.

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Ok, if you made it this far without having to stop in the bathroom, I just want you to know that everything above after "Ali dropped me off at home around 5am...." is completely FICTION. hehehehe. I was feeling creative this evening. Hope you enjoyed.