Saturday
9:42 am
I feel a chill in the air as soon as I wake up. My body is tucked warmly beneath the covers but my face is cold, exposed to the room. I stretch, yawn, roll on my side to check my phone. The home screen shows it's twenty-six degrees outside and still snowing. It started snowing yesterday afternoon and is supposed to keep going until tomorrow, and even though I'm twenty-three I can't help but feel giddy at the prospect of a snow day.
I throw back the covers and climb out of bed, pulling on a pair of flannel on bottoms, slipping my feet into a pair of slippers, grabbing my bath robe off the back of the closet door. I just washed it, so it's extra plush and fluffy, and I love the feel of it against my bare torso. I look in the mirror and see my sleepy face, my crazy hair, the patch of chest exposed by the robe. I like the way it looks.
I stop by the thermostat on my way to the kitchen and bump the temp up a few degrees, hearing the hum of the heater kick on from above. I enter the kitchen and go straight for the coffee pot then grab some pancake mix from the cabinets and eggs and bacon from the fridge. At the sink, I look out the window and notice the ground coated in a blanket of pillowy white, more snow falling in heavy flakes, adding to the already impressive accumulation. I smile and watch the snow fall until the coffee maker beeps.
Lewis, my roommate and best friend since college, walks in as I'm pouring pancake batter into the pan. It sizzles cheerfully. He’s wearing shorts and ski socks with sandals and a crew neck sweater that looks a little too big for him. His dark hair is messy and lopsided. He's still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Smells good in here,” he says drowsily.
“Good,” I quip. “Figured a Snow Day meant we needed pancakes.”
“Not gonna argue with that.” He pours a mug of coffee and stares out the window, admiring the scenery. “We haven't had real snow in ages. Not since, what, sophomore year?”
“Something like that,” I agree, flipping pancakes “God, that was a fun weekend.”
“It was, wasn't it?”
“Remember pushing the couches together in the fraternity house?”
“Who could forget the Mega Couch?” Lewis laughs.
“And making the freshmen keep a fire burning in the fireplace until the snow melted.”
“And watching every Quentin Tarantino movie ever made.”
“I can't believe I stayed awake for all of that,” I reminisce.
“I tapped out somewhere in the second Kill Bill.”
“That's fair. It was a lot,” I chuckle. We both pause. “We should do some fun shit like that this weekend. If we're gonna be snowed in, we might as well enjoy it!
“Deal,” Lewis agrees.
A few minutes later we are grabbing plates from the cabinet and topping off our mugs of coffee. We go to the couch, plates piled with pancakes and bacon and eggs, and soon we’re both stuffing our faces greedily.
South Park reruns play while we eat. I'm on my second stack of pancakes before the first episode finishes, and I feel this giddiness and indulgence I haven't felt in years. Not since college. It’s nice. Makes me feel like a kid again. Makes it really feel like a snow day.
“Whew,” I exclaim, setting my empty plate on the coffee table. I lean back and pat my bare stomach where my robe slips open. “That's gonna last a while.”
“This was so good, dude,” Lewis says through a mouth full of food.
“Thanks, man. I haven't made pancakes in forever. I felt like they were calling to me.”
“They were a good call.”
“Except for now I'm gonna be huge,” I moan, grabbing my stomach again.
“Whatever, dude, you're still jacked. One breakfast won't kill you.”
I look down at my stomach with a faint air of disagreement. I used to be jacked. I used to look amazing, and I knew it. I used to feel eyes on me when I pulled my shirt off at the campus pool. Six foot one. Golden hair. Muscular torso, strong legs, huge ass. I could practically feel the desire and envy of people looking at me. I'm almost embarrassed to admit how much I enjoyed it. How much I miss it. Now I just look like a guy who used to be jacked – still in good shape, still got some muscle to fill out a t-shirt, it's just sitting under a pesky layer of body fat that snuck up on me one day and decided, apparently, to stay forever. I try not to think about it too much.
I look over at Lewis who, despite his oversized sweater, still very obviously has the same body he had in college. He's smaller than me. Five-seven. Black hair. Skinny but athletic. The kind of guy where you see every muscle on his body because there's nothing to cover them up, who couldn't put on weight if he tried. I know he's tried.
We're an interesting duo, like a golden retriever and a sly black cat that decided to be best friends. I've always been a big guy – tall, strong, imposing – so sometimes I find myself looking at him, wondering what it would be like to have that kind of figure, the kind that looks crafty and cunning rather than commanding. It's like he's Loki and I'm Thor.
Or I used to be, at least.
“Actually, hold that thought,” he says, jumping up from the couch. I hear the sound of doors opening and closing in the kitchen followed by a loud pop, then a fizzle. He returns a minute later, handing me a wine glass full of bright, bubbly liquid.
“Snow Day calls for mimosas.”
I smirk and accept the offering. We clink our glasses and start to drink.
12:48 pm
We drink too many mimosas and decide to play Super Smash Bros. I really feel like I'm back in college now, wasting a Saturday morning drinking and playing video games while the world turns outside. I feel breezy from the champagne and easily lose track of time laughing, shit-talking, occasionally winning a few rounds.
Eventually my teeth feel fuzzy and I decide I need to brush. Lewis stays on the couch and plays a few more rounds of Smash Bros. I can hear him cursing through the bathroom door. I think the mimosas hit him too. Neither of us drink much anymore these days. Not like we used to. We used to down shots on a Tuesday and still make it to class the next morning.
I strip down, hop in the shower, shudder a little bit as the hot water warms my skin. As I rinse off, I can still hear Lewis’s exclamations from the living room, and I realize it's been ages since we've both shared the house like this. Between my corporate job and his bartending schedule, our time at home rarely overlaps. I'm used to having my mornings alone before he wakes up, and he's usually gone by the time I get home from work. For us to both be up and about at the same time is actually kind of rare. Kind of fun.
My shower suddenly feels less private. I don't know why. It's not like aren't used to being roommates. Hell, he used to sleep above me in our fraternity house bunk. There was no such thing as privacy back then. Still, I feel a stir in my groin; I'm accustomed to rubbing one out in the shower, but I'm suddenly embarrassed that Lewis might hear. Not that I'm noisy, but any guy in his twenties can recognize the wet, slapping sound of a bathroom tug.
I look down. My cock is starting to swell, partially my fault for washing it a bit too thoroughly, but also there's something kind of exciting at the thought of being heard. Not like I'd make a show of it – he probably wouldn't be able to hear me anyways – but if he really wanted to listen, if he was really paying attention, he might hear the steady rhythm echo through the door. I think back to college, wonder how I ever managed to wank in a crowded frat house. I guess I just went for it, maybe in the showers, maybe in my room. Well, if that was good enough back then…
I reach down and grab my cock.
I start slow, feeling it out, listening to the sound of my hand moving through the water’s stream. At first I don't hear much, but as I speed up the choppy sound of water splashing in the tub becomes more noticeable. To my surprise this makes me even harder. I keep going, pumping my fist, listening to the wet slick of skin on skin and the staccato taps of water hitting the wall. I barely notice that I'm moaning, just a little. It's quiet in the living room. I wonder if he can hear me. I almost hope he can. I can almost picture him setting the controller down, turning his head towards the bathroom, wondering whether I'm…if I could really be…
I let out a gasp when I start to cum, pointing my shaft down towards the drain to avoid leaving any evidence, and then I stand there for a minute, legs trembling, catching my breath. I know that gasp was louder than I meant it to be. It snuck up on me. For part of my routine, that was really fucking hot today.
I turn off the water, dry myself with a fluffy towel, and step back into the hall. I peek into the living room where Lewis is still focused on the game. Part of me is relieved, the other is almost disappointed. I turn towards my room when I hear him.
“Have a nice shower?”
His voice is flat, but I can hear the gentle pull of his smile.
“I did, thanks,” I answer with a smirk and head into my room.
3:36 pm
As the day goes on, we settle into our own parts of the house. Lewis is in his room, playing some game on his PC. I'm on the couch reading a new book I'm struggling to get into. The house is quiet, that kind of lazy afternoon silence exacerbated by the snow outside, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the HVAC system keeping the house warm.
When the heat kicks off, I hear it – a low scuffing sound coming from Lewis’s room. It's really faint, like a dog scratching itself or someone dragging their feet on the carpet, so it takes me a second to realize what it is. More accurately, it takes the sound of a shaky exhale to confirm what I already knew.
Lewis is jerking off.
I pause, grateful for any excuse to put down my book, and strain to hear better. Before I know it I'm holding my breath, trying to focus on the sound. He's got a rhythm going – a burst of rapid strokes followed by a pause. I hear him start and stop nearly a dozen times.
I don't remember his door closing when he went into his room. This might explain why I can hear him from the couch, but it piques within me a morbid curiosity, a challenge to see whether I can get a better listen, take a closer look. I slide off the couch and tiptoe to the hallway that separates our rooms. His door is cracked just a few inches, meaning that if I angle myself just right I can see him at the desk.
His desk sits against the opposite wall, facing out the window, putting his back to me. He's still dressed, but his legs are splayed wide and his shorts look stretched tight, probably pulled down in the front. His arm moves rapidly, dragging the cord of his headphones against the desk, creating the noise I heard from the other room. He keeps going. Pump, pump, pause.
Pump, pump, pause.
I stand there and watch him, unsure why. At first it feels disorienting and strange, seeing something like this play out in real life. I wonder why he's left the door open. I wonder if he remembers he has. Maybe the mood hit and he figured the door was closed, or maybe…
I quickly push the thought from my head.
Just as quickly returns.
Maybe he heard me in the shower this morning and he's trying to even the score. This thought makes my own cock stir. I reach down and squeeze it through my joggers.
Suddenly, he shifts his weight, pulling his pants down. They pool at his ankles. I see the bare skin of his back, the long line of his thighs, a hint of ass crack where he sits on the cushioned seat. His pace intensifies, and it isn't long until his breathing grows erratic and strained. Suddenly he tenses, legs spreading wide, back arching, and then he's done.
Panicked, I shuffle into the kitchen, careful not to make a noise, and pretend to be making a snack. As I peer into the refrigerator, I hear the sound of his bedroom door opening, of his footsteps in the hall, of him disappearing into the bathroom.
I close the fridge and stare out the kitchen window, wondering what to make of what just happened. I tell myself it shouldn't be anything noteworthy. Guys jerk off, even when they have roommates. Still, I wonder if leaving the door open was a mistake or if Lewis was putting some kind of performative spin on his wank, not dissimilar from my tug in the shower this morning.
I suddenly couldn't tell the difference between the thrill of getting caught and the thrill of being watched. I know I hadn't been watched but I had watched Lewis. And, what's weird, is that I’d found it really hot. Weirder still, I hoped our snowy weekend at home meant it might happen again.
9:46 pm
Lewis and I sit on the couch, each having eaten a frozen pizza and each threatening to polish off a bottle of red wine. On the TV, some horror movie remake plays. Violent, campy, the kind that favors hot girls and gnarly kills over good acting and a feasible plot, but I’m perfectly content.
When we'd first moved in together, Lewis and I started a Friday tradition of getting drunk and watching bad horror movies. We'd made it through the entire Final Destination franchise and were working our way through Scream when he started his bartending gig. Now, watching some masked asshole stalk a bunch of horny teens in the woods, I realize how much I missed those terrible movie nights.
I missed hanging with my friend.
We’re lazily slumped on the couch when suddenly the movie pivots to a pretty racy sex scene. One of the jocks had snuck off to some shed with the hot girl, who finally dropped her Good Girl act and decided to let him get lucky. They kiss, undress, start fucking, the girl naked and riding him, her boobs taking up half the screen while she bounces up and down.
“Shit,” Lewis mutters beside me.
“Right?” I agree. “This came outta nowhere.”
“I'm not mad about it.”
The scene continues. The girl rolls off the jock and turns around. He shifts to his knees, flashing the camera a healthy dose of man ass along the way, and then starts taking her from behind. The camera changes, and we watch them fuck through a grimy window. I'm sure it was trying to give us the POV of the killer or something, but it kinda just feels like we were suddenly watching porn. The dude grunts and the girl moans while she gets plowed on the dirty floor, her boobs bouncing with each thrust of the jock behind her. It goes on, building the tension as the killer creeps closer.
The shed door opens, yhe couple shifts again, the girl on her back, the jock holding her legs out wide while he fucks her with abandon, his abs rippling with each thrust. Finally, as he tosses his head back and starts to cum, a machete rips through his abdomen and blood spews everywhere, covering the shed floor, splattering across the girl's boobs.
Lewis and I both laugh while the killer tosses the jock aside and goes after the girl.
“You think that blood was supposed to be a cumshot metaphor?” I ask.
“Probably,” Lewis laughs in agreement. “What a way to go, though.”
“Right? I'd die happily banging some chick like that.”
“Same! And hey, at least the killer let him finish.”
“What a guy,” I joke, knocking my wine glass against Lewis’s as a toast.
“You think she finished?” he asks, eyes still locked in on the screen.
“I don't know,” I shrug. “Do you think girls ever finish in porn?”
“Somtimes ,” he says, draining his glass. “In the good ones, at least.”
“Huh.” I start sifting through memories of porn I'd watched for clues as to whether any of the girls had actually cum. I'm sure most of the time they're faking it. I'm curious whether I could spot the difference. I'm also curious as to what qualifies for Lewis as good porn.
On the TV, the girl gets macheted through the neck.
“Well,” Lewis remarks. “She's finished now.”
I laugh and finish my glass of wine. We both pour a refill, draining the bottles and returning them heavily to the coffee table.
11:03 pm
A little later the movie ends. Things didn't last long once the other teens discovered the chopped up bodies in the shed; the killer made quick work of the crew, their lack of common sense or basic directional awareness making his job pretty easy.
“Well that was dumb,” Lewis says humorously as the credits rolled, his words a little slurred.
“I know,” I agree. “Like, I know I shouldn't say this but I almost want to get caught in a slasher situation just to prove it's not that hard to survive.”
“Dude, you'd be fucking toast, don't even.”
“I wouldn't! I could take care of myself. Like, I've got some decent survival skills.”
“Whatever, you’d probably get axed while you were wanking in the camp shower.”
“Oh fuck you,” I laugh. “Not even gonna let me die fucking some girl in a shed? I really gotta be jerking off in the shower?”
“Yep,” Lewis grins lazily. “No porn sex for you, my friend.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“And,” Lewis continues dramatically. “The killer probably wouldn't even let you finish.”
“Okay, now that's just cruel.”
“Yep, you'd be right there on the edge, right about to nut, then BAM! Lights out.”
“Fuck you,” I repeat.
We both laugh while the credits roll. In my mind, I keep picturing the girl, breasts perky, riding that dude like it was her favorite pastime. I'm just tipsy enough to be horny, and for some reason watching a scene like that next to Lewis made it especially hot.
“That scene was really hot though,” I confess, drawing out the topic.
“Fuck, I know. Best part of the movie, for sure.”
“I'd watch it again,” I say playfully, tossing out the words like a suggestion.
“Oh yeah?” Lewis asks.
“I mean, yeah. The movie was bad but that part was good. Worth a revisit, I think”
“You really want to?” Lewis asks, curiosity heavy on his voice.
“I mean, if you want to.”
Lewis pauses then picks up the remote.
“Okay, why not?”
A few seconds later, we find ourselves back in the supply shed, find ourselves face-to-face with a beautiful pair of bouncing breasts as the scene starts all over again. It really reminds me of a porno, not some low-budget Hollywood horror. I wonder if the girl’s done porn.
Probably
We don't say anything this time as we watch. No jokes, no observations. We're both focused, the air thick around us. My body feels heavy from the wine, and I sink a little further into the couch, one leg falling to the side. I feel my cock stir a little in my flannels. Besides me, Lewis adjusts his seat and I wonder if he's getting turned on too.
“I’m not usually a boobs guy,” Lewis finally says as the couple rolls into missionary position. “But she's fucking hot.”
“You're not?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the screen. “I am.”
“I'm an ass man,” he admits easily.
“I'm an ass man too,” I add. “I like it all.”
The slasher shows up and gets to work on the happy couple. We watch fake blood spray across the girl's perfect boobs.
It's definitely a cumshot metaphor.
“Damn,” I mutter absentmindedly.
“What?” Lewis chuckles beside me. “Did you expect a different outcome this time?”
“I guess I was just hoping they wouldn't get interrupted so soon.”
“You're turned on, aren't you?” Lewis asks. His voice is teasing, but I can tell he's also intrigued.
“Duh,” I answer casually. “Are you not seeing what's on the TV?”
“I am,” he answers, his voice layered with implication. He picks up the remote, rewinds the movie, starts the sex scene over again. We watch the girl slip off her bra, watch her start to ride the jock again.
We're both a little more quiet, both a little more mesmerized by the TV, before he speaks again. “I just figured you'd be good after your wank in the shower this morning.”
My cheeks go warm but I don't react.
“Like you weren't jerking off in your room this afternoon,” I quip back.
“You heard that?”
“Of course I heard it, you left the door open.”
Lewis is quiet for a second.
“Oops,” he finally says.
I laugh. “Oops is right.”
“Forgot it wasn't closed.”
“So…” I say as the girl flips over, starts taking it from behind. My head is fuzzy from the wine. My cock is hard now, tenting in my pants. “I guess that means you're good then? After that?”
Lewis is quiet for a moment. From the corner of my eye I look over, see a tent in the front of his shorts.
“I could go again,” he says coolly.
I shift my weight, my legs falling a little more open. You can really see the tent in the fabric now, but that's what I get for freeballing in flannel pants. I feel the urge to hide it, but I push the urge aside. It's exciting, not hiding it. It's the same thrill I felt earlier in the shower, letting myself be less careful than I'm accustomed to, letting this part of me be heard. Be seen.
Lewis shifts too, untucking one leg and putting both feet on the floor. He sinks down a little, stretching his torso. It's the posture every guy knows for jerking off, only neither of us have made the first move.
On the TV, the girl lays on her back, the guy driving into her with relish. Her boobs bounce with each thrust. Then the slasher shows up, the guys face contorts, blood sprays, the moment’s over. We’re quiet as the movie cuts to the next scene.
“You know,” I hear myself say. “We could…”
“What?” Lewis asks. His voice is flat, but I think I hear a hint of anticipation.
“I was just gonna say we could…” I pause. My heart is beating fast. “Put on something where the girl doesn't get murdered before the end?”
“Like…porn?” Lewis asks. He doesn't turn to look at me.
“I mean,” I continue. “I’m up for it if you are. And, obviously, I'm up for it.” I nod toward my crotch, finally calling attention to my obvious hard-on. “Or we could always just watch that scene again.”
“No, I'm…” Lewis cuts in. “I'm game. I'm up for it too.”
“I noticed,” I exhale.
“What did you, uh, have in mind?” Lewis asks, grabbing the remote.
“I don't know,” I shrug. “What were you watching earlier?”
“You want me to play what I was watching earlier? What is this Show n Tell?”
“It could be,” I tease. “We've been friends long enough, I should know what kind of porn you like, right?”
“Dude, that's weird,” Lewis laughs.
“I know, but also now I kinda want to know.”
Lewis paused for a second, contemplating. I notice that neither of us has gone soft yet.
“Okay, fine,” he agrees. “But then you have to show me one too.”
“Deal,” I say quickly, suddenly excited.
11:26 pm
Lewis pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. The TV goes black, then a buffering wheel appears, then finally a video shows up where our movie used to be. Lewis presses play.
It's some rich person bathroom, all gleaming tile and chrome fixtures. A huge glass shower takes up a wall. A girl appears, wearing an oversized t-shirt. She turns on the shower and looks at herself in the mirror while the water gets warm. She checks her face, as if she wasn't perfectly done up for a video, then steps back to admire her figure. She pulls off the oversized shirt and stands, topless, wearing only a skimpy pair of panties. She looks amazing.
She shimmies out of the panties, her body totally smooth and flawless, and steps into the shower. And then she just washes herself. Slowly, indulgently. It's hardly sexual and yet my cock is rock hard. She washes her face, cups her breasts, gently slides a hand between her legs. And then she steps out. Dries off. Wraps herself in a huge, white robe.
She walks into a bedroom with sunny windows and a massive bed. She falls onto the plush mattress, robe opening just enough to reveal one thigh. She rests for a second, then writhes a little, then a finger finds the exposed thigh. She drags it up and down slowly, then moves it further between her legs.
“Shit,” I murmur when she starts rubbing herself. We don't even see it all yet; it's still hidden beneath the bath robe. But it's happening.
“Yeah,” I hear a breathy voice beside me.
Suddenly my awareness returns to the room. To the couch. To Lewis. He's locked in, glued to the TV, shorts straining against his erection. But we both sit still.
“So,” I speak again, my voice hoarse. “What do you like about this?”
“What?”
“It's Show n Tell. You're showing. Now…tell.”
“I mean…”
“It's hot as fuck, I don't disagree with you. I just…” my body feels like it's on fire. “I want to know why you like it.”
On the TV, the girl’s robe falls open, and we finally see her fingers working her wet pussy.
“It's just…” he starts. “It feels real.”
“How so?” I ask, my cock throbbing.
“Like, so much porn is a show. Like they're performing for the camera. But this one…” The girl's free hand reaches up and exposes a breast, teasing her nipple. “It's like there's not even a camera. Like we're just getting to see her for real. And that's just…I don't know, it's…”
“It is,” I agree, knowing exactly what he's trying to say. There's something about this that's far more electrifying than half the showy porn that's out there. This feels private, in the hottest way.
The girl opens her robe, showing her perfect body as she writhes on the bed. I see Lewis's cock twitch in his shorts. She keeps working herself with her fingers, hips gyrating against her hand, her breath soft and ragged. She's not whining, not screaming, not calling out like she's putting on a show. She's just enjoying herself.
Without meaning to, I reach down and squeeze my throbbing cock, unable to ignore it any longer. I freeze afterwards, realizing what I've just done, but Lewis doesn't say anything. His hand moves onto his lap but stays there.
A few minutes later, the girl cums and goes limp. My heart is racing. My breath is shallow. I realize I probably never would've got into that video on my own, but watching it with Lewis was electrifying.
“Well?” He asks.
“Dude. That was hot. Wasn't what I was expecting, but I totally see the appeal.”
I turn to look at him. Even in the dark his face looks flushed.
“I know it's not the flashiest but…I like it.”
“I liked it too.”
“Your turn,” he says.
I nod, pausing for a second to make my selection. When I think of a video, I pull out my phone and take over casting to the TV.
11:42 pm
The video opens on a sunny apartment. Suddenly the door opens and a breezy, fit young couple strolls in. They're both in athletic gear, presumably returning from some kind of exercise, though they look perfect and don't have a drop of sweat between the two of them. The girl – a tall blonde – wears leggings and a sports bra, which she fills out perfectly. The guy – another tall blonde – wears running shorts and a tank stop, showing broad shoulders and a chiseled chest.
I blush for a second, suddenly noticing this guy kinda looks like me. I wonder whether Lewis will think this guy looks like me. Wonder whether this has just become some obvious fantasy where I'm fucking some chick vicariously through my porn star doppelganger.
They exchange a few lines of cheesy dialogue, mostly commenting how hot the other looks in their workout attire. Then they start making out. The guy loses his tank pretty fast. He's got a little chest hair and a happy trail, which is also a little like mine, and I suddenly can't stop feeling like I chose this video cuz the guy looks like me.
He loses his shorts, his cock springs free. He leans against the counter while the girl kneels and starts blowing him. She's moaning and slurping while he looks down approvingly.
Even his cock looks kind of like mine.
Finally he hoists the girl up, pulls off her sports bra, removes her leggings. He throws her on the couch and starts eating her pussy with obvious skill. Her hands weave through his golden hair and she pulls him in closer, writhing against his face. Eventually he pulls back, his chin wet and shiny, and starts fucking her. Her boobs bounce with each thrust, just like the girl in the movie, but I'm painfully aware how we can see the guy’s legs ripple, his cock appear and disappear, his glutes contract as he moves. I've never noticed how guy-centric this video was.
“So,” Lewis says beside me.
“So?”
“Why this one? What do you like?”
“It's, uh..” I stammer. “I just think they're both really hot.”
“They’re both?” Lewis repeats. He doesn't sound shocked or scandalized by what I've said, but he doesn't let it slide either.
I gulp, realizing what I've done. “Well, like, she's super hot. And totally my type. And I don't know, like, it's easy for me to watch this and want something like this. Like, going for a run with my girlfriend and coming back home and us…just…this…happening.”
Lewis is quiet, his attention on the screen. I notice his hand is on his cock, not moving, just…squeezing. Touching himself without actually doing it. I move my hand to my shaft and let it rest there, then slowly let it drag up and down my length, almost like an accident, like I don't know I'm doing it. But I know I'm doing it. And Lewis knows I'm doing it too. I see his hand start to move a little more.
The couple changes positions. The guy sits on the couch while the girl rides him in reverse. His arms reach around her, one hand on her breast, the other on her pussy. She's collapsed back into him, her face the picture of ecstasy.
“That's hot,” Lewis says, though I'm not sure whether to himself or to me.
“Yeah,” I agree. “That's another thing. I like the positions they do in this one. They're hot but, like, normal enough you'd do them in real life.”
“I get that,” Lewis says slowly. “Do you have a favorite position?”
I pause for a second, surprised by the question. I realize that, besides congratulating each other the few times we've gotten laid, we've never actually talked about sex.
“I like a few,” I say, feigning nonchalance. As I speak, my hand keeps grazing. “Cowgirl's always fun. I like doggy. And standing in the shower from behind, but I've only done that once.”
My answer hangs in the air. I realize I'm splitting my attention between the screen in front of me and Lewis's hand in my peripherals. “What about you?” I ask.
“I've not done that many. Mostly missionary. Been ridden a couple times.”
The girl leans forward, landing on her hands and knees, and starts rocking back and forth on the guy's cock. He lays back, arms behind his head, cock sticking out before him like an arrow. The camera gives a sweeping shot of his chest, his torso, his dick. I've never noticed before how much this video favors the guy. I wonder if Lewis notices.
“Fuck,” he exhales beside me. He squeezes himself now, no longer trying to hide it.
“Yeah, I definitely want to try this one some day.”
My hand keeps moving, gripping a little tighter, stroking a little more obviously, answering Lewis's squeeze with another tiny escalation, another acknowledgement that we've already gone this far.
“Same.”
I see Lewis’s eyes leave the screen and flicker to my hand. A part of me waits for him to call me out, to ask me what the fuck I'm doing, but he doesn't say anything else. Instead, he starts rubbing himself through his shorts.
The couple picks it up now, the guy bracing himself on the couch, driving into the girl while she kneels before him. It's raw and rowdy and so much hotter showing it to my friend than when I watch it by myself. I suddenly wonder how much hotter other porn would be watching it with Lewis. I suddenly want to find out, hoping we aren't done after just two videos.
On the TV the guy pulls out and cums all over the girls back with a few quick pumps of his hand. I watch it spray, wondering if watching this guy cum makes the video a little gay.
I still my hand as the couple calms and the video comes to an end. Lewis and I sit there and the screen freezes.
“Thoughts?” I ask Lewis, a little nervous. My hand is still on my cock.
“I liked it, obviously.” His head nods towards his crotch where he's still gripping his erection.
“I'm glad,” I chuckle. “I wasn't sure. After your pic, it suddenly felt like there was an awful lot of dick on the screen.”
“Eh, there usually is in porn” Lewis shrugs, already pulling out his phone. “I thought of another one.”
The screen blinks briefly as Lewis's phone takes over, and another generic looking bedroom appears.
“Okay,” he says. “This isn't, like, my normal vibe or anything. Like, I don't have this…fantasy or whatever, I just…” He pauses, suddenly nervous.
“Dude, just play it.”
He nods and the screen begins to move.
12:05 am
The camera pans to a girl laying on a bed in a poorly decorated room. She’s a petite brunette in her early twenties, and she looks bored, scrolling on her phone and sighing discontentedly. Suddenly the camera cuts to another room where a guy, about our age, is sitting at his desk. He looks kinda like Lewis – small and trim, though they're obviously playing him up as a nerd. He wears thick glasses. He starts looking around him as if searching for something.
Cut to the girl who seems to find something interesting on her phone. She settles on her back, legs open. Her hand wanders down the front of her shorts.
The guy reappears, looking around his bedroom now – opening the closet, looking under the bed.
The girl's back, peeling off her shorts and panties, playing with her pussy while she lusts after whatever's on her phone.
Cut to the guy, who leaves his room, walks into a bathroom where he starts opening and closing cabinets, looking for something without ever looking for it.
The next time we see the girl, she's pulling a bright purple dildo from a nightstand drawer. I laugh a little from the surprise, but I'm quickly silenced as she starts to lick it all over and slide it between her legs.
I know what's coming even before the camera cuts again. The girl presses the dildo against herself, rubbing and teasing, while she stares into her phone screen. Then we see the guy in the hallway, walking toward a closed door. He speaks.
“Lexi, have you seen my –”
He opens the door and finds her, legs spread, the tip of the dildo just starting to slide in. He stops. She screams. They both look at each other, frozen.
“Jesus!” He finally yells, and turns away.
“Don't you know how to fucking knock?’ she yells, trying to cover herself.
“Sorry! I didn't think I'd need to!”
“Well, you fucking do!”
“I'm sorry. I didn't –” he stammers, stealing another glance. “I was looking for my phone charger!”
“This is why I told my mom I didn't want to move in here and have some nasty, pervy step brother! I'd never barge into your room if the door was closed.”
“I didn't mean to!” The step-brother cries, really leaning into the pathetic nerd trope.
I laugh a little at the absurdity of the scenario. I see why Lewis was a little nervous to show it, and I can't help but wonder why he wanted this to be the next video. As far as I knew he didn't have a stepsister.
Beside me, he sits, a little too still, like he's waiting for my reaction.
“I didn't expect…I mean, I didn't think you'd be –” the stepbrother continues.
“Masturbsting? Well, newsflash, asshole, girls do it too!”
“They…they do?” He asks pathetically.
“Of course,” she says defensively. “Do you seriously not know that?”
“I –” he stutters. “I've never –”
“Wait. Have you never had sex with a girl?”
“No! Okay? Happy?”
Miraculously, the stepsister's mood suddenly softens. She sits up, looks at him with pity. She's not covering herself anymore. His eyes dart between her legs then back to a distant wall.
“Do you want to watch me?” She asks, her voice somewhere between compassionate and seductive.
The stepbrother just nods.
I look over at Lewis. He's still hard, his focus totally on the TV.
Onscreen, the girl settles back and spreads her legs, giving a good look at her. She's fit and smooth and wet from a moment ago. She reaches down, starts to play with herself. The stepbrother watches.
“Do you like that?” She asks.
He nods.
“Come stand closer,” she tells him.
He stands at the foot of the bed, arms frozen at his side.
It's pretty hot now, I won't lie. The fantasy of it. The power dynamic. That thrill of getting to watch. I'm getting hard again, quickly.
“Do you want to see me use this again?” She asks, picking up the dildo.
He nods.
She reaches for the toy, pulls her shirt off. Her boobs are small but perfect. She lays there on the bed, legs spread, body bare before him. She picks up the dildo and angles it in front of her, rubbing the tip along her folds.
“You can touch yourself,” she says gently. “While you watch.”
The stepbrother nods and frantically starts pulling off his clothes. His body reminds me of Lewis's, small and athletic and lean, and I can suddenly see how Lewis is fond of this video for the same reason I am fond of mine. It's like watching ourselves. The stepbrother is naked. He has dark pubic hair and his cock is standing at attention. I wonder if that's what Lewis looks like aroused. I wonder if I might be about to find out.
“Better,” the girl approves.
She slips the dildo into position and begins to slowly rock on it while the stepbrother touches himself. They both watch each other intently, neither in a rush.
“Fuck,” I mutter as my cock twitches. My hand grabs it through my pants as if by instinct.
“It's…” Lewis says beside me. His hand is already moving against his shaft again. “It’s kinda hot.”
“Kinda??” I ask incredulously. The girl rocks her hips, squeezes her breasts, plays with her nipples. The stepbrother does the same, stroking himself with one hand and exploring his torso with the other.
“Fuck, man. I –” I start stroking myself in earnest now.
Lewis laughs beside me, sounding relieved. “Good. Same.”
Suddenly the girl removes the toy, rolls up onto her knees. She kneels on the bed, back arched, body looking like a fucking work of art. She looks down at the foot of the bed and nods. The stepbrother understands, joins her kneeling on the mattress.
“So why do you like this video?” I ask, still touching myself. “ I mean, besides the obvious.”
“I –” he begins. “I was a virgin until college. Sophomore year. And before that I was kind of a late-bloomer. So I felt like…him.”
On the screen the stepbrother starts to loosen up, thrusting into his fist and pinching his nipple while he watches the girl.
“I first found this in high school and so I always used to pretend I'd, I don't know, walk in on some girl…”
“Yeah?” I ask, splitting my attention between the story and the screen. The girl removes the dildo, reaches out to take her stepbrother’s hand, guides it between her legs.
“That she'd make me strip down too…”
The screen becomes the story; the story becomes the screen.
“Yeah?”
“That she'd want me to jerk off for her because, even though I was scrawny and kind of a nerd, she thought it was kinda hot.”
“Fuck, dude,” I exhale.
I recognize that what Lewis just said is more vulnerable than us watching porn together, so I decide to take the final step. I slide my hand beneath my flannels and grip my aching cock. Beside me, Lewis does the same. We're both stroking now, and it immediately feels ridiculous we waited this long to start.
Onscreen, the girl reaches out to take the stepbrother's cock, and they begin to pleasure each other.
“Jesus, why is that so hot?” I ask, laughing a little.
“Cuz it's taboo,” Lewis answers.
“Must be,” I agree. I lick my hand and return it beneath my waistband. “You're kind of a voyeur, aren't you?”
“What do you mean?”
“The video earlier. This one. You like seeing things you aren't supposed to.”
“Yeah,” Lewis agrees. His eyes flicker to my groin. “I guess I do.”
We watch the girl shudder with pleasure. Watch the stepbrother's head roll back in ecstasy. Watch the girl sink down and take him into her mouth.
“Fuck it,” Lewis mutters. I look at him just in time to see him pull his shorts and boxers off. He leans back, pulls up the hem of his shirt, and resumes stroking. His cock is remarkably like the one onscreen – slender, arrow-straight, about six inches – complete with a thick tangle of dark pubes. I look at it for a moment, let myself be seen looking. My eyes meet Lewis's. He looks back at me expectantly, waiting for me to level the playing field.
I do.
I follow suit, peeling off my flannels and pulling my T-shirt over my head. My cock falls heavily against my stomach. It's thicker than Lewis's, but just a little longer, with a mushroom head. My pubes are also bushy, in need of a trim. I feel Lewis's eyes on me – on it – as I wrap my hand around the base. We look at each other, then back at the screen.
The girl's busy blowing the stepbrother now, and he looks like he's loving it. At some point he took off his glasses and looks nothing like the nerd he was trying to portray. He just looks like a skinny guy with a good dick.
I look at Lewis, then at the screen, then back again. He sees me staring but I don't really care. I'm curious. I've learned what kind of porn he likes, now I want to know how he likes to jerk off. I don't know why, except he's my best friend and I feel a little proud of being the only person besides him who knows this info. Our eyes meet.
“How many times have you watched this one?” I ask.
“Couldn't tell you,” he answers, looking me dead in the eyes. His hand glides over the tip of his dick and back down. “Hundreds.”
But this time he's not watching the screen. He's watching my hand, my cock, and suddenly it's like we forget there's even porn on. My brain tries to process what's happening, that I'm sitting here shoulder to shoulder with Lewis while we both stroke our dicks, but it sounds ridiculous. Sounds like something happening to someone else. But it isn't. It's happening to us. And I wonder why we aren't always free enough to do this in the open? Why do we only do it hiding beneath our covers or behind bathroom doors?
Our eyes meet again and I nod my chin towards Lewis's sweater. He gets the message and stops stroking just long enough to pull it over his head. He leans back, both of us naked, both of us totally free.
His torso is lean and smooth, so different from my hair-dusted pecs. I see him see this, studying the similarities and differences between us.
I lick my hand again, change my grip, bring my other hand to my balls. Lewis spits into his fingers, starts to tease his head with his fingertips, pinches a nipple.
Moans come from the TV. I look up. At some point they started fucking. I missed it. But I suddenly can't help but wonder what Lewis looks like fucking someone. I wonder what his first time was like – what it was actually like, not what he bragged about to our friends.
“Was your first time like this?” I ask, nodding towards the TV.
Lewis laughs, shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“What was it like?” I ask. My heart feels like a hamster running in his wheel.
“It was sloppy.” His eyes flicker to the TV, he watches the duo fuck. “After a part one night. Went back to my room. She blew me for a minute. I fingered her in her jeans. I nutted after like four thrusts. Never even took my shirt off.”
I laugh in solidarity. He looks back at me.
“You?” He asks.
“Summer fling before college,” I say, gripping myself tight and slow. We don't break eye contact while I talk. I notice our shoulders are touching. “Went back to her house after a date. Kissed. Stripped down. I was so turned on I almost came from the condom. Lasted, like, eight minutes and I was pretty damn proud.”
“Casanova,” Lewis smirks.
“I wouldn't disagree.”
We look at each other, a strange connection between us. I know it's my hand making feel this way, but it's not nothing that he's here for it. His eyes are dark, beneath two thick brows. His cheekbones are sharp, drastic in the TV light. I look down at his body.
His skin is pale and delicate, but taught over his lean physique. Dark hair runs from his belly button to his bush. There are tufts of hair in the insides of his splayed out thighs. There's something so graceful about his body like this, strong but almost feminine. Like I could pick him up and throw him around if ever I got the urge. I want to touch him but I don't.
I wonder how he sees me. If he feels anything looking at my firm biceps, my thick thighs. Do they stir anything in him the way his tight waist and rippling abs stir me? Why do they stir me anyways?
I'm just so fucking turned on.
“You know,” I hear myself speak. I look back up, meet his eyes. They've clearly been exploring me too. “You may have never had your fantasy, but…from one friend to another,” I don't know where I'm going with this. “You're pretty fucking hot.”
“Fuck, man,” Lewis gasps. His eyebrows scrunch together and he suddenly looks down. I follow his gaze just in time to see him cum. Ropes of white shoot out across his stomach, pool on his hand. It's dizzying. I can smell it. Fireworks go off behind my eyes.
“Oh shit. Oh fuck,” I babel as my own orgasm tears through me. I feel Lewis look at me as I shoot, each pulse covering my abdomen, tangling in my pubes.
We sit there, chests heaving, cocks deflating, shoulders still pressed together. On the TV, the guy is just about to finish but I hear him grunting like I'm listening through water. My own senses are currently on hold.
“Shit,” I exclaim, finally letting go of my cock. I pause for a second, afraid of what's next. Wondering if I'll hit a wall of shame. If Lewis will. I look at him. He's still looking down at his stomach, at the cum pooling there. Finally, he looks up at me.
“Well,” he says. “That was…”
“Yeah,” I nod. It's hard to find a word. “You…okay?”
He pauses for a moment, nods to himself as if thinking. Deciding. Processing.
“Yeah, I'm good,” he says, and I believe him. “You?”
“Yeah,” I nod, still feeling euphoric. “I'm definitely good. That was fun. Or not fun, but cool. Or, I don't know, just –”
“Liberating?” he supplies.
“Yeah. Liberating as hell.”
“Guess I don't have to worry about forgetting to close the door anymore,” he teases, wiping his hand on his thigh. I watch the liquid smear across his skin.
“Same,” I chuckle.
He reaches for his phone, pauses the video. The TV reverts to screensaver backgrounds. I look up at the sight of majestic mountaintops then down again at my naked best friend.
“I'm gonna grab a towel. You want one?”
“Yes please.”
He goes to the bathroom, rummages through a cabinet, returns with two old towels, tosses me one. We clean ourselves up, both still looking at each other and not really trying to hide it.
He's soft now. His cock is plump and, I don't know how else to say it, looks perfectly proportioned to his frame. I look down at mine. It rests, slick and swollen against my thigh.
“You think other guys ever do this?”
“Oh yeah,” Lewis nods. “I know for a fact Matt and Adam used to.”
“Wait really??” I ask, incredulous.
“Yep, heard them talking about it one time.”
“Well shit,” I sink back against the couch. “Why the fuck did we wait so long?”
We both laugh, the tension easing, the energy slowly returning to normal.
“You still owe me a second video,” Lewis teases. “Don't think I'll forget.”
I look up at him and see something in his eyes, even there in the dim light of the TV. Something I saw while we were shoulder to shoulder. Something I'm excited to see again, to unpack a little more.
I smile and nod. “Just tell me when.”
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