For the fans, p.11
For The Fans, page 11
“Ffuck…” The word just gusts from my mouth while my dick leaks in my hand.
Squeezing it harder, I stroke faster, the fire inside me building to a roaring blaze. My left hand slinks up my chest and I brush my nipple, whimpering at the sensation that seems to be winding through every nerve in my body.
God, I want to come. I just need to come so bad right now, it’s all I can think about. I’m chasing my orgasm, fucking up into my hand with twisted and warped images in my brain of someone else getting me there.
I don’t know who it is, but it’s a person, and I think they’re not like anyone I’ve ever done this with before. I think they’re bigger… Like my size. Warm and hard everywhere.
I imagine them kissing down my chest, sucking my nipple as hard as I’m pinching it. Gliding lower, biting me and tonguing their way through the lines of my abs. Then taking my cock into their wet mouth and sucking on it the way I might…
Timid… But hungry. Nervously ravenous.
“God, fuck… yes…” I whisper, keeping my eyes shut tight, because if I open them, I might lose this… whatever it is.
This fantasy. This dirty, delicious, puzzling reverie.
In my imagination, I reach down for their head and feel a backwards cap, like the one I’m wearing now. I push it off and thread my fingers through soft hair, gripping it in my fist while I ride their mouth and my toes curl.
I’m so fucking close… I’m so, so close, and all I want in the world is to blow every thick pulse of cum I can down their throat and watch them swallow for me.
My hand is working on its own, dragging myself to the edge harder and harder, legs spreading, muscles constricting. It feels so fucking good, I just…
“Fuck, I’m coming,” I rush out the words, to no one, because my imaginary friend isn’t here.
It’s just me, stroking out my orgasm onto my abs.
But damn, it still feels fucking great.
My dick shoots while I whine and rasp out hushed sounds, soaking myself in streams of slick cum. Chest pumping up and down, I release every drop and then sort of melt into the mattress, ragged breaths flying out of me as I try to catch them.
I lie basking in it for minutes, until my eyes snap open, landing on my phone, the camera lens aimed at me.
Sheesh… I totally forgot I was recording for a second there.
Sitting up, I glance down at my orgasm all over my chest and abs, swiping my fingers through the mess. Then I peek back at the camera, locking my eyes on it as I gingerly slip them into my mouth.
Mmm… salty.
I wonder if they’ll like that…
Because I think I definitely do.
I’m walking on freaking sunshine.
Twenty-four hours after posting that video on my OF, I officially have over a hundred new fans, more than half of whom paid for the six-month subscription.
I can’t believe I’m raking in dough like this already. I thought it would take me at least a month to get this thing off the ground, but I guess I’ve tapped into something because I just hit five thousand followers on Twitter. In less than ten days!
Boo-yah! Backwardz_Cap comin in hot!
That’s my username. Backwardz_Cap. I thought it was pretty clever, considering that I’ve made rocking a backwards Yankees cap my signature in my content. I don’t care about baseball, but I figured wearing a BC cap, or even a Red Sox one, might be too close to home. So I dug out my dad’s old Yankees cap I used to wear before we moved here. Not that it’s a disguise at all. And if someone I know from school were to happen upon my account, and subscribed, they would definitely know that it’s me.
Still, I don’t show my face on Twitter, or in my profile pic on OnlyFans. And Frankie’s been doing OnlyFans for a year with nothing more than a little veil covering her face and no one here has found her… Or if they have, they haven’t confronted her about it. I guess it’s like she says… People prefer to stay discreet when it comes to porn. No one needs to know what’s happening on someone else’s phone screen.
Except Big Brother… Because let’s face it, he’s always watching.
At this point, I almost have enough money to pay my first tuition installment, and that won’t be due for another few weeks. I’m in a great position so far, but I can’t get cocky. Running this thing is definitely a full-time job. As it stands, I’m on my phone constantly, sharing little clips on Twitter, constantly pimping my OF, responding to DMs from my fans and teasing upcoming videos. I also spend way too much time trying to think of original content.
People loved the jerk-off video, but I don’t think doing just that will be able to hold their attention for long. They always end up wanting more…
For example, I’ve already gotten several DMs from guys requesting that I collaborate, i.e. bringing someone else on camera with me. And judging by the people suggesting it, I’m not sure they would want that person to be female…
That’s a whole other thing I’m not sure I can wrap my head around just yet. I mean, if it meant raking in thousands of dollars, I’m sure I could get on board… But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be nervous. After all, it’d be a bit of a change-up from my normal sexual repertoire.
I’m on my way to meet the crew at Frankie’s new apartment in Brookline to help her unpack. She’s officially relocated from the BC dorms into her new place. I’ve seen pictures, but I can’t wait to see it in person… It looks insane.
Hopping off the train, I walk the couple of blocks to Frankie’s street, counting the numbers on the large houses until I reach hers. And I have to stop and stare at it, because it’s really just stunning.
Boston is such a beautiful city. Everything has this colonial feel to it, even the modern stuff. And with the trees all decorated in orange, red, and yellow leaves, the brisk air brushing across my face… I have to say, I like it here. I wasn’t sure I would when I left New York, but now that I’m in the heart of the city, I can admit it’s a pretty special place.
Jogging up the stoop of the multi-family home, I press the button for Frankie’s apartment, and within seconds, the door is buzzing me in. I’m barely finished knocking on the door before it’s flinging open, and I’m being greeted by all sorts of excited squeals and cheek kisses.
Micah, Zeb, and Bea are already here, drinks in hand. And of course, with my arrival, it’s time to spark it up. Working my magic, I roll a fat joint for us to share in a matter of seconds, which we smoke while Frankie gives me the tour.
“Are you excited for my Halloween party?” she asks me as I help her unpack things I feel like we were just packing the last time I helped her move, a few months back.
“Oh, yes.” I grin, handing her items as she scampers around the room, putting them away in various spots. “Nothing like a party full of people dressed like slutty versions of their favorite characters.”
She chuckles. “Have you decided on a costume?”
“Well, in case you forgot, I dress up like an eagle on the regs. So if all else fails, I’ll just show up as Baldwin and pray no one spills their vodka on me.”
“Avi!” she gasps admonishingly. “You can’t wear your mascot costume for Halloween. That’s cheating.”
“I know, I know.” I laugh. “I’ll figure something out. How about you?”
She grins wickedly. “I’ve already picked mine. And it’s gonna blow your sweaty eagle out of the water.”
I aim a disturbed look her way. “That’s a really strange thing to say to me, Miss.”
She giggles again. “Alright. On the topic of strange things… I have a proposition for you.”
“I already don’t like where this is going,” I huff.
She steps over, gazing up at me with her teal eyes sparkling, and I can just tell she’s up to no good.
“A few of my fans have been sort of begging for something…” she starts, keeping her voice down, I’m guessing so that the others don’t overhear, though they’re all currently in the kitchen plowing through the pizzas we ordered. “They’ve been in my DMs for weeks now, and I think if I could make it happen, it would mean some serious dead prezzies.”
I squint down at her wide-eyed expression of excitement. “Okay…”
“So, you know how we were talking about pay-per-view? Creators offering exclusive content for a higher price, aside from the subscription?” She tilts her head.
“Yea…” I mumble, wondering where she’s going with this.
“Well, I’ve gotten dozens of DMs asking me to do a threesome video… With two guys,” she hums casually, her lips quirking into a devilish little smirk.
Okay. There it is… Where she’s going with it.
“Mhm…” I suppress a grin. “And you want me to be one of the guys.”
Her smile widens, and she pokes me on the nose. “And they say you’re not smart.”
My brow furrows. “Who says I’m not smart??”
“I was thinking of filming it on Halloween.” She ignores me, clapping her hands together. “I’ll charge a one-time fee for my fans who want to see it, and then I’ll split the profits with my collaborators…”
“Uh, Frankie, I think you’re missing something here,” I cut in. “I’m only one guy. You would still need another one.”
“I can find someone.” She shrugs indifferently.
“But you can’t just ask any dude,” I point out. “They would need to be someone we can trust… Someone who will be discreet about the whole OnlyFans thing.” I pause and shake my head. “Plus, I mean… are we really going to hook up? We’re friends…”
I must be wearing my nerves and reservations all over my face, because she shows me a patronizing smile.
“Avi…” She sighs, taking my hands in hers. “We’ll still be friends… Rich friends.”
I can’t help but laugh. This chick is wild, I’m telling you.
“Okay, aside from that, you still need to find someone who will agree to get naked on camera for a bunch of randos, while also keeping their mouth shut about the whole thing. You and I are used to this by now… Shit, I’m still getting used to it. But bringing someone else into the fold might get complicated.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but we have the world’s biggest motivator…” She rubs her fingers together in the international symbol for… “Money, baby. People will do all kinds of things for money, including keeping their mouths shut. Who knows? If this works out, we could start collaborating on the regular…”
“Yea, but who??” I ask again, because she seems to be counting her eggs before they hatch.
Frankie stops to think for a second, her eyes darting across the room.
But before she can even suggest it, I snap, “Not Zeb.”
She laughs. “Why not?? You know he’d love to hook up with you…” She cocks an eyebrow, and I’m pretending like hell that I don’t feel the flush creeping up my neck.
“Yea, except that he has the biggest mouth in the entire world,” I mutter.
“Maybe not a bad thing.” She winks.
“Not the point,” I sigh. “Plus, he’s as gay as the day is long. He’s not gonna go near your lady parts.”
“Okay, okay, fine. No Zeb.” Her head slants. “What about Micah?”
“Micah is straight,” I hum, and her gaze narrows.
“So are you…” Her lips curl, making her look even more evil, and now I’m burning up under my clothes.
“Yea… No shit.” I clear my throat. “But I just mean, he’s not going to want to… I don’t think he would…”
“You’re precious.” She runs her fingers through my hair before I smack her hand away, and she chuckles. “Just because there are two guys, doesn’t mean you need to hook up with each other. It could be more of a… centralized effort.”
“Meaning, we’d cater to you,” I sneer.
She fakes fluffing her hair. “Exactly.” I have to laugh some more. “Although, I think some of my fans would like to see it go down another way…”
My mind is beginning to wander, wading through the waist-high waters of what she’s suggesting. Yes, ever since I started my OnlyFans, I’ve been pondering… contemplating the idea of maybe interacting sexually with a member of my shared gender. But like with the account itself, I’ve felt the need to warm up to it.
Maybe having a threesome with Frankie and another guy could do that…
Just being near another dude while fooling around might be the perfect gateway to explore this newfound curiosity. To see if it’s even something I’d enjoy. Who knows? Maybe seeing a dick that isn’t my own right next to me in real life will be a turn-off, and then I could put this whole incessant wondering thing to sleep on the couch.
“I can tell by the way you’re staring off into space that you’re considering it, which I’ll take to mean you’re in.” Frankie’s raspy voice cuts into my thoughts.
Giving up the tepid fight, I sigh and shrug. “Fine. I’m in.” She squeals and jumps up and down, hugging onto me and shimmying us both around. “But just this one time! I don’t want to ruin our amazing friendship by adding sex and business, the two things that are known to ruin friendships.”
“Yes, yes. Fine.” She nods while releasing me, clearly trying to stifle her zeal. “Totally. It’ll just be a fun, one-time thing to make us some serious cash money, bay-bay!” she snickers while I roll my eyes, crushing my own smile.
“How are we going to locate a third member of this ridiculous little excursion…?” I mumble hopelessly.
“Simple, my dear boy.” Frankie grins. “All we need to do is find someone who needs money, and whose best interest would be in keeping this whole thing a secret.”
“Oh, that’s all?” I grunt sarcastically.
“Trust me…” She pulls her vape out of her pocket, sucking in a drag, then puffing candy-scented smoke in my face. “Around here? It’ll be easier than you think.”
little_ginger_sub7: I want to be an Oreo now. The best kind? Double-stuffed
diponchipzpls: Backwardz_Cap I have a leash, pls walk me like a dog
My first memory of being in a church was when my uncle Luke passed away.
He’d been sick for a while… Testicular cancer. Of course, I didn’t know much about it at the time, since I was only seven. But when he died, I expected information. Information I didn’t get.
I think my parents considered sharing the details of his illness with us kids to be improper. Children aren’t supposed to know the grim details of how fucked up life can be. Apparently, all we needed to know was that he’d been sick, and now he was gone.
His funeral was a spectacle. In the Catholic Church, especially in South Boston, funerals are an opportunity to warn the still breathing. To make sure we know that God has no problem smiting down whoever He wants, so while you’re still here, you better give your confession, and take your penance with an almost masochistic glee.
It’s God’s gift to us, after all… His forgiveness.
I remember being inside that large church on Washington Street for hours, which, to a child my age, felt like days. All of the standing and sitting and kneeling and praying… The Eucharist, the sanctification and purification… All that smoke everywhere, the hymns. The rituals of it all I got my fair share of in the years that followed. But this one moment in particular, at my uncle’s funeral, I vividly remember the fear.
It was the first time that I actually feared God.
Not only the scary priests with their serious, solemn faces, or my father with his stern, judging eyes. I remember fearing that if I didn’t do exactly what God wanted me to do, He would take my life, and I would end up lying in a wooden box while people cried and knelt and prayed for absolution.
The whole thing seemed much less about my uncle and more about making sure we understood the black and white of it. The good versus the evil. Anything that didn’t serve to please God would bring punishment, unless you confessed it. And I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that type of judgement.
I became terrified of making a mistake. Of accidentally slipping up, doing something wrong and sinning in the eyes of the Father.
That fear is what led me through years of blind compliance. Attempting to overcome it was the first actual mistake I made.
Sitting on a wooden bench in the locker room reminds me of sitting on those hard, purposefully uncomfortable pews inside the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. When I open my hands, I see the lines of my palms covered by the rosary my father handed to me that day…
“Plead for salvation, Kyran… Loud enough that He can hear you.”
Closing my eyes, I squeeze them shut, clenching my hands into even tighter fists. I grip so hard my fingertips dig into my palms… And then I release them.
Releasing my fists slowly, I remember it slipping away…
“Hey…” A voice startles me, and my eyes shoot open, face springing in the direction of the doorway.
It’s Avi, wandering slowly into the locker room, still half-dressed in his mascot costume with only his head exposed. Even rolling my eyes at his presence feels exhausting right now.
He takes a seat next to me on the bench, and I just shake my head. “What do you want?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I can feel his gaze on the side of my face, but I’m not in the mood to look.
“I just figured I’d check on you…” he says.
I let out a tired breath. “Leave me alone, Avi.”
“It’s just one game, man,” he mumbles. “Five-and-one is still a great record.”
“You don’t know shit about shit,” I grunt, raking my fingers through my hair.
I really don’t want to hear it right now. From anyone, but especially not from him. He doesn’t understand how important football is to me, because nothing is important to him. He doesn’t care hard enough about anything to be devastated over a loss like this.
Tonight was the first game I played since finding out about my dad’s business going under. And I just couldn’t get it out of my head…
For two weeks, I’ve been stressing the fuck out over being suddenly broke. And I know, it makes me sound like such a whiny, privileged brat, but I can’t help the way I was raised. We’ve never not had money. It’s like going from a massive head-start in the race to being dropped smack-dab in the middle with everyone else.
