“Erm, for your information, that wasn’t me,” Ryker says. “That was Liam.”
“Oh . . . he didn’t sound very happy when I mentioned toys.”
“He,” Liam says. “Didn’t want to hear details of your girlfriends pleasuring you that way, but I’m more than happy to hear about you fucking yourself with objects while they were out of the room.”
I unfurl my hand and let it drift down to my jeans. I’m still rock hard, still straining against the denim, and the rub of my fingers brings instant relief.
“I didn’t fuck myself with it,” I say. “I pushed it in, and left it there while I . . .”
“Stroked your beautiful cock?” Ryker suggests.
I roll my eyes. “Got myself off. You’re making it sound much more . . . sexual than it was.”
“It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Liam says. “What were you thinking about when it was inside you?”
I know what he wants me to say, that I was thinking about them, or a faceless man, but he’s going to be disappointed.
“I wasn’t thinking of anything,” I tell him. “It was a tool, something extra to bring myself to orgasm. I wasn’t imagining be fucked by a guy. I know subjectively the toy was modelled on a cock, but that’s not what I was thinking about when I used it.”
“Did you clench down on it when you came?” Ryker asks.
The specific question takes me by surprise. “Yes,” I say. “Is that . . . when you’re inside a guy and he climaxes, can you feel it? Do you feel the clench?”
“Yes,” they say together.
“And fuck do we want to feel yours,” Liam groans.
They’re both breathing harder, and there’s another noise, something wet. My sluggish brain catches up, and I speak before I can stop myself. “Are you touching yourselves?”
Ryker chuckles. “You caught us red-handed, or more accurately, dick-handed.”
“You’re an idiot,” Liam says, but he’s breathless.
“Do you want to see?” Ryker asks.
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. Do I want to see my best friends aroused? Touching themselves?
“It’s okay if you don’t. We won’t be offended,” Ryker hurries to add. “Well, maybe a little. Our cocks are fucking hot.”
“Ryker,” Liam warns.
“Yes,” I whisper, surprising myself. “I want to see but . . .”
“But what?” Ryker asks.
“I’m not going on camera.”
“That’s okay,” Ryker replies. “I’m going to hang up and call you back, okay? And if you change your mind during the half a second we’re disconnected, message me and we’ll go back to talking, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The call ends, and before I can formulate a coherent thought, it rings again. I answer instinctively, then freeze wide-eyed at what greets me. This is dropping me in at the deep end. I thought Ryker might ease me into things, start with their faces or chests or the bloody ceiling, but no, the screen focusses on their hard cocks.
“You there?” Ryker asks.
I hum. It’s all I’m capable of doing right now. Ryker and Liam are standing up facing each other, with their trousers around their ankles. I focus my attention down at their feet as I try to gather myself. Ryker’s trousers are burgundy and Liam’s are black. Their cocks demand my attention. They’re both big, uncut, and straining in their hands. Ryker’s aiming the cameraat them from midway down their chests, giving me a glimpse of their abs and their dark pubes. Ryker keeps his shorter than Liam’s, and there’s a pale scar by Ryker’s belly button.
Smears of precum catch the light on their skin, not their own, but each other’s, where the heads of their cocks accidentally bump and kiss with each stroke.
