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With a long exhale, I slide the Spiderman mask over my face and log into my account. Well, I try to, anyway. I’ve forgotten my password, thanks to my hiatus, so I have to do the whole rigamarole to get a new one.
Okay.
Take two.
With my new password confirmed, I log into my account, click into my dashboard, and push the button to begin a livestream. First off, I make some brief opening remarks, including teasing my small audience about some “exciting, new stuff” I’ll be unveiling over the next two weeks. What exciting, new stuff am I talking about? I have no fucking clue. All I know is I’ve got to come up with something new, exciting, different, and dazzling—andpronto—something that sets me apart from all the other creators on this platform who jack off for cash—some of them, as superheroes—or I can kiss my dreams of becoming a vet goodbye.
“And now, without further ado . . .” I pan the camera down to reveal my naked torso and thankfully hard dick and promptlyget to work on myself, since that’s what these anonymous people came here to see.
Jacking off in front of a crowd has never been my favorite thing, to put it mildly, but I’ve always managed to get past my initial shyness and rise to the occasion for the greater good. But this time, with everything on the line, I’m finding it more difficult than ever to keep my body on track.
Panicking, I close my eyes and try to imagine the hottest, sexiest porn I’ve ever watched while continuing to stroke my full length with gusto—and to my surprise, the image that pops into my head, unbidden, is the redhead’s gorgeous face.Charlotte. The asshole who’d rather fuck my father than me.What the fuck?
I try to evict Charlotte from my brain and replace her with a celebrity crush. An ex-girlfriend. The pretty woman from the gym who always does deadlifts. But nope, I keep coming back to Charlotte. Not the thing I told her I’d think about when beating off—the look on her face when she saw the tow truck. Nope. I’m seeing her belly laughing with her friend. Doing those silly dance moves. Getting out of her car in that white-hot, white jumpsuit thing. Fucking hell, she was fucking gorgeous in that thing. Holy fuck. When I saw Charlotte in that white outfit, I forgot to be angry with her for a split-second there. By the time I remembered again, my tongue was practically dragging on the street. Or hell, maybe I found Charlotte so hot in that moment partlybecauseof my anger toward her? I don’t know. All I know was the moment felt hot as fuck and infuriating, all at once, and now, thinking about it, it’s making me hard and getting me there.
I keep going.Stroking myself while imagining Charlotte. She’s spread eagle in my bed. I’m eating her pussy like a madman. Making her scream my name and come against my mouth.
My balls tighten sharply.
And here we go. Suddenly, I’m gripped by waves of pleasure. Warmth spurts onto my hand.Success.
I open my eyes and check the tip jar on my screen, hoping I’ve earned some kind of personal best. But to my disappointment, I’ve actually underperformed this time, compared to my personal best from about six months ago. I guess being on hiatus for two months wasn’t a good thing, in terms of staying relevant and keeping the algorithms working in my favor. If I keep pulling this paltry amount with each show, I’d have to whack off thirty times per day, every day for the next two weeks, to pay that twenty grand and be able to negotiate a payment plan for the rest. Not physically possible. Obviously, I need to come up with a new strategy. Something different I can do on the platform that will set me apart from all the other dudes whacking off.
I thank my audience for their generosity, tease them again with something “new and amazing” coming to my channel soon, and log off. After ripping off my mask, I drag my naked ass into my bathroom and take a hot shower, where I wrack my brain for ideas. Something to set me apart. But I can’t think of anything. Nothing I’d actually be willing to do to my body, anyway.
When I first started doing this, I naively assumed the size of my dong would give me an advantage in the market. I’ve been in enough locker rooms at swim practices and meets to know I’m bigger than most guys. But as it’s turned out, there’s more to being successful on the platform than simply having a fit body and big dick. Some guys with smaller dicks than mine do much better because they’re great showmen. Way better than me at talking dirty to their audience. Others are buffer than me. Like, bodybuilder types. That’s not for everyone. Some prefer a fit, leaner physique, like mine. But those swole guys fracture the market. There are even some other superheroes, I’ve come tofind out. So, I’m not even special on that score. And my paltry earnings reflect that.
I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and stare at my naked body in the mirror. I’ve got a fit, well-proportioned body and a big dick.But what else do I have to offer? I swear, if I knew what to do, I’d have done it by now. At this point, the only thing I know for sure is that I’d better come up with something soon, or I can kiss my spot in the vet program goodbye.
6
AUGGIE
“Good boy. Now, go get it, buddy!”
I toss Lucky’s red rubber ball again across the grass for him to fetch, and he hops away gleefully to chase it down. I’m sitting on a large lawn underneath a shady tree on-campus, taking a break from my daily walk with Lucky to people-watch and think.
Usually, when I’m out with Lucky, I’ve got my earbuds in and a podcast going. But today, I’ve been brainstorming in silence, hoping the lack of aural stimulation will allow my brain tofinallycome up with The Big Idea. The magic bullet that will get my Superhero Salami Slinger account cooking with gas. If I can’t figure out something soon, I’ll be fucked.
Just as Lucky drops his little ball in front of me, a couple friends from the vet program stop and say hi. When one of them tries to pet Lucky, the poor little guy hides behind me, quaking in fear, so I explain his background—his year at a shelter and likely abuse before then—and the resulting anxiety he now feels around all strangers; and my friend kindly gives Lucky the space he needs.
My friends sit down for a bit, and we chat about our upcoming exams. And then, about our mutual anxietysurrounding those all-important summer internships. When those topics have run their course, we move on to talking about our plans for the upcoming weekend. One of my friends says she’s attending her niece’s sixth birthday party on Saturday, and that her sister, the birthday girl’s mother, has hired a “princess” to show up and make her daughter and all her little friends lose their shit. Laughing, we muse about the power of princesses and fairytales, and we all agree it’d be awesome if, as adults, we could still be that easy to thrill.
Whoa.
I suddenly feel like I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt.
My Big Idea.
I think I’ve got it!
I tell my friends I’d better get back home to study, so they get up and say their goodbyes. As they’re walking away, I grab my phone and run a couple searches—and what comes up confirms I’m on to something.
“Come on, Lucky. Playtime’s over, little buddy.” There’s no need to attach a leash to Lucky’s collar to make him hop along after me. Since Grandma died, my little tripod follows me wherever I go. So, I simply shove Lucky’s rubber ball in the pocket of my hoodie and take off in the direction of my building. I’ll need to swing by a craft store before getting started and make a few things, as best I can. But once I do all that, it should be easy enough to execute my idea and see if it pans out.
My mind is racing now.Fleshingthings out. Pun intended. In fact, by the time I’m turning the corner onto my street, I’ve already figured out my first two shows. Holy shit, I think this could work.
I stop dead in my tracks. Is thatCharlottewalking up the pathway to my building? I resume walking, eager to get a closer look. If that’s Charlotte, then she’s changed out of her splattered white jumpsuit from this morning. This particular redhead’swearing jeans and a T-shirt. But, wait, the woman walking alongside her is definitely the pregnant brunette from Captain’s yesterday. And that’sdefinitelyCharlotte’s ass in profile. Not that I’ve memorized it or anything. It’s just that it was hardnotto notice it when she was marching away maniacally and swinging her hips.
