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The drive back home went by in a flash. I might have missed a stop sign or two, but at least I didn’t run over anyone. Once safe in my apartment, I made myself a sandwich and went to sit by the tall window in my living room. I had a good view of the small park across the street where junkies often bought or sold drugs between the rusty swings. It was raining outside, angry drops that splashed against the glass.
I was tired, more mentally than physically, but tired all the same. The worst thing was how unsurprised I was to be feeling like this. Deep down, I knew I had been hanging on to old memories to keep my friendship with Chris alive. It would have been easier if there weren’t so many memories to hang on to, but he had been a part of every significant event in my life ever since I left home for college. I gullibly assumed that would never change.
I washed my plate in the sink and crashed on the old and lumpy couch. The pre-Covid Ethan would have thrown that couch to the dumpster without a second thought, but that version of me had left current Ethan with no such privilege.
I remembered talking with Anthony about playing Halo together, but that might lead to questions about my drive over to Chris’s, and I preferred to avoid reliving that for now. Since I wasn’t in the mood to do anything productive before calling it a night, I settled on watching porn. My libido had been down to nothing in the last several months, so a bit of occasional porn helped me know it hadn’t gone extinct.
I grabbed my laptop and connected it to the TV via screencasting, then opened the Chrome browser and searched for my saved URLs. What was I in the mood for?
I scrolled around through saved bookmarks until I found something I barely remembered watching. It was poorly named,Dungeon Master, but I wasn’t looking for quality writing. I hadn’t watched anything BDSM related in a while. My interest in the genre varied through the years, and not once had I been lucky enough to hook up with a woman who was into that. I also wasn’t the typical-looking type to attract such women since the boy-next-door look wasn’t exactly a kink magnet.
Tonight, it felt appropriate to take a dive into the darker side of my fantasies. My sour mood welcomed it.
I clicked play and leaned back on my couch, my legs resting on the coffee table. On the screen, a cheap-looking dungeon appeared, but at least the camera quality seemed solid. The naked woman lying on the table looked stoned and very blonde. She was tied down by her wrists and ankles, wordlessly whimpering due to the black leather gag in her mouth. Her hair was messy, eyes a bit wet with her eyeliner smeared. It was a good look on her, I thought as I pulled down my boxers.
The camera roamed over the blonde's naked body, focusing on her erect nipples and shaved crotch. The way her arms were pulled up made her stomach curve inward and her ribs stand out. I pictured myself standing next to her in that dirty room, touching her freely while she kept fighting the tight binds.
I was fully hard by the time the male actor entered the frame. He was only wearing leather pants that clung tightly to his legs and ass. His back was wide enough to surf on. When the camera zoomed in on his face, I assumed he was Arab based on his olive skin and hairy chest.
“You’re moaning like a cunt,” the man said with a faint Arab accent. His voice carried an authority that sounded anything but fake. This was some good casting.
The camera moved to focus on the man’s large hand as it slid from the woman’s breasts down to her belly and stopped between her legs. She squealed as he roughly shoved two fingers sharply into her. I nodded at the screen like a pleased director.
As the sounds of moans filled my small apartment, I lost myself to the feeling of my hand sliding up and down my cock. In my mind’s eye, I was there with them, standing naked on the other side of the table. My skin was noticeably paler than the other man's dark complexion, and my chest was much less hairy.
My hands roamed over the blonde's quivering body until it was my turn to roughly finger her.
The man said to me,‘You’re doing good.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You feel how wet she is?’
‘Yeah.’
‘First time doing something like this?’
‘To a woman who’s tied down? I guess it is.’
‘Let me give you some pointers.’
‘No need.’
‘You sure?’
Annoyed, I looked up at him, straight into his dark eyes beneath those thick eyebrows. Before I knew what was happening, the scene inside my head abruptly shifted. I was still in the same fake dungeon, standing next to the same wooden table, but the blonde woman was no longer there. Instead, the olive-skinned man was tied down, body naked and slick with sweat. The gag was tight in his mouth, digging into the side of his lips and clearly causing him pain. His biceps were huge, especially when he angrily pulled at his binds.
I stared at him open-mouthed, trying to make sense of this crazy turn of events. I could have easily switched the station in my head back to where it had just been—where it probably should have stayed—but I didn’t. I raised my unstable hands and gingerly ran my palms over his skin, feeling the hardness of his muscles and the wetness of his flesh. I was aware of my imagination working extra hard to make the sensations feel real, but it was doing a surprisingly remarkable job. A need grew inside me, so fierce it overwhelmed me. Yet I allowed it to pull me in.
The man’s legs were tied and spread. I moved in front of him and saw his balls dangling between his thighs. They weren’t low enough to cover the thin line of flesh leading down to his hole. My hand hovered over his crotch for a long moment before I managed to make myself grab his flaccid cock. It felt thick and warm. When I slowly started playing with it, the Arab jolted and growled at me. I ignored him and continued stroking until his cock swiftly grew into full erection. He was bigger than me—bigger than most men—but that only made what was about to happen even more exciting.
I spat on my fingers and held his gaze as he realized what my next move was going to be. He cursed me through the gag; muffled noises I didn’t bother trying to decipher. I lowered my hand and found the part where his ass cheeks were protecting his entrance.
“Open up,” I said and got another angry growl in return. I fought his muscles as they tried to prevent me from pushing my fingers into his body. Him being so goddamn sweaty helped, and a few seconds later, I was firmly inside. My mind tried to piece together a feeling that could bridge the gap between fantasy and reality since I never experienced an asshole in such a way before—not with women and most definitely not with men.
My fantasy shifted again, and instead of one finger I now had three sunk deep into the tight entrance. With every crook of my fingers, the tied man whimpered. I was clearly hurting him, but it felt that he was slowly giving in to the pleasure I was also sparking. His eyes looked everywhere, occasionally rolling to the back of his head. His wide, hairy chest moved quickly with the rhythm of his breaths. When I made a hook of my fingers inside him, he jolted and tried to yell at me.
