Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
We’ve gone on numerous hikes and taken drives down Highway 1, simply to have moments together outside the house, but that’s the extent of what we do in public, both of us afraid that being seen together will bring this to an end.
All the while, Hunter’s been playing incredibly. They don’t win every week, but the whole football world is buzzing about the Comeback King.
We just got out of the shower, Hunter sitting on his bed, wearing nothing but a towel. I go through my camera bags, making sure I have everything I need.
“You gonna get dressed, or is clothing optional at practice today?” I tease, raising one of my film cameras like I’m going to take a photo.
“I only want to wrestle naked with you.” He pumps his brows.
I expect him to tell me not to take a photo, but he doesn’t say anything, so I look at him over the top of the camera and ask, “Can I? No one will see it.”
He simply nods, no hesitation.
I snap a few photos.
“Lie down,” I instruct, and Hunter does, the towel parting slightly. He doesn’t move to close it, so I take a few more, from different angles, wishing the lighting was better but unwilling to stop and break the moment.
He watches as I climb on the bed. I move my hand slowly, giving Hunter time to tell me no, and open his towel. His cock is soft, in a nest of brown hair.
I snap photo after photo, documenting this moment, how fucking beautiful he is, and the trust he’s giving me. I straddle Hunter’s legs, see his cock begin to grow, while he lets me photograph him this way. My camera moves up his body, from his dick to his torso to his face, and the soft smile and almost reverent look he’s giving me. “My best work yet,” I tease.
Hunter rolls his eyes. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“No, but I see you.”
He smiles, and I capture that as well, then take another of my hand around his hardened shaft, of the pearl of precum at the tip, zoom in on the sac I love to bury my face in.
“I think you might become my favorite thing to photograph. Touch yourself.”
Hunter’s pupils flare, and he does as I say, replacing my hand with his and stroking himself to full hardness. I continue to take photos, some with my digital and some with my film camera.
“Don’t come,” I say.
“I’m close.”
“I know. Turn over. I want your ass too.” I move off him, and again, Hunter doesn’t hesitate. I palm his ass cheek and snap a photo, then take some of just his ass, spread him wider, and then… “Can I take a photo of your hole, Hunt? When we’re not together, I’ll look at it and jack off, pretending I’m inside you.”
He ruts against the bed. “Fuck. How do you do this to me?”
What? I want to ask. What am I doing to you? Wanting to soak up each and every word he gives me.
“Yes. I trust you.”
Those words make me fucking soar. I take photo after photo of his perfect hole, tease it with my finger, rub it, make him feel good, watch it clench before I roll him onto his back and say, “Now you can come.” It doesn’t take him long, and when he does, I capture it—cum flying through the air, his mouth open, neck arched, the pure fucking bliss on his face as he works his pretty cock.
He’s panting when he’s done. I set the camera down, then lick up the cum all over his chest and from his fingers.
“Christ,” he says.
I chuckle. “I can’t help it. I like to be dirty with you.”
“I like to be dirty with you too,” Hunter admits. “I wouldn’t have done that with anyone else…wouldn’t have wanted to. You make me feel…like I’m a different person, or like I can be a different person, like my life doesn’t only have to be about one thing.”
Hearing him say shit like that is going to do me in. He’s already playing games with my heart.
“Good. Now get your ass up before you’re late.”
He laughs, kisses me, then rolls off the bed. Sometimes it’s easy to trick myself into believing he’s really mine.
*
My shoot got canceled because of a missed flight, so I do some work around the studio, then meet Isla for lunch. We haven’t hung out nearly as much as we would have if I wasn’t spending every spare minute of my time with Hunter. I hate being a shitty friend, but I know she’ll understand.
We decide to meet at one of our favorite queer clubs on Santa Monica Blvd. They open for brunch daily, serve delicious food, and have events like drag shows. It’s not until I’m sitting on the patio, a hot guy in booty shorts and a crop top asking me what I’d like to drink, that I wonder if Hunter has ever been to a place like this.