Show Me Bro, A Sexting Saga

[JaxxStories]

All characters are 18+

Part 1: Interrupted

Sam laid back on his bed, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other loosely holding his phone. Porn flickered dimly across the screen—a girl in doggy getting plowed from both ends by her “stepbros”. Yea, one of those videos that he found the dialogue cheesy and overdone, but they still got him hard. He was halfway there, mind drifting pleasantly, when his phone buzzed.

Then buzzed again.

Then again.



Dalton.

-yo

-you up

-sam?

-hit me up man



Sam groaned, thumb twitching over the screen like he might mute it. He didn’t want to deal with Dalton right now—not in the middle of this. He tilted the phone away, turned the volume up on the video, and kept stroking.

Buzz. Ignored.

Buzz. Ignored.

Then a call.

The screen lit up with Dalton’s name and a stupid photo Sam had snapped of him holding three beers at the company retreat like a championship trophy.

Sam sighed. “Fuck it.” He answered.

“Yo, finally,” Dalton’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Been tryin’ to get you for like twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Sam said, breath a little heavier than he meant. His calls with Dalton were usually short, so his hand never stopped stroking his cock. “What’s so urgent?”

Dalton sounded wide awake, maybe a little tipsy. “You know that girl Jess from accounting? The one that always talks about crystals and shit?”

Sam smirked, still working himself slowly. “Sure. The one you said smelled like sage and would probably put a curse on you?”

“That’s the one,” Dalton laughed. “She invited me over tomorrow. I think she wants to hook up.”

Sam blinked, caught off guard. “So you called me to brag?”

“No, I’m freakin’ out, dude. I haven’t gotten laid in, like, a month. Plus she’s got this insane vibe—like she’s gonna pull out tarot cards and give me a reading before sex or something.”

Sam chuckled, shifting slightly on the bed. The mention of her in a sexual way formed an image in his head. Now he was picturing Dalton fucking her…presumably with incense lit in the background and a Wiccan poster on the wall. Freaky shit aside, the image was still hot. His breath caught as he continued to stroke. He didn’t say anything for a second.

Dalton paused. “…you good?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quickly. “Just…playing a game.”

Dalton laughed. “Didn’t sound like a game. Sounded like you were gettin’ head or something.”

Sam cleared his throat. “I wish…but nope. Just…uhh…a tough level.”

“Lies. I hear skin rubbing. You jerking off?”

There was a pause. Sam exhaled through his nose. “…maybe.”

Dalton laughed louder. “While talking to me? You’re nasty.”

“You called me, man. I was mid-session.”

Dalton snorted. “Damn. What’re you watching?”

Sam hesitated, then grinned to himself. “Just some amateur threesome stuff. You know. These two guys are taking this bitch to Paris if you know what I mean.”

Dalton’s voice dipped a little, curious now. “You gonna finish while we’re talking?”

Sam smirked, stroking slower. “Depends on how long the call is.” chuckling lightly.

A pause. Then Dalton added, lightly: “Kinda hot.”

Sam blinked. “…What?”

Dalton laughed again, but it sounded a little shakier this time. “I mean, I get it. My girl’s been on vacation for two weeks. And it was two before then that we last fucked. I’m going nuts. I miss everything—her sounds, her tits, the way she rides me.”

Sam let that sink in, his breathing heavier again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. His strokes speeding up. “Maybe you’ll score with the accounting girl tomorrow and get some relief.”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “Soooooo…what’s it look like?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “…what?”

“You know. Your dick. Show me, bro!”

“You really wanna see?”

“…Yeah. Kinda.”

A thrill ran through him. He opened up his Snapchat and angled the camera down just enough to frame the shot. His legs spread open. His abs tight. His 7” cut cock throbbing in his hand below a patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair. Precum dripping down his thick head. He stared at the picture for a moment and then sent it before he started to overthink.

A few seconds later, Dalton’s voice came back, low and surprised. “Damn, bro. You’re packing heat. I wasn’t expecting you’d actually send it.”

“You asked.”

There was a pause—then Sam’s phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification. New photo from Dalton. He opened it.

Dalton, from the waist down, sweatpants pushed to his ankles, a light grey pair of briefs still covering him, but his dick was hard and obvious.

Sam swallowed. “Well shit.”

Dalton exhaled into the phone. “Guess I wasn’t kidding about missing my girl.”

“You’re hard just from talking to me?”

Dalton laughed softly. “I dunno, man. You sounded hot.”

Sam licked his lips, heart pounding, hand moving again, slower now, more deliberate. “Still sound hot?”

Dalton let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

They stayed on the line, the sound of breathing growing heavier—subtle moans and faint skin against skin noises coming from both ends.

Dalton’s voice was low now, a rasp right in Sam’s ear. “Still jerking it?”

Sam smirked, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Yeah”

“Lemme hear.”

Sam didn’t respond—just a soft breath, then let another moan slip, louder and deliberate this time. Not over the top. Just enough.

Dalton exhaled sharply on the other end. “Fuck, dude. That’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Sam muttered, stroking with intent, thumb teasing the tip. “You doing it too?”

There was the faintest rustle, fabric shifting, a sound that told Sam everything.

“Been doin’ it,” Dalton admitted. “Since you sent that pic.”

Sam grinned. “Should’ve known you were a visual guy.”

Dalton let out a breathy laugh. “I mean, you’re kinda built, bro. I never noticed.”

“Bullshit,” Sam teased, voice thicker now. “You just never let yourself notice.”

Dalton was quiet for a second. Then, softly: “Maybe.”

Sam moaned again, longer this time, letting it out freely. “Shit…this is weird, man.” But he didn’t stop.

“Yeah,” Dalton murmured. “Weird…but hot.”

Sam’s grip on his cock tightened a little, pace picking up. “What’re you thinking about right now?”

Dalton groaned. “That pic you sent. The sounds you’re making. The way you’d look if I was there.”

Sam’s cock throbbed at that. His rhythm faltered for a second, breath hitching.

Dalton caught it. “Yeah. You like that?”

Sam couldn’t even speak—just let out another low moan.

“Wish I could see your face right now,” Dalton said, voice edging into a growl. “Bet you look so fucking good when you’re close.”

Sam’s other hand slid up toward his chest, fingers dragging lightly over his wispy chest hair, nails teasing a nipple. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

Dalton’s breathing sped up. “I wanna hear you finish.”

Sam bit his lip, hips lifting slightly off the bed. “Say something hot.”

Dalton didn’t hesitate. “If I was there, I’d get on my knees. Wrap my lips around that cock. Let you fuck my mouth while I stroked myself. I’d let you suffocate me with that big fucking cock until you shot your load straight down my throat. I bet you taste so damn good.”

“Jesus, fuck—” Sam screamed as he started to cum, body tensing, hips jerking high off the mattress. He let out a lust filled moan that echoed through the room and through the phone. His load shooting high in the air and coating his entire upper body. From his abs to his face, it was everywhere.

Dalton groaned hard on the other end, breath catching. “Fuck—fuck—”. He was cumming too.

Sam stayed still for a moment, chest rising and falling, phone warm against his cheek.

Silence.

Then a low laugh from Dalton. “Well. That happened.”

Sam wiped a hand over his face, collecting his cum that landed there and licking it off his finger. “You were right, tastes pretty good.”

“Mmmmm” was all Dalton could utter.

“You gonna ghost me now?”

Dalton chuckled. “Hell no. But…do we need to talk about what the fuck just happened?”

Sam smirked, voice lazy now. “Just two bros getting off. No biggie.”

A pause.

Then Dalton added, teasing: “You gonna send me a post-nut selfie?”

Sam laughed before opening up Snapchat again.

More: Get more from JaxxStories on Patreon

 

[tsex69]

When are we getting moreeee?

 

[JaxxStories]

Part 2:

Then Dalton added, teasing: “You gonna send me a post-nut selfie?”

Sam laughed before opening up Snapchat again.

___________

Sam woke up with a dry mouth and a pounding sense of fuck.

He lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, the night before playing on loop in his head…Dalton’s voice in his ear, the sounds they’d made, the picture he’d sent…the one Dalton sent back.

Jesus.

He sat up, dragging a hand down his face. What the hell was that? Two dudes jacking off on the phone together didn’t exactly scream “normal friendship.” not when they were both straight. Not when one of those dudes had a girlfriend. Not when they worked together.

He checked his phone. One notification from Snap.

From Dalton.

Sam stared at it like it might bite. He hesitated, thumb hovering…then tapped.

It was just a streak pic—Dalton half in the frame, sleepy face, bedhead, a dumb caption: monday murders me bro.

Sam exhaled. Okay. Cool. Normal.

⸻

Work was also normal.

Dalton showed up late as usual, coffee in one hand, breakfast burrito in the other, mumbling something about traffic and insomnia.

They bantered like always. Teased the intern. Made dumb jokes. Nothing about last night came up. Not even a loaded glance. Sam half expected something…a smirk, a comment, anything. But no. Dalton was just…Dalton.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Sam was starting to believe maybe they both silently agreed to pretend it never happened.

⸻

That night, Sam made dinner, half-watched his show while doomscrolling, and eventually shut it all down.

He climbed into bed, slid under the covers, and pulled out his phone. A few taps later and he had porn going. Just a regular couple having pretty normal looking sex. It wasn’t studio quality, but it was intense and passionate and got his cock hard.

Sam settled in, let his hand drift down—

Buzz.

Snapchat.

Dalton.

He froze. Blinked. Then tapped it open.

It was a shot of Dalton’s lap. He was in black boxer briefs, the fabric stretched just enough to show the outline of something very obviously hard. The caption read:

what you up to bro?

Sam’s pulse kicked up. He swallowed and snapped one back: just his bare legs over the blanket, skin warm-looking in the soft light.

bout to head to bed, wbu?

A reply came fast. Another photo—same as before, but the underwear was gone now. The camera was pointed slightly down so his cock wasn’t in view, but Dalton’s bare thighs were exposed, spread just enough to show he was naked.

same…after

Sam’s breath caught. He shifted on the bed, still fully hard. He lifted the phone again, angled it a little higher, showing his lower stomach now, his trimmed pubes. the edge of his hand subtly holding onto his unseen dick.

after what? he sent.

There was a pause. A longer one. Sam could practically feel his own heart thudding in his ears.

Then the snap came through.

Dalton’s cock—hard, thick, resting against his stomach. No caption. Just him, bold as hell.

Sam stared at it.

Then licked his lips.

Then he began to stroke himself again.

He exhaled slowly, then positioned the camera again. He adjusted the angle, shifted his hips so his cock curved up against his stomach, and took the shot—hand resting low, fingers just brushing his base. Sent it.

same lol

Almost immediately, Dalton replied.

fuck dude you look good like that

Sam grinned to himself, biting his lip. His hand started moving again, slow strokes as the porn played quietly on his phone. But his thumbs kept switching his phone back to Snapchat. Waiting.

Another buzz.

This time, a video.

He opened it—Dalton’s hand gripping a black fleshlight, sliding over his cock. The kind with the pussy on the end. His abs were tight, his thighs flexing. The motion was smooth, practiced. He let out a little grunt near the end of the clip.

Sam swallowed. “Holy shit…” he said aloud.

He sent back a short vid of his own strokes, breathing heavier now. Then texted:

you’ve got a toy??

always wanted to try one lol

Dalton replied:

shit’s legit bro. way better than my hand.

Sam was flushed now, wrist moving faster. He shot back:

how’s she feel?

Dalton answered with:

tight. warm. wet. like real pussy

Sam groaned softly and typed:

show me bro

Dalton sent another clip—this time longer. Zooming in on where his cock was penetrating the plastic pussy. He was moaning now, voice soft but unfiltered. His hips moved up into the toy, and at one point he let out, “fuck yeah…”

Sam was leaking at this point, jerking faster, totally into it. He thumbed a response:

damn. This is turning me the fuck on

Buzz.

An incoming video call.

Dalton’s calling.

Sam stared at the screen. His thumb hovered.

One ring. Two. Three.

He tapped accept.

The screen lit up. Dalton had the phone propped up in front of him. Full view of his naked body. He was lying back against his pillows, the fleshlight still gripped in one hand. His eyes were a little hazy, lips parted. “Hey,” he said, like they were just talking about weekend plans.

Sam laughed softly, breath shaky. “Hey.”

They just looked at each other for a second—two guys, naked, hard, connected by a phone screen and a shared secret.

Dalton was the first to break the silence. “Let’s keep going.”

Sam angled the phone down slowly, revealing his stomach, then his hand stroking slow over his cock.

Dalton bit his lip. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, voice low. “You gonna finish with me this time?”

Dalton grinned. “Keep talkin’ dirty, man. That shit got me close.”

Sam smirked, angling the phone between his thighs, letting Dalton see every stroke. “That toy still feeling good?”

Dalton nodded, flexing his hips for emphasis. “Feels so damn good.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice dropped. “What’s she feel like right now?”

Dalton moaned, eyes fluttering. “Tight…warm…grippin’ me just right. Like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

“Fuck…” Sam’s grip tightened. “Bet she’s soaked. All that lube makin’ her sloppy.”

Dalton looked down at himself, then back up with a crooked grin. “She’s drippin’, bro.”

Sam’s hand sped up, breath catching. “Wish I could hear the sounds it’s makin’. Hear you fuckin’ her for real.”

Dalton moved the phone closer to the action, the slick wet squelch coming through the mic. Sam groaned.

“That shit’s filthy,” he breathed.

Dalton licked his lips, watching Sam stroke. “Bet your cock would feel good in this.”

Sam let out a sharp exhale. “Yeah? You gonna hold it for me while I fuck it?”

“Hell yeah I would,” Dalton said. “I’d watch it stretch for you. Watch you destroy this pussy.”

Sam moaned deep in his throat, wrist working faster. “You’d really let me use your toy?”

Dalton’s grin was wild now, flushed and horny. “Only if you cum in it.”

That nearly tipped Sam over the edge.

His voice cracked slightly. “Fuck, I’m so close…”

Dalton’s voice dropped into a growl. “You gonna cum for me, bro?”

Sam nodded fast, chest heaving. “Yeah…yeah, keep talkin’…”

Dalton pushed his hips into the toy harder. “Stroke that fat cock for me. Let me see it throb. Shoot that load, man.”

Sam was panting now, totally lost in it. “God, that pussy’s so tight—wish I could feel it—fuck, I’d wreck it—”

“Yeah you would,” Dalton groaned. “Do it. Cum for me, bro. Cum. Right now.”

Sam gasped—his back arched slightly, hand flying over his shaft. “Fuuuck—Dalton—I’m—”

He came hard, stomach clenching, breath ragged as his load spilled across his abs and hand. He barely kept the camera steady, letting Dalton see the aftershocks pulse through him.

Dalton was right behind him.

“Shit—fuckin’ hell—” he groaned, jerking faster into the toy. His face twisted, muscles tight, until he let out a low, raw moan and went still. Sam watched as Dalton’s abs tightened, his thighs flexed—and then he slumped back, boneless.

Silence.

Just the sound of breathing. Heavy, spent.

Dalton finally looked up, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well…I wasn’t planning on that.”

Sam laughed softly, wiping his chest with the edge of the blanket. “Me either.”

They just stayed like that for a few seconds—two guys, post-nut, still naked, a weird buzz of electricity in the air between them.

Dalton broke the silence first. “You ever gonna stop turning me on?”

Sam smirked. “Not if you keep sending me shit like that.”

Dalton laughed, rubbing his face. “Shit… we might be in trouble.”

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

Up to Part 7 on Patreon: Get more from JaxxStories on Patreon

 

[.MSE.]

 

[mGlottalstop]

This is great, love the chemistry between them!!

 

[Blasiannn]

fuck yes

 

[ZA7646]

Part 2:

Then Dalton added, teasing: “You gonna send me a post-nut selfie?”

Sam laughed before opening up Snapchat again.

___________

Sam woke up with a dry mouth and a pounding sense of fuck.

He lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, the night before playing on loop in his head…Dalton’s voice in his ear, the sounds they’d made, the picture he’d sent…the one Dalton sent back.

Jesus.

He sat up, dragging a hand down his face. What the hell was that? Two dudes jacking off on the phone together didn’t exactly scream “normal friendship.” not when they were both straight. Not when one of those dudes had a girlfriend. Not when they worked together.

He checked his phone. One notification from Snap.

From Dalton.

Sam stared at it like it might bite. He hesitated, thumb hovering…then tapped.

It was just a streak pic—Dalton half in the frame, sleepy face, bedhead, a dumb caption: monday murders me bro.

Sam exhaled. Okay. Cool. Normal.

⸻

Work was also normal.

Dalton showed up late as usual, coffee in one hand, breakfast burrito in the other, mumbling something about traffic and insomnia.

They bantered like always. Teased the intern. Made dumb jokes. Nothing about last night came up. Not even a loaded glance. Sam half expected something…a smirk, a comment, anything. But no. Dalton was just…Dalton.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Sam was starting to believe maybe they both silently agreed to pretend it never happened.

⸻

That night, Sam made dinner, half-watched his show while doomscrolling, and eventually shut it all down.

He climbed into bed, slid under the covers, and pulled out his phone. A few taps later and he had porn going. Just a regular couple having pretty normal looking sex. It wasn’t studio quality, but it was intense and passionate and got his cock hard.

Sam settled in, let his hand drift down—

Buzz.

Snapchat.

Dalton.

He froze. Blinked. Then tapped it open.

It was a shot of Dalton’s lap. He was in black boxer briefs, the fabric stretched just enough to show the outline of something very obviously hard. The caption read:

what you up to bro?

Sam’s pulse kicked up. He swallowed and snapped one back: just his bare legs over the blanket, skin warm-looking in the soft light.

bout to head to bed, wbu?

A reply came fast. Another photo—same as before, but the underwear was gone now. The camera was pointed slightly down so his cock wasn’t in view, but Dalton’s bare thighs were exposed, spread just enough to show he was naked.

same…after

Sam’s breath caught. He shifted on the bed, still fully hard. He lifted the phone again, angled it a little higher, showing his lower stomach now, his trimmed pubes. the edge of his hand subtly holding onto his unseen dick.

after what? he sent.

There was a pause. A longer one. Sam could practically feel his own heart thudding in his ears.

Then the snap came through.

Dalton’s cock—hard, thick, resting against his stomach. No caption. Just him, bold as hell.

Sam stared at it.

Then licked his lips.

Then he began to stroke himself again.

He exhaled slowly, then positioned the camera again. He adjusted the angle, shifted his hips so his cock curved up against his stomach, and took the shot—hand resting low, fingers just brushing his base. Sent it.

same lol

Almost immediately, Dalton replied.

fuck dude you look good like that

Sam grinned to himself, biting his lip. His hand started moving again, slow strokes as the porn played quietly on his phone. But his thumbs kept switching his phone back to Snapchat. Waiting.

Another buzz.

This time, a video.

He opened it—Dalton’s hand gripping a black fleshlight, sliding over his cock. The kind with the pussy on the end. His abs were tight, his thighs flexing. The motion was smooth, practiced. He let out a little grunt near the end of the clip.

Sam swallowed. “Holy shit…” he said aloud.

He sent back a short vid of his own strokes, breathing heavier now. Then texted:

you’ve got a toy??

always wanted to try one lol

Dalton replied:

shit’s legit bro. way better than my hand.

Sam was flushed now, wrist moving faster. He shot back:

how’s she feel?

Dalton answered with:

tight. warm. wet. like real pussy

Sam groaned softly and typed:

show me bro

Dalton sent another clip—this time longer. Zooming in on where his cock was penetrating the plastic pussy. He was moaning now, voice soft but unfiltered. His hips moved up into the toy, and at one point he let out, “fuck yeah…”

Sam was leaking at this point, jerking faster, totally into it. He thumbed a response:

damn. This is turning me the fuck on

Buzz.

An incoming video call.

Dalton’s calling.

Sam stared at the screen. His thumb hovered.

One ring. Two. Three.

He tapped accept.

The screen lit up. Dalton had the phone propped up in front of him. Full view of his naked body. He was lying back against his pillows, the fleshlight still gripped in one hand. His eyes were a little hazy, lips parted. “Hey,” he said, like they were just talking about weekend plans.

Sam laughed softly, breath shaky. “Hey.”

They just looked at each other for a second—two guys, naked, hard, connected by a phone screen and a shared secret.

Dalton was the first to break the silence. “Let’s keep going.”

Sam angled the phone down slowly, revealing his stomach, then his hand stroking slow over his cock.

Dalton bit his lip. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, voice low. “You gonna finish with me this time?”

Dalton grinned. “Keep talkin’ dirty, man. That shit got me close.”

Sam smirked, angling the phone between his thighs, letting Dalton see every stroke. “That toy still feeling good?”

Dalton nodded, flexing his hips for emphasis. “Feels so damn good.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice dropped. “What’s she feel like right now?”

Dalton moaned, eyes fluttering. “Tight…warm…grippin’ me just right. Like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

“Fuck…” Sam’s grip tightened. “Bet she’s soaked. All that lube makin’ her sloppy.”

Dalton looked down at himself, then back up with a crooked grin. “She’s drippin’, bro.”

Sam’s hand sped up, breath catching. “Wish I could hear the sounds it’s makin’. Hear you fuckin’ her for real.”

Dalton moved the phone closer to the action, the slick wet squelch coming through the mic. Sam groaned.

“That shit’s filthy,” he breathed.

Dalton licked his lips, watching Sam stroke. “Bet your cock would feel good in this.”

Sam let out a sharp exhale. “Yeah? You gonna hold it for me while I fuck it?”

“Hell yeah I would,” Dalton said. “I’d watch it stretch for you. Watch you destroy this pussy.”

Sam moaned deep in his throat, wrist working faster. “You’d really let me use your toy?”

Dalton’s grin was wild now, flushed and horny. “Only if you cum in it.”

That nearly tipped Sam over the edge.

His voice cracked slightly. “Fuck, I’m so close…”

Dalton’s voice dropped into a growl. “You gonna cum for me, bro?”

Sam nodded fast, chest heaving. “Yeah…yeah, keep talkin’…”

Dalton pushed his hips into the toy harder. “Stroke that fat cock for me. Let me see it throb. Shoot that load, man.”

Sam was panting now, totally lost in it. “God, that pussy’s so tight—wish I could feel it—fuck, I’d wreck it—”

“Yeah you would,” Dalton groaned. “Do it. Cum for me, bro. Cum. Right now.”

Sam gasped—his back arched slightly, hand flying over his shaft. “Fuuuck—Dalton—I’m—”

He came hard, stomach clenching, breath ragged as his load spilled across his abs and hand. He barely kept the camera steady, letting Dalton see the aftershocks pulse through him.

Dalton was right behind him.

“Shit—fuckin’ hell—” he groaned, jerking faster into the toy. His face twisted, muscles tight, until he let out a low, raw moan and went still. Sam watched as Dalton’s abs tightened, his thighs flexed—and then he slumped back, boneless.

Silence.

Just the sound of breathing. Heavy, spent.

Dalton finally looked up, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well…I wasn’t planning on that.”

Sam laughed softly, wiping his chest with the edge of the blanket. “Me either.”

They just stayed like that for a few seconds—two guys, post-nut, still naked, a weird buzz of electricity in the air between them.

Dalton broke the silence first. “You ever gonna stop turning me on?”

Sam smirked. “Not if you keep sending me shit like that.”

Dalton laughed, rubbing his face. “Shit… we might be in trouble.”

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

Up to Part 7 on Patreon: Get more from JaxxStories on Patreon

Damn, that was hot!

 

[nyf_04]

when are we gonna get the next part?

Part 2:

Then Dalton added, teasing: “You gonna send me a post-nut selfie?”

Sam laughed before opening up Snapchat again.

___________

Sam woke up with a dry mouth and a pounding sense of fuck.

He lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, the night before playing on loop in his head…Dalton’s voice in his ear, the sounds they’d made, the picture he’d sent…the one Dalton sent back.

Jesus.

He sat up, dragging a hand down his face. What the hell was that? Two dudes jacking off on the phone together didn’t exactly scream “normal friendship.” not when they were both straight. Not when one of those dudes had a girlfriend. Not when they worked together.

He checked his phone. One notification from Snap.

From Dalton.

Sam stared at it like it might bite. He hesitated, thumb hovering…then tapped.

It was just a streak pic—Dalton half in the frame, sleepy face, bedhead, a dumb caption: monday murders me bro.

Sam exhaled. Okay. Cool. Normal.

⸻

Work was also normal.

Dalton showed up late as usual, coffee in one hand, breakfast burrito in the other, mumbling something about traffic and insomnia.

They bantered like always. Teased the intern. Made dumb jokes. Nothing about last night came up. Not even a loaded glance. Sam half expected something…a smirk, a comment, anything. But no. Dalton was just…Dalton.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Sam was starting to believe maybe they both silently agreed to pretend it never happened.

⸻

That night, Sam made dinner, half-watched his show while doomscrolling, and eventually shut it all down.

He climbed into bed, slid under the covers, and pulled out his phone. A few taps later and he had porn going. Just a regular couple having pretty normal looking sex. It wasn’t studio quality, but it was intense and passionate and got his cock hard.

Sam settled in, let his hand drift down—

Buzz.

Snapchat.

Dalton.

He froze. Blinked. Then tapped it open.

It was a shot of Dalton’s lap. He was in black boxer briefs, the fabric stretched just enough to show the outline of something very obviously hard. The caption read:

what you up to bro?

Sam’s pulse kicked up. He swallowed and snapped one back: just his bare legs over the blanket, skin warm-looking in the soft light.

bout to head to bed, wbu?

A reply came fast. Another photo—same as before, but the underwear was gone now. The camera was pointed slightly down so his cock wasn’t in view, but Dalton’s bare thighs were exposed, spread just enough to show he was naked.

same…after

Sam’s breath caught. He shifted on the bed, still fully hard. He lifted the phone again, angled it a little higher, showing his lower stomach now, his trimmed pubes. the edge of his hand subtly holding onto his unseen dick.

after what? he sent.

There was a pause. A longer one. Sam could practically feel his own heart thudding in his ears.

Then the snap came through.

Dalton’s cock—hard, thick, resting against his stomach. No caption. Just him, bold as hell.

Sam stared at it.

Then licked his lips.

Then he began to stroke himself again.

He exhaled slowly, then positioned the camera again. He adjusted the angle, shifted his hips so his cock curved up against his stomach, and took the shot—hand resting low, fingers just brushing his base. Sent it.

same lol

Almost immediately, Dalton replied.

fuck dude you look good like that

Sam grinned to himself, biting his lip. His hand started moving again, slow strokes as the porn played quietly on his phone. But his thumbs kept switching his phone back to Snapchat. Waiting.

Another buzz.

This time, a video.

He opened it—Dalton’s hand gripping a black fleshlight, sliding over his cock. The kind with the pussy on the end. His abs were tight, his thighs flexing. The motion was smooth, practiced. He let out a little grunt near the end of the clip.

Sam swallowed. “Holy shit…” he said aloud.

He sent back a short vid of his own strokes, breathing heavier now. Then texted:

you’ve got a toy??

always wanted to try one lol

Dalton replied:

shit’s legit bro. way better than my hand.

Sam was flushed now, wrist moving faster. He shot back:

how’s she feel?

Dalton answered with:

tight. warm. wet. like real pussy

Sam groaned softly and typed:

show me bro

Dalton sent another clip—this time longer. Zooming in on where his cock was penetrating the plastic pussy. He was moaning now, voice soft but unfiltered. His hips moved up into the toy, and at one point he let out, “fuck yeah…”

Sam was leaking at this point, jerking faster, totally into it. He thumbed a response:

damn. This is turning me the fuck on

Buzz.

An incoming video call.

Dalton’s calling.

Sam stared at the screen. His thumb hovered.

One ring. Two. Three.

He tapped accept.

The screen lit up. Dalton had the phone propped up in front of him. Full view of his naked body. He was lying back against his pillows, the fleshlight still gripped in one hand. His eyes were a little hazy, lips parted. “Hey,” he said, like they were just talking about weekend plans.

Sam laughed softly, breath shaky. “Hey.”

They just looked at each other for a second—two guys, naked, hard, connected by a phone screen and a shared secret.

Dalton was the first to break the silence. “Let’s keep going.”

Sam angled the phone down slowly, revealing his stomach, then his hand stroking slow over his cock.

Dalton bit his lip. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, voice low. “You gonna finish with me this time?”

Dalton grinned. “Keep talkin’ dirty, man. That shit got me close.”

Sam smirked, angling the phone between his thighs, letting Dalton see every stroke. “That toy still feeling good?”

Dalton nodded, flexing his hips for emphasis. “Feels so damn good.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice dropped. “What’s she feel like right now?”

Dalton moaned, eyes fluttering. “Tight…warm…grippin’ me just right. Like she doesn’t wanna let go.”

“Fuck…” Sam’s grip tightened. “Bet she’s soaked. All that lube makin’ her sloppy.”

Dalton looked down at himself, then back up with a crooked grin. “She’s drippin’, bro.”

Sam’s hand sped up, breath catching. “Wish I could hear the sounds it’s makin’. Hear you fuckin’ her for real.”

Dalton moved the phone closer to the action, the slick wet squelch coming through the mic. Sam groaned.

“That shit’s filthy,” he breathed.

Dalton licked his lips, watching Sam stroke. “Bet your cock would feel good in this.”

Sam let out a sharp exhale. “Yeah? You gonna hold it for me while I fuck it?”

“Hell yeah I would,” Dalton said. “I’d watch it stretch for you. Watch you destroy this pussy.”

Sam moaned deep in his throat, wrist working faster. “You’d really let me use your toy?”

Dalton’s grin was wild now, flushed and horny. “Only if you cum in it.”

That nearly tipped Sam over the edge.

His voice cracked slightly. “Fuck, I’m so close…”

Dalton’s voice dropped into a growl. “You gonna cum for me, bro?”

Sam nodded fast, chest heaving. “Yeah…yeah, keep talkin’…”

Dalton pushed his hips into the toy harder. “Stroke that fat cock for me. Let me see it throb. Shoot that load, man.”

Sam was panting now, totally lost in it. “God, that pussy’s so tight—wish I could feel it—fuck, I’d wreck it—”

“Yeah you would,” Dalton groaned. “Do it. Cum for me, bro. Cum. Right now.”

Sam gasped—his back arched slightly, hand flying over his shaft. “Fuuuck—Dalton—I’m—”

He came hard, stomach clenching, breath ragged as his load spilled across his abs and hand. He barely kept the camera steady, letting Dalton see the aftershocks pulse through him.

Dalton was right behind him.

“Shit—fuckin’ hell—” he groaned, jerking faster into the toy. His face twisted, muscles tight, until he let out a low, raw moan and went still. Sam watched as Dalton’s abs tightened, his thighs flexed—and then he slumped back, boneless.

Silence.

Just the sound of breathing. Heavy, spent.

Dalton finally looked up, a grin tugging at his lips. “Well…I wasn’t planning on that.”

Sam laughed softly, wiping his chest with the edge of the blanket. “Me either.”

They just stayed like that for a few seconds—two guys, post-nut, still naked, a weird buzz of electricity in the air between them.

Dalton broke the silence first. “You ever gonna stop turning me on?”

Sam smirked. “Not if you keep sending me shit like that.”

Dalton laughed, rubbing his face. “Shit… we might be in trouble.”

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

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[Hungteen06]

My huge cock

 

[JaxxStories]

Part 3:

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

_________

Sam woke to sunlight creeping through the blinds and the faint buzz of a notification on his nightstand. Groggy, he grabbed his phone and blinked blearily at the screen.

Snapchat — Dalton

He opened it.

Dalton’s thick morning wood, pushing up beneath his boxers, tenting them shamelessly. The caption read:

got a lil problem this morning lol

Sam laughed, rubbing his eyes. Guy’s getting bolder by the day. But it was funny. And weirdly…comforting. Normal, almost.

He rolled back his blanket and snapped one of his own—matching angle, matching wood, same kind of sleepy hardness.

same lol

⸻

Work was mostly how it always is. Mundane. Boring. But there was a fresh new level of fun with Dalton that added to the day.

There were a few loaded glances. A few smirks. During lunch, Dalton slid past Sam in the break room and muttered, “Last night was fun.”

Sam just grinned and sipped his coffee like it was nothing.

Later, across the office, Dalton caught his eye and made an exaggerated jerk-off motion under the desk with a raised eyebrow. Sam nearly choked on his water, flipping him off while trying not to laugh. “Idiot,” he mouthed.

Around 4:30, Dalton strolled over to Sam’s desk, casual as ever.

“Beer after work?” he asked. “Couple guys, end of the day, celebrating how productive we weren’t.”

Sam leaned back in his chair. He already knew where this would probably end up. But he also knew he wanted to go.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “First round’s on you.”

They hit up a local bar near their office…dim lights, good music, lots of pretty women and opportunities.

They flirted. A lot.

Dalton bought drinks for a pair of brunettes at the bar and got a kiss on the cheek from both before they pranced away. Sam danced with a curvy blonde who grabbed his belt loops and pulled him close. By the second chorus of a slow-burning pop remix, Sam was hard in his jeans and letting her grind against it. He pressed his hard bulge into her ass as she danced back on him. They both knew what they were doing, but neither stopped until the song was over and she went back to her friends.

Somewhere around midnight, both Sam & Dalton ended up back at their table, empty-handed and buzzed.

“Well,” Dalton said, slouching in his seat with a lazy grin, “so much for that.”

Sam laughed. “Your game’s rusty.”

Dalton raised a brow. “My game? You were the one dry humping to a Dua Lipa song and still couldn’t seal the deal.”

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, still smiling.

Dalton leaned in a bit. “Come back to mine? We can have one more drink and smash some Mario Kart.”

Sam hesitated for maybe two seconds. He already knew what else might be on the table.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

⸻

Dalton’s place was the usual for a late 20’s straight guy: messy, lived-in, comfortable. Clothes on the floor. Dishes in the sink. A game controller under the couch.

Sam was halfway through pouring bourbon over ice when Dalton vanished down the hall. When he came back, he was in just his boxer briefs.

“No pants night,” Dalton announced, plopping down on the couch. “You’re welcome to match the vibe.”

Sam snorted. “You serious?”

Dalton gestured at him with his glass. “Come on, man. Get comfortable.”

Sam shrugged, kicked off his shoes, and peeled off his jeans, flopping back beside him in his t-shirt and briefs. “Better?”

Dalton clinked their glasses together. “Much.”

They sipped, the TV glowing with the game menu. Sam took a long pull, letting the bourbon settle in his chest.

Dalton glanced over. “So…you more of a stepmom stuck in the dryer kind of guy or like busty teen bukkake?”

Sam snorted. “We really doing this?”

Dalton shrugged, grinning. “We’re already in our underwear together. Might as well compare notes.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t know…depends on the mood. Big fan of threesomes lately.”

Dalton smirked. “Course you are.”

“You?”

“Lesbian turns bi. Or bored housewife fucks the pool boy kinda deal. Real dramatic shit.”

They both chuckled, warm and loose, legs sprawled, knees occasionally bumping. Somewhere during the conversation, Sam’s hand drifted lazily over the front of his briefs. He didn’t mean to, not at first…but he was chubbing up again, and he could feel the buzz of energy crackling between them like it had the past few nights.

Dalton adjusted himself, clearly half-hard too. He noticed Sam noticing and didn’t stop. Just grinned.

“Talking about porn gets you going, huh?”

Sam looked at him, hand still low. “Apparently.”

Dalton stretched one leg out and casually squeezed himself through the fabric. “Same.”

They didn’t make a move yet. Just stayed there—two dudes on a couch in their underwear, half-hard, drinking, watching the screen scroll idly by.

They both knew where this was heading.

They were on their second drink now. The game was paused, neither of them paying attention.

Dalton took a sip, eyes flicking to Sam. “You ever play Truth or Dare?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. In seventh grade.”

Dalton smirked. “So that’s a yes.”

“I’m not twelve, man.”

“Exactly. So let’s play like adults.”

Sam raised a brow. “And what does that mean?”

Dalton leaned back, grin lazy. “Truth or Dare, but with alcohol and adult shit.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Adult shit? You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re scared.”

Sam stared at him. “I’m not scared.”

“Then pick. Truth or Dare.”

Sam sighed and took a long sip. “Truth.”

Dalton barely paused. “What’s your body count?”

Sam blinked. “Jesus, you don’t ease into it, do you?”

“Nope.”

Sam shrugged. “Six if we’re only counting full penetration.”

Dalton whistled. “Damn. Look at you.”

“Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam grinned. “Take a shot.”

Dalton rolled his eyes but poured himself a shot and knocked it back like a pro. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me Sammy?”

“Shut the hell up. My turn,” Sam said. “Dare.”

Dalton’s eyes gleamed. “Okay. You’ve gotta spend the rest of the game naked.”

Sam froze, halfway through a sip. “That’s a big jump from a shot.”

Dalton smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a pussy?”

Sam snorted. “You’re such a dick.”

“Still waiting, bro.”

Sam muttered something under his breath, then stood. He peeled off his shirt, then slowly pushed down his briefs, letting them drop to the floor. He sat back down naked, cock half-hard from the buzz and the attention.

Dalton raised his glass in approval. “Nice.”

“Your turn,” Sam said flatly.

“Dare.”

Sam smirked. “Same thing”

Dalton stood without hesitation and stripped bare, tossing his underwear over the back of the couch before flopping down beside Sam, just as naked. “Now we’re even.”

Sam laughed, but his eyes flicked downward before snapping back to the TV. His cock twitched, and he knew Dalton noticed.

Dalton grinned. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Dalton pointed to the TV. “Put on two minutes of porn. Try not to get hard.”

Sam looked down at his semi-hard cock. “Too late for that.”

“Then it’s already a fail.”

Sam chuckled, then pulled up a site on the smart TV. A moaning blonde filled the screen, riding a ripped, tatted guy like her life depended on it.

Dalton let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s a good pick.”

They both watched in silence for a moment. The sounds from the TV filled the room.

Sam’s cock thickened slowly in his lap. “Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam’s voice dropped. “Thirty seconds of jerking. Timer starts…now.”

Dalton grinned, gripped his shaft, and started slow strokes. “This game’s starting to feel like a trap.”

Sam just watched him, mesmerized. “You complaining?”

Dalton moaned quietly. “Not even a little.”

Thirty seconds passed. “Time,” Sam said, his own hand drifting lower now.

They didn’t really declare the next round. The game dissolved between them. The porn was still playing on the screen. Sam grabbed his cock, stroking lazily. Dalton mirrored him, both of them now leaning back into the couch, openly jerking off just feet apart.

Dalton glanced at him, flushed and hard. “So much for Truth or Dare.”

Sam licked his lips. “Yeah. Think we skipped to the final round.”

Dalton’s voice was low and hoarse. “What’s that?”

Sam glanced at the screen, then at Dalton, still stroking. “Dare. Finish together.”

Dalton nodded, fist moving faster now. “Fuck yeah.”

Side by side on the couch, porn echoing through the room, drinks forgotten, dares long behind them—just two guys, fully hard, totally exposed, jerking off like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sam glanced down, both their hands still working, and couldn’t help but notice the differences now that they were this close.

Dalton’s cock was a little shorter than his, not by a lot, maybe six inches hard, but much thicker, with a pronounced head still half-hidden by his foreskin. Uncut, it moved differently in his hand—slicker, more fluid. Sam watched it twitch each time Dalton stroked down, skin bunching and gliding back over the crown.

Sam’s own was a little longer, closer to seven inches, straight and a little thicker at the base. Cut, the head was exposed and flushed pink, a shade darker than his skin tone. A faint vein curled along the left side, pulsing faintly with each beat of his heart.

Side by side, it was impossible not to compare—Dalton more lean and subtle, Sam thicker and blunt. Different, but both undeniably hard and leaking.

Dalton caught him looking and smirked. “What?” he asked, still stroking.

Sam shrugged, a little breathless. “Just didn’t know we were packing such different models.”

Dalton chuckled, squeezing himself near the base. “European trim,” he said with a wink. “More sensitive, or so I’ve heard.”

Sam grinned, lazily matching his rhythm. “Mine’s the classic American upgrade. Standard issue.”

They both laughed. Then Dalton stood up.

“Hold on,” he muttered, already halfway down the hall.

Sam blinked, confused, cock still in hand. He watched as Dalton’s plump bubble butt bounced with each step and got further away before turning into his room.

Dalton came back carrying something. Small, cylindrical, discreet—but unmistakable.

Sam sat up a little straighter. “Is that what I think it is?”

Dalton grinned and held it up. “The real MVP.”

He sat back down…closer this time. Legs touching.

Sam looked at it, then at him. “You’re just gonna bring that out mid-session?”

Dalton shrugged. “Thought you wanted to try it?”

Sam swallowed, nodding slowly.

Dalton handed it over, their fingers brushing.

Sam turned the toy in his hands, a little nervous but mostly curious. It was soft, heavy, the moisture at the base signifying it was slick already. “Damn, you already lubed it too?”

“That’s not lube. That’s cum. And I guess a little bit of leftover lube too.” Dalton said laughing. He leaned back, watching with interest. “Go on.”

Sam positioned it, heart racing, and pushed in.

His whole body jerked. “Oh shit.”

Dalton laughed, eyes wide. “That good?”

“Dude.” Sam closed his eyes, thrusting gently. “It’s insane. Warm. Tight. Holy fuck. Your cum makes it feel…” He started moaning softly, hips rolling. The couch creaked beneath them.

Dalton watched him with a grin, elbow propped on the back cushion like he was watching a live sex show…which he was.

Sam went at it for another minute, breathing hard—then suddenly pulled out and let the toy rest in his lap.

“Shit,” he panted. “Got too close. Didn’t wanna finish yet.”

Dalton’s brows lifted, amused. “Quitting early?”

Sam smirked, flushed. “Pacing myself.”

But Dalton reached over, casually picked the toy back up, and slid it over Sam’s cock again without asking.

Sam gasped. “Dude—”

Dalton started pumping it. Smooth, steady strokes. Their legs pressed together. Sam’s arm, unsure of what to do, settled across Dalton’s shoulders—part balance, part instinct.

He moaned deeper now, his forehead tipping forward.

Dalton’s voice was low, teasing. “Still wanna pace yourself?”

Sam just breathed through gritted teeth. “Fuck…”

They stayed like that for a few minutes—Dalton stroking the toy over him, Sam holding onto him, hips twitching, mind spinning. The porn faded into background noise compared to the wet, rhythmic sounds between them.

Then Dalton slowed. Pulled the toy off.

“My turn,” he said.

Sam watched, still catching his breath, as Dalton slipped it onto his own cock and started stroking. He let out a sharp breath, his abs tightening as his hips moved.

Then Dalton’s free hand slid over and wrapped around Sam’s cock again, this time without the toy as a barrier.

Sam froze for half a second.

But the touch was firm and confident.

And it felt good.

Really good.

Sam groaned, low in his chest. “You’re stroking my dick bro.”

Dalton didn’t stop. “You complaining?”

Sam bit his lip. “No.”

This was new, and weird, and hot as hell.

Dalton’s strokes slowed, his grip lingering around the base of Sam’s cock like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Then, without looking away from Sam, Dalton asked, “You think we could both fit?”

Sam blinked. “In the toy? I don’t know, it’s pretty tight. You think we could?”

Dalton gave a half-smile. “Only one way to find out.”

There was a pause…an electric mix between a joke and a challenge. Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs, but his body moved before he overthought it.

He shifted, lifting one leg over Dalton’s lap, straddling him with a hesitant breath. Their bodies brushed—hips, thighs, cocks already slick and close.

“Dude…” Dalton murmured.

Sam looked down, positioning himself, then met Dalton’s eyes. “Line it up.”

Dalton held the toy steady. Sam guided himself in first, then leaned forward slightly, holding it while Dalton shifted his hips and began to press in.

There was a second of pressure. Warmth. Contact.

Then both of them groaned at once—half from shock, half from the sheer absurd, overwhelming intensity of it.

It didn’t matter that it was snug, or awkward, or that their bodies were pressed so close together.

Dalton’s hands settled on Sam’s hips, gripping tight. Sam braced himself on Dalton’s shoulders. The toy moved slowly between them, their cocks pressed together inside it.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “You feel that?”

Dalton’s voice was rough. “Yeah. I fucking feel it.”

Their foreheads touched and they both humped into the plastic pussy holding their cocks together. And for a long, breathless stretch, nothing existed but shared breath and friction and the throb of their cocks.

The toy moved between them, tight and slick and almost too much. Sam’s thighs were burning from holding himself steady, his whole body tense, heart hammering in his chest. Every shift of Dalton’s hips sent a shockwave through him.

They were panting now. Touching everywhere. Sam’s forehead resting against Dalton’s, their cocks pressed together inside that snug sleeve, working in rhythm—slow, grinding friction that made them both leak.

Sam groaned through clenched teeth. “Gonna—fuck, man—”

Dalton’s breath hitched. “Me too—just—don’t stop.”

Their bodies locked. Hips driving forward in sync, sloppy and desperate.

Then their orgasms hit—first Sam, then immediately after, Dalton. Sam’s vision tunneled as the pressure finally snapped and everything washed through him at once—heat, relief, and the terrifying thrill of release next to another guy. With another guy. His cum gushed out, costing the inside of the toy and his friend’s cock.

Dalton was shaking underneath him, holding on just as tight. As soon as he felt Sam’s load, he was shooting just as much, if not more. Their combined loads seeping out the bottom of the pussy, coating their balls in their fluid.

Neither of them spoke, not at first. Just the sound of heavy breathing, the toy still trapped between them, filled now, still warm and sticky.

Sam slowly peeled himself off, collapsing beside Dalton on the couch, spent and dazed. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Dalton exhaled a laugh, low and a little breathless. “You’re welcome.”

Sam didn’t respond. He just stared at the ceiling, muscles twitching as the high faded.

And then the thoughts started to creep in. What the hell did I just do? Why did I like it that much? Why did I straddled him?

Dalton must’ve noticed the silence, or maybe the tension in his shoulders, because he turned his head and looked at him.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Don’t start spiraling, bro.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out. His brain was a mess.

Dalton nudged him with a foot. “It was just fun. You and me messing around. No pressure. No weirdness.”

Sam finally glanced over at him. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

Dalton shrugged. “Only if you make it weird.”

That got a small, dry laugh out of Sam.

They both sat there for a while, cooling off in the dim room with the TV still playing faint moans in the background. Eventually, they cleaned up without speaking much and Sam pulled his clothes back on—underwear, jeans, shirt.

Dalton walked him to the door like it was just another hangout.

Sam lingered on the threshold, one hand on the knob, the other shoved in his pocket.

“You sure we’re good?” he asked.

Dalton gave him a lopsided grin. “We’re solid, man.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Cool. Alright. I’ll…see you tomorrow.”

Dalton saluted him lazily. “Don’t jerk off without me.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk. He stepped out, the night air cool against his skin.

Driving home, the post-nut clarity refused to fade. He gripped the wheel tighter than usual, windows cracked, trying to sort through what just happened. It was just bros messing around, right?

Then why did it feel so much better than any other sexual experience he’d ever had?

And why was he already wondering if—and when—it might happen again?

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[nyf_04]

i need the next part pleaseee

Part 3:

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

_________

Sam woke to sunlight creeping through the blinds and the faint buzz of a notification on his nightstand. Groggy, he grabbed his phone and blinked blearily at the screen.

Snapchat — Dalton

He opened it.

Dalton’s thick morning wood, pushing up beneath his boxers, tenting them shamelessly. The caption read:

got a lil problem this morning lol

Sam laughed, rubbing his eyes. Guy’s getting bolder by the day. But it was funny. And weirdly…comforting. Normal, almost.

He rolled back his blanket and snapped one of his own—matching angle, matching wood, same kind of sleepy hardness.

same lol

⸻

Work was mostly how it always is. Mundane. Boring. But there was a fresh new level of fun with Dalton that added to the day.

There were a few loaded glances. A few smirks. During lunch, Dalton slid past Sam in the break room and muttered, “Last night was fun.”

Sam just grinned and sipped his coffee like it was nothing.

Later, across the office, Dalton caught his eye and made an exaggerated jerk-off motion under the desk with a raised eyebrow. Sam nearly choked on his water, flipping him off while trying not to laugh. “Idiot,” he mouthed.

Around 4:30, Dalton strolled over to Sam’s desk, casual as ever.

“Beer after work?” he asked. “Couple guys, end of the day, celebrating how productive we weren’t.”

Sam leaned back in his chair. He already knew where this would probably end up. But he also knew he wanted to go.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “First round’s on you.”

They hit up a local bar near their office…dim lights, good music, lots of pretty women and opportunities.

They flirted. A lot.

Dalton bought drinks for a pair of brunettes at the bar and got a kiss on the cheek from both before they pranced away. Sam danced with a curvy blonde who grabbed his belt loops and pulled him close. By the second chorus of a slow-burning pop remix, Sam was hard in his jeans and letting her grind against it. He pressed his hard bulge into her ass as she danced back on him. They both knew what they were doing, but neither stopped until the song was over and she went back to her friends.

Somewhere around midnight, both Sam & Dalton ended up back at their table, empty-handed and buzzed.

“Well,” Dalton said, slouching in his seat with a lazy grin, “so much for that.”

Sam laughed. “Your game’s rusty.”

Dalton raised a brow. “My game? You were the one dry humping to a Dua Lipa song and still couldn’t seal the deal.”

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, still smiling.

Dalton leaned in a bit. “Come back to mine? We can have one more drink and smash some Mario Kart.”

Sam hesitated for maybe two seconds. He already knew what else might be on the table.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

⸻

Dalton’s place was the usual for a late 20’s straight guy: messy, lived-in, comfortable. Clothes on the floor. Dishes in the sink. A game controller under the couch.

Sam was halfway through pouring bourbon over ice when Dalton vanished down the hall. When he came back, he was in just his boxer briefs.

“No pants night,” Dalton announced, plopping down on the couch. “You’re welcome to match the vibe.”

Sam snorted. “You serious?”

Dalton gestured at him with his glass. “Come on, man. Get comfortable.”

Sam shrugged, kicked off his shoes, and peeled off his jeans, flopping back beside him in his t-shirt and briefs. “Better?”

Dalton clinked their glasses together. “Much.”

They sipped, the TV glowing with the game menu. Sam took a long pull, letting the bourbon settle in his chest.

Dalton glanced over. “So…you more of a stepmom stuck in the dryer kind of guy or like busty teen bukkake?”

Sam snorted. “We really doing this?”

Dalton shrugged, grinning. “We’re already in our underwear together. Might as well compare notes.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t know…depends on the mood. Big fan of threesomes lately.”

Dalton smirked. “Course you are.”

“You?”

“Lesbian turns bi. Or bored housewife fucks the pool boy kinda deal. Real dramatic shit.”

They both chuckled, warm and loose, legs sprawled, knees occasionally bumping. Somewhere during the conversation, Sam’s hand drifted lazily over the front of his briefs. He didn’t mean to, not at first…but he was chubbing up again, and he could feel the buzz of energy crackling between them like it had the past few nights.

Dalton adjusted himself, clearly half-hard too. He noticed Sam noticing and didn’t stop. Just grinned.

“Talking about porn gets you going, huh?”

Sam looked at him, hand still low. “Apparently.”

Dalton stretched one leg out and casually squeezed himself through the fabric. “Same.”

They didn’t make a move yet. Just stayed there—two dudes on a couch in their underwear, half-hard, drinking, watching the screen scroll idly by.

They both knew where this was heading.

They were on their second drink now. The game was paused, neither of them paying attention.

Dalton took a sip, eyes flicking to Sam. “You ever play Truth or Dare?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. In seventh grade.”

Dalton smirked. “So that’s a yes.”

“I’m not twelve, man.”

“Exactly. So let’s play like adults.”

Sam raised a brow. “And what does that mean?”

Dalton leaned back, grin lazy. “Truth or Dare, but with alcohol and adult shit.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Adult shit? You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re scared.”

Sam stared at him. “I’m not scared.”

“Then pick. Truth or Dare.”

Sam sighed and took a long sip. “Truth.”

Dalton barely paused. “What’s your body count?”

Sam blinked. “Jesus, you don’t ease into it, do you?”

“Nope.”

Sam shrugged. “Six if we’re only counting full penetration.”

Dalton whistled. “Damn. Look at you.”

“Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam grinned. “Take a shot.”

Dalton rolled his eyes but poured himself a shot and knocked it back like a pro. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me Sammy?”

“Shut the hell up. My turn,” Sam said. “Dare.”

Dalton’s eyes gleamed. “Okay. You’ve gotta spend the rest of the game naked.”

Sam froze, halfway through a sip. “That’s a big jump from a shot.”

Dalton smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a pussy?”

Sam snorted. “You’re such a dick.”

“Still waiting, bro.”

Sam muttered something under his breath, then stood. He peeled off his shirt, then slowly pushed down his briefs, letting them drop to the floor. He sat back down naked, cock half-hard from the buzz and the attention.

Dalton raised his glass in approval. “Nice.”

“Your turn,” Sam said flatly.

“Dare.”

Sam smirked. “Same thing”

Dalton stood without hesitation and stripped bare, tossing his underwear over the back of the couch before flopping down beside Sam, just as naked. “Now we’re even.”

Sam laughed, but his eyes flicked downward before snapping back to the TV. His cock twitched, and he knew Dalton noticed.

Dalton grinned. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Dalton pointed to the TV. “Put on two minutes of porn. Try not to get hard.”

Sam looked down at his semi-hard cock. “Too late for that.”

“Then it’s already a fail.”

Sam chuckled, then pulled up a site on the smart TV. A moaning blonde filled the screen, riding a ripped, tatted guy like her life depended on it.

Dalton let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s a good pick.”

They both watched in silence for a moment. The sounds from the TV filled the room.

Sam’s cock thickened slowly in his lap. “Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam’s voice dropped. “Thirty seconds of jerking. Timer starts…now.”

Dalton grinned, gripped his shaft, and started slow strokes. “This game’s starting to feel like a trap.”

Sam just watched him, mesmerized. “You complaining?”

Dalton moaned quietly. “Not even a little.”

Thirty seconds passed. “Time,” Sam said, his own hand drifting lower now.

They didn’t really declare the next round. The game dissolved between them. The porn was still playing on the screen. Sam grabbed his cock, stroking lazily. Dalton mirrored him, both of them now leaning back into the couch, openly jerking off just feet apart.

Dalton glanced at him, flushed and hard. “So much for Truth or Dare.”

Sam licked his lips. “Yeah. Think we skipped to the final round.”

Dalton’s voice was low and hoarse. “What’s that?”

Sam glanced at the screen, then at Dalton, still stroking. “Dare. Finish together.”

Dalton nodded, fist moving faster now. “Fuck yeah.”

Side by side on the couch, porn echoing through the room, drinks forgotten, dares long behind them—just two guys, fully hard, totally exposed, jerking off like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sam glanced down, both their hands still working, and couldn’t help but notice the differences now that they were this close.

Dalton’s cock was a little shorter than his, not by a lot, maybe six inches hard, but much thicker, with a pronounced head still half-hidden by his foreskin. Uncut, it moved differently in his hand—slicker, more fluid. Sam watched it twitch each time Dalton stroked down, skin bunching and gliding back over the crown.

Sam’s own was a little longer, closer to seven inches, straight and a little thicker at the base. Cut, the head was exposed and flushed pink, a shade darker than his skin tone. A faint vein curled along the left side, pulsing faintly with each beat of his heart.

Side by side, it was impossible not to compare—Dalton more lean and subtle, Sam thicker and blunt. Different, but both undeniably hard and leaking.

Dalton caught him looking and smirked. “What?” he asked, still stroking.

Sam shrugged, a little breathless. “Just didn’t know we were packing such different models.”

Dalton chuckled, squeezing himself near the base. “European trim,” he said with a wink. “More sensitive, or so I’ve heard.”

Sam grinned, lazily matching his rhythm. “Mine’s the classic American upgrade. Standard issue.”

They both laughed. Then Dalton stood up.

“Hold on,” he muttered, already halfway down the hall.

Sam blinked, confused, cock still in hand. He watched as Dalton’s plump bubble butt bounced with each step and got further away before turning into his room.

Dalton came back carrying something. Small, cylindrical, discreet—but unmistakable.

Sam sat up a little straighter. “Is that what I think it is?”

Dalton grinned and held it up. “The real MVP.”

He sat back down…closer this time. Legs touching.

Sam looked at it, then at him. “You’re just gonna bring that out mid-session?”

Dalton shrugged. “Thought you wanted to try it?”

Sam swallowed, nodding slowly.

Dalton handed it over, their fingers brushing.

Sam turned the toy in his hands, a little nervous but mostly curious. It was soft, heavy, the moisture at the base signifying it was slick already. “Damn, you already lubed it too?”

“That’s not lube. That’s cum. And I guess a little bit of leftover lube too.” Dalton said laughing. He leaned back, watching with interest. “Go on.”

Sam positioned it, heart racing, and pushed in.

His whole body jerked. “Oh shit.”

Dalton laughed, eyes wide. “That good?”

“Dude.” Sam closed his eyes, thrusting gently. “It’s insane. Warm. Tight. Holy fuck. Your cum makes it feel…” He started moaning softly, hips rolling. The couch creaked beneath them.

Dalton watched him with a grin, elbow propped on the back cushion like he was watching a live sex show…which he was.

Sam went at it for another minute, breathing hard—then suddenly pulled out and let the toy rest in his lap.

“Shit,” he panted. “Got too close. Didn’t wanna finish yet.”

Dalton’s brows lifted, amused. “Quitting early?”

Sam smirked, flushed. “Pacing myself.”

But Dalton reached over, casually picked the toy back up, and slid it over Sam’s cock again without asking.

Sam gasped. “Dude—”

Dalton started pumping it. Smooth, steady strokes. Their legs pressed together. Sam’s arm, unsure of what to do, settled across Dalton’s shoulders—part balance, part instinct.

He moaned deeper now, his forehead tipping forward.

Dalton’s voice was low, teasing. “Still wanna pace yourself?”

Sam just breathed through gritted teeth. “Fuck…”

They stayed like that for a few minutes—Dalton stroking the toy over him, Sam holding onto him, hips twitching, mind spinning. The porn faded into background noise compared to the wet, rhythmic sounds between them.

Then Dalton slowed. Pulled the toy off.

“My turn,” he said.

Sam watched, still catching his breath, as Dalton slipped it onto his own cock and started stroking. He let out a sharp breath, his abs tightening as his hips moved.

Then Dalton’s free hand slid over and wrapped around Sam’s cock again, this time without the toy as a barrier.

Sam froze for half a second.

But the touch was firm and confident.

And it felt good.

Really good.

Sam groaned, low in his chest. “You’re stroking my dick bro.”

Dalton didn’t stop. “You complaining?”

Sam bit his lip. “No.”

This was new, and weird, and hot as hell.

Dalton’s strokes slowed, his grip lingering around the base of Sam’s cock like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Then, without looking away from Sam, Dalton asked, “You think we could both fit?”

Sam blinked. “In the toy? I don’t know, it’s pretty tight. You think we could?”

Dalton gave a half-smile. “Only one way to find out.”

There was a pause…an electric mix between a joke and a challenge. Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs, but his body moved before he overthought it.

He shifted, lifting one leg over Dalton’s lap, straddling him with a hesitant breath. Their bodies brushed—hips, thighs, cocks already slick and close.

“Dude…” Dalton murmured.

Sam looked down, positioning himself, then met Dalton’s eyes. “Line it up.”

Dalton held the toy steady. Sam guided himself in first, then leaned forward slightly, holding it while Dalton shifted his hips and began to press in.

There was a second of pressure. Warmth. Contact.

Then both of them groaned at once—half from shock, half from the sheer absurd, overwhelming intensity of it.

It didn’t matter that it was snug, or awkward, or that their bodies were pressed so close together.

Dalton’s hands settled on Sam’s hips, gripping tight. Sam braced himself on Dalton’s shoulders. The toy moved slowly between them, their cocks pressed together inside it.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “You feel that?”

Dalton’s voice was rough. “Yeah. I fucking feel it.”

Their foreheads touched and they both humped into the plastic pussy holding their cocks together. And for a long, breathless stretch, nothing existed but shared breath and friction and the throb of their cocks.

The toy moved between them, tight and slick and almost too much. Sam’s thighs were burning from holding himself steady, his whole body tense, heart hammering in his chest. Every shift of Dalton’s hips sent a shockwave through him.

They were panting now. Touching everywhere. Sam’s forehead resting against Dalton’s, their cocks pressed together inside that snug sleeve, working in rhythm—slow, grinding friction that made them both leak.

Sam groaned through clenched teeth. “Gonna—fuck, man—”

Dalton’s breath hitched. “Me too—just—don’t stop.”

Their bodies locked. Hips driving forward in sync, sloppy and desperate.

Then their orgasms hit—first Sam, then immediately after, Dalton. Sam’s vision tunneled as the pressure finally snapped and everything washed through him at once—heat, relief, and the terrifying thrill of release next to another guy. With another guy. His cum gushed out, costing the inside of the toy and his friend’s cock.

Dalton was shaking underneath him, holding on just as tight. As soon as he felt Sam’s load, he was shooting just as much, if not more. Their combined loads seeping out the bottom of the pussy, coating their balls in their fluid.

Neither of them spoke, not at first. Just the sound of heavy breathing, the toy still trapped between them, filled now, still warm and sticky.

Sam slowly peeled himself off, collapsing beside Dalton on the couch, spent and dazed. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Dalton exhaled a laugh, low and a little breathless. “You’re welcome.”

Sam didn’t respond. He just stared at the ceiling, muscles twitching as the high faded.

And then the thoughts started to creep in. What the hell did I just do? Why did I like it that much? Why did I straddled him?

Dalton must’ve noticed the silence, or maybe the tension in his shoulders, because he turned his head and looked at him.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Don’t start spiraling, bro.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out. His brain was a mess.

Dalton nudged him with a foot. “It was just fun. You and me messing around. No pressure. No weirdness.”

Sam finally glanced over at him. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

Dalton shrugged. “Only if you make it weird.”

That got a small, dry laugh out of Sam.

They both sat there for a while, cooling off in the dim room with the TV still playing faint moans in the background. Eventually, they cleaned up without speaking much and Sam pulled his clothes back on—underwear, jeans, shirt.

Dalton walked him to the door like it was just another hangout.

Sam lingered on the threshold, one hand on the knob, the other shoved in his pocket.

“You sure we’re good?” he asked.

Dalton gave him a lopsided grin. “We’re solid, man.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Cool. Alright. I’ll…see you tomorrow.”

Dalton saluted him lazily. “Don’t jerk off without me.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk. He stepped out, the night air cool against his skin.

Driving home, the post-nut clarity refused to fade. He gripped the wheel tighter than usual, windows cracked, trying to sort through what just happened. It was just bros messing around, right?

Then why did it feel so much better than any other sexual experience he’d ever had?

And why was he already wondering if—and when—it might happen again?

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[Khawaja]

Part 3:

Sam raised a brow. “Trouble?”

“Yeah,” Dalton said, still smiling. “We need an in person session next time.”

_________

Sam woke to sunlight creeping through the blinds and the faint buzz of a notification on his nightstand. Groggy, he grabbed his phone and blinked blearily at the screen.

Snapchat — Dalton

He opened it.

Dalton’s thick morning wood, pushing up beneath his boxers, tenting them shamelessly. The caption read:

got a lil problem this morning lol

Sam laughed, rubbing his eyes. Guy’s getting bolder by the day. But it was funny. And weirdly…comforting. Normal, almost.

He rolled back his blanket and snapped one of his own—matching angle, matching wood, same kind of sleepy hardness.

same lol

⸻

Work was mostly how it always is. Mundane. Boring. But there was a fresh new level of fun with Dalton that added to the day.

There were a few loaded glances. A few smirks. During lunch, Dalton slid past Sam in the break room and muttered, “Last night was fun.”

Sam just grinned and sipped his coffee like it was nothing.

Later, across the office, Dalton caught his eye and made an exaggerated jerk-off motion under the desk with a raised eyebrow. Sam nearly choked on his water, flipping him off while trying not to laugh. “Idiot,” he mouthed.

Around 4:30, Dalton strolled over to Sam’s desk, casual as ever.

“Beer after work?” he asked. “Couple guys, end of the day, celebrating how productive we weren’t.”

Sam leaned back in his chair. He already knew where this would probably end up. But he also knew he wanted to go.

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “First round’s on you.”

They hit up a local bar near their office…dim lights, good music, lots of pretty women and opportunities.

They flirted. A lot.

Dalton bought drinks for a pair of brunettes at the bar and got a kiss on the cheek from both before they pranced away. Sam danced with a curvy blonde who grabbed his belt loops and pulled him close. By the second chorus of a slow-burning pop remix, Sam was hard in his jeans and letting her grind against it. He pressed his hard bulge into her ass as she danced back on him. They both knew what they were doing, but neither stopped until the song was over and she went back to her friends.

Somewhere around midnight, both Sam & Dalton ended up back at their table, empty-handed and buzzed.

“Well,” Dalton said, slouching in his seat with a lazy grin, “so much for that.”

Sam laughed. “Your game’s rusty.”

Dalton raised a brow. “My game? You were the one dry humping to a Dua Lipa song and still couldn’t seal the deal.”

“Shut up,” Sam muttered, still smiling.

Dalton leaned in a bit. “Come back to mine? We can have one more drink and smash some Mario Kart.”

Sam hesitated for maybe two seconds. He already knew what else might be on the table.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why not.”

⸻

Dalton’s place was the usual for a late 20’s straight guy: messy, lived-in, comfortable. Clothes on the floor. Dishes in the sink. A game controller under the couch.

Sam was halfway through pouring bourbon over ice when Dalton vanished down the hall. When he came back, he was in just his boxer briefs.

“No pants night,” Dalton announced, plopping down on the couch. “You’re welcome to match the vibe.”

Sam snorted. “You serious?”

Dalton gestured at him with his glass. “Come on, man. Get comfortable.”

Sam shrugged, kicked off his shoes, and peeled off his jeans, flopping back beside him in his t-shirt and briefs. “Better?”

Dalton clinked their glasses together. “Much.”

They sipped, the TV glowing with the game menu. Sam took a long pull, letting the bourbon settle in his chest.

Dalton glanced over. “So…you more of a stepmom stuck in the dryer kind of guy or like busty teen bukkake?”

Sam snorted. “We really doing this?”

Dalton shrugged, grinning. “We’re already in our underwear together. Might as well compare notes.”

Sam laughed. “I don’t know…depends on the mood. Big fan of threesomes lately.”

Dalton smirked. “Course you are.”

“You?”

“Lesbian turns bi. Or bored housewife fucks the pool boy kinda deal. Real dramatic shit.”

They both chuckled, warm and loose, legs sprawled, knees occasionally bumping. Somewhere during the conversation, Sam’s hand drifted lazily over the front of his briefs. He didn’t mean to, not at first…but he was chubbing up again, and he could feel the buzz of energy crackling between them like it had the past few nights.

Dalton adjusted himself, clearly half-hard too. He noticed Sam noticing and didn’t stop. Just grinned.

“Talking about porn gets you going, huh?”

Sam looked at him, hand still low. “Apparently.”

Dalton stretched one leg out and casually squeezed himself through the fabric. “Same.”

They didn’t make a move yet. Just stayed there—two dudes on a couch in their underwear, half-hard, drinking, watching the screen scroll idly by.

They both knew where this was heading.

They were on their second drink now. The game was paused, neither of them paying attention.

Dalton took a sip, eyes flicking to Sam. “You ever play Truth or Dare?”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah. In seventh grade.”

Dalton smirked. “So that’s a yes.”

“I’m not twelve, man.”

“Exactly. So let’s play like adults.”

Sam raised a brow. “And what does that mean?”

Dalton leaned back, grin lazy. “Truth or Dare, but with alcohol and adult shit.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Adult shit? You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re scared.”

Sam stared at him. “I’m not scared.”

“Then pick. Truth or Dare.”

Sam sighed and took a long sip. “Truth.”

Dalton barely paused. “What’s your body count?”

Sam blinked. “Jesus, you don’t ease into it, do you?”

“Nope.”

Sam shrugged. “Six if we’re only counting full penetration.”

Dalton whistled. “Damn. Look at you.”

“Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam grinned. “Take a shot.”

Dalton rolled his eyes but poured himself a shot and knocked it back like a pro. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me Sammy?”

“Shut the hell up. My turn,” Sam said. “Dare.”

Dalton’s eyes gleamed. “Okay. You’ve gotta spend the rest of the game naked.”

Sam froze, halfway through a sip. “That’s a big jump from a shot.”

Dalton smirked. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a pussy?”

Sam snorted. “You’re such a dick.”

“Still waiting, bro.”

Sam muttered something under his breath, then stood. He peeled off his shirt, then slowly pushed down his briefs, letting them drop to the floor. He sat back down naked, cock half-hard from the buzz and the attention.

Dalton raised his glass in approval. “Nice.”

“Your turn,” Sam said flatly.

“Dare.”

Sam smirked. “Same thing”

Dalton stood without hesitation and stripped bare, tossing his underwear over the back of the couch before flopping down beside Sam, just as naked. “Now we’re even.”

Sam laughed, but his eyes flicked downward before snapping back to the TV. His cock twitched, and he knew Dalton noticed.

Dalton grinned. “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

Dalton pointed to the TV. “Put on two minutes of porn. Try not to get hard.”

Sam looked down at his semi-hard cock. “Too late for that.”

“Then it’s already a fail.”

Sam chuckled, then pulled up a site on the smart TV. A moaning blonde filled the screen, riding a ripped, tatted guy like her life depended on it.

Dalton let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s a good pick.”

They both watched in silence for a moment. The sounds from the TV filled the room.

Sam’s cock thickened slowly in his lap. “Alright, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Sam’s voice dropped. “Thirty seconds of jerking. Timer starts…now.”

Dalton grinned, gripped his shaft, and started slow strokes. “This game’s starting to feel like a trap.”

Sam just watched him, mesmerized. “You complaining?”

Dalton moaned quietly. “Not even a little.”

Thirty seconds passed. “Time,” Sam said, his own hand drifting lower now.

They didn’t really declare the next round. The game dissolved between them. The porn was still playing on the screen. Sam grabbed his cock, stroking lazily. Dalton mirrored him, both of them now leaning back into the couch, openly jerking off just feet apart.

Dalton glanced at him, flushed and hard. “So much for Truth or Dare.”

Sam licked his lips. “Yeah. Think we skipped to the final round.”

Dalton’s voice was low and hoarse. “What’s that?”

Sam glanced at the screen, then at Dalton, still stroking. “Dare. Finish together.”

Dalton nodded, fist moving faster now. “Fuck yeah.”

Side by side on the couch, porn echoing through the room, drinks forgotten, dares long behind them—just two guys, fully hard, totally exposed, jerking off like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sam glanced down, both their hands still working, and couldn’t help but notice the differences now that they were this close.

Dalton’s cock was a little shorter than his, not by a lot, maybe six inches hard, but much thicker, with a pronounced head still half-hidden by his foreskin. Uncut, it moved differently in his hand—slicker, more fluid. Sam watched it twitch each time Dalton stroked down, skin bunching and gliding back over the crown.

Sam’s own was a little longer, closer to seven inches, straight and a little thicker at the base. Cut, the head was exposed and flushed pink, a shade darker than his skin tone. A faint vein curled along the left side, pulsing faintly with each beat of his heart.

Side by side, it was impossible not to compare—Dalton more lean and subtle, Sam thicker and blunt. Different, but both undeniably hard and leaking.

Dalton caught him looking and smirked. “What?” he asked, still stroking.

Sam shrugged, a little breathless. “Just didn’t know we were packing such different models.”

Dalton chuckled, squeezing himself near the base. “European trim,” he said with a wink. “More sensitive, or so I’ve heard.”

Sam grinned, lazily matching his rhythm. “Mine’s the classic American upgrade. Standard issue.”

They both laughed. Then Dalton stood up.

“Hold on,” he muttered, already halfway down the hall.

Sam blinked, confused, cock still in hand. He watched as Dalton’s plump bubble butt bounced with each step and got further away before turning into his room.

Dalton came back carrying something. Small, cylindrical, discreet—but unmistakable.

Sam sat up a little straighter. “Is that what I think it is?”

Dalton grinned and held it up. “The real MVP.”

He sat back down…closer this time. Legs touching.

Sam looked at it, then at him. “You’re just gonna bring that out mid-session?”

Dalton shrugged. “Thought you wanted to try it?”

Sam swallowed, nodding slowly.

Dalton handed it over, their fingers brushing.

Sam turned the toy in his hands, a little nervous but mostly curious. It was soft, heavy, the moisture at the base signifying it was slick already. “Damn, you already lubed it too?”

“That’s not lube. That’s cum. And I guess a little bit of leftover lube too.” Dalton said laughing. He leaned back, watching with interest. “Go on.”

Sam positioned it, heart racing, and pushed in.

His whole body jerked. “Oh shit.”

Dalton laughed, eyes wide. “That good?”

“Dude.” Sam closed his eyes, thrusting gently. “It’s insane. Warm. Tight. Holy fuck. Your cum makes it feel…” He started moaning softly, hips rolling. The couch creaked beneath them.

Dalton watched him with a grin, elbow propped on the back cushion like he was watching a live sex show…which he was.

Sam went at it for another minute, breathing hard—then suddenly pulled out and let the toy rest in his lap.

“Shit,” he panted. “Got too close. Didn’t wanna finish yet.”

Dalton’s brows lifted, amused. “Quitting early?”

Sam smirked, flushed. “Pacing myself.”

But Dalton reached over, casually picked the toy back up, and slid it over Sam’s cock again without asking.

Sam gasped. “Dude—”

Dalton started pumping it. Smooth, steady strokes. Their legs pressed together. Sam’s arm, unsure of what to do, settled across Dalton’s shoulders—part balance, part instinct.

He moaned deeper now, his forehead tipping forward.

Dalton’s voice was low, teasing. “Still wanna pace yourself?”

Sam just breathed through gritted teeth. “Fuck…”

They stayed like that for a few minutes—Dalton stroking the toy over him, Sam holding onto him, hips twitching, mind spinning. The porn faded into background noise compared to the wet, rhythmic sounds between them.

Then Dalton slowed. Pulled the toy off.

“My turn,” he said.

Sam watched, still catching his breath, as Dalton slipped it onto his own cock and started stroking. He let out a sharp breath, his abs tightening as his hips moved.

Then Dalton’s free hand slid over and wrapped around Sam’s cock again, this time without the toy as a barrier.

Sam froze for half a second.

But the touch was firm and confident.

And it felt good.

Really good.

Sam groaned, low in his chest. “You’re stroking my dick bro.”

Dalton didn’t stop. “You complaining?”

Sam bit his lip. “No.”

This was new, and weird, and hot as hell.

Dalton’s strokes slowed, his grip lingering around the base of Sam’s cock like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Then, without looking away from Sam, Dalton asked, “You think we could both fit?”

Sam blinked. “In the toy? I don’t know, it’s pretty tight. You think we could?”

Dalton gave a half-smile. “Only one way to find out.”

There was a pause…an electric mix between a joke and a challenge. Sam’s heart thudded against his ribs, but his body moved before he overthought it.

He shifted, lifting one leg over Dalton’s lap, straddling him with a hesitant breath. Their bodies brushed—hips, thighs, cocks already slick and close.

“Dude…” Dalton murmured.

Sam looked down, positioning himself, then met Dalton’s eyes. “Line it up.”

Dalton held the toy steady. Sam guided himself in first, then leaned forward slightly, holding it while Dalton shifted his hips and began to press in.

There was a second of pressure. Warmth. Contact.

Then both of them groaned at once—half from shock, half from the sheer absurd, overwhelming intensity of it.

It didn’t matter that it was snug, or awkward, or that their bodies were pressed so close together.

Dalton’s hands settled on Sam’s hips, gripping tight. Sam braced himself on Dalton’s shoulders. The toy moved slowly between them, their cocks pressed together inside it.

“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “You feel that?”

Dalton’s voice was rough. “Yeah. I fucking feel it.”

Their foreheads touched and they both humped into the plastic pussy holding their cocks together. And for a long, breathless stretch, nothing existed but shared breath and friction and the throb of their cocks.

The toy moved between them, tight and slick and almost too much. Sam’s thighs were burning from holding himself steady, his whole body tense, heart hammering in his chest. Every shift of Dalton’s hips sent a shockwave through him.

They were panting now. Touching everywhere. Sam’s forehead resting against Dalton’s, their cocks pressed together inside that snug sleeve, working in rhythm—slow, grinding friction that made them both leak.

Sam groaned through clenched teeth. “Gonna—fuck, man—”

Dalton’s breath hitched. “Me too—just—don’t stop.”

Their bodies locked. Hips driving forward in sync, sloppy and desperate.

Then their orgasms hit—first Sam, then immediately after, Dalton. Sam’s vision tunneled as the pressure finally snapped and everything washed through him at once—heat, relief, and the terrifying thrill of release next to another guy. With another guy. His cum gushed out, costing the inside of the toy and his friend’s cock.

Dalton was shaking underneath him, holding on just as tight. As soon as he felt Sam’s load, he was shooting just as much, if not more. Their combined loads seeping out the bottom of the pussy, coating their balls in their fluid.

Neither of them spoke, not at first. Just the sound of heavy breathing, the toy still trapped between them, filled now, still warm and sticky.

Sam slowly peeled himself off, collapsing beside Dalton on the couch, spent and dazed. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Dalton exhaled a laugh, low and a little breathless. “You’re welcome.”

Sam didn’t respond. He just stared at the ceiling, muscles twitching as the high faded.

And then the thoughts started to creep in. What the hell did I just do? Why did I like it that much? Why did I straddled him?

Dalton must’ve noticed the silence, or maybe the tension in his shoulders, because he turned his head and looked at him.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Don’t start spiraling, bro.”

Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out. His brain was a mess.

Dalton nudged him with a foot. “It was just fun. You and me messing around. No pressure. No weirdness.”

Sam finally glanced over at him. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

Dalton shrugged. “Only if you make it weird.”

That got a small, dry laugh out of Sam.

They both sat there for a while, cooling off in the dim room with the TV still playing faint moans in the background. Eventually, they cleaned up without speaking much and Sam pulled his clothes back on—underwear, jeans, shirt.

Dalton walked him to the door like it was just another hangout.

Sam lingered on the threshold, one hand on the knob, the other shoved in his pocket.

“You sure we’re good?” he asked.

Dalton gave him a lopsided grin. “We’re solid, man.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Cool. Alright. I’ll…see you tomorrow.”

Dalton saluted him lazily. “Don’t jerk off without me.”

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smirk. He stepped out, the night air cool against his skin.

Driving home, the post-nut clarity refused to fade. He gripped the wheel tighter than usual, windows cracked, trying to sort through what just happened. It was just bros messing around, right?

Then why did it feel so much better than any other sexual experience he’d ever had?

And why was he already wondering if—and when—it might happen again?

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This is my new favourite thing more parts please!!!