I was twenty-two when it happened, horny as hell and tired of jerking off alone to grainy clips on my laptop. I posted on a site that matched guys looking for the same thing: first times, no strings, just raw need. My profile said straight-curious, and I uploaded a couple pics of my cock half-hard in my fist. Within an hour a guy named Derek messaged me. His pictures showed a thick, veined dick standing straight up against his stomach, heavy balls underneath, and a lean, hairy chest. He was twenty-four, lived two towns over, and said he wanted to take more pictures together if I was down.
We traded more shots that night. I sent him one of me on my knees in front of a mirror, ass spread, hole pink and tight. He replied with a video of himself stroking slow, precum dripping down the shaft while he whispered, "Come suck this." My mouth watered. We set up a meet the next weekend at his place.
When I walked in, Derek was already shirtless, jeans open, that same cock I’d seen in pictures hanging heavy and half-hard. He didn’t waste time with small talk. “Strip,” he said. I pulled my clothes off fast, dick already leaking. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of me standing there naked, hard, nervous. “First one,” he said. “For the collection.”
He pushed me to my knees on the carpet. His cock was right in my face, thicker in person, the head shiny. “Open.” I did, and he slid in slow at first, letting me taste salt and skin. Then he gripped my hair and fucked my mouth deeper, the head hitting the back of my throat. I gagged but didn’t pull away. He took another picture from above, my lips stretched around him, spit running down my chin.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered. I climbed up on all fours like he wanted. He spread my ass and took more pictures, close-ups of my hole, then one with his finger pressing inside. It burned at first, but he worked it slow, adding lube until I was pushing back. “You want the real thing?” he asked. I nodded, voice gone.
He rolled on a condom and lined up. The first push was thick and blunt, stretching me wider than his finger. I groaned into the pillow as he sank in inch by inch until his hips were flush against my ass. He stayed still, letting me feel every pulse. Then he started moving, long, deep strokes that made my own cock swing and drip onto the sheets.
Derek fucked like he was making a movie, pulling out to snap pictures of my hole gaping around nothing before slamming back in. He flipped me onto my back, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and drove in harder. The angle hit something inside that made my balls tighten. “Stroke yourself,” he said. I wrapped a hand around my dick and jerked in time with his thrusts.
Sweat slicked our skin. He leaned down and kissed me rough, tongue pushing in while his cock kept pounding. I came first, shooting thick ropes across my stomach and chest without touching myself again. My hole clenched around him and he groaned, buried deep, pulsing as he filled the condom.
After, he pulled out slow and took one last picture: my used hole, shiny with lube, his cum leaking around the condom edge. He showed me the screen. “Looks like the real thing,” he said.
We cleaned up and lay there catching our breath. My ass was sore in the best way, and I already wanted to do it again.
Derek scrolled through the pictures on his phone and picked the best ones to keep. “Next time we’ll get video,” he said. I smiled, already hard again just thinking about it.
