Page 11 of Show Me

But it was.

I scanned the caption underneath: “Mid-party jerk. Enjoy!”

Just before the video ended, while his chest heaved from the force of his orgasm, slick with sweat and the massive load he’d just spewed over it, the camera tilted as he went to hit the Stop Recording button, and I caught a glimpse of the back of the toilet I’d been standing in front of hours earlier, complete with the gold-filigree tissue box on top.

It was definitely Sam.

3

Sam

Attending the palm prom. Beating the meat. Playing one-handed baseball. Tug-of-war with the Cyclops. Firing off knuckle children.

Whatever you wanted to call it, I had approximately twelve minutes to do it.

I speed-walked down one of the sidewalks that wound through campus, darting around disoriented freshmen and slow-moving upperclassmen in no hurry to get anywhere fast on the first day of fall semester.

I hit the Record button on my phone as I walked, keeping the camera angled down so I didn’t inadvertently capture any faces. It would be obvious by the shuffle of shoes on the sidewalk that I was out in public, though. Those were, hands down, my most popular videos and earned me the most in tips on my OnlyFans page.

Veering off the path, I headed toward an outbuilding I’d been scouting for the past two weeks as the summer semester had wound down. I always scouted before shooting, because while I was all over the extra cash, I definitely didn’t want indecent exposure on my record. All the sprints Coach had us do in practice had come in handy more than once.

The dew-damp grass tickled my ankles as I strode around the side of the little shack. I’d figured out during my covert ops that it housed a couple of riding mowers that campus maintenance usually broke out on Wednesdays. Since it was Thursday, I should be home free.

With one last glance at the sidewalk a few yards behind me, I slipped around to the backside where thick bushes stretched out to either side of the building, probably to make it look prettier.

It was perfect, though. Just enough privacy for me to do my thing while passing traffic remained visible through the tree limbs, giving my viewers the thrill factor they seemed to love. And, okay, maybe I got off on it, too. That had been one of those unexpected self-discoveries that I had absolutely no one to share with.

The rush was similar to what I felt on the football field, but with the added bonus of an orgasm.

Dropping my backpack next to the wall, I pulled my baseball cap down low and leaned my shoulder against the metal siding of the building. Then I shoved the waistband on my gym shorts down.

The first video I’d ever done had been on a whim while sitting at my desk in the dorms, and even though I’d been hard as a rock before starting, the second I’d clicked on the camera, my dick had deflated like a windsock.

Now it was an old pro, and my dick had started rising to the occasion the second I’d strayed into the grass. Hell, the buzz of voices and occasional shouts, yells, and bursts of laughter behind me got me harder. I wouldn’t have ever described myself as an exhibitionist or risk taker before, but it was funny what you could get used to—eveninto—after a while.

After pressing the button to start recording, I aimed the camera over my shoulder to give my subscribers a quick, blurry view of passersby through the trees, then aimed the phone down at my crotch as I stroked myself to full hardness.

Was it glamorous? Not particularly, but I couldn’t deny that I got a taboo thrill out of quietly getting off when there were masses of people nearby going about their business unaware.

Apparently my subscribers did, too. I’d puttered along doing solo videos in my bedroom or bathroom for a month before the whim had hit to mix it up and I ended up in a stairwell in the engineering building. The fifteen-second snippet I’d posted on Pornhub of me leaning against the stairwell railing, about to come while the door on the floor below swung open and a few students thundered downstairs, had gotten me more subscribers in twenty-four hours than I’d gotten all month with my desk chair jerks.

Closing my eyes briefly, I tried to focus, listening to the sounds behind me as I worked my dick. Sometimes I didn’t think about anything. Sometimes I mentally replayed a few trusty porn clips. Today, I queued up an old favorite of two footballers with a cheerleader. Trite, but whatever. It did the trick.

Precum leaked down my shaft, and I fought to keep my camera hand steady as I twisted over my head, spreading all the good stuff around and groaning helplessly as pleasure prickled through me when I rubbed my thumb back and forth over my slit.

Shooting a quick glance over my shoulder just to check all was good, I squinted at a slim-figured strawberry blond walking across the quad and slowed my pace.

Was that Jesse? Yeah, definitely Jesse walking with some other guy I didn’t know. The curly ends of his hair and profile were unmistakable.

I grinned, thinking about how surprised Jesse had been at Mark’s dad’s party when I’d handed him the napkin with John’s number on it. He could kiss my ass. I was a great wingman. Though I couldn’t really see him with John. Jesse was better-looking than John, and in my opinion, Jesse should be with someone who appreciated him more. I’d noticed John’s eyes straying toward other guys at least five times when he and Jesse had been talking.

Jesse threw his head back, laughing at something his friend said, and I jerked my attention back to my cock as fire spiked through my shaft and raced up my spine.

“Fuck,” I moaned out softly as I unloaded all over my fist. Damn, that one had snuck up on me unexpectedly.

I slicked my release all over my shaft and pumped into my fist, riding out the little lightning-bolt tremors that racked my shoulders, while hoping I hadn’t messed up the money shot when I’d gotten distracted.

I glanced over my shoulder again, but Jesse had moved out of sight.