Page 6 of Jealous Guy

A flare of irritation heats my face when I accidentally click out of the VPN ad blocker I’m using. I go back in, annoyed, hitting the keys a little harder than usual. My dick is really hard, and it’s making it difficult to think. Frustration swims through my veins, causing me to click on five or six clips in rapid succession.

None of them open. Then they all open at once, and despite the blocker, ads start blaring all over my screen.

The fucking internet is fucked.

This is bullshit. Watching porn and jacking off shouldn’t be this hard. The entire system should be designed to accommodate people who are horny. If I were designing a porn site, that’s the first thing I’d take into account. I’d make things user-friendly, not whatever the hell this is.

I stuff my hand in my pants and hold my dick tightly in an attempt to subdue it. It doesn’t help. My hand starts tugging without permission, and I’m left frantically typing verbal blond top into the search bar with my left hand.

I click on the first video I see, no longer caring if the top is too built or too inked, and push my pants down. I grab lube from my drawer, slather my cock with it, and start jerking in earnest. My dick swells as my heart beats faster. The muscles in my thighs tense, but the top in the video is so fucking ridiculous I honestly can’t take it. Why the fuck is his voice like that? And who the hell decided that a dude saying, “Yeah, baby,” over and over equates to a verbal top?

What’s wrong with these people?

This goddamn porn is worse than no porn.

I slam my laptop shut and shove it away from me.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to concentrate on the sensations flowing through my body. Yeah. That’s it. This is what I need. A nice, quiet, old-school jack-off session. No porn. Just me and my right hand.

A pleasant tingle travels from my balls up my shaft as my hand moves. I squeeze and tug upward, clenching my teeth as pleasure builds. My toes curl and my hips start to thrust.

And thrust.

And thrust.

My balls are so full they’re about to explode. I stroke faster and faster, but something holds me back.

Don’t do it, I tell myself. Do not fucking do it.

I ignore my own advice and yank my headphones off my head, dropping them on my chest as the sounds of the apartment burst to life around me.

The fridge hums.

The AC clanks.

In the room next to mine, mattress springs squeak and a headboard rhythmically bangs against the wall.

Thunk

Thunk

Thunk

I jerk my cock as fast as I can, stroking my balls with my free hand. A husky voice slices through all the other sounds in the apartment, canceling them out.

“Good girl,” it says.

My abs tense and shudder.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that… You look so pretty taking my cock.”

My knees lock and my back arches.

A low, hoarse sound travels through the wall and lands in my lap. A deep groan that stands out above all the other sounds coming from the room, like it’s the only thing in existence. A soft, raw moan that comes from low down in my best friend’s body.

“D’you feel full, baby? Want me to give you some more?”

I stroke my balls again and let my fingers curl around them before reaching down and tapping my hole lightly, circling it slowly. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.