Page 79 of Ghost

“I want to watch you come,” I whispered.

“Are you talking to me, or to him?”

“Both of you.”

“Keep doing that, and you’ll get exactly what you’re after.”

The thought of it excited me. I’d never watched cum spurt from the tip of his dick – or any dick, for that matter. If such wayward things were going to occupy our days in the future, my life was truly going to be filled with blessings.

I developed a predictable rhythm, stroking his dick as if it were mine, doing what I felt I’d want done if I were a man. He seemed unaffected by the gesture, which satisfied me and bothered me both. His lack of interest left me feeling like I was doing something wrong, or that my dick stroking skills were mediocre at best.

But. I was free to do as I wished, without fear of repercussion or retribution. He truly didn’t give a fuck. Hell, he could have been asleep for all I knew.

I licked the tip of his dick as I stroked it, circling my tongue around the swollen tip. Then, I wrapped my full lips around the head, encompassing it fully. I knew having my mouth on his cock drove him crazy, and that was exactly what I hoped for. After another minute or so of sucking and licking, I lifted my head.

“Are you going to come for me?”

“He is,” Porter breathed.

I continued my pace, licking and kissing as I stroked the entire length from base to tip. After a long period of forcing my mouth over the head and onto the shaft, his back arched a little. Then, a little more.

The thought of seeing him come was wreaking havoc on me. Tingling in all the right places and driven by a passion to satisfy the man I loved, I maintained my pace, hoping for an end result that pleased him deeply.

His breathing became labored. Excited for the grand finale, I sat up straight and fixed my eyes on the tip.

With his eyes closed and his hands dangling loosely at his sides, Porter continued his expression of indifference. It fascinated me that he could maintain such an emotionless position on the outside but be brimming with sexual excitement on the inside.

“I’m going to lose it in a minute,” he whispered. “Fuck this is hot.”

“Come for me, baby,” I said softly.

I nudged my purse to the side in hope of getting a better view of the fountain of cum that was sure to blow from the tip at any moment. Then, a light bulb illuminated in my feeble mind. I reached into my purse, grabbed my phone, and opened Instagram’s Boomerang app.

With his cock in one hand and my phone in the other, I waited to start my ten-second recording of Porter’s climax.

As his breathing changed to choppy and unpredictable, I stroked with one hand, and pointed my phone with the other. His hips raised, lifting his ass from the seat cushion. Then, the muscles in his legs flexed.

Excited beyond belief, I pressed the record button.

Two seconds into my rudimentary pornographic production, a stream of cum shot from the tip of his dick. Another followed. Watching through the phone’s screen, I grinned from ear to ear, knowing I satisfied my man to no end – and that caught every morsel of the climactic ending on film.

When I lowered the phone, Porter was giving me a side-eyed look. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh,” I gasped. “I thought you were sleeping, or whatever.”

“Relaxing,” he breathed. “I was relaxing.”

“I was just.” I released his dick and raised my phone. “I was making a Boomerang.”

“A video of me busting a nut?”

“Uhhm.” I grinned. “Yeah.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be putting that shit on Instagram.”

Instagram had a strict policy against nudity, which included Boomerang videos of skinny women in sundresses jacking off musclebound hunks with big dicks.

A shame, but true.