Page 10 of Fluffing the Stallion

So far, being Yuri’s fluffer is easy. I get paid to stand in one spot so he can stare at my ass or I jerk his dick until he’s hard as a rock. Which ain’t a bad gig, as Jake would say.

I’ve been working at Carnal Desires for a month and I’ve already paid my tuition until graduation. I could very well stop and go back to my shitty stocking job, but I don’t want to. I actually like it at Carnal Desires. The crew is great, Jake is a good and generous boss … and Yuri is there. I’m not sure why I haven’t plucked up the courage to approach him and talk about more than how much pressure he wants while I’m jerking him off. Every time I try, I get nervous and tongue tied. I sure he knows the effect he has on me because he always gives me a wide, knowing smile. And fuck if that smile doesn’t shoot me through the heart every time … and makes my cock chub up.

Much to my shame, I subscribed to Carnal Desires website so I can watch Yuri work. I even set up notifications on my phone for when he has a new video up. Every time I get a notification, I’m itching to see what scene it is, since I don’t get to watch them all in person. That’s kind of hard with my back turned and Yuri’s staring at my ass.

I recognize each of the scenes with Trev by their set design. Not every one is with Trev—who seems to despise me for some reason—but Yuri still asks to have me around. It’s flattering as fuck, knowing he’d rather stare at my ass or have me jerk him off than let someone else get him hard. I worked hard on this ass—and my masturbating techniques for that matter. It’s nice that they’re appreciated.

The scene I keep watching over and over is the first scene I was used as a fluffer for Yuri. There was a stark difference in his scenes before that. In the one prior, he seemed into Trev, but you could read that professional distance. Now? There was heat and passion.

Regardless of the comments under their videos—mostly saying Houston Stallion and Tony Angel, Trev’s stage name, are a couple—I know the difference is me. In the scenes where Yuri was staring at my ass, he has his eyes averted or has them screwed down tight, as if he’s thinking of something else. Or someone else.

Could he possibly be imagining me under him, taking his dick? Or me riding him, bouncing on his engorged shaft? Fuck, I hope so. Because I imagine Trev or Bailey or any of the other guys Yuri dicks down is me.

I sigh after I finish coming all over myself from watching Yuri fuck. There’s no way he can want someone like me. He fucks guys way hotter—with loads more experience—than me on an almost daily basis. What can I give him besides a nice ass to look at?

That’s one of the biggest reasons I haven’t gone for it with Yuri. He’s Yuri—fine as fuck, charming, built like a tank and hung. I’m … Clay Dalgreen. A boring, homely guy with a nice ass and firm body. Not enough to grab and keep Yuri’s attention. Some other guy with a hot ass will come along that’ll have all this experience and will be able to take his dick with no issues. That can’t be me. I’ve used my fingers in the shower after I discovered I wanted Yuri to fuck me and two fingers stretches me to my max. I can’t even fit a third one up there, no matter how much lube I use and how much I try to relax. How could I hope to take Yuri’s Coke-can cock?

Frustrated with my unproductive thoughts, I clean myself up, tossing the used tissues in the garbage. It was pointless of me to wipe up since I have to shower, but whatever.

Before I make my way to the bathroom, my phone beeps with a message. When I see Yuri’s name, I almost drop my phone, bobbling it back and forth before I get control of it. Quickly I open the text he sent.

Yuri: Hey. I know it’s your day off, but Jake wants a quick joint tug session with Trev. I need you.

There’s no reason at all my heart should flutter at him needing me. Of course he does. It’s my job to literally keep his dick hard.

Me: Okay. When?

Yuri: Half an hour. You need a ride?

I don’t, since I have my own car, but my fingers say fuck that noise and fly over the keys.

Me: If you don’t mind.

I’m pressing send before I can tell my fingers to hit backspace and not sound like a fucking weirdo. Well, hell.

Yuri: Drop your location.

I do what he says, since I can’t go back on needing a ride. Tossing my phone down before my fingers make me say something else they’re not supposed to, I grab my clothes and hurry to shower.

I’m just getting out, drying my hair with a fluffy towel when my phone beeps. I pick it up and see Yuri’s name. My stomach does a weird, swooping thing. I fight to tamp it down.

Yuri: I’m outside.

Me: Heading down.

I rush to get dressed, not wanting him to wait too long. Taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I grab my wallet and keys and head to the parking lot.

Yuri sits behind the wheel of a nice sedan, nothing fancy but obviously well cared for. It fits him. He smiles at me, looking me up and down in a way I’m becoming used up. “Sorry it’s so last minute,” he says by way of greeting when I slide into the passenger seat.

“It’s cool,” I assure him. “It’s my job.”

This time, his smile is salacious and I feel my face flame. “It is.” He pulls out of the parking spot, pointing us in the direction of the studio.

The silence is tense, and I feel like I’ll explode from the anxiety. About ten minutes into the drive, Yuri speaks up. “So, what’s your major?”

“Oh,” I mutter, taken off guard for a second. “Business Management.”

“What do you want to manage?”

---