Page 8 of Sebastian

To say I’m impressed is an understatement and my brain immediately reframes everything I think I know about Sebastian. He’s not some random guy uploading lewd selfies and calling himself a porn star. He’s legit. Shit, I don’t know if I could’ve amassed that many followers if I’d been on Instagram back in the day.

Most of his photos are solo shots with him wearing little more than briefs or in some cases, a jockstrap. Sometimes, he’s with another guy who is equally naked, the two of them draped all over each other. They’re the “collabs” Sebastian mentioned when he gave me his business card. The captions under the photos point to a new video release on his OnlyFans page.

There’s a link in his profile and I tap on it. The second the page loads, someone sits down next to me. I jump and slam my phone against my chest so whoever it is can’t see all the pictures of naked men on the screen. It’s an older woman who looks like she’s someone’s beloved grandmother. She pulls out her knitting and when she realizes I’m staring, she offers me a sweet little smile. I nod and stand up, heart racing a little too fast, to check on my clothes and then I wander nonchalantly over to an empty corner of the laundromat. Leaning against the wall, I wait until I’m sure no one suspects anything before I open the browser again.

From the date stamps, it looks like Sebastian posts something nearly every day. I scroll through, careful not to tap on anything and inadvertently start a video. I’ve already had one close call, I don’t trust the Bluetooth to stay connected to my earbuds and not broadcast porn to the entire laundromat.

Sebastian’s prolific. Photos and videos, collabs with dozens of other guys, paid sponsorships, interviews, and industry events. I can’t imagine the amount of time required to do all of that and still eat and sleep and work out.

There wasn’t anything like OnlyFans or even Instagram when I was at my most popular. I worked through a studio that handled all the behind-the-scenes stuff, but even then, I had to do countless photo shoots, interviews, appearances, you name it. I was busier than I am now as a personal trainer and all I had to do then was show up on set ready to fuck. From the looks of it, Sebastian is the talent and the crew and the promotion team all rolled up into one person.

There’s a wiki page on him in the search results. He’s just turned thirty and has been camming since his early twenties. He was nominated for a Grabby Award last year—Most Sex-Positive—though he didn’t win. I’m disappointed on his behalf for some reason. He’s publicly connected to several other well-known camboys, but I don’t recognize any of their names.

A washing machine blares and I start. Damn, I’ve been stalking Sebastian for a good forty-five minutes and it’s only felt like five. I stuff my phone into my pocket and move my wet clothes from the washer to the dryer.

I manage to stay away from thoughts of Sebastian for the rest of the afternoon only to come across his business card again when I’m putting my washed and folded clothes away.

I really need to throw the thing away. I’ve already satisfied my curiosity. There’s no reason to look him up again. No reason to subscribe to his OnlyFans to watch his videos. I’m sure they’re good. I don’t need to see them firsthand.

None of that stops me from pulling out my laptop, settling onto my bed, and opening a browser. I type the URL for Sebastian’s page directly into the address bar and when it loads, I hover the cursor over the subscribe button.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

I click the button and ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach as I input my credit card information.

The first video auto-plays when I scroll to it. Sebastian’s sitting in an armchair, slouched down with his sweatpants around his thighs. He’s got one hand on his cock and the other toying with a nipple. His smile is more sexy than innocent as he gazes directly into the camera. Directly at me.

I shift on the bed to get more comfortable. I’ve had a low-level hum in my groin ever since my little stalking session in the laundromat and my dick wakes up now that there’s a naked cock on the screen. I palm it through my joggers and it swells against my hand.

On the screen, Sebastian is stroking himself. He’s got a nice dick. Not too long, not too wide. Just big enough to catch a guy’s attention and keep it. He bites his lip as he twists his palm around the head and a clear drop of pre-cum pearls at the tip. He uses his thumb to spread it around and fuck, that makes my cock leak.

There’s nothing unique about that move. Everyone does it—I’ve done it. Which is how I know that Sebastian brings another level of performance to the simple swirl of finger over skin. He goes slowly, picking up drops of pre-cum on every lap. The taut skin is purple under the slick shine. He pauses every now and then to dig his thumb into his slit. His breathing gets faster and faster as he touches himself.

My eyes are glued to the screen as Sebastian runs a hand over his stomach and up to his chest. He pinches a nipple—hard—and lets out a whimper. The sound is so honest, so real, it hits me deep in my gut and my cock pulses with arousal. I want to reach through the screen and pinch his other nipple for him. I want to push his hand away and wrap my own fingers around his dick.

Sebastian kicks off his pants and hikes a knee over the arm of the chair. His hand inches down past his balls, past his taint, to a dark round shadow wedged between his ass cheeks.

“Fuck.” I grip my cock hard enough to fight back the sudden urge to come. He’s wearing a butt plug—Jesus Christ. In my mind, it’s a big one. Or maybe a prostate massager. And he’s been wearing it all day, priming himself for this video. In my mind, he’s picked out the plug specifically for my personal enjoyment.

He taps the handle and gasps, jumping and tensing like he’s too sensitive for that kind of stimulation. His face is scrunched up and every muscle in his body is flexed, showing off all the ridges and planes. He breathes through the pleasure and when he looks into the camera again, I’m caught.

His eyes are half-lidded, his lips are wet and parted. I can see a light sheen of sweat gathering across his brow, in the middle of his chest. His quads are quivering and his toes are curled under. He’s really fucking gorgeous.

He takes the handle of the plug and twists it around. “Fuuuccck.” His voice is strained, his breath hitches with each turn.

My laptop goes sliding off my stomach as I shove my joggers down low enough to pull out my dick. I’m just as hard as Sebastian is, leaking just as much pre-cum. My hips come off the bed of their own accord as my cock tries to fuck itself into my hand.

I follow Sebastian’s lead. He’s stroking himself with one hand and playing with the plug with the other. I reach below my balls and seek out that sensitive spot on my taint, then farther back to the wrinkled skin of my hole. I tease myself the way Sebastian does, keeping pace as he speeds up his ministrations.

He’s close. So am I. His breathing is quick and shallow, audible with every gasp and sigh. He abandons the toy in his ass and palms his balls, tugging, as he concentrates his strokes around the head of his dick.

My stomach clenches in anticipation. My balls draw up against my body. My hand works over my cock faster and tighter than it has in a long time.

Sebastian’s eyes fly open when his orgasm hits him. His jaw drops in a quiet mangled cry. His gaze locks onto the camera as he empties himself in spurts all across his stomach.

It’s the look on his face that sends me over the edge. The surprise, the helplessness, like he lost control of his own pleasure. I growl as cum spills out of my cock and all over my hand.

“Fuck.” I haven’t come that hard in ages. And certainly not from a solo video of some guy jacking himself. I roll with the aftershock of my orgasm as I watch the last of Sebastian’s video through barely open eyes.

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