The Clip

My voice echoed that of the lucky young man, any scripted marks of his faltering
in the face of the message from his body. I was the off screen participant he
was angling his arse for as he undulated his hips and kicked those strong legs.
Hell, I'd seen it enough I could recite his pleas and whimpers along with him.

It was helpful. Practicing, I mean. Learning to give voice to words and let
myself moan without biting it back in fear of…what exactly? My voice sounded
unnatural and too high pitched at first, like when you hear yourself on tape. I
don't sound like that! I practiced growling and opening up my throat to let the
damn sound out when it felt too good to keep it in.

It was the go-to clip, favourited and starred on every site on which I found it.
Were they really partners? Oh I don't know, but there seemed to be a level of
domesticity and love there that I chose to believe. There seemed to be pleasure,
real enjoyment in each other and that made any warped sound quality clip from
them better than a hundred `Unwilling Lads Spanked' professionally made.

It was the moment the spanker reached between his guy's legs, holding his cock
and measuring its full heft in his hand, that sent me over the edge every time.
The look of intent examination on his face, taking his time to touch where he
wished even as the red-bottom shivered and clenched and waited so open under his
exploring hands and gaze. That look, that presumption, it was the hottest thing
I had seen.

I wanted that.