He didn’t plan to stop after the first video. Because the points came from views and views came from uploads. So he wiped the mess off his stomach with the same t-shirt, still half-hard and already starting to regret the friction, and set the phone back on the tripod.
Second video.
He grabbed the lube bottle, flipped the cap, and poured a thick stream straight onto his cock. The cold gel made him hiss through his teeth.
"Fuck—cold," he muttered at the camera, voice already lower. He wrapped his fist around himself and started stroking slower this time, wet and loud. The slick sound filled the quiet room. His lips parted. Tongue flicked out to wet them as the lube warmed under his palm.
He locked eyes with the lens.
"You know how good a tight pussy would feel stretched around this?" His voice dropped husky, almost conversational, like he was talking to someone on the other side of the screen.
’Fuck this... it’s so embarrassing to talk dirty!’
In these videos, he had decided to change something, and that was engagement with the viewer. Last time, it was simple, with nothing but pure noises of him beating his dick. But this time, he added dirty talk because he thought that if a video with no talking could garner over 15k views, then one in which he was going to talk dirty would surely do even better.
But still, even though he was playing a character, it was very embarrassing for him. It was because he blurred his face that he was able to talk so much bullshit even as a virgin.
"I’d fuck you till you couldn’t walk straight. Keep going even after you came the first time. Just use you."
His pupils were a little blown already. He edged longer this round—stopped three separate times the second his balls drew up tight. Each time his face scrunched, brows knitting hard, a frustrated little grunt punching out of his chest.
"Shit... not yet," he growled the second time, fist clamped tight at the base while his cock jumped and throbbed angrily in his grip, like it was trying to cum without permission. "Come on... hold it..."
When he finally let go, his head tipped back hard against the headboard. Mouth fell open. A deep, rolling moan vibrated out of his chest, raw and loud.
"Fuuuuck—"
Cum painted his stomach in thick, heavy pulses while he kept pumping through it, face flushed dark, eyes almost rolling. Breathing turned ragged. The last few strokes made him twitch hard enough that a soft, broken sound slipped out after the moan faded.
He didn’t even wipe himself properly before hitting record again.
Third video.
Changed the angle—phone lower, looking up so the lens framed his cock and balls clean. Both hands this time. One fist stacked on the other, twisting opposite directions. He started thrusting into the double grip like he was actually fucking someone, hips snapping, balls swinging heavy.
Sweat already beaded on his forehead and upper lip. Expression stayed intense—brows drawn, teeth showing a little as he hissed through them.
"Take it," he muttered under his breath, then louder for the camera. "Fucking take it. Feel that?"
He came hard again, shooting over his fist onto the floor in long stripes. A loud, open-mouthed groan spilled out while his eyes squeezed shut for a second, then snapped back open to stare straight into the lens, still milking the last pulses.
Fourth video.
Laid back on the bed, legs spread wide, phone propped to catch everything between his thighs. Long, slow strokes with one hand while the other rubbed over his hole—just teasing the rim with a slick fingertip. Didn’t push in. Just circled and pressed.
The dual feeling made his cock jump harder. His face went slack for a moment, mouth hanging open.
"Ah—shit..." A soft, needy sound escaped every time the fingertip pressed. "That’s... yeah... right there..."
When he came his whole body tensed, abs flexing hard, head pressing back into the pillow. A long, shaky moan rolled out of him as cum pulsed across his stomach in thick lines.
His free hand kept moving slow even after, oversensitive and twitching. Lips trembled. A quiet, almost involuntary whimper slipped out on the last stroke.
He kept going.
Fifth video—standing closer to the camera so his cock almost filled the frame. Fast and rough this time. No edging. Just chasing it.
His face stayed tight the whole time, jaw locked, short sharp breaths punching out of him.
"Come on... come on... fuck—"
He came with a sudden loud grunt and a full-body jolt, eyes squeezing shut for half a second before forcing them back open to the lens.
Sixth—sitting in the desk chair, legs wide, filming from above. He edged almost ten minutes straight. Pre-cum dripped steady onto the floor in a thin, shiny string.
His expression kept shifting between desperate and stubborn. Bottom lip caught between his teeth. Eyes glassy and fixed on the lens.
"Not yet... almost... almost—fuck, don’t look at me like that," he muttered at the camera, voice strained. "I’m trying to last..."
When he finally let go it was messy and loud, a broken sound tearing out of him while his hips jerked up into his fist.
Seventh—back on the bed. Fucking his fist hard and fast until he came with a full-body shudder, still stroking through the oversensitive aftershocks. Face twisted in that ugly, honest mix of pain and pleasure. Soft, broken whimpers leaked out of him between breaths.
"Ah—fuck—too much... too much—"
By the time he stopped, his cock was raw and sensitive, balls aching, the floor around the tripod covered in drying streaks. He’d recorded eight videos total—different angles, different speeds, different dirty talk. Some short and frantic. Some longer and more teasing. No fancy editing. Just raw footage of him stroking his dick until he came.
He uploaded every single one across multiple platforms. Same titles with slight changes. More platforms meant more chances for views. More views meant points faster.
He needed that fifteen for the pill.
He wiped himself with the same old t-shirt, still half-hard and twitching from overuse, and checked the system again.
[Uploads: 9]
[Current balance: 3 points]
The new videos were still processing views, but the system voice already sounded smug.
[Mass production across platforms. Smart. Keep going and those points will come.]
Kyle sat on the edge of the bed, sticky and tired, staring at the blank upload screens on his phone. His cock gave one last weak throb against his thigh.
Two inches and two hours of stamina. That pill was waiting.
He just needed the views.
"And fuck, man—even beating my dick was starting to get hard when doing it as a job!"
"I’m never doing this shit again!"
*****
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