Private Show

Piers is a camboy. It’s not his ideal career, but...he didn’t have another way to make ends meet. Marnie needs clothes for school, dinner needs to be put on the table, and bills need paying. He already works a day job, but it isn’t bringing in enough, and anything helps.

So he sets up an account and is shocked to find that...people actually watch his videos. People like them.

For years, his body was a source of discomfort and dysphoria; even after HRT, he was always too skinny, too femme, too...wrong. He never expected other people to find him attractive, and certainly not attractive enough to pay for. But he gets himself a small audience, and then that small audience starts expanding. There are one-time watchers and then there are the regular fans, the handles he gets used to seeing pop up in the chat box on a weekly basis.

They’re comforting, in an odd way. Yes, they’re faceless strangers undoubtedly masturbating while he does, but at least they...come back. At least they’re a promise of income, and more than that, a promise that he isn’t just a gimmick. A novelty.

They want him, and they aren’t shy about telling him, and tipping him when he does what they ask for. It feels oddly liberating, even when it’s tiring, to be wanted and praised for his body and his sexuality.

It continues with that paradoxical intimacy and distance, until a new viewer finds him.

Raihan is the kind of guy most of the world envies.

Young, attractive, wealthy, talented, and successful. He’s made his name as a footballer and recently moved into doing modelling jobs on the side, boosting his fame and publicity even higher with every shoot. People know his name, people praise him, people love him.

They just don’t know how lonely he is. And how could they? He keeps a smile on his face, and whenever some reporter asks about his love life, he cuts it off with a “what’s private should stay private, am I right?”

But the truth is, he just...hasn’t found anyone he likes.

And he’s scared of someone just using him for his fame. How many people would offer a quick fuck just to run to the nearest gossip rag with a tell-all about their experience? What if someone tried to take photos, or secretly film him? It’s just not something he can risk, not with his career and everything he’s worked for on the line. 

So he turns to the internet for a little extra company. Cam shows are like porn plus, right? Someone who is willing to do what you say for cash, and he’s got plenty of that to spare. He picks the stupidest username he can think of that won’t give away his identity, and browses through the site until he finds something he likes. 

Someone, rather.

Spikemann advertises himself as an “alt trans man and not your daddy’s twink”. Which, okay, that sounds hot. Raihan likes tattoos, piercings; anything that shows a person isn’t afraid to decorate themselves. It’s the passion, the personality that comes through and makes someone unforgettable. And even in the tiny thumbnail, Spikemann’s work looks quality.

He hasn’t watched a lot of trans male porn before, but whatever. Guys are guys, and guys get his rocks off, so he’ll give it a go. It’s not something he’s overly picky about.

When the video snaps into full screen, he feels something inside himself twinge with excitement.

Spikemann is much, much prettier in proper resolution. His face is utterly arresting, the sort of thing Raihan would expect to see at the end of a more professional camera lens, sharp jaw and high cheekbones contrasted by huge, beckoning blue eyes and fan-like lashes. Is he wearing mascara, or are those natural?

Then Raihan’s eyes drift lower. Spikemann isn’t naked yet; he’s wearing a tightly fitted cotton band tee for a group Raihan doesn’t recognise, and a pair of black panties with two strips of fabric that cut high up his hips, emphasising how impossibly slender that waist is. Fuck, Raihan could wrap his hands around that and his thumbs would touch.

The scene is a lot more casual than he expected, though. The action hasn’t really started yet, and though Spikemann is absently fondling himself through his clothes, laid back on a small mountain of pillows, he seems more intent on flirting with the chat than doing anything specific.

After a minute of listening to the banter and basking in the way Spikemann’s rough accent contrasts his silky voice, Raihan decides he might as well put himself out there. The worst that can happen is he gets booted from the stream.

XxDragonRiderxX: fifty bucks to take your shirt off

Spikemann leans in to see the message, and then his head tilts back in the throatiest, sexiest laugh Raihan has ever heard. He didn’t even know a laugh could be sexy, not really, but this one reaches inside of him and finds the primal core of his being, then tugs on it.

Spikemann flashes a tongue piercing at the camera, playful and raunchy, and drags the hem of his shirt up halfway. Enough to expose a flat little belly that Raihan wants to see bouncing on a cock, even a fake one.

“Damn, alright. Someone’s a big spender; welcome to the chat, newbie. But I like a guy—assumin’ you are—who can be direct about what he wants. So put your money where your mouth is.”

Raihan types the amount into the donation box without flinching. He has mates who would spend ten times that just on getting piss drunk in some crappy nightclub.

Spikemann’s eyes go wide for a moment, but then he schools his expression and shrugs.

The shirt goes up and off his head, black and white hair that just can’t be real dripping in tendrils around his bared shoulders. There are faint scars on his chest, probably from surgery, but his nipples are pert and pink, like little candies waiting to be sucked.

Each one has a silver barbell through it, adding to the glint and glitter, and across his collarbone, a tattoo of a flaming heart leads into a rose dripping blood from its thorns.

XxDragonRiderxX: Love your ink, babe. 250$ to make yourself cum until your eyes cross.

Spikemann balls up his shirt and throws it at the camera.

It’s the start of something beautiful.

——

XxDragonRiderxX and his big tips come back again and again. Piers makes playful, flirty comments with him...and DR is one of the few who genuinely flirts back. He’s witty, and that’s a rarity in the chat box of a cam show.

Piers...genuinely kinda likes the guy.

Of course, he realises he knows nothing at all about him besides this interaction. Maybe he’s a total lech in person. Maybe he’s cheating on someone with this. Maybe a thousand things, or maybe he’s just a normal guy who gets a little lonely and burns his cash like this.

It isn’t really Piers’ place to moralise, so he tries to write up the nicest imaginary backstory he can. It makes the joking and playfulness more fun. And it ultimately makes him feel all the more grateful when those donations top 10k. Fucking hell.

Whoever this guy is, he’s clearly got more dollars than sense, especially if he’s spending it all on Piers. Hopefully he’s not putting himself into any kind of debt...yet he never hesitates, never mentions any hardship or strain for the money.

So Piers sends him a DM.

Spikemann: I feel as though I should give you something extra special for being so generous with me...is there anything you wanna see in particular?

He’s expecting his big donor to have some equally big request.

Not that he’s ever asked for anything /too/ outlandish before, but Piers has given him free rein and is expecting to be asked to ride a monumental dildo or wear some elaborate costume or moan the guy’s name. (He hopes that whatever it is, it’s a sexy name. And please, god, not that screen name. He doesn’t know if even his huskiest voice could make that sound hot).

Then the message comes back, and he blinks at it for a few long moments.

XxDragonRiderxX: If you’re really letting me have anything, then I just want to see you make yourself cum. Over and over, with whatever toys you want, whatever porn you like, whatever gets you off. All I want is your pleasure, and to know it’s real this time.

That wasn’t at all what Piers was expecting...isn’t this supposed to be about someone else?

It feels...vulnerable, to promise his pleasure like that. Not that he doesn’t have real orgasms during his shows, but he always dresses it up a little bit. Teases it out, aims it at the camera. It’s a performance.

This time, though, he’s being asked for something different; not just a show, a recording. Like a sex tape, of his actual pleasure. Just for one person—or so he assumes. He’d hunt the guy down and gut him if he found out this sort of thing was getting leaked.

Then again, Dragon Rider has given him over 10 grand at this point. Fucking hell, he paid Marnie’s back-to-school costs and all of Piers’ bills for the past month.

If all he wants in exchange for that is a video of Piers cumming himself stupid, then he’d be a fool to pass it up.

Another message pings onscreen.

XxDragonRiderxX: Oh, and can you wear something dark blue? If you have anything like that. It can be just a t-shirt or something...but that’s my favourite colour.

Piers swallows, but types a breezy response. 

Spikemann: Anything for you, Mr. Dragon. 

So one night when Marnie is safely at a friend’s house (he never does this while she’s anywhere near home, and fortunately she’s enough of a social butterfly lately to enjoy plenty of sleepovers), he sets up his camera and lays out all his favourite toys.

For a little while he just fusses over the lighting and the camera settings...for whatever reason, he needs this video to be the hottest he’s ever made. To prove that he really deserves all that money, maybe. Or maybe he just wants to impress the only person who actually makes his heart flutter a little bit when they join the stream. 

When he started out, it was just shaky phone camera clips with fuzzy audio and his bedside lamp, but now he’s got himself a little setup— a decent camera paid for by his fans, two different lights, good sheets. He fiddles with the tripod until he can no longer deny that the shot will be perfect, and then he hits record and lays himself back.

Filmed vids are a little different than live shows, since a bit of the pressure is off because he has the power of editing on his side. He can take his time, but there’s also no one there to cheer him on. That was always the most rewarding part of this (aside from the cash, of course), to have so many people begging to see more of him, like he’s really a star.

But now, it’s just him and the camera lens...he isn’t even sure at first what to picture to turn himself on. He pulls up a porno and starts watching it, an old favourite, and it does the job well enough.

In the back of his mind, though, he’s still wondering if this is what Dragon Rider wants to see.

Huffing, he pauses the video on his laptop and resolves to start again. Slower this time.

Laying himself back, he takes the time to stroke over his body with his fingertips, teasing and playing with his own sensitivities. So often he neglects them during streams because the audience is more interested in the “main attraction”, so to speak.

This time, though, this time he’s been given permission— no, he was requested to show all his most sensitive spots off. So he taunts his body, makes it arch and shiver, following every twitch and twinge to stoke the burn deep in his gut.

Nails scrape lightly at the hard points of his nipples and he allows his head to thrash on the pillow, a soft moan echoing out of his throat.

What to picture? He almost wonders what Dragon Rider looks like...whoever he is, he’s got cash to spare. Maybe he’s older? Nah, probably not with a handle like that, though you never know. God, Piers hopes he’s big...strong, with a nice thick cock. And good eyes. Big dick and beautiful eyes are his two main weaknesses, and he moans again as he forms and re-forms the shape of both in his head.

At first, he only touches himself with his fingers. Skimming low over his belly to make it shiver, his hips and thighs grinding together as arousal builds. He’s wearing navy blue panties—he owns only one pair, but he figures they’re perfect for this.

Instead of addressing the camera, he tries to disregard it entirely. Make Dragon Rider the real voyeur here, like he’s looking in on something private. Though of course, Piers has to add a few little flares here and there—instead of stripping his panties off, he merely pulls them to the side and spends a moment lifting his hips to show off the pink of his cunt. And then he rubs it, playing with his clit like it’s his favourite toy in the world, tugging the skin back so the camera takes in his hardness before dipping his fingertips into the wet slit below.

When was the last time he masturbated like this, just for himself? He can’t remember, and the thought makes him even more selfish.

Once he’s rubbed his clit enough and is ready to get on with it, he draws his hand back and brings flat fingers down hard, yelping softly at the harshness of his own smack. Then again, and again, spanking his pussy until the shocks of it travel up his spine, before reaching for his best dildo.

This is for him so he can take what he wants, right? His client wanted his real pleasure, and this is it.

Cream soaks his fingertips as he positions the thick head at his entrance, and stares down his body with delight as he starts to feed it into himself.

So big, so thick, so much and yet it still isn’t enough. Even when he pumps it inside, loving the shape, he wishes more than anything that it was a real dick. Attached to a real person, who could kiss him and fondle him and hold him down, make him feel his feelings and get him out of his own head entirely. Yet this is a good second, and the silvery bracelet on his wrist clinks musically as his hand speeds up, driving the toy into his g-spot with no thoughts but his own pleasure.

He even takes the time to push the dildo all the way up inside himself, until the flared base is resting against his folds, and he uses his free hand to rub over where it’s stretching the front of his belly.

Sweet little bulge, because he’s the fucking best at taking things like this, and nobody is allowed to forget it. It does turn him on, to see himself so stuffed, and he quickly fumbles through the sheets to find the small pink bullet vibe and hold it against his clit.

It doesn’t take long to find his first orgasm like that and he vocalises the buildup with gusto, the camera truly half-forgotten at this point.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum so hard—I can feel it, I’m really gonna cum, I need it so bad, I—!”

His orgasm hits him like a freight train and his ecstatic expression is real this time, eyes crossing as his entire brain short-circuits and his hips lift fully off the bed to chase the pleasure, milking the dildo for the one thing it can’t give as his clit swells even further into the delicious vibrations. Hair gets tangled in his face but he hardly cares, legs straightening and twitching as he wrings every last drop of ecstasy out and collapses down against the bed.

But even when he’s panting and tingling in the afterglow, he remembers he promised more than one...so when he’s ready, he rolls onto his front, presses his chest down, and presents a reddened pussy to the camera before fucking it with a gloriously ribbed vibrator that has him squirting a massive puddle onto his sheets.

And then again and again, until he can’t stand to touch himself anymore. The final orgasm count is around five or six—not the highest he’s ever gone, but when they’re that intense, it’s still a challenge.

In the end, he doesn’t do more than a few lighting and audio tweaks to the video, and cuts out the first few minutes of footage before he found his stride. Then he sends it off to Dragon Rider, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up to another ten grand in his bank account and a politely pleading request to meet.