The desk lamp

Min told the app he was thirty and that he wanted to be fucked with a strap in my apartment, not sweet-talked into a second date. I do not have a boyfriend, and I do not fuck anyone from the studio, so a stranger who can type a clear sentence is the whole interview. I told him nine, and that if he got shy at the door he could leave before his shoes came off. He knocked on time.

I was at the desk when I let him in. Black hoodie, dark jeans, glasses on, ponytail down my back. The lamp was the only light that mattered. The monitor was a dead black rectangle, no game, no chat, no headset. I stayed in the chair so he could see the room the way it looks before I touch anybody. He kept his coat on for the first minute and said it to my face. He wanted to be fucked. I told him the phone stayed off, not in a pocket he might fumble, not in the story. He put it in his coat and said good.

I took the strap out of the drawer under the notebooks and buckled it over the jeans while I talked. I like that plain picture, denim and a harness, while the rules are still words. Lube. A finger before the toy. He could stroke his cock or leave it. He could say slower. He could walk. Then I unbuckled, peeled the jeans and the hoodie, and pulled on a long black t-shirt with nothing under it. The strap went back on over bare hips. Min was naked on a towel by then, cock thick and flushed, watching my hands. The hands were the point.

I got him on his back. Lube on him, lube on the strap, one slick finger in his ass while I watched his mouth. He said yes, then more, then please. I fucked the strap into him in a slow drive, one knee on the towel, one hand spreading his thigh, the other hand under the hem of the shirt so I could rub my cunt. His cock leaked on his stomach. I told him to stroke that cock if he wanted to feel crowded. He wrapped a fist around it and matched me. I fucked him deeper when his hips tipped up. The lamp stayed on. I rubbed my cunt harder, clit under two fingers, and I came with my jaw shut, a tight pulse, my cunt clutching at nothing while the harness tugged me into the next thrust. I did not stop fucking him. Quitting in the middle of my own orgasm is a waste of a good angle.

He stroked faster. I told him to cum on his stomach and keep the strap clean. His cock jerked in his fist and he shot across his own skin, groaning at the ceiling, thighs shaking around the toy. I eased out, wiped him, and took the harness off under the shirt. I had already gotten my cunt off with my own hand. I did not need his mouth unless I wanted it, and tonight I did not. He dressed on the rug. I walked him out and did not offer a second night. The monitor was still dark when I sat back down. The phone had never come out of his coat.