Ex Jerkoff Confessions

Darius lay naked across his sheets at half past one in the morning, the glow of his phone screen painting blue light over the hard lines of his chest and the thick cock he was already stroking in a slow, deliberate fist. Twenty-eight years old, post-gym body still faintly damp from the shower, he had the camera angled just right so Lorenzo could see everything from the waist down. On the other end of the call, twenty-six-year-old Lorenzo mirrored him perfectly—also naked, propped against pillows, one hand moving openly over his own stiff cock while he watched Darius with that half-lidded, mischievous look Darius still knew too well from when they had dated.

“Tell me about Colette,” Darius said, voice low and rough already. Colette, twenty-seven, the guy Lorenzo had never shut up about during the last months of their relationship. “Your old crush. I want the filthy version tonight.”

Lorenzo’s lips curved. His fist didn’t stop. “Y.”

“You wanted to make out with him.”

“Y.” A soft giggle slipped out. “I did it a lot. In my head.”

Darius tightened his grip and dragged his palm up over the head of his cock, smearing the wetness that had already beaded there. The sight of Lorenzo doing the same—thumb circling the slit, hips giving little helpless rolls—made heat coil harder in Darius’s gut. “You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Y. Sometimes.” Lorenzo bit his lower lip, eyes flicking down to Darius’s moving hand. “You’re getting so hard already. Look at that.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.” Another quiet giggle. “Y.”

Darius kept the rhythm lazy but firm, watching the way Lorenzo’s cock jerked in his fist every time he answered. The confession game had them both leaking. “You wanted to make out with him, right?”

“Y.”

“You wanted to suck his dick?”

Lorenzo’s breath hitched on a laugh. “Sometimes, y. I’d think about dropping to my knees right there if he’d asked.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.” Lorenzo’s free hand slid down to cup his balls, rolling them while he stroked. “You’re dripping, Dee. That turn you on that much?”

Darius’s cock throbbed in answer. He spread his thighs wider so the camera caught every slick stroke. “Did you jerk off while thinking that? About kissing him, about getting his cock in your mouth?”

“Y. Sometimes. A lot, actually.” The giggle came softer this time, almost shy, but the way Lorenzo’s fist sped up betrayed him. “I’d get so hard just picturing it. Teasing you is fun though—look how red you are.”

“Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

Lorenzo’s eyes fluttered. “Y.”

“Say it properly.”

“I would’ve. Bent over, whatever he wanted. I did it a lot in my head—jerked off thinking about him pushing in.”

Darius groaned and twisted his wrist on the upstroke, gathering more precum to slick the way. The mutual honesty was electric; both of them fully hard, fully willing, cameras locked on each other’s bodies while the dirty details spilled. “You wanted to make out with him.”

“Y.”

“You wanted to suck his dick?”

“Sometimes, y.” Lorenzo’s giggle broke into a breathy moan as he thumbed the head of his cock. “I’d suck it slow first. Get him wet. You’re stroking faster now—can’t hide it.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.”

“Did you jerk off while thinking that—his tongue in your mouth, then his cock down your throat?”

“Y. A lot. Sometimes I’d come so fast just from that.” Lorenzo’s hips lifted into his fist. He tilted the phone so Darius could see the shiny trail he was leaving on his stomach. “You like hearing how filthy I got for him. Your cock’s twitching every time I say yes.”

Darius’s free hand squeezed his own balls, rolling them the way Lorenzo used to when they were still together. The tension built thick between them—no rush to finish yet, just the slow climb of shared confession and the wet sounds of skin on skin through the speakers. “You wanted to make out with him, right?”

“Y.”

“Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y. I would’ve spread for him. I jerked off to that thought a lot—him bending me over the table or whatever, filling me up.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

Lorenzo laughed, soft and teasing. “I did it a lot. You’re so obvious, Dee. Asking the same things over and over just to hear me say it again. Does it make you leak more?”

It did. Darius watched a fresh bead roll down his shaft and used it, stroking from base to tip with a wet sound that matched Lorenzo’s. “You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Y. Sometimes I’d imagine the taste. How heavy it would feel on my tongue.”

“Did you jerk off while thinking that?”

“Y. I did it a lot. Came all over my hand more than once just picturing him grabbing my hair.”

The words landed like heat. Darius’s breathing roughened; he could see Lorenzo’s cock flexing, the head glossy, the way his ex’s thighs trembled with each firm pull. Both of them were fully in it—consent clear in every eager stroke, every volunteered detail. Darius repeated the question that kept them both edged. “You wanted to make out with him?”

“Y.”

“You wanted to suck his dick?”

“Sometimes, y.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.”

Lorenzo’s giggle turned into a low, needy sound. He slowed his fist just enough to tease, watching Darius’s reaction. “You’re going to make yourself come just from this if you keep repeating them. Look how hard you are for my answers. Want me to tell you again how many times I came thinking about Colette fucking me?”

Darius’s cock jerked hard in his grip. He didn’t stop stroking. The night was still early; the video call still glowed between them, two naked bodies feeding the same filthy loop. He dragged his thumb over the slit again and asked the next one before the tension could break. “Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y.”

“Did you jerk off to those thoughts?”

“I did it a lot. Sometimes every night for a week.” Lorenzo’s voice dropped, playful and rough at once. “You’re leaking so much, Dee. Keep asking. I like watching you get ruined by it.”

Darius’s fist never slowed. The blue wash of the screen caught every flex of his forearm as he worked his cock harder, precum slicking his fingers until the strokes turned audible and filthy. Lorenzo’s words still hung in the air—keep asking, ruined by it—and Darius fed on them, hips lifting off the sheets in shallow thrusts that made the camera shake.

“You wanted to make out with him,” he demanded, voice gravel-rough.

“Y.” Lorenzo’s giggle came bright and immediate. His hand flew faster over his own shaft, the head already flushed dark and shiny. “Sometimes I’d picture his mouth first. Soft.”

“You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Y. I did it a lot.” Another soft laugh slipped out. Lorenzo tilted his hips so Darius could watch the full slide of his fist, base to tip, balls drawn tight. “Look at you leaking for it. You’re soaked.”

Darius dragged his thumb hard across his slit, smeared the fresh bead down the thick vein on the underside, and repeated the question just to hear it again. “You wanted to suck his dick?”

“Sometimes, y.” Lorenzo bit his lip, eyes locked on Darius’s moving hand. “I’d get on my knees in my head. Open wide. You’re twitching so hard, Dee.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.” The giggle turned breathy. Lorenzo’s free hand pinched one nipple, then dropped to cup his balls and tug. “Every time I saw his stories. Came hard just from that.”

The mutual rhythm locked in. Both men naked, cameras tight on cocks and abs and the wet shine of their strokes. Darius’s chest heaved; sweat beaded at his collarbone and rolled down into the hollow of his throat. He could smell his own arousal even through the phone, sharp and musky. Lorenzo looked wrecked already—lips parted, lashes fluttering, thighs spread wide against the pillows.

“Did you jerk off while thinking that?” Darius pushed, twisting his wrist on every upstroke so the head of his cock flared shiny and purple. “His tongue in your mouth, then you dropping down to suck him?”

“Y. A lot. Sometimes I’d last two minutes.” Lorenzo’s laugh cracked into a moan. He pumped faster, the wet sound of his fist filling the speakers. “You’re so red. Your cock’s jumping every time I say yes. Teasing you is the best part.”

“Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y.” Blunt. Immediate. Lorenzo’s eyes fluttered shut for a second as he stroked. “Bent over anything. I did it a lot in my head—him shoving in raw.”

Darius groaned low and filthy. He spread his knees wider, planted his feet, and fucked up into his own fist with short, hard snaps of his hips. The head slapped wetly against his palm. “Say it again. Would you have let him fuck you?”

“Y. Spread me open. I jerked off to it every night some weeks.” Lorenzo giggled, high and wicked, even as his voice went rough. “You’re gonna bust just hearing it. Look how hard you’re gripping.”

“You wanted to make out with him.”

“Y.”

“You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Sometimes, y. I’d swirl my tongue under the head first. Get him dripping.” Lorenzo’s hips jerked. A clear string of precum stretched from his slit to his knuckles. “Dee—fuck—you’re dripping more than me now. That turn you on? Me hungry for his cock?”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.”

Darius repeated the whole chain without mercy, voice cracking with need. “You wanted to make out with him—you wanted to suck his dick—did you jerk off while thinking that—would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

Lorenzo answered each one on a breath, short and sharp, giggles breaking between. “Y. Sometimes y. I did it a lot. Y—god—y. I’d have let him fuck me right there. Table, wall, doesn’t matter. I came so many times picturing him holding me down.”

The call was pure heat now. Darius’s cock was iron in his fist, so swollen the head looked almost bruised, a steady pulse of precum rolling down to wet his balls. He could feel the orgasm coiling low and vicious, every confession yanking it tighter. Lorenzo mirrored him perfectly—fist flying, abs clenched, free hand now sliding under to press two fingers against his own hole just enough to tease the rim while he stroked.

“Did you jerk off to those thoughts?” Darius snarled, stroking so fast the wet slap filled the room. “Colette kissing you, feeding you his dick, then bending you over and fucking you at that meetup?”

“Y. I did it a lot. Sometimes I’d finger myself thinking it was him.” Lorenzo’s giggle dissolved into a long, shaky moan. He locked eyes with the camera. “You’re about to lose it. I can see it. Come on, Dee—ask me again. Watch me come while I tell you.”

Darius’s free hand shoved under his balls and squeezed. “Would you have let him fuck you?”

“Y. Hard. Deep. I would’ve begged.”

“You wanted to suck his dick first.”

“Sometimes, y—then take it in my ass. I did it a lot. Came all over myself thinking about both.”

The tension snapped. Darius’s rhythm turned savage, fist pistoning from base to tip in a blur, hips bucking off the mattress. Thick ropes of precum flung across his lower abs with every upstroke. Lorenzo matched him stroke for stroke, moaning openly now, giggles lost under the wet frantic sound of skin on skin.

“Tell me again—would you have let Colette fuck you at the meetup—”

“Y—y—fuck yes—I would’ve. Bent over, legs spread, taking every inch. I jerked off to it a lot. Sometimes twice a night. I’d come so hard my hole would clench empty wishing it was him.”

Darius’s vision whited out at the edges. He locked onto Lorenzo’s flushed cock, the way it jerked and leaked, the short blunt confessions still spilling between moans. “Did you jerk off while thinking that—him splitting you open—”

“I did it a lot—y—I’m gonna come—”

They broke together.

Darius’s cock swelled impossibly thicker, then erupted. Thick white ropes shot hard across his chest, stripe after stripe painting his pecs and collarbones, some landing hot on his chin. He kept stroking through it, milking every pulse, body locked rigid as the orgasm ripped through him in long, shuddering waves. At the exact same second Lorenzo’s moan went high and broken. His cock kicked hard in his fist and he came in messy arcs across his stomach and chest, hips snapping up, thighs shaking, mouth open on a long filthy groan while he kept pumping, forcing out every drop.

The speakers filled with their overlapping sounds—harsh breaths, wet strokes still dragging through the mess, low broken curses. Cum cooled sticky on Darius’s skin. His cock stayed half-hard, twitching in the aftershocks, still leaking. On the other end Lorenzo’s chest heaved; a pearly trail slid down his side toward the sheets. He gave a soft, wrecked giggle and smeared two fingers through the mess on his abs, then lifted them to show Darius.

“Still hard for more answers,” Lorenzo murmured, voice hoarse and teasing. He gave his spent cock a slow lazy pull that made it twitch. “You came so fucking much just from hearing I’d let him rail me. Want me to keep talking while we get hard again? Or you gonna make me describe how I’d ride him next time?”

Darius wiped a stripe of his own cum off his chest with two fingers and sucked them clean, eyes never leaving the screen. His cock was already filling again, heavy and sensitive against his thigh. The call still glowed between them, both bodies marked and open, the filthy loop far from finished.

Darius’s cock thickened fast under his palm, still slick with the thick stripes of his first load. He smeared the cooling cum down his shaft like lube and gave himself a firm squeeze that made his hips twitch. On the screen Lorenzo was already hardening again too, the spent cock filling out under lazy, deliberate strokes, a fresh bead of fluid welling at the tip as he watched Darius through half-lidded eyes.

“Keep going,” Darius rasped. “You wanted to make out with him.”

“Y.” Lorenzo’s giggle was soft, wrecked, immediate. “I did it a lot.”

Darius dragged his fist slow from base to head, twisting at the crown until precum mixed with the leftover mess and turned everything glossy. The camera caught every vein, every flex. “You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Sometimes, y.” Lorenzo bit his lip and sped up just enough to tease. “I’d get him wet first. You’re already dripping again, Dee. Look.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.” Another bright little laugh escaped. Lorenzo tilted the phone lower so Darius could watch the full wet slide of his fist, balls tight, hole still faintly shiny from the earlier teasing press of his own fingers. “Sometimes I’d last forever. Sometimes two minutes.”

Darius’s free hand cupped his own balls and rolled them the way Lorenzo used to. Heat coiled low and heavy again. “You wanted to make out with him, right?”

“Y.”

“Did you jerk off while thinking that?”

“Y. A lot.” Lorenzo’s voice went playful, teasing. “Your cock jumped. I saw it. You’re so fucking easy for this.”

“Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y.” Blunt. Immediate. Lorenzo’s hips lifted into his hand. “Bent over the table. I jerked off to it a lot—him pushing in deep.”

Darius groaned and fucked up into his fist harder, the wet slap loud in the quiet room. Cum from earlier still streaked his chest in drying white lines; fresh precum cut new paths through it. He repeated the question just to feel the jolt. “Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y. Spread wide. I did it a lot in my head.” Lorenzo giggled, high and wicked, even as his stroke turned firmer. “You’re leaking more than last round. Does hearing me say yes make you that hard?”

“You wanted to suck his dick.”

“Sometimes, y. I’d swirl under the head. Get him dripping down my chin.” Lorenzo’s free hand pinched a nipple hard enough to make him hiss, then dropped back to tug his balls. “Teasing you is fun. Your face when I say it—”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.”

“Did you jerk off while thinking that—his cock on your tongue, then him flipping you and fucking you right there?”

“Y. Sometimes every night. I came so hard my sheets stuck.” Lorenzo’s laugh broke into a moan. He locked eyes with the camera and deliberately slowed his fist so Darius could watch the shiny head pulse. “You’re red again. Ask me more. I like watching you ruin yourself over it.”

Darius’s rhythm turned rough, fist pistoning, precum flinging in little arcs onto his abs. The blue light of the phone painted every hard line of him—twenty-eight, post-gym, unmarked by anything but sweat and his own spend. He could still taste the earlier load on his tongue. “You wanted to make out with him.”

“Y.”

“You wanted to suck his dick?”

“Sometimes, y.”

“Did you jerk off to him?”

“I did it a lot.”

Lorenzo’s thighs trembled. He pushed two fingers back against his hole again, just the pads, pressing enough to make his cock jump while he stroked. “I’d have let him spit on it and shove in. I did it a lot—fingers, toys, pretending. You’re dripping down to your balls, Dee. Keep repeating. I want to come again hearing you ask.”

“Would you have let him fuck you at the meetup?”

“Y. Hard. I would’ve begged.”

“Say it. Did you jerk off to those thoughts?”

“I did it a lot. Sometimes twice before I could sleep.” Lorenzo’s giggle turned shaky. His fist flew faster, wet and filthy, the head of his cock dark and leaking steadily onto his stomach. “Look how hard you are for my answers. You’re gonna paint yourself again just from this.”

Darius’s cock throbbed viciously in his grip. He spread his knees wider, planted his feet on the mattress, and snapped his hips up in short hard thrusts that made the camera bounce. Every confession yanked the coil tighter. “You wanted to make out with him—you wanted to suck his dick—did you jerk off while thinking that—”

“Y. Sometimes y. I did it a lot—” Lorenzo’s breath hitched. “—y. I’d drop to my knees first, get him soaked, then bend over and take it. Came so many times empty wishing it was him.”

“Would you have let him fuck you?”

“Y—fuck—y. Table, wall, floor. I jerked off to it a lot.”

The second orgasm built brutal and fast. Darius’s free hand shoved under his balls and squeezed; his fist blurred over the swollen head. Lorenzo matched him stroke for stroke, moaning open-mouthed now, the earlier giggles lost under the wet frantic sound of skin and the low filthy sounds spilling from both phones.

“Did you jerk off to those thoughts—Colette kissing you, feeding you his dick, then splitting you open at that meetup—”

“I did it a lot—y—I’m close—”

They broke together again.

Darius’s cock kicked hard and thick white ropes erupted across his chest and throat, some landing hot on his chin and lips. He kept stroking through every pulse, body locked rigid, vision whiting out at the edges while the orgasm ripped long shuddering waves through him. On the screen Lorenzo’s moan cracked high and broken. His cock jerked in his fist and he came in messy arcs that striped his abs and hit his collarbone, hips snapping, thighs shaking, mouth open as he milked every drop with short desperate pulls.

Harsh breaths filled the speakers. Cum cooled sticky on both of them. Darius’s cock twitched in the aftershocks, still half-hard and oversensitive. Lorenzo’s chest heaved; a slow pearly trail slid down his side toward the sheets. He gave one last soft, teasing giggle while he watched Darius catch his breath, eyes bright with filthy satisfaction.

“I did it a lot, y.”

They exchanged long, dirty smiles—spent, wrecked, completely willing. Darius’s voice came rough and fond. “End it before I make you start round three.”

Lorenzo’s grin widened. He gave his spent cock one last lazy squeeze that made it twitch. “Night, Dee.”

“Night.”

The call ended. The screen went dark. Darius lay alone in the blue-black quiet of his room, cum cooling in thick stripes across his chest and throat, the sticky evidence of everything they had shared cooling on his skin. He wiped a stripe from his chin with two fingers and sucked them clean, smiling to himself at the residual taste and the echo of Lorenzo’s short blunt confessions.

Across the city Lorenzo set the phone down, still naked, still marked. He wiped a slow hand through the mess on his own stomach, then reached for the second phone face-down on the nightstand—the one Darius had never seen. The screen lit with an unread message from Colette, sent twenty minutes earlier while the video call had still been live: You free later this week? Still thinking about that night.

Lorenzo’s thumb hovered. He smiled to himself in the dark, the secret warm and private under his ribs, and typed a short reply only he would know.