His Best Friend Toys Herself on His Bed

Casimir's apartment had gone quiet except for the fridge and the traffic two floors down. He was twenty-eight, barefoot in a worn T-shirt and gray sweatpants, still wired from hours of banter that had stopped being innocent somewhere around the second round of leftover noodles. Kendra, twenty-six, his best friend and the sharpest mouth he knew, stood in the short hallway with her overnight bag on one shoulder. They'd needled each other all night—her calling out the way he stared when she licked sauce off her thumb, him telling her she kept crossing her legs like she wanted an audience. Neither of them had laughed it off. Both of them were flushed, breathing too hard, the air between them thick with what they hadn't said.

She set the bag on his dresser and turned, hip cocked, eyes bright.

"I'm not going home yet," Kendra said. "I want your bed. I want to get on it, pull out my favorite toy, and masturbate until I can't think straight. And I want you right there, watching. Openly. No closed door, no looking away. Film me on your phone. Camera on my face and between my legs. I want you to see all of it."

His cock thickened so fast the sweatpants did nothing to hide it. She glanced down, saw the shape of him, and her breath caught.

"You're already hard," she said. "And I'm soaked just from asking. So don't play cool."

"You've been winding me up since we sat down," he said, voice low and sure. "Yes. I want to watch you. I want to film you. Say it again so we're both crystal clear before I hit record."

"I want you to film me fucking myself on your bed," Kendra said, no hesitation, thighs pressed together. "Eyes on me the whole time. I want this. Enthusiastically. You?"

"Enthusiastically," Casimir said, and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. The camera opened. He hit record. The red dot glowed. "Start whenever you're ready. I'm not missing a second, and I'm not looking away."

She smiled like she'd won something filthy and unzipped the bag. The dildo she drew out was thick, heavy silicone, veined along the shaft, wider than two of his fingers. She set it on his pillow and pushed the bedroom door wider so nothing about this stayed hidden from the man holding the phone.

"Then keep that camera up," she said. "And don't you dare blink."

Kendra climbed onto his bed without rushing and faced the lens. Casimir stood at the foot, phone steady, close enough that the frame caught the flush climbing her throat. She peeled her tank top up slow, baring a soft stomach, then pale lace. The shirt cleared her head. Her hair fell around her shoulders. She unhooked the bra and let it drop. Her breasts were full, nipples already tight, and she cupped them once, thumbs dragging over the peaks, eyes locked on him through the screen.

"Getting this?" she asked.

"Every inch," he said. His cock strained against the cotton. "Keep going."

She shoved her jeans down her hips, then her panties, a damp scrap of black that clung before she kicked it free. Naked on his sheets, she sat back, planted her feet wide, and spread her knees until nothing was hidden. Her pussy was slick and swollen, folds glistening, clit peeking under the light. She picked up the thick dildo, dragged the blunt head through her wetness, and coated it until the silicone shone.

"Watch me take it," Kendra said.

She held his gaze and pressed the toy to her entrance. The head stretched her. A low sound broke out of her as she pushed, slow and deliberate, the thick shaft sinking into her slick pussy an inch at a time. Her lips parted around it. She didn't look away. Casimir stepped closer, phone angled down, capturing the way her cunt opened around the toy, the shine of her arousal, the tremor in her thighs.

"Fuck," he muttered. His free hand dropped to his groin. He stroked his hardening cock through his pants, palm grinding over the ridge. "You're taking all of that."

"Because I want you to see it," she said. She seated the dildo deep and held there, stuffed full, chest heaving. Then she moved. Slow pulls at first, the toy sliding out shining, then driving back in with a wet sound that filled the room. Her moans climbed. One hand braced behind her, she fucked herself faster, breasts bouncing, eyes still on the camera and the man behind it.

"Don't stop filming," she begged, voice cracking. "Keep it on my pussy. Watch me. Casimir, keep filming, I'm so fucking wet for this."

He stayed close, zooming in on the stretch, then back to her face when her mouth fell open. His free hand worked his cock through the fabric in rough strokes that matched her rhythm. She spread wider, heels digging into his sheets, and rolled her hips to meet every thrust of her own wrist. The toy made a filthy, slick sound each time it bottomed out. Arousal shone on the shaft and smeared the inside of her thighs.

"Say what you're doing," Casimir said, breath rough, still recording. "I want it on the video."

"I'm fucking my pussy with my thick toy on your bed," Kendra said, shameless, fucking herself harder. "And my best friend is standing right there stroking his cock through his pants while he films every inch of it. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. I want you watching when I get louder."

She got louder. Moans turned into broken little cries. She pulled the dildo almost all the way out so the camera could catch her hole clenching around the head, then slammed it back in, wrist snapping, stomach tightening. Casimir's pants were damp where the tip of his cock leaked against them. He rubbed harder, jaw tight, phone never wavering.

"Faster," he said. "Show me how greedy that cunt is."

"Like this," she gasped, and did it, pounding the toy into herself until the headboard tapped the wall and her tits shook with every stroke. "Film it. Film how wet I am. Film me begging. Keep filming, Casimir, please, keep the camera on me while I fuck myself stupid on your bed."

She turned over without warning, the dildo still buried, and got on all fours facing him. The move shoved her ass up and her face toward the lens. Casimir's breath punched out of him. He stepped in until the phone was inches from her flushed face, capturing blown pupils, parted lips, the spit-shine on her lower lip. Then he dropped the angle, slow and deliberate, down the line of her spine to where her hand worked between her thighs.

"Stay right there," Kendra said, voice wrecked and eager. "I want the camera in my face and on my cunt. I want you this close. Don't go anywhere."

"I'm not," he said. "Open your mouth. Let me hear you."

She did. A moan spilled out, raw, as she drew the thick toy almost free and plunged it back into her cunt in one long, wet stroke. The sound was obscene. Her pussy swallowed the shaft, lips dragging, a string of slick catching the light before it broke. She did it again. Long. Deep. The toy disappeared to the base and slid back out shining, coated, dripping onto his sheets. Casimir filmed it from inches away, the red light steady, his own pulse hammering in his ears.

"Look at that," he said, filthy and hoarse. "Your cunt's sucking it in. I can see every inch go. You're dripping on my bed, Kendra."

"Good," she panted. "I want your sheets ruined. I want you to have this video and know exactly how I looked getting fucked on your mattress." She rocked back onto the dildo, taking it deeper, ass tilting higher so the camera had a clear shot of the stretch. "Closer. Get closer to it."

He crouched. The phone hovered just beside her hip, framing the toy as it drove in, the way her hole fluttered around the girth, the mess gathering at the base. Her free hand snaked under her and found her clit. Two fingers rubbed in frantic circles, slippery and fast, and her whole body jolted.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," she chanted, plunging the toy in long strokes that matched the frantic rub. "It's so thick. I'm so full. Watch me. Film my pussy taking it. Film my fingers on my clit. Don't miss it when I—"

A sharper cry cut her off. She shoved the dildo deep and held the pressure, grinding her clit harder, thighs shaking. Casimir lifted the phone back to her face for a second, catching the way her eyes squeezed shut and then flew open, locked on the lens, locked on him.

"Say my name," he ordered, still recording, voice rough with how hard he was. "If you're going to cum on my bed, you say it."

"Casimir," she gasped. "Casimir, Casimir, fuck, I'm—"

She screamed it. His name tore out of her, loud and broken, echoing off the walls of the apartment as she came hard. Her back bowed. Her fingers blurred over her clit. The hand on the toy shoved it deep and stayed there, and Casimir dropped the camera between her spread thighs just in time to catch it: her walls visibly pulsing around the thick dildo, clenching in rhythmic squeezes he could see, milking the silicone, pushing a fresh rush of wetness out around the shaft. It ran down the toy, down her fingers, onto his sheets in a shining spill. She kept screaming his name, hips jerking, cunt gripping and releasing, gripping and releasing, the pulses obvious even through the shake of her thighs.

"Holy fuck, I can see it," he groaned. "Your pussy's throbbing on that toy. Keep cumming. Don't pull it out. Let me film every pulse."

She couldn't have pulled it out if she tried. The orgasm rolled through her in hard waves, each one forcing another clench around the buried shaft, another helpless cry of his name. Her face was red, mouth open, drool at the corner of her lip, and she stared at the phone like she wanted him to keep every ugly, perfect second. Her fingers didn't stop. She rubbed through it, frantic, oversensitive and chasing more, and a second crest hit so hard her arms nearly buckled.

That shoved Casimir over the edge.

He stayed recording. One-handed, he shoved his sweatpants and underwear down just far enough to free his cock. It sprang out thick and flushed, already wet at the tip, veins standing. He wrapped his fist around it and stroked hard, fast, the phone still aimed at her pulsing cunt and then up along her ass as he stepped in behind the angle, never letting the red light die.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned, voice shredded. "On your ass. On your back. Keep that toy in. Let me see you stuffed while I shoot."

"Yes," Kendra sobbed, still shaking, still rubbing, the dildo buried to the base. "Film it. Cum on me. I want it on the video. I want to feel it."

His fist flew. The wet sound of his hand mixed with the wet sound of her cunt still fluttering around silicone. He aimed the phone down the length of her spine, capturing the arch of her back, the round of her ass, the base of the toy shining between her cheeks. His balls drew up. Heat ripped through him. He groaned her name and came in a powerful, messy orgasm, thick ropes of cum striping her ass and her lower back, white against flushed skin, spurt after heavy spurt. One rope landed high between her shoulder blades. Another painted the curve of her ass. More dripped from the head of his cock onto the swell of one cheek while he kept stroking, kept recording, hips jerking through every pulse until he was wrung out and still filming the mess he'd made.

"Fuck, look at you," he panted, not stopping the video. "Covered. Stuffed. Still shaking."

She collapsed forward onto her stomach, the toy still buried deep, ass tilted just enough that nothing spilled out of frame. Cum slid in slow, filthy trails down her skin, pooling in the dip of her spine, dripping toward the sheets. She turned her face toward the camera, panting, mouth curved in a wrecked smile, eyes bright and filthy.

"Zoom in," Kendra said, breathless and laughing. "Get the cum. Get the toy. I want to see how ruined I look."

Casimir did. The lens closed in on the white streaks cooling on her ass, on a thick drop sliding down the cleft, on the base of the dildo still splitting her open, her pussy puffy and shining around it. They locked eyes over the phone, both of them laughing, breathless, stunned by how hard they'd just gone for each other.

"Next time," she said, grinning at the lens, "you film me from the start until you paint me again."

"Name the night," he said, still zoomed in, still hard enough to ache.

She wiggled her ass at the camera, cum dripping, toy lodged deep, and laughed. "Tomorrow, and you don't stop recording until your cum is running into my stuffed cunt."