Moderately Homo
Busty Asian Babe
You can tell a lot about a person based on their snapchats (the beloved picture-sending app).
The Videographer: the sender sends enough video clips for the receiver to make a short film (and your duty as the receiver is to make sure they know that).
The ones that almost always show their face: either they’re comfortable with themselves or you’re BFFs to the point of not losing sleep over the sight of Ashley without her eyebrows drawn in (which is… yeah, I’m a really great BFF).
That One Guy (also known as the Douche-Bag) who always looks really fucking great: everybody hates you.
The Hipster: thank you kindly for showing off your Starbucks, but Instagram was invented for a reason.
The Randomer: my favorite – for a lot of reasons.
Wait. There’s actually something better than The Randomer: the Teenage White Girl. With their peace signs and messages saying hey there !! with lots of smiley faces.
Sam had to stop typing for a moment to swat at the Chihuahua that was making its life mission to nibble at his socks. Aggressively. Once the savage beast was shooed out of his room, he resumed clacking haphazardly at the keyboard.
I like to think that I’m a convenient combination of the above groups, which obviously makes me irresistible to the snap-chatting community, right? Right.
Except instead of receiving pictures from the groups listed above, I mostly get pictures of awkwardly small dicks and barely-there titties. It might have something to do with the fact that my username is bustyasianbabe.
Sam submitted the text post without reading it over because people seem to be into things making absolutely no sense these days – if his 150 Tumblr followers had anything to say about it. But they were probably unstable, because now he had two text posts and three reblogged pictures of cats. And one – only one, thank you – gay porn gif set where one of the dudes looked suspiciously like Daniel.
… Okay, so now there were two. What of it?
Sam’s phone notified him that he had seventeen new snapchats already (of course), and it made him think back to when he exchanged his user with Sydney. She’d only rolled her eyes at the mention and not-so-softly broke it to him that he wasn’t a busty Asian babe. Rude.
(“Why, is it because my dick’s too big?”
“I don’t think that’s one of the many qualities a busty Asian babe might possess.”
“Just saying, my dick makes up for what my chest has not.”
“Gross.”
“Oh, my god. You’re a lesbian.”
“Oh fuck me, you’re retarded.”
“I would fuck you if it weren’t for you-know-what. I promise you, I would. But you have a great personality so don’t you forget that and-”
The only reason Sam didn’t finish his sentence was because she was holding his slurpee in the air in an all-too-threatening fashion, which was totally not okay.)
So now after receiving and responding to 32 more snapchats and an hour of aimless scrolling on Tumblr, Sam was at his desk doing homework.
Just kidding, he wasn’t doing homework. He was watching Daniel wash his car and holy shit, it was a nummy sight. For Sam that was reason enough to unzip his fly and palm himself through his boxers. This was risky – he’d never done this while Daniel was practically in one spot for more than seconds at a time. He’d just have to glance up at Sam’s window to see him staring at him, looking guilty yet absolutely debauched and oh my God that was a turn-on.
Sam’s mouth feels almost feels inflamed, his bottom lip raw from being gnawed on as he tried to keep quiet. He was home alone, though, so it shouldn’t matter if oh fuck, his window is open. Daniel didn’t seem to indicate that he heard anything when Sam slid his window shut, so he kept going.
And fuck, the devil on his shoulder doesn’t even blink when Sam couldn’t take it anymore and pulled himself out from the confines of his boxers, probably too caught up in the traffic that is Sam’s life. He let out a muted gasp when Daniel took his shirt off and threw it somewhere and shit shit shit, he was fully erect and leaking pre-come now. He rubs frantically, the sound of skin on skin filthy. And dry, way too dry. He thumbed the tip of the head, spreading the slickness along his length and he tried to stroke slower, tried to make this last.
When Daniel starts to hose down the car the water ricochets off the steel and onto his abs, and Sam could tell they were glistening. With sweat, with soap, with – fuck, it was almost too much. His balls tighten, and his hips thrust up into his hand on their own accord and he practically fucks himself into his fist. His nails are too long and it almost hurts, but the edge is enough to send him over, spurts of come landing on his shirt.
Sam panted as he wiped at his brow, borderline ashamed.He leaned over his desk to slide the window back open, hoping to get rid of the musky scent. Daniel noticed the noise this time (God, his window was so obnoxious and up until now he’d tolerated it, but now--), and looked in Sam’s direction and waved. Sam shook his head, half ashamed and half in disbelief.
Fucked, Sam is so fucked.
The Videographer: the sender sends enough video clips for the receiver to make a short film (and your duty as the receiver is to make sure they know that).
The ones that almost always show their face: either they’re comfortable with themselves or you’re BFFs to the point of not losing sleep over the sight of Ashley without her eyebrows drawn in (which is… yeah, I’m a really great BFF).
That One Guy (also known as the Douche-Bag) who always looks really fucking great: everybody hates you.
The Hipster: thank you kindly for showing off your Starbucks, but Instagram was invented for a reason.
The Randomer: my favorite – for a lot of reasons.
Wait. There’s actually something better than The Randomer: the Teenage White Girl. With their peace signs and messages saying hey there !! with lots of smiley faces.
Sam had to stop typing for a moment to swat at the Chihuahua that was making its life mission to nibble at his socks. Aggressively. Once the savage beast was shooed out of his room, he resumed clacking haphazardly at the keyboard.
I like to think that I’m a convenient combination of the above groups, which obviously makes me irresistible to the snap-chatting community, right? Right.
Except instead of receiving pictures from the groups listed above, I mostly get pictures of awkwardly small dicks and barely-there titties. It might have something to do with the fact that my username is bustyasianbabe.
Sam submitted the text post without reading it over because people seem to be into things making absolutely no sense these days – if his 150 Tumblr followers had anything to say about it. But they were probably unstable, because now he had two text posts and three reblogged pictures of cats. And one – only one, thank you – gay porn gif set where one of the dudes looked suspiciously like Daniel.
… Okay, so now there were two. What of it?
Sam’s phone notified him that he had seventeen new snapchats already (of course), and it made him think back to when he exchanged his user with Sydney. She’d only rolled her eyes at the mention and not-so-softly broke it to him that he wasn’t a busty Asian babe. Rude.
(“Why, is it because my dick’s too big?”
“I don’t think that’s one of the many qualities a busty Asian babe might possess.”
“Just saying, my dick makes up for what my chest has not.”
“Gross.”
“Oh, my god. You’re a lesbian.”
“Oh fuck me, you’re retarded.”
“I would fuck you if it weren’t for you-know-what. I promise you, I would. But you have a great personality so don’t you forget that and-”
The only reason Sam didn’t finish his sentence was because she was holding his slurpee in the air in an all-too-threatening fashion, which was totally not okay.)
So now after receiving and responding to 32 more snapchats and an hour of aimless scrolling on Tumblr, Sam was at his desk doing homework.
Just kidding, he wasn’t doing homework. He was watching Daniel wash his car and holy shit, it was a nummy sight. For Sam that was reason enough to unzip his fly and palm himself through his boxers. This was risky – he’d never done this while Daniel was practically in one spot for more than seconds at a time. He’d just have to glance up at Sam’s window to see him staring at him, looking guilty yet absolutely debauched and oh my God that was a turn-on.
Sam’s mouth feels almost feels inflamed, his bottom lip raw from being gnawed on as he tried to keep quiet. He was home alone, though, so it shouldn’t matter if oh fuck, his window is open. Daniel didn’t seem to indicate that he heard anything when Sam slid his window shut, so he kept going.
And fuck, the devil on his shoulder doesn’t even blink when Sam couldn’t take it anymore and pulled himself out from the confines of his boxers, probably too caught up in the traffic that is Sam’s life. He let out a muted gasp when Daniel took his shirt off and threw it somewhere and shit shit shit, he was fully erect and leaking pre-come now. He rubs frantically, the sound of skin on skin filthy. And dry, way too dry. He thumbed the tip of the head, spreading the slickness along his length and he tried to stroke slower, tried to make this last.
When Daniel starts to hose down the car the water ricochets off the steel and onto his abs, and Sam could tell they were glistening. With sweat, with soap, with – fuck, it was almost too much. His balls tighten, and his hips thrust up into his hand on their own accord and he practically fucks himself into his fist. His nails are too long and it almost hurts, but the edge is enough to send him over, spurts of come landing on his shirt.
Sam panted as he wiped at his brow, borderline ashamed.He leaned over his desk to slide the window back open, hoping to get rid of the musky scent. Daniel noticed the noise this time (God, his window was so obnoxious and up until now he’d tolerated it, but now--), and looked in Sam’s direction and waved. Sam shook his head, half ashamed and half in disbelief.
Fucked, Sam is so fucked.
♠ ♠ ♠
I went through the last couple chapters and fixed little bits because it was a bit confusing.Thanks for all of the support, guys. Like. I am. Dying. Swooning and dying. And still trying to make this less confusing.