Gay Porn

Part of Casey Griffiths knew it was just an act, part of him knew it was just porn, but it still held him mesmerised. He shifted slightly on the mattress, staring up at the television on the shelf at the foot of his bed. His grip around his shaft tightened as he took in every detail on the screen.

The leather clad dominant loomed over the smaller man. Naked but for a thick black collar, the submissive bowed his head further, offering his wrists to the other man to be bound. In moments, the actor's hands were rendered useless. The dominant reached for his fly. The younger actor licked his lips in anticipation.

“Enjoying yourself?”

It wasn't the dominant actor's accent. The words didn't even seem to come from the television speakers. For several seconds after he heard the question, Casey continued to stare at the men on the screen while his brain refused to consider any other possible source for the words. The dominant on the screen freed his erection and pressed the tip of his cock to the submissive's lips.

As he watched both actors' movements speed up, Casey found his own body trapped in slow motion. He turned his head away from the screen as if the air had turned to treacle around him, making every action take a life time. Years later, he faced the door into his study-bedroom.

Sure that he had the entire house to himself while his fellow students were away for the weekend, he hadn't bothered to lock the door when he raced back to his room with the DVD clutched tightly in his hand. Thoroughly absorbed with the action on screen, he hadn't heard the door open.

It felt like he lay there for hours, naked on the bed with his hand still wrapped around his cock, before he convinced his brain to admit that, yes, Joe Saunders really was standing there in his doorway.

As suddenly as his ability to move had deserted him, it returned. Casey snatched his hand away from his shaft and looked desperately around for something, anything, to cover himself with.