PORNSTAR
Authors Note: Heeeyyyy Yallllll🫣🫢 Sorry I've been in and out of this app.... But Life got me in a chokehold baby! Wheew.... 😮💨 But...I've been working. Here's a lil something to get back into the swing of things... This request had me on one... I hope the baby that requested this really enjoys this... I thought outside the box with this one...and lastly, I hope all of you enjoy. 😊
Warning:. PLEASE DNI IF YOU'RE A MINOR. THIS IS FOR THE 18+ CREW...
6.8K Words (DAMN IT) 😮💨
READER|
If your nephew hadn't begged you to go with him, you wouldn't even be here. Let's start there.
WWE meet-and-greet? Cool. Jey Uso? Fine as hell. But packed convention center crowds, screaming fans, and long-ass lines? Not your usual vibe. But your nephew, Malik, had been losing his little mind about this for weeks—talkin' 'bout "Auntie, you gotta come with me. Ain't no way I'm meeting my favorite wrestler without you."
You loved that boy too much to say no.
What you didn't love, though? The damn DIY crop top he made you wear. His "special request."
A black and Gold YEET shirt, sliced up by your sister like it was a damn Fashion Nova drop.
"Ain't no way in hell..."
That was all you could think as you tugged at the hem of the the cropped shirt. The fabric barely grazed your midriff, the edges uneven from your sister's scissors and imagination. She swore she was doing you a favor. "Trust me," she said. "Little crop action. Let that snatched waist do what it do."
And it didn't help that it left your tattoo exposed, that tattoo. The one no one was supposed to recognize unless they paid the subscription fee and clicked that lil tip link.
A scorpion with it's tail flipped over but the end was shaped into a heart, right on the side of your rib cage, almost under your right boob.
Your subscribers? They loved that tat. One in particular tipped three thousand the first time he saw it in a slow-motion clip of you unzipping that bodysuit, whispering "You wanna see more, baby?"
But you never showed your face.
Never said your name.
Never planned to be seen.
Until now.
"Yo, that's Jey, Auntie! That's him!"
Malik damn near broke into a sprint.
You followed behind, trying not to let your thighs stick together from the heat and nerves. The closer you got to the table, the more you realized Jey wasn't just "fine." He was ridiculously Fine. Dangerously Fine.
A walking sin.
Thick Samoan frame draped in a black plain shirt and matching sweats, ink flowing down both arms like liquid legacy. His tribal tattoo stretched up the right side of his neck, under that thick ass gold Cuban chain. You could see it even clearer when he turned his head to the side to look away, revealing it more. Your knees nearly gave out.
His hair was slicked down, faded on the sides. Curls more defiant, than it was through the camera. His lips? Full and Pink. Smile? Bottom row full of Gold. Beard? Full as hell, sprinkle of gray hairs in it.
And Lord, when his eyes found yours?
It was like he'd already seen you naked.
Because...he had.
Not that you knew that...yet.
"What up, Uce? Who you bring with ya? Yo sister?" he asked, looking down at Malik first, but his gaze snapped right back to you.
"My Auntie. She brought me," Malik beamed proudly, nudging you closer like you weren't about to melt into a puddle.
Jey leaned in.
"Appreciate you bringin' him, mama. You lookin' real familiar though..."
You smiled, nerves prickling your spine. "Do I?"
His gaze dipped to your chest—not too subtly—and locked onto that tattoo like it was branded into his memory.
And the way his lips curled?
Yeah. He knew.
The grin that slid across his lips was lazy and laced in mischief. That bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he gave you a once-over that sent heat crawling up your neck.
"Damn," he muttered, leaning closer. "You a real one for rockin' that Yeet crop."
His voice was rich. Deep. Like honey left out in the sun.
You chuckled awkwardly and glanced at your nephew, who was still giddy. "He made me wear it."
"Smart kid," Jey said—still looking at you. Not your nephew.
Up close, he was too fine. It was damn near suffocating.
You took a picture together. He didn't touch your waist... but his hand did brush the small of your lower back as you leaned in. That light drag of his fingertips felt intentional. Testing.
The line to meet him was still long, but before you walked away, he leaned in slightly, his breath was warm, his tone low. Just for you to ONLY hear,
"Nice ink, mama."
Your breath caught.
He smirked, slow and knowing. Then added: "Seen it before."
Your stomach dropped. You blinked.
He let go.
Fuck.
The drive back was quiet, but your brain was loud.
You couldn't stop replaying the moment in your head. The way Jey looked at you. The way his voice dipped when he said "Seen it before." Like he knew exactly where.
And the thing that had your heart thudding all the way down to your thighs?
That little smirk. That sinful, knowing, bottom-lip-biting-ass smirk.
You dropped Malik off, kissed his forehead, told your sister to text if he needed anything—and peeled out the driveway faster than you should've.
The second your front door shut behind you, you leaned against it, chest rising.
You needed to breathe.
But you also needed to work.
Saturdays were your bread and butter. Your masked streams always went up between 11 and 2AM—prime time for your audience. You hadn't even posted a teaser yet. Still had to light the candles, cue the playlist, and pick out a bodysuit.
Your silk robe slipped off as you walked into your bedroom. The soft hum of the ring light flickered on, casting shadows across your vanity and bed. You moved to sit, propped open your laptop—and that's when you saw it.
OnlyFans: New Messages (3) — From JSF89
You squinted.
JSF89?
That name always gave you butterflies. He tipped real heavy. Commented little. But always requested the softest, but filthiest shit.
You clicked.
JSF89: That yeet shirt was damn near criminal, ma. I see why lil man made u wear it.
Your stomach clenched.
JSF89: But, that tat? That's what did it. I knew, I KNEW that ink from somewhere, been staring at if fo' months.
Your pulse drummed in your ears. You felt your fingers tremble as you read the third one.
JSF89: You ever been with one of your subs ? 👀
You swallowed hard.
Your throat went dry.
Then came the fourth.
JSF89: You ever thought about it? 🫣
You stared at the screen, the realization hitting like a gut punch laced with arousal.
Jey.
JSF89 was Jey fuckin' Uso. The fine ass man your nephew dragged you to meet today.
You closed your eyes for a second, but all it did was replay every moan, every video, every damn clip you'd uploaded where you talked directly into the camera with him watching.
With him tipping.
With him...
Fantasizing.
You reopened them, cheeks warm. Fingers hovering over the keys.
You weren't reckless with this page. Not ever. You never mixed fantasy with reality.
But...
For him?
You took a breath. Typed slow.
Sin-in-aShiesty: No. Never have. If you been watchin me for months, you know that's one of my rules.
You paused. Heart racing.
Sin-in-aShiesty:But... For you...? Maybe, I'd make an exception 🦂🖤
Your message was barely a minute old before the response bubble popped up.
Your heart thudded.
JSF89 is typing...
You watched the dots blink. And blink. And blink.
Then—
JSF89: So I ain't the only one breakin' rules tonight, huh? 😏
You bit your lip so hard you almost moaned.
Your thighs clenched on instinct. This was too real. Too fast. And yet... it felt like it had always been leading to this.
Another message popped through before you could even react.
JSF89: Drop that stream tonight. Imm be watchin'.
You blinked. Then blinked again.
Because just like that... it wasn't anonymous anymore. The fantasy had a name. A voice. A body.
And God help you—a sexy ass face.
That thick, caramel, Samoan face with the full lips and the tribal ink and that damn smile. The man who made your nephew grin like Christmas. The man who dragged his fingers across your back like he owned it. The man who'd been stroking himself to your content for months.
And now?
He wanted to see what it looked like when the mask was off, and in person.
You stood, shook out your limbs, and grabbed the black mesh bodysuit from your drawer. High-cut. Backless. Zipped up the front. You knew the zipper wouldn't last past the thirty-minute mark—hell, maybe not even ten. But that's what they liked.
What he liked.
You stepped into it slowly, tugging it over your hips. The mesh hugged your curves like a second skin, your nipples already visible beneath the thin fabric. You adjusted the straps, checked your angles in the mirror, and slid on your mask—black, sleek, and full-face. Only your eyes and lips showed. Glossed. Full. Teasing.
You always went live with candles burning. Tonight, you added more.
Candles along the headboard, tea lights lining the vanity, a slow-burning wax melt filling the room with something warm and vanilla-sinful. The playlist was already queued: slow bass, nasty lyrics, moans tucked in between every beat.
Your fingertips trembled slightly as you adjusted the camera, propped it up just how he liked it. Wide angle. Just enough to catch the curve of your hips when you turned around, enough to see that tattoo peeking out every time you shifted.
The scorpion. Tail curved into a heart. You had no doubt he was staring at it right now, mouth parted, hand probably already wrapped around himself.
You hit Start Stream.
And just like that, the red light blinked on.
The chat lit up instantly—comments rolling in like always.
But your eyes were searching for one name.
JSF89 has entered the room.
You sucked in a breath through your nose. Your lips curled into a smirk.
Then other comments rolled in like water out of a dam,
DADDY4U88: Lawd she done pulled the mesh out. We eating tonight, fellas. BIGTYME911: She Baaaackkk🔥🦂 KINGLUST21: Aye turn the lights up a lil. I needa seee alll dat😮💨 DRIPEMOUT: Oooweeeee, Mesh?? Oh you not playin tonight mama.😮💨 DemonTimeDon: She back at it... BEEN waitin all week.
And then—there he was.
JSF89: That bodysuit made for you, huh? That lil waist still sittin'? 😈💸
$500 tip.
You didn't flinch... but your body did.
Your thighs twitched beneath you. He knew exactly how to get a reaction. You swore the screen got hotter just seeing his name.
"Yall was good last week. I was gonna keep it slow tonight. But, some of yall know how to beg real good."
The chat exploded.
BOOBMAN25: Whoever he is, he got her blushin thru a mask. 🤣 DeepStrokez212: Not the private nickname treatment. He def in the top 4. DripUOut: She said "some of y'all"—JSF know he the chosen one 😂 NastyWorkNed: I'm tipping just to compete now. 😤 JSF89: Let 'em talk, mama. I'm here for the show.
Another $500 tip.
But then came another comment.
JSF89: That tattoo always been my favorite. Right where I wanna put my mouth. 😈
You froze for half a second.
Thighs twitching again.
The words weren't new—but coming from him? On this night? After two $500 tips?
You already knew what time it was.
And he wasn't done.
JSF89: Take it off, mama. JSF89: Let me see it up close. JSF89: Do your worst.
$1,500 tip.
Your lips parted slowly behind the mask.
Your body responded before your mind did—hips shifting, breath catching, nipples pebbling under the mesh as your fingers slid up the center of the suit.
The chat couldn't see his tip. They never could.
But they felt the shift.
DeepStrokez212: Yo... wtf just happened?? BIGTYME911: She look like somebody touched her thru the screen 😭 BOOBMAN25: Who is JSF?? Cuz she movin different after his comments. DemonTimeDon: This the kinda pace change that get bookmarked. KingLust21: She bout to show out... I can FEEL it.
You scooted back til you reached the middle of the bed, then you stood on your knees, slow and intentional.
Fingers hooking into the sides of the mesh and peeling it down your shoulders, then further... revealing soft, glistening skin inch by inch.
Full view.
That damn tattoo.
The scorpion's curved tail rested just beneath the swell of your breast, rising and falling with your breath.
You leaned closer into the camera, tilted your head, voice like syrup:
"You still watchin', daddy?"
And then, without breaking eye contact with the lens...
You reached behind you. Grabbing it.
The rose gold wand. Your favorite. Polished. Sleek. Quiet at first.
The moment it buzzed to life in your hand, the chat lost control.
JUICYJERK88: OHHH SHIT. DemonTimeDon: It's OVER. KINGLUST21: That's the toy. DripEmOut: Y'all heard that hum?? We locked in now. DADDY4U88: Cleared my schedule. 😩
You pressed the wand to your clit again. This time? Direct contact.
"Mmmfuck..." you breathed, body arching, eyes fluttering shut.
Your moans poured out slow and dreamy, like honey.
"Y'all watchin'? Hope you're strokin' with me..." "Especially you, daddy..."
JSF89: I'm here. JSF89: Stroke for stroke. Don't you hold back now. JSF89: Show me that pretty finish.
Your hips started rolling. Thighs tightening. That perfect moan spilling from your lips—soft, sweet, desperate.
Your body trembled. Eyes crossed. Toes pointed.
And just as your orgasm hit—your thighs jerked, and you squirted.
Hard. All over the bed. The wand still buzzing against your clit as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream.
The chat went insane.
BOOBMAN25: OHHHHH SHIIIITTTTT! KINGLUST21: SHE SQUIRTED. WE GOT A FLOOD. DADDY4U88: JSF WHAT DID YOU DO? DeepStrokez212: I AIN'T NEVER SEEN HER DO IT LIKE THAT DripUOut: WHO IS DADDY?!??!?
You lay there panting, wand falling from your hand, chest rising and falling as you finally whispered into the mic:
"...Told you it was for you, daddy."
And somewhere, phone in hand, dick still in a death grip—
Jey's soul left his body.
Your body was still humming. The sheets beneath you were soaked, the wand buzzing quietly where it had fallen from your hand, and the soft afterglow made your limbs feel like warm jelly.
You reached over, finally tapping End Stream.
The red light faded. The chat died down. And just like that... it was quiet again.
You exhaled slowly, mask still on, heart still beating fast from the messiest orgasm you'd ever shared on camera.
Then—
Ping.
A DM. Private. From JSF89.
Your eyes narrowed. You sat up slowly, grabbing your phone with fingers still trembling slightly.
JSF89: That was the nastiest shit I've ever seen. And you know I done replayed that squirt three times already. But I gotta ask you one thing, mama... JSF89:That offer from earlier today... About being with one of your subs...That still on the table? Your lips parted.
Now? You knew who he was.
Jey Uso. The man who hugged your nephew like family, the man whose real-life presence made your thighs clench in broad daylight at that meet and greet.
And now he was asking you for you.
Your fingers tapped slow.
You: Yesss, it's still on the table. Here's my number. Don't make me regret this.
Not even thirty seconds later—your phone buzzed.
(301)-232-****- This Jey. Drop the addy, mama. I ain't playing wit you.
You swallowed hard.
This was real now.
You sent the address, then dropped the phone into your lap, heart thudding.
Jey🤒: 25 mins out. Be ready for me. No mask this time. I wanna see all that pretty face when you cum🥴
You stared at the screen for a second, a breath caught in your throat, before you jumped off the bed like your whole body had rebooted.
Shower. You needed one now. Not just to freshen up—but to reset. To prep.
Because Jey Uso was on his way. The man you'd moaned for behind a screen for months was about to see all of you—in real time, in real light, no edits, no angles.
You tossed the mesh bodysuit in the hamper, turned on the shower, and stepped in. Steam rising. Heart pounding.
Pussy still pulsing.
You scrubbed, shaved, rinsed, moisturized. You made sure you smelled like vanilla and warm jasmine—your signature scent.
By the time you were dry, the clock read 17 minutes.
You threw on a silk robe—bare underneath. Lit the candles. Turned the lights low, music lower. Just a little SZA in the background. Something sultry. Something slow.
Then you grabbed your phone. Checked the camera. Rewatched the clip of you squirting one last time.
And whispered to yourself with a smirk,
"Let's see if he can handle it in person."
Your heart was thudding. You'd been pacing for the last ten minutes—fresh out the shower, hair still damp at the ends, skin glowing from a fast rubdown of shea butter and nerves. You'd changed three times before settling on an oversized tee that barely hit the tops of your thighs... and nothing underneath.
And then—
Three slow knocks.
You froze.
Then exhaled, wiped your palms on your thighs, and opened the door.
And there he was.
JSF89. Jey. In the flesh.
Black tank hugging every curve of his tattooed arms. Shoulders wide. Chest ridiculous. Gold chains resting against thick caramel skin. And those black Ray-Bans sitting low on his nose, giving him that quiet, cocky mystery that made your thighs clench on instinct.
But what hit you first?
His scent.
That warm, spicy cologne with something smooth and masculine underneath—clean skin, a hint of mint, and heat. He smelled expensive. Familiar. Dangerous.
His eyes dragged over your face first—like he was matching what he saw earlier at the meet and greet to what was right in front of him now.
And then... lower.
His lips parted slightly as he stared at your thighs, at the peek of brown skin and shea-glossed curves, at the faint imprint of your nipples under the thin tee.
He stepped inside without a word.
You backed up slowly as he shut the door behind him, locking it with one hand—still staring at you like he didn't quite believe you were real.
"Damn," he muttered, voice low, smooth, and deep. "You still look even better without the mask."
You smirked, half-turned to give him the view over your shoulder.
"You tryna make me blush or..."
He was already in your space. Big, warm, radiating heat. His hand brushed your hip as he stepped in closer, chest nearly grazing yours.
"Nah," he murmured, eyes drinking you in. "Just tryna see what my favorite streamer looks like... in person."
You held his gaze for a beat, heart damn near doing backflips in your chest, before clearing your throat and stepping back.
"You want a drink or something first? You good?"
He licked his lips slowly, finally pulling off his shades and letting you really see him. Those dark brown eyes? Hungry. Focused. That soft simmer that said he was two seconds from forgetting what water even was.
He blinked. Then laughed low under his breath. "You tryna be polite after damn near leaking on camera thinkin' about me?"
You grinned. "I'm tryna be a good host. You drove 25 minutes."
"Yeah. And you worth every mile, mama."
You motioned toward the kitchen, as he followed. "I got you. You want tequila, or somethin' softer?"
He chuckled, licking his lips as he leaned on your counter. "Lemme get that tequila. Straight. I'ma need it."
Then he paused, eyes trailing down your legs. "'Cause if you sit on my lap lookin' like that... we not makin' it past the drink."
You bit your lip, heat crawling up your thighs.
As you reached for the bottle and two glasses, his voice dropped again behind you.
"And mama..." You turned, glass in hand.
He was already watching you like a man about to be fed his favorite meal.
"I ain't tryna leave 'til the sun come up."
Jey licked his lips after his, eyes never leaving yours as he placed the empty glass down with a soft clink. He stayed leaned over the counter, those thick forearms flexed beneath the weight of his body, chains shifting just enough to glint under the kitchen light.
You watched his tongue swipe across the edge of his beard, catching the last trace of tequila—and your thighs clenched.
“So…” you murmured, dragging a finger down your own glass, voice dipped in syrup. “You ready to see where the magic happens?”
He didn’t move at first. Didn’t speak.
He just looked at you.
Like you were already unwrapped. Like he was starving and finally at the table.
Then he stood up—slow. Heavy. Every part of him saying yeah, I’m ready. His hand brushed your lower back, slipping lower until his fingers flirted with the curve of your ass.
“Lead the way, mama.”
You smirked. Turned without a word. And walked slow on purpose.
You could feel his eyes on you as your shirt shifted with every step. The bounce. The sway. The bare skin teasing just under the hemline.
You cracked the door to your room open with one hand and stepped inside.
Soft lighting bathed the room in a warm, inviting glow—candles flickering low, your familiar setup in the corner, tripod and ring light tucked near your vanity, bed made… but barely. Pillows tossed, sheets inviting.
You turned around to face him, watching as he stepped in and shut the door behind him.
He took in everything—the low lights, the faint scent of vanilla, the vibe.
Then his eyes settled back on you.
“This where you had me losin’ sleep, huh?” he said low, gaze sweeping your body again. “Right here on this bed? Moanin’ under that mask?”
You stepped closer. “Right here,” you whispered.
You reached up and pulled your oversized shirt over your head, slow and deliberate.
His breath hitched.
There was nothing underneath.
The scorpion tattoo on your ribs caught the candlelight, curling under your breast like it had been waiting for him.
He didn’t say a word. Just stared. Hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was holding on to his sanity by threads.
You tilted your head, voice soft.
“C’mon, daddy.” “You said you weren’t leaving till the sun came up…”
You backed up slowly, letting the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed.
“…and I’m not planning on sleeping either.”
He hadn’t moved yet.
Still standing there, chest rising slow, watching you like a man on the brink—like one wrong blink and he’d lose all restraint.
But you wanted to be the one to push him over.
You stepped to him, bare and warm, your nipples brushing against his tank as you slid your hands up his chest. Your fingers found his Cuban link chains, thick and heavy, resting right at the top of his pecs. You curled your fingers around it and gave it a gentle pull.
"C’mere."
It wasn’t even loud. It didn’t have to be.
He followed, just like you knew he would.
You tilted your chin up, eyes locked on his face as you reached with your other hand and slid his Ray-Bans off slow—real slow—watching the way his lashes fluttered, how his jaw flexed once the light hit those dark brown eyes.
"There you are," you whispered.
His eyes were everything. Hungry. Focused. A little wild around the edges. Like he'd been holding back from the second you opened the door.
“You really had me watchin’ you with my hand around my dick,” he muttered, voice thick and deep, “now I get to touch you for real?”
You smirked, still holding onto his chain, letting your nails graze the back of his neck.
“Not just touch me,” you breathed, leaning up, lips just grazing his—“you get to fuck me.”
That did it.
He growled low under his breath, grabbed the back of your neck and crashed his lips into yours—hard, messy, claiming.
Your fingers tangled in the thick Cuban around his neck, holding him close as he kissed you like he owned you—like he’d tipped for months just to get a taste, and now? Now he was going to make sure it was burned into his memory.
"Mmm—" you gasped into his mouth as he nipped your bottom lip, then licked over it like he couldn't help himself. He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours, both of you breathing heavy, lips still brushing.
"Been thinkin' about this mouth for months," he whispered, thumb stroking your jaw. "That voice. Those moans. That fuckin’ tattoo…”
He trailed his fingers down your side slowly, warm and rough, until they hovered just below your breast—right where the scorpion coiled on your skin.
"I used to pause the stream right here…" he murmured, eyes fixed on it, his thumb barely grazing the ink. "Every time you arched. Every time that little heart peeked out."
You shivered. His voice was thick, reverent. Like your body was sacred text and he’d memorized it line by line.
He sank to his knees before you even realized it. His hands slid down your thighs, gripping them firmly, spreading you just a little as he leaned in.
His lips brushed the underside of your breast, right over the tattoo. Soft. Slow. Worshipful.
"This what you meant to show me, mama?" "All those streams... all those nights I had your name in my mouth and my fist tight?"
He kissed it again. Then licked it.
And you swore your knees buckled.
He stood again, towering over you now, letting his hands trail up your sides until they reached your throat—fingertips gentle, but firm enough to remind you who was in control now.
"Lay back on the bed."
His voice didn’t rise. He didn’t have to ask.
You obeyed without a word, climbing onto the sheets and laying down with your legs still hanging off the edge.
You watched as he peeled off his tank—slowly. Letting you see every curve of that carved chest, every inch of ink, every scar that made him even more real.
Then he slid his pants down just enough to tease the V-cut of his hips and the deep thickness behind his boxers.
But he didn’t rush.
He climbed on top of you slowly, body warm and heavy, hands caging you in on either side of your head as he leaned down and whispered:
“Tonight? I’m not watchin’. I’m living it.”
His lips captured yours again, slower this time. And his hand?
Already trailing between your thighs.
His mouth dragged down your neck, leaving heat in its path, his beard tickling soft over your skin as he made his way lower—taking his time, savoring every breathy whimper, every arch of your hips.
When he reached the underside of your breast again—right over the scorpion tattoo—he paused.
Tongue flat. A slow lick. Then a warm kiss that made your stomach flutter.
“I used to rewind right here,” he muttered, voice dark, lips brushing your skin as his fingers slid between your thighs. “Every time you moaned with your eyes crossed and that wand on your clit?”
He kissed lower. Slower.
“You’d tell us you were close... but you’d always hold out just long enough to make us tip harder.”
You gasped as he kissed just above your mound, your thighs twitching open.
And then— He looked up at you from between your legs, eyes blown wide, a smirk tugging at his lips as he said:
“Tonight? I get to see it happen. Close. Real close.”
He reached over to your nightstand, never taking his eyes off you, and grabbed it.
Your wand. Rose gold. Sleek. Familiar. Dangerous.
Your breath caught in your throat the moment he turned it on. That low hum filled the room like a live wire snapping through your spine.
He raised an eyebrow. “This the one that made you squirt on stream?”
You bit your bottom lip and nodded, thighs already shifting restlessly beneath him.
“Mmhmm... That’s the one.”
He chuckled—deep and wicked—and slid his palm up your thigh, spreading your legs wider, laying on his stomach between them like he was getting ready to worship something holy.
And then he pressed it to your clit.
Not hard. Just enough.
Your head flew back instantly.
“Fuuuck—Jey…”
His free hand slipped under your thigh, anchoring you down as your hips bucked at the vibration.
He watched you closely.
Watched your brows furrow.
Watched your lips part.
Watched your body start to tremble under that first wave.
“There she go…” he muttered, eyes locked on your pussy. “Already twitchin’, huh? You really that close?”
“Y-yes… fuck yes…” You could barely get the words out.
Your back arched. Your legs trembled. That pressure in your belly building fast—too fast.
And just as you were about to tip over—
He pulled it away.
“No— Jey!” you cried, hips chasing the wand, eyes wild.
He chuckled. Slow. Lazy. Cruel.
“Mmm... Nah. Not yet.”
He leaned up slightly, his beard grazing your thigh as he whispered:
“I been waitin’ months for this, mama. You gon’ give me every piece of it. Not just the end.”
He kissed your inner thigh, then brought the wand back. Pressed it lighter. Slower. Building the rhythm again.
Your legs trembled all over again. Hands clutching the sheets. Mouth falling open as you gasped for air.
“Please…” you whimpered.
“Please what, mama?” His voice was silk over fire. He kissed your hip, still teasing your clit with those maddening little pulses.
You whimpered again, biting your lip hard.
“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me what you need.”
“Please... let me come,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I need to.”
He leaned up, one hand gripping your thigh tighter, the wand pressing back to your clit with purpose now.
“Good,” he muttered, licking his lips. “’Cause I need to see what it look like when you lose it for real.”
He didn’t stop.
No teasing. No retreat. Jey’s eyes were glued to your pussy like it was everything he’d been waiting for—and now that he had it, he wasn’t about to miss a single detail.
“Yeah, mama… give me that nut. Let me see it.”
Your back arched so hard your shoulders came off the bed. The wand stayed locked in place. His grip? Unforgiving. And his mouth…?
His lips were parted, eyes flicking between your face and the way your body writhed, completely at his mercy.
“Jey—fuck—Jeyyy—”
Your cry broke mid-scream as your climax ripped through you like lightning. Your toes pointed. Your thighs trembled violently. Your eyes crossed as your body jerked and pulsed, pleasure rushing in waves, wave after wave, until—
You squirted. Hard. Hot. Messy. All over the sheets, his forearm, and the rose gold wand still buzzing against your swollen clit.
“Fuuuuuck, there it is,” he growled, watching you unravel, still holding you in place like he needed to feel every single tremor you gave him.
But before your legs could even settle… Before your mind could climb back down from the stars…
He did it again.
The wand didn’t move.
“J-Jey—please, wait—” You were already writhing, body twitching from the overstimulation.
He climbed up the bed, hovering over you now, his voice dark and rough right against your ear.
“Uh uh. Not done yet. You got more in you.”
His lips brushed your jaw as he worked the wand in slower, tighter circles.
“I want that third nut. That mean one.” “The one you give right before you can’t take anymore.”
Your body was wrecked—flooded with heat, your breath coming in shallow gasps, fingers digging into his arms as your body spiraled again.
“You close already, huh?” His mouth dragged along your neck. “That quick? Thought you needed a break, baby.”
And just like that—
He pulled the wand away.
You let out a broken cry, thighs snapping closed out of instinct.
He laughed softly, dropping the wand beside you, then reached for the hem of his tank and peeled it off, tossing it across the room like it offended him.
Then came the sweats. Low, slow. The band of his briefs clinging to those hips, that carved V-line like something out of a dream.
And when they dropped?
You swallowed.
Thick. Heavy. His dick curved upward, veined, already hard as hell, but he didn’t even move until he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a foil square from his wallet.
“Real ones wrap it up,” he said with a wink, sliding it on with practiced ease.
Then he climbed between your thighs.
His voice dropped—lower than you’d heard all night—as he leaned in, his forehead against yours.
“This what you really wanted, right?” “Not the tips. Not the comments. Not the stream.”
He ran the tip along your slick folds, teasing your entrance.
“You wanted me.”
You couldn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
Your legs fell open in surrender, and your breath hitched as you nodded, eyes heavy, lips parted.
And then—he slid in.
Slow. Thick. Stretching you in a way that felt too much and just right at the same time.
The moment he bottomed out—deep, to the hilt—he went still.
Buried in your pussy. Breath ragged. Palms braced on either side of your head like he needed the mattress to ground him.
His chest hovered over yours, chains dangling, brushing your collarbone with each shaky inhale.
“Shit…” His voice was ruined. Thick. Heavy. Full of disbelief. “I knew it was gonna feel good, but this?”
He looked down between your bodies like he still couldn’t believe he was really inside you. The woman who used to ride her wand in slow circles, whispering dirty little nothings behind that shiesty mask. Now? Your legs were wrapped around him. Tattoo bared. Eyes fluttering. Pussy wrapped so tight around his dick he had to breathe through it.
"This pussy..." he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "Goddamn, mama. You made me obsessed with you."
Then—he moved.
That first stroke? Deep. Slow. Intentional. Dragging against your walls with delicious, dizzying pressure.
And once he felt how your body clung to him?
He locked in.
He gripped your thigh, hoisted it higher, and fucked you deep—tight, heavy thrusts that rolled through your core like thunder.
But he wasn’t just stroking. He was studying.
One hand slid up to your ribs, thumb tracing that scorpion tattoo like he was finally touching the fantasy that lived in his head for months.
He bent his head down and kissed it. Slow. Then again—harder—his teeth grazing the heart at the tail.
“This where it all started,” he growled against your skin. “Every time you showed this… I knew I was done for.”
You gasped as his lips moved higher, trailing over your breast, then your collarbone, then your mouth—kissing you deep, tongue tasting you like he wanted to live inside your mouth.
His hand wrapped around your throat—gentle, but firm. Thumb resting under your jaw, fingers splayed wide, the pressure making your breath catch in your throat and your pussy clench around him hard.
“Look at me,” he said, fucking into you rougher now. “Don’t close your eyes. You begged for this. Now you take it.”
And you did.
You moaned into his mouth, hands sliding up his back, nails dragging down the ridges of his shoulders.
Then he reached up—fingers tangling in your thick ass hair, gripping it at the base. Pulled your head back, exposing your neck, your chest, your whole fucking soul.
“And I'm just gettin' started.” he whispered against your throat.
His pace didn’t slow—if anything, it got meaner. Heavy strokes. Thick. Intentional. Deep enough to make your mouth fall open and your hands claw at the sheets.
But he wasn’t close to finished. And neither were you.
Without a word, he gripped your waist and flipped you.
Not rough, but solid. Like a man who knew exactly where he wanted you. You landed on your stomach with a soft gasp, and before you could lift yourself up, his palm was flat on your lower back, holding you in place.
“Nah, keep that arch right there,” he muttered behind you, voice gravel and sex.
And then—he slid back in.
You choked on a gasp.
He filled you deeper at this angle, the curve of him kissing your walls in places you didn’t even know you had. Your legs trembled, your breath got ragged, and your toes curled in the sheets.
“You hear that?” he gritted, snapping his hips slow and deep, his heavy balls slapping your clit with each drag. “Listen to her. You makin’ her talk to me like she mine already.”
You whimpered into the sheets.
“And that moan?” he growled, gripping your hair now, wrapping it around his fist and pulling your head up just enough for you to breathe again. “Sound even better without that fuckin’ mask.”
“You so fuckin’ pretty…” he panted, his free hand gripping your ass, spreading it. “Look at this body. Thick. Drippin’. Made for me.”
You cried out, body shaking, heat swirling up your spine.
“That’s it,” he whispered, letting go of your hair just to drag his hand down your back, then over your ribs to your waist, holding you still as your thighs started to tremble. “Come on, mama… gimme that nut.”
“Let me feel it.”
And then you snapped.
You came again—loud, uncontrollable, your body jerking under him as your pussy clenched tight, throbbing around him.
You moaned so hard you swore your ears rang. Legs shaking, eyes rolling. Gone.
But Jey?
He wasn’t done.
He pulled out suddenly, and you collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving, slick dripping down your thighs.
“Get up,” he said, voice hoarse.
You looked over your shoulder, dazed.
“Huh?”
“Turn around. Sit back. Face me. Get on your knees, baby.”
You obeyed.
Hair messy. Chest rising and falling. Skin flushed and still trembling. And he stood there, dick soaked and throbbing, eyes low.
“Open that pretty mouth for me.”
You did.
He stepped forward, stroking himself slow—gripping the base and pumping up, eyes never leaving your face.
“You gon’ take this for me, right?” “You gon’ let me paint that pretty face? Let me remember this?”
You nodded, tongue out, lips parted.
He pulled his phone from the nightstand and angled it down.
“Just for me, baby.” “Private. So when I miss you, I can watch how you took it like the good girl you are.”
Your heart was pounding. Your pussy still twitching from the last orgasm. And your face? Seconds away from being painted.
His breaths got shorter. His abs flexed.
“Fuck—yes—yes, mama…”
And then—he came. Hard.
Thick, hot ropes painted your lips, your cheek, your tongue, some hitting your collarbone.
Messy. Warm. Endless.
He groaned loud, voice shaking as he whispered your name behind the phone, his hand tightening around himself as he emptied the last drop on your chin.
You held your tongue out until the very end, then slowly licked your lips, eyes heavy and locked on his.
You reached up and grasped his dick, replacing his hand with both of yours before kissing the tip. Sucking off the remaining drops. He slightly shuddered, before biting his lip. You swallowed once, and removed your lips from him then looked up at him—face still covered—smirking through it.
“This what you been fantasizin’ about, daddy?” He still held his phone over your face, “Goddamn... this one just for me. Look at my baby—covered in me. Just like she promised.”
And you smiled into the camera. Tattoo peeking. Lips still parted.
He threw his phone behind your head landing on the bed, the screen dimming as he knelt in front of you, still panting, eyes heavy as they traced every drip of him sliding down your chin and chest.
“Shit...” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, wiping a streak of his own release with careful precision. You caught his thumb with your lips and sucked it off his thumb.
You released him and wiped the rest of his cum off your face before slowly licking and sucking it off your fingers. He leaned in and placed a kiss to your forehead. "You still good?" he asked, voice deep and velvet-rough
"Good," he said, voice gruff now, like he was holding back everything. Your throat was raw.
Your face sticky and flushed.
Every nerve ending still sparking under your skin as he kissed your forehead like he hadn’t just ruined you with every stroke, every command, every drop he painted across your face.
You nodded, breath shallow.
“Yeah… I’m good,” you whispered. Your voice was a little shaky, but your smile was steady.
Jey let out a low breath, one hand cradling the back of your head as he kissed your temple again, then your cheek—his lips brushing where his cum had just been.
"Good," he said, voice gruff now, throat coated in grit like he was holding back every dark thing he still wanted to do to you.
“‘Cause I don’t plan on givin’ this pussy back to the internet.”
You blinked. That heat—that heat—returned like wildfire beneath your skin.
He reached for his phone again, but this time he didn’t pull up a stream. He flipped the camera. Tapped record. Then held it in one hand, the other sliding between your legs with familiarity now. Confidence. Ownership.
“Lay back,” he murmured, already climbing back over you. “You still got more in you. I want one more on camera. But this one?” He looked down at you, eyes hooded.
“It ain’t for your fans.” He kissed you, slow and deep. “It’s for me. So every time I’m gone… I remember who this pussy belongs to.”
You licked your lips. Arched into his hand as his fingers slid into you again.
And then he asked it.
The question.
Low. Rough. Serious.
“You ready to be mine for real, baby?”
And the red light blinked. Recording. Just for him. For the man who didn’t just watch you live.
He lived in you now.
Forever his favorite fantasy.
Bonus✨
The sun had just started kissing the skyline, painting your bedroom in soft, peachy golds and sleepy shadows.
But neither of you were asleep.
You were on top.
Straddling him. Hair messy. Skin glowing. Legs trembling, but determined. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider with every bounce, every slow roll of your hips. You were riding him like you meant it. Like he belonged to you now.
And Jey?
Jey looked like he was dreaming with his eyes open.
His head was pressed back into the pillows, chain gleaming against his chest, that thick vein pulsing down his neck. His mouth was open. Breathing heavy. Speechless.
“Goddamn,” he whispered, eyes glued to where your bodies met. “Look at you…”
He dragged his hands up your thighs, back to your ass, squeezing it like it anchored him.
“You so fuckin' pretty when you ride it, mama…” “Like this shit was made for you.”
You moaned softly, hips grinding down in tight circles, your hands pressed flat against his chest, feeling every hard breath he took.
The sunlight hit your scorpion tattoo as you rocked your hips just right, and his eyes went hazy.
“Mmm—fuck—that lil tat still do somethin’ to me,” he breathed. “You real. You here. And you mine.”
You leaned down, lips brushing his.
“Say it again,” you whispered, voice shaky but sweet.
He gripped your ass tighter, thrusting up into you slowly as the head of his dick dragged right against your spot.
“You. Mine.” He kissed you once, then again. “Ain’t never givin’ this up.”
The sunrise spilled across the room, warm and golden, catching the gleam of sweat on both your skin. And with your forehead pressed to his, your bodies locked in rhythm, breath tangled between moans and messy kisses—
You both felt it building. Together.
Right there.
Right on the edge.
And just before you both tumbled into that final climax—
We leave it there. Right where dreams meet daylight. Where fantasy turned real.
And he’s still amazed.
----------------------------------------------------------
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