The bathroom mirror was fogged with my steamy breath as I pulled my tank top off and let my eyes wander over my body. Raising my camera, I let the flash ignite the moment as I embraced my homoerotic desire and captured what was before me. I smiled and basked in the moment, letting my thoughts of desire enmesh me as I took yet another selfie.
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The selfies were alluring, drawing me deep in their suggestive curves. Sexy eyes and pouty lips. A body that yearned for attention. I craved every inch of them, imagining the warmth of their skin, the heat of the moment, as our sweaty bodies tangled in a fire of passion.
I feverishly run my fingertips along the naked body of a dream boy I had been lusting after for days. His perfectly sculpted abs and toned thighs begged for me to touch them, and I eagerly obliged. I can almost feel his heat through the photo as I take in his bulging biceps and lick my lips imagining what our night could bring.
He leaned in, sketching me in his tongue. His lips kissed me gently first as a lover, then as a tyrant demanding a response. His fingers laced through mine as his tongue explored me further and further, pushing my limits with each caress and leaving me feverishly wanting more. His devotion to pleasing me was palpable and sensual.
The mirror captured the perfection of my desire. His eyes met mine through the lens, a come hither look inviting me to explore the taut muscles beneath his smooth skin. I longed to trace the curves of his body with my trembling fingertips, for just a fleeting moment of sexual ecstasy with the man in the selfie.
In that moment, I was captivated by his raw, untamed beauty; I wanted to become a part of it. His face, in all its hairless wonder, called out to me and my desire responded with a fervent gnaw. I could feel the heat of his body emanating from the image, as if we were connected. I suddenly felt drawn into a delicious fantasy of what it would be like to have him in my bed, beneath my skin and beyond.
He prefers the selfies with an edge. A hint of stubble, a glint of aggression, a reek of danger. His gaze lingers hungrily over toned skin and taut abs, seeking out the feral secrets that suavely-clad selfies cannot capture. His heart throbs in anticipation of the homoerotic ecstasy that awaits.
The smile of a man holding a large phallus between his hands is orgasmic. He knows it, I know it, and we both know that looking at his big dick selfies fills my mind with a homoerotic journey of erotic pleasure. His power over me, our mutual hunger, our desire to join together in a dance of sex and passion.
The sun drops over the horizon, an orange omen of my horniness. My hand is in my pants, kneading my flesh as I gaze at the selfies. Scorching, they set my skin ablaze like wildfire. Images of sexy, masculine men, teasing me with their tempting curves, my tongue yearning for the taste of their sweat. I’m on the verge of eruption, my breathing heavy as I surrender to this hot homoerotic tale.
He lay there, eyes rolling back as his eyelashes fluttered. His body quivered in the throes of exquisite pleasure as I moved my fingers–not quite of their own volition–across the glossy image of his heaving chest and muscled abs. I was entranced. Here was my own little utopia, and I felt like I could spend eternity in that moment.