. The way his eyes darted between the screen and me, that nervous little smirk—he was trying so hard to keep up his "straight boy" vibe, but I knew he was curious. The porn on the TV was hot, no doubt, but I was about to make this moment legendary. I slid in close, teasing him, letting the anticipation build. His breath hitched, and I could see him getting harder by the second, fighting that inner battle between staying chill and giving in to the heat. Spoiler alert: he didn’t stand a chance. I took control, my hands knowing exactly what to do. Kyle’s reactions were pure gold—those little gasps, the way his hips shifted, trying to act like he wasn’t loving every second of it. His hard cock giving away the fact h was enjoying it. The porn on the screen was just background noise now; this was our show. I worked him slow at first, drawing it out, making him squirm. His "straight boy" facade was crumbling, and I was living for every moment of it. The way he gripped the couch, the way his eyes fluttered shut when I hit just the right spot—oh, he was mine.As the intensity built, Kyle was lost in it. The TV kept playing, but his focus was all on me, on the rhythm I set, on the way I pushed him closer and closer to the edge. Playing with him, endging him and watching as his dick tenses up and he squirms. His moans got louder, his body tensing, and I knew he was close. I leaned in, whispering just enough to send him over, and when he finally came? Explosive. It was like watching a dam break, all that pent-up energy spilling out in the hottest way possible. Kyle, the "straight boy," was a mess—in the best way—and I was the one who got him there.