Carter
Stepping into my luxurious shower and under the hot stream of water, my mind goes straight to Ashley. Exactly where it’s been for the last week. I only have eight weeks to go. I can do this. Right?
I roll my head around on my neck. The muscles are so tense, both from the insane workout I just completed and from the stress of knowing how hard these next weeks are going to be. I haven’t seen her since the night at the restaurant, but Chase confirmed that she’s going to be on the show for the rest of the season—if we don’t sleep together. That’s going to be fucking hard, but I can do it, especially if she’s my prize at the end of it all.
Maybe all I need to loosen some of this tension is a quick hand job. My fist circles my cock—it’s so rock-hard right now just thinking about Ashley and her sexy-as-sin body—and pumps up and down with a few slow strokes.
My head tips back and I groan. Oh, fuck.
It’s not going to take me long. I picture her sweet little ass, her huge and perfect tits bouncing, and my cock stiffens even more, so hard it’s almost painful, aching for release. I tighten my fist around the thick, twelve-inch shaft and pump faster, bracing myself on the shower wall as I feel my balls tighten, my orgasm so close. I imagine coming all over Ashley’s glorious tits, then I imagine what it will feel like to sink into that hot, wet pussy.
Just as my orgasm is on the verge of ripping through me, the door to my bathroom bangs open.
I spin around and see Chase and the camera crew striding in.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I yell, my cock bouncing around as I let it go and step out of the shower, water running down my body. Jesus Christ, they’re just going to fucking walk in while I’m jerking off?
“Sorry, Carter,” Chase says, though he looks more amused than sorry. “You can’t jerk off now.”
“The fuck I can’t,” I bite out. “Get the fuck out of here, dude. Seriously.”
Chase shakes his head, and now I see he really is fighting off a smile. “I don’t mean you can’t jerk of right now, I mean now, as in going forward.”
“Excuse me?”
Chase extends a tablet to me, and then I see that not only is this moment being witnessed by Chase and the camera crew, and hence the entire online streaming public, but Lola is part of it too. Talk about a buzz kill. Except I’m so fucking hard that not even that bitch’s face is enough to deflate my raging hard-on.
“Carter,” she says from the tablet with a devilish grin, “so nice to see you.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I grit out. Like I said before, this bitch would love to get a taste of this cock. I just know it. Well, too bad. It’s all for Ashley now.
“Sorry, Carter,” Lola continues, “you signed a clause in your contract that said we could prevent various types of sex if we wanted to.”
“Wait. What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Yes,” she says gleefully. “Way back in the day when we were sure you’d lose your virginity within the first season. We had it in place just in case you proved hard—no pun intended—to break. We have the right to count any and all types of sex as against the rules. And of course, you know that breaking the rules forfeits your two billion dollar bonus. So now we’re enacting our right to enforce the clause. You can no longer have sex with yourself. Sorry, babe. No more getting yourself off.”
This has to be a bad joke. A really fucking bad joke. No way. I’m supposed to go the rest of the show without jerking off? And how the hell is that going to work when thoughts of Ashley have me as horny as a fourteen-year-old boy around the clock? Thank fuck tomorrow is filming for the show. It means I’ll get to see her again. And also that I might get lucky enough to get a little action, even if I’m still determined not to have sex until the season is over.
Fuck, that seems like so far away now. And just perfect—now that I’m thinking of that, my boner is harder than ever. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I briefly wonder if it’s possible just to cum without any stimulation at all. Ashley has me so horny that maybe my imagination will do it. But then I know I’d be tempted to touch myself, and a hand job from myself is so not the way I want to lose two billion dollars.
“Sorry, man,” Chase says, and I wonder whose side he’s on after all because surely he had some kind of pull with Lola.
“Are you kidding me? Sorry?” I point down to my twelve inches of bulging, straining, rock-hard cock. “You’re the one who’s sorry?”
He shifts on his feet, and I think he might actually feel bad. “It was out of my hands,” he says.
I scoff. “Yeah, and now it’s out of mine.”
I can’t even bother laughing at my own joke because this situation is so god-awful.
Chase and the camera crew start to leave my bathroom—leave me and my raging hard-on to ourselves—when one of the camera dudes moves in for one last close-up. I’m certain that the look on my face is nothing but pure despair.