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caught on tape

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Meticulous isn’t a word anyone would use for Alfred, let alone himself, but he is exactly that in this moment. He isn’t satisfied until he’s triple-checked the connections from his camera to his laptop, nor until he’s confirmed that the camera’s angle will capture every inch of him once he starts recording. Anticipation flutters in Al’s belly as he sinks to the floor in front of the camera, centering himself in front of it.

He makes a silly face at himself in the preview screen, then grins, reaching to click record. He settles back on his knees as the record button flashes once on the monitor; it’s the only notification Alfred gets that the video capture has begun, switching seamlessly from the preview to real-time. He looks directly into the camera.

Here goes.

“Hey Matty, so guess what I got?” Alfred starts, leaning off to his side to grab the real star of his video: a thick and long purple dildo, transparent and jelly-like in his hands. Molded realistically with curving veins, his hands barely span its girth. He can't stop grinning as he holds it in front of himself for the camera to see. "Yeah, that's right — it's the Great American Challenge that I, being the most American American, am gonna take. While you watch."

The last words are said with a deliberate playfulness and punctuated with a wink. Setting his challenge aside again, he's still in full view of the camera when he stands.

“Sucks you can't be here to see this in person," Al continues merrily, beginning to peel away his layers of clothing. "But video's the next best thing, right?"

His shirt — cottony, warm, red — comes off first, up and over his head, to expose the tanned expanse of his torso. Thin, soft, blonde curls trail down his chest and stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

His hands go there next, fingertips sliding through those fine hairs along the way.

Electric excitement tingles under Alfred’s skin as he unbuckles his belt; without the support of that leather strap, his jeans easily slip down his hips to pool around his ankles. Stepping out of them, he kicks them aside and hooks his thumbs into the elastic of his briefs. He's already half-hard when he slides them off completely, because it isn’t difficult to imagine the camera’s eyes are Matt’s eyes...

As the feeling of being watched is settling over him all the same.

Finally naked, Al turns his back to the camera. “Prepped myself for this pretty good earlier,” he says, shamelessly bending forward to present his ass up for view. Al can see himself on screen from between his legs; flashing a smile, he spreads his cheeks to show off his hole: pink, puckered, and already shiny-slick with lubricant. "Figured you'd wanna see me get right down to business with this thing."

Alfred drags a finger over the crack of his ass, testing; satisfied, he squats, reorienting himself in front of the camera again. There’s fluttering in his belly anew, a nervous thrill tugging him to full hardness, as he reaches for the dildo and the accompanying jar of oily lube he left nearby.

“Can’t believe how huge it is,” he says more to himself than the camera, and if there’s a touch of awe in his voice, it’s certainly not for no reason. Because he needs both hands to make sure it’s slippery from tip to base and all the way around; and he needs both hands to keep it steady as he positions himself over it, on his tiptoes with his legs splayed as wide as he can get them.

Alfred begins slowly, lowering himself on the exhale of a deep breath. His thighs quiver with how slowly he goes, and even then it’s not enough to ready him entirely for the stretch. Especially when the lubricant makes it easy for more to slide in than he intends.

"Holy shit," Al breathes, his entire lower body pulsing. Blunt and smooth, the dildo's head is larger than even the plug he prepped with and now he's caught: on the thin edge between pleasure and pain; between the desire to stop and the desire to continue.

He looks up, getting a glimpse of himself in the camera: already flushed red and open-mouthed, with nothing more than the head of the Great Challenge pushed up inside. Yet he’s still hard; he’s still aching for this, somewhere deep inside; and he knows the camera’s still recording, capturing for Matthew each twitch and flex of his muscles.

He imagines the sultry, mildly teasing tone the Canadian would take on if he were here, saying something like

Guess it's too much challenge for you, eh?

and Alfred simply couldn't — can't — let that slide; he'd show Matt exactly what too much didn't — doesn't — look like; he’d laugh breathlessly and reply

You wish.

Groaning, toes digging into the plush carpet beneath him, Alfred eases his way further down the dildo’s shaft. Pleasure zips up his spine in small waves, coiling and uncoiling as the dildo takes up every bit of space inside of him, pressing everywhere, firm and slippery and good. And Al pauses, has to pause, because it feels like his body is suddenly doing too many things at once with his limbs trembling and his cock throbbing and his chest heaving as he swallows down quick breaths—

“Jesus, fuck,” Alfred moans, raising his head, unaware of even when he lowered it. The image he sees of himself in the camera this time is different than the one before it. Halfway down the Great Challenge and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and his glasses are askew. Halfway down and his cock is throbbing and stiff, dripping and heavy between his legs.  Halfway down and he looks like he feels, which is like he’s shaking apart from the inside out, spread wide and stuffed full.

Pleasure spikes through Alfred, pulling up a whimper straight from his core, the instant he licks his lips and moves again. It’s in this moment that he thinks, for the very first time, that the dildo might not go all the way inside of him. Not without him coming all over it first, because he’s been tottering on the brink for ages, nudged fractionally closer with each inch he takes, and at this rate Alfred knows he’ll come before he hits the base.

Not exactly a win against the challenge, in his books.

“Oh fuck, it’s not gonna fit is it,” he groans, gripping the dildo tightly, his ass clenching and spasming around it. The dildo is far enough inside to press against every sensitive spot he has, relentlessly — and he's only gotten maybe ten of the full fifteen inches in. It's hard to imagine that he could be any fuller, any more open, than this.

Al’s thighs burn with the effort of keeping himself in place. He’s wound tight, his belly and hips and everything quivering with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay. If he goes any further, he’ll come. If he tries to slide back up, he’ll come. If he does anything, he’ll come — without even taking his cock in hand.

And the camera’s still rolling, greedily capturing his struggle.

Screw it.

There’s nothing saying he can’t take the challenge again.

Letting go of the dildo to grasp his cock, Alfred gives up holding back, moaning loudly as the thrumming undercurrent of desire in his veins begins to peak and swell and roll. He jerks himself once, twice, needing nothing more than that to finally climax, squirming and shuddering on the dildo.

It starts to slide out of him when he falls forward on to all fours, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure and feeling like jelly, unable to hold his own weight any longer. His breath comes out in sharp puffs and everywhere below his navel aches, twitching and oversensitive. But pleasantly so, like after a good run or— Alfred grins to himself now —a good fuck.

Breathing slowly returning to normal, he looks up at the recording camera once more, smile widening. Exhausted, satisfied, he says to it,

“Not bad for a first try, huh?”