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The rays of sunlight were bursting through the foggy crestfallen atmosphere and the heavy clouds of a rainy morning, and Harry was already tired of this weather. Looking down at his own bare feet, he regrets not putting some socks on last night before he fell asleep, but he was too tired to do so and his brain couldn't follow his needs because it was no longer working. He watches the skin on that area bristle, causing shivers through his entire body that made him jolt his torso suddenly. So he decides to stand up and go looking around for something to warm up his legs and feet, since he was only wearing a pair of baby blue panties from his waist down. He almost jumps his steps due to the cold pavement, but still manages to get to his bedside table and take the first pair of socks he sees.

He sits back down again on the edge of his bed to slide them on. As he gets to the left upper leg his eyes veer to his dark-wood bedside table again, but this time gazing the bottom drawer - his panties drawer. Yes, he had a drawer for all his panties and he absolutely loved it; panties are his favorite thing to wear, ever. He owned all types of them: red, pastel, black, pink, cotton, lace, sheer, silk, basic, nautical patterns, striped and even ones with little teddy bears on it. He'd always get himself a new pair whenever there was a special occasion, such as his birthday or the holidays, so he might be guilty of owning a pair of Christmas panties or two.... and maybe ones with a bunny eating a carrot too. He thinks about all the things he's done while wearing them, all the places he's gone, all the moments he's lived. It's just like women's cliche obsession with shoes; they both make them feel confident, happy and, somehow, brand new.

It used to be so different a couple of years ago. He would never, ever, imagine himself possessing a single pair of panties, let alone adoring such unmasculine thing. Even though he was still a teenager and even had a boyfriend, he was never the "typical gay boy", let's call it that. But things had changed and he had found himself like a baby looking at his reflection in the mirror for the first time - he knew what he was and just how every single feature of himself really looked like, and he would never dare going back to such dark state again.

His sister calls him from the other side of the door and he hurries himself to fix his messy of a curly head, only putting his skinny jeans on because he liked to feel the cold breeze of the morning on his bare chest. With a yawn of someone who just had a few more hours of sleep than necessary, he makes his way down to the kitchen to have his long awaited breakfast, as his stomach had been calling for food for a while.

"Good morning", he utters in his usual groggy voice once he bursts through the door. Gemma was drinking her coffee on the table when Harry gets behind her to kiss her cheek.

"Mom got off to work already, that means I'm gonna have to drive you. So don't take too long with your morning routine."

"Hey!" Harry says indignantly while he shoves all the greens into the blender. "They actually have some great tips, for your information."

"Yeah, like how to wake up with the sun shinning through your window and a face full of no makeup make up on..." She fights back in pure sarcasm and Harry just makes what his lovely sister calls as the froggy face, where he gazes intensely with his lips hidden in a thin line and dimples showing off.

"Offended much? Maybe you could become a youtuber yourself and show the world your perfect shirtless morning. I could even join you so that all those girls could ship us, even though we're siblings." Gemma smiles back at him in fake excitement and his eyes momentarily lighten up before he realizes she was in fact joking.

"Never mind."

Harry finishes his smoothie in silence and heads back upstairs to finish getting ready before he has Gemma shouting his name again. He walks into the bathroom and he's surprised that he hadn't gotten a boner in his sleep, which meant less things he needed to worry about. With his teeth brushed and his face freshly washed, Harry takes his foundation and applies it evenly on the pale skin to conceal any spots and smooth it out. He never goes for anything more than foundation on his face, because his cheeks usually do the blushing for him.

When he goes back to slip his white lace button-up and converse of the same color on he gets lost in time when he catches his figure on the tall, slim mirror next to his dresser. He felt confident and his self-esteem was only getting better, and that was a big step for the boy who used to hide all of his curves behind ordinary baggy clothes just to fit in and not being called something as pejorative as 'faggot' or 'girl'. Concerning the 'girl' part, he had learned to embrace who he truly was and his sense of style, which was a bit feminine but it's what really made him feel comfortable, if he was honest. Regarding the 'faggot' part, well, everyone already knew that he had no interest in females whatsoever. Not to mention that he had probably sucked nearly half of the cocks in his high school and no one to this date had ever complained.

Once his long-sleeve button-up is properly tucked in his baby blue skinny jeans, Harry grabs his long grey cardigan and satchel from the hanger and, after taking one last look in the mirror to see if he's looking okay and his hair hadn't suddenly taken any weird forms, he is out of the door.


Harry's phone buzzes in the middle of his first class, signaling that he received a message. He looks down to see if it was important because, for a change, he was actually quite interested in what his History teacher was reading. Or maybe in the way Mr. Harding's tongue rubbed on his lip every time he paused to turn the page. The name 'Ricky' was read in the big screen and he doesn't even hesitate to open the message his boyfriend had just sent him.

Ricky: How are you feeling this morning? Wanna get out of class and come blow me? ;) ;)

Harry smirks down at the words. It's true that he hadn't gotten himself off this morning like he usually did, but he couldn't just excuse himself to the bathroom every time his boyfriend wanted his dick sucked. He needed a little more stimulation, besides the prize that his cock itself already was.

Harry: What do I get in return? I'm actually enjoying this class :)

He replies and turns his head back to his teacher - who he might have sucked once or twice - because, damn, he was quite something. Liam next to him, however, was too focused on the board to even notice what was going on around him. But Harry's jeans were tightening by the second and he had already crossed his legs to hide his boner just from the thought of that hot teacher fucking him on the desk.

His phone is heard again and he looks back down, all flustered from his inconveniently dirty mind.

Ricky: Well, I can put my dick to a good use and fuck your arsehole afterwards. How does that sound? ;) ;)

Now he got him.

Harry: Way more interesting than this dumb poem.

Ricky: Cool. Meet me in the bathroom.

Harry bites his lower lip and excuses himself to the bathroom - something that his teacher never forbid him to ever since Harry's plump lips touched his dick - making sure Mr. Harding had seen the bulge in his pants. Ricky is waiting for him when he gets there, sitting on the sink with a grin plastered on his face. Harry locks the door, just in case, and kneels down before him, hurrying not to take too long.

"Can't resist a good cock, can you?" Ricky says, but Harry doesn't even bother saying a word, way too busy unzipping his jeans.

After allowing him to come in his mouth, Harry refuses to get fucked bareback, since Ricky hadn't brought a condom with him. He always played it safe and, if he was honest, Ricky wasn't the most trustworthy person in the world and Harry knew damn well how he liked to fuck around with older guys. Also, he never imagined giving himself to someone in such deep, loving way; trusting another soul more than your own. Not that he was afraid, but he hadn't met anyone who made him feel that sure and... safe. He had a very strong sexual appetite that needed to be satisfied, that's the way he was, but it was never much more than that. Not even with Ricky.

Five minutes later Harry is wiping his mouth and Ricky's tummy off with toilet paper. He hadn't said a word the entire time and it was getting on Ricky's nerves, because he always "moaned like a slut". Ricky slaps his hand away from his chest and Harry looks at him with a straight face.

"What's wrong now?" Ricky asks in a higher tone than it'd be appropriate, the angry side of him slipping out through his mouth. Harry looks down to button up his shirt, avoiding his eyes.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Come here, then." Ricky grips his wrists from the white shirt he kind of disliked, pulling Harry back closer to him. He lets go of one of his wrists and starts massaging Harry's covered bulge with his free hand in circular motions, trying to make Harry let go and finish himself off. Soon enough his hands are diving under the silk panties and Harry starts slightly moaning to the pleasurable feeling of having his cock touched, but doesn't fully give himself to Ricky. It's a strange feeling, but he just can't do it. He could never do it all this time. So he backs away once more, as he fixes his pants right back into place, receiving a look of mixed disbelief and frustration from Ricky. "You said you wanted me to fuck you and now you won't let me?! For fuck's sake! What's wrong with you?!"

Harry always ran away whenever someone talked to him like that, as if he was a freak. He was just too sensitive, he couldn't help it though.

"I'm sorry" is all Harry can say before he backs off again. This time Ricky doesn't even bother reaching out for him, he just let's him do as he wishes.

"Aren't you gonna finish yourself off at least?" He asks, but Harry has already unlocked the door and left him there with his pants around his ankles.


When Harry gets home that day he locks himself in his room, trying to figure out what was wrong with him and why Ricky had been such a jerk earlier. He thought Ricky was probably tired of him, but it was him who had pushed him away. He would never tell him, but he didn't feel the connection he always did when they were together this time. They had been doing this for over an year, there was no reason to explain it other than the fact that the flame was probably dying. And what scared him was that he seemed not to worry about it when he should, because he still loved him... Right?

Harry pushes his thoughts to the back of his head as he decides not to think about it. He was probably just overthinking the whole situation and this was nothing but a bitter day, he thought. So he decides to grab his laptop and do what he knew best, since he was still sexually frustrated with himself for not feeling like getting fucked in the ass - which had never happened before. He turns on the camera as soon as the webpage loads and positions his MacBook on the edge of his bed, quickly undressing to his white panties. The views speed up as soon as Harry takes his semi-hard cock out after rubbing it with his hand through the fabric a couple of times. He never failed to smirk whenever it happened and he was proud that he'd found such a clever way to deal with his problem, because it also made other people feel good.

As soon as he starts leaking he takes his pink dildo from the nightstand and fucks himself dry until he comes, his arse fully exposed to the small camera and face buried in the sheets. He only gets up to look at the people - because you never know if there aren't any females on these kind of websites - commenting nonstop. There were a lot of comments and they only made him more and more happy and confident about showing his naked body to a camera for anyone to see. He also knew some guys from his school were avid subscribers and he was even complimented on his livestreams on private once - and he actually ended up giving him head in return.

He definitely didn't want to be a youtuber when he could be a camboy.