Story Time Masturbation Fun – Big Cock JOI

Cheri had been wanting to mix the two things she loved most: talking and watching him stroke.

Not just instructions. A story. Something soft and filthy that unfolded while the camera stayed locked on his cock, guiding the viewer’s hand the entire time. She tested the idea out loud one night while she was already wet, straddling his thighs, his thick cock resting heavy against her stomach.

“Story time,” she said, rolling her hips so the underside of him dragged through her folds. “Masturbation fun. Big cock JOI. I’ll tell them a story while you stroke… and they’ll stroke with you.”

Manny’s hands settled on her waist. “What kind of story?”

“The kind that makes them leak before the ending.”

That evening she set the camera low and tight, framed so nothing existed except the full length of him. Soft lighting. She stripped completely, already wet from the planning, and stood naked behind the camera with three fingers slowly working in and out of her soaked pussy while she watched the monitor. Manny sat where she told him, legs spread, soft thick cock hanging heavy between his thighs.

Her voice came through the mic low, warm, and almost gentle—like she was settling in to tell a secret.

“Story time. Get comfortable. Look at his cock. Soft right now. Heavy. Thick. You’re going to stroke with him while I talk. Don’t look away. Don’t stop once you start.”

Manny’s eyes stayed fixed on her naked body just out of frame. Cheri’s fingers made soft, wet sounds as she spoke.

“Once upon a time there was a cock just like this one… big, heavy, always a little too much for most people. Keep looking at it. Wrap your hand around yourself. Match his pace when he starts.”

She reached over and paused the recording. The red light died. Instantly she stepped between his legs, dropped to her knees, and took the soft head into her mouth. She sucked wet and slow, working him with both hands until the cock thickened fast against her tongue. She pulled off, spit a thick trail onto the head, and stroked him to full hardness with long, deliberate pulls. Then she stood, wiped her mouth, and stepped back behind the camera, thighs already shiny.

She hit record again.

“Look at it now,” she murmured, voice still soft while her fingers slid back inside herself. “Hard. Thick. Veiny. Beautiful. This is the cock in the story. Start stroking. Slow. Match him.”

On camera, Manny’s hand closed around the thick shaft and began to stroke with long, steady pulls. Cheri’s voice stayed low and narrative.

“In the story, this cock belonged to someone who knew exactly how to use it. Every stroke you’re giving yourself right now is the same stroke he’s giving. Feel how thick it would be in your hand. Feel the heat. Keep going. The story’s just getting started.”

She paused the camera again. This time she crawled between his legs and took him deep, throat working around the head while she stroked what she couldn’t fit. She pulled off with a wet gasp, turned around, and backed up until the thick shaft nestled in the cleft of her ass. She ground slowly, coating him with her wetness, then reached back and rubbed the leaking head up and down her folds without letting him inside. When both of them were breathing harder she stopped, stood, and returned behind the camera, three fingers already pushing deep inside herself.

Record.

“Keep stroking,” she said, voice lower, a little thicker. “In the story, the person watching this cock couldn’t help themselves. They got wetter—or harder—the longer they stared. Just like you. Look at how the head flares. Look at how it’s leaking. Match his rhythm. Don’t speed up yet. The best part of the story is still coming.”

She paused once more. This time she climbed onto the bed, straddled his thighs facing him, and pressed her soaked pussy against the underside of his cock. She ground along the full length while she leaned forward and fed him her tits. Manny sucked hard on one nipple, then the other, while Cheri kept sliding her wet folds up and down his shaft, coating him completely. When she finally pulled away both of them were breathing hard. She returned behind the camera, legs shiny, fingers working inside herself as she spoke.

“Final part of the story,” she said, voice tight and intimate. “The cock in the story gets stroked until it can’t take any more. The person watching loses the ability to think about anything else. Keep looking at it. Keep stroking. Faster now. You’re almost at the ending with him.”

She let the camera run while Manny stroked with longer, firmer pulls, the thick cock glistening and throbbing, until her own legs were trembling. Then she stopped the recording. The red light died.

The second the camera was off, Cheri didn’t rush.

She climbed onto the bed, guided him onto his back, and sank down onto his thick, spit-and-pussy-slick cock in one slow, deep push. A soft, shaky moan slipped out of her as she took every inch. She rode him gently at first—rolling her hips, grinding her clit against the base—then deeper, steadier, until the pleasure built and spilled over. Her pussy clenched around him as she came with another quiet, broken moan, fluid spilling out around his cock and soaking both of them.

Manny’s hands held her hips. He thrust up to meet her, slow and deep. Cheri leaned forward, braced her hands on his chest, and kept moving through the aftershocks until another orgasm rolled through her, warmer and fuller, her soft moan muffled against his collarbone. She stayed close like that, kissing him between breaths, while he fucked up into her with long, unhurried strokes. A third climax took her more gently, her body trembling as she whispered his name against his mouth.

When he finally pushed deep and came inside her with a low groan, Cheri held him through it, kissing him softly, her walls still fluttering around him. She didn’t pull away. She simply settled her weight against his chest, still joined, and let out one last soft, satisfied moan as the last little pulses faded.

Manny’s arms wrapped around her. Cheri nuzzled into the side of his neck, her breathing already slowing, one hand resting over his heart.

“Story’s over,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep and contentment. “Don’t pull out… just stay.”

He kissed the top of her head and pulled the covers up over both of them. Cheri made a quiet, happy sound and drifted off still full of him, their bodies tangled, the camera long forgotten, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the residual heat between them.