Yes risk it in front of Ava

Your turn?

The two words on the screen are a dare, a match held to the fuse of your self-control. Ava's breathing beside you is a steady, even rhythm, a metronome of trust that you are about to willfully disrupt. Every rational part of your brain screams at you to stop, to put the phone down, to roll over and feign sleep. But the furnace in your gut has burned away reason, leaving only ash and a ****, aching need.

Your decision is a silent, physical act. Slowly, carefully, you push the duvet down, the cool night air a shock against your overheated skin. You glance at Ava. Unmoved. Still lost in whatever peaceful dreams have been granted to her. Your hands tremble slightly as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your boxer briefs, easing them down just enough. The risk is a living thing in the room with you, a coiled serpent ready to strike.

You prop the phone against your pillow, angling the lens down. Your other hand wraps around your cock, already hard and heavy with a guilty heat. You give a slow, experimental pump. A shudder runs through you, a potent cocktail of pleasure and pure, undiluted adrenaline. You press record.

You don't try to make it a masterpiece. You don't perform. Your movements are slow, deliberate, almost reverent. The soft slide of your own skin, the tightening of your grip, the slow, rhythmic motion. You film for maybe twenty seconds, focusing on the head disappearing and reappearing in your fist. You stop, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. You review the video. It's crude. Dark. Unmistakable. It's perfect.

You type three words and hit send. "You asked for it."

The response is immediate. A video file downloads. You tap it, your own erection still slick in your palm. The camera is shaky now, pointed between her legs. The pink lace is gone, discarded. You can see everything. Her legs are spread, and her fingers are buried deep inside herself. She isn't just touching; she's fucking herself with a focused intensity, her hips rising to meet her own hand. The video is longer this time, and you watch, mesmerized, as her pace quickens, until her whole body tenses and a visible tremor runs through her. The screen goes black.

You are breathing hard, your own pulse thundering in your ears. You set the phone down, not trusting yourself to hold it.

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