Page 49 of Poetry On Ice

I’m sure it won’t.

I type his name in the search bar with one hand in my pants.

I find the post immediately. It’s his most-liked video of all time. The comments are off the hook.

I didn’t know blue walls were a thing…but I do now.

Boy, that’s a nice, big personality you have there.

I want this man to ruin my whole life.

I love you, Robbie.

Please check your DMs. Did you get my last message?

The video is shot in his usual vintage style. Kind of scratchy and olden-day looking. The overhead lighting is bright, casting harsh shadows under his pecs and exaggerating the lines of his abs. He looks at himself in the mirror, tilts his head back slightly, and gives the viewer a little grin.

Shithead.

He’s pleased with himself.

He likes what he sees.

Much as I’d like to judge him for it, I can’t. I like what I see too. My dick pulses in my hand, giving me an unsubtle nudge that it needs attention.

I start stroking involuntarily.

In the video, McGuire bows his head and rubs a towel roughly over his hair with both hands, shaking his head like a dog when he emerges from under it. His movement slows and tiny water droplets are dotted all over my screen.

The video loops back to the beginning and starts playing again.

Fucking fuck.

I swear to God, it’s almost unbelievable how hot this guy is. His body. His face. The way he moves. It’s too much. It shouldn’t be allowed. I tighten my grip and increase my speed, stroking hard and purposefully, trying to hurry so I can nut and pretend this never happened.

My phone buzzes in my hand, startling me so much I almost let it fall to the floor. I drop my cock like it’s hot and whip my hand out of my pants, looking around shiftily as though someone might be spying on me.

Damn, I hate what being horny does to my IQ.

The message is from McGuire, which does nothing to set me at ease. I hesitate twice and then click on it.

It’s a screenshot. An image. A whole lot of little black letters on a white background.

He’s marked up the text he wants to bring to my attention by framing it with a slightly wonky hand-drawn red heart.

TheAntDecker viewed your profile.

Fuck me dead.

My entire body instantly floods with heat. It rushes up my chest, my neck, flushing my cheeks badly. I’m not someone who usually blushes but I’m blushing my ass off right now, and I can’t even blame myself. This is embarrassing as hell. It might be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.

Robbie McGuire just fucking caught me stalking his socials.

What do I do now? Seriously, what do I do?

While I’m frantically trying to decide what to do next, another message pops up.

I’m still waiting for my memento.