#Open Pricing Model | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stargirlygirl · 5 days ago

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first time with caleb (he's a sex worker)

sex worker/of model!caleb x virgin!fem!reader

summary: your fav of model is staying in your hometown for the next few months, so you book with him to have sex for the first time.

contains: nsfw, smut, protected sex, p-in-v, oral sex (both receiving), size difference (but reader isn't necessarily skinny), porn with plot (lots of it), religious metaphors, caleb's had a vasectomy, 15.8k words

heavily inspired by @heartyluv's camboy!caleb series

You’re a virgin. But you swear it’s not because you aren’t hot or something. You’re saving it, you know? Waiting for the right guy to come along. But that right guy is taking his sweet, sweet time.

Getting older, it’s quite frustrating to be a virgin when everyone around you (you swear) is at it non-stop. Your friends are constantly sharing their good and bad experiences, giving you a mixed bag of feelings on your abstinence. You’re not innocent, per se. Oh no. You’ve seen some things. And it’s because of those things that you’re having a crazy train of thought right now.

So, there’s this man. Of course, you don’t know him personally, but he’s such a catch. Charming, playful, and handsome, what more could a girl want? (I could name more, but let’s keep it here.)

You were first introduced to Caleb when he started OF a few years ago. It was his sweet features coupled with his fat cock that drew you to click on his first video. And you haven’t been able to stop clicking on them since. Even as his subscription price rose with his popularity, you’ve remained a loyal fan of his hard (😏) work.

You’re always one of the first fans on his lives, always donating extra money here and there to his righteous cause, and always leaving meaningful comments on his work. You’d like to think he knows you. Or at least, knows how lonely you are. I mean! How good his videos are. Yeah. Cause they’re reeeeaaaaaally good. Best orgasms you’ve ever had are while watching this man pump his thick length for thousands of fans.

His collabs are cool, too. Stunning co-stars, great banter, and hot sex. But, when you watch them, this pit in your tummy forms. You know that’s crazy talk, but you can’t help it. You’ve known him longer than they clearly have. But, you don’t know him.

And at this moment, you’re thinking of changing that. Someone seriously needs to restrain you as you scurry around your apartment for your phone, like an anxious dog. And you pant like one, drool dripping onto the screen as you tap open a certain app and head to Caleb’s profile.

He announced a few days ago he would be in your home city, living with friends for the next few months while his luxury apartment is renovated. Your heart races as you start typing out your message to him.

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’ve been a fan of yours for a while now and

Dear Caleb, it’s

Hey there, Ca

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’m a big fan of yours and I heard you were

Hey Caleb, it’s Y/n. I’m a long-time fan, and I saw that you’re staying in [your home town] for a few months. I was wondering if you were still taking bookings?

The cursor-line blinks back at you, waiting for your next move. An onslaught of thoughts hit you like a train. What’re you doing?!! He’s never going to respond. Should I attach some money to this? But what if he’s not doing bookings? Is this giving desperation?

Sighing, you do the only logical thing in this situation and delete your message press send. You squeal and throw your phone onto the couch, utterly petrified by what your yearning just drove you to do.

Standing up, you pace around the living room, contemplating whether to delete your message and pretend it never happened when your phone dings. You flinch at the ping. Could it be—No.

“It’s just LinkedIn or AliExpress or something, okay?” You tell yourself while retrieving your phone. Oh fuck. You click on the notification. It takes you back into the chat section of OF. Staring back at you is Caleb’s reply.

hey y/n. yeah, you’ve been following me since i first started. really appreciate it, pretty. i’m still taking bookings. do you have a day in mind?

Your fingers are trembling and palms sweaty as you type out your response.

I was thinking this Friday, if you’re not busy?

This Friday?! That’s too far away. Wait. That’s too soon! You’re gonna have to get waxed and buy lingerie and maybe stock up on your favourite perfume just in case and—

fuck, i’m busy this friday. how about next saturday?

Thank the Lord. You sigh as you reply:

Yeah, sounds great.

You’re about to bite your nails from how much you’re stressing.

I’ve never done this before, sorry. I’m like really nervous rn.

Just as you’re about to delete that last message, Caleb’s response pops up.

that’s okay, honey. we can do four hours saturday night? dinner and intimacy

You swear your face is on fire as you click send without even thinking.

Can we do more?

You groan and cover your face with one hand. Screaming into it frustratedly, you look back at your phone.

course, pretty. we can do overnight yeah?

Overnight?! You’re in shock. 1) Because you’re texting THE Caleb Xia. The man who you’ve been watching fuck his fist (for the most part) religiously for years. And 2) because he’s suggesting you spend a whole night together? Where do I sign up?

Yeah, I like that.

You hesitate, wondering whether you should spill the beans now on why you reached out in the first place. But you don’t have to wonder because he asks:

soooooo what do you wanna do with our time together?

You resign to take a shower as soon as everything’s sorted out because by the Heavens, you are sweating up a storm amid the blizzard your AC is unleashing upon your apartment.

Oh haha yeah so it’ll be my first time

Silence. Complete silence for the next two minutes from the OF model as you sit there, anxiously shaking your foot while waiting for his reply. Did you say something wrong? Did you just ruin everything? Your phone finally buzzes.

i see, honey. well, make sure you practise before saturday. you know what to expect, yeah?

Oh. The most important detail— his fat ass cock. You’re cooked.

Haha yeah I will, promise. So is there anything I need to know? Like, do I book a hotel room or something?

You two continue texting for the next ten minutes or so, working out all of the details of next Saturday night. You’re plan is to meet up at a classy restaurant before heading back to your place. To secure you’re booking, you transfer him a 30% deposit.

thanks, honey. i’ll see you next sat

You can’t stop the goofy grin on your face as you reply:

Sounds good! I’ll see you then

Smacking your phone down on the coffee table, you collapse on the couch cushions and squeal excitedly. You’re in disbelief that this is actually happening, but your suddenly poorer bank account provides evidence for the affirmative.

By the end of next week, you won’t be a virgin anymore. Your heart swells with elation at the thought, but tingling nerves puncture the sweet feeling.

Let me revise that: by the end of next week, you won’t be a virgin anymore, BUT on a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to manage taking Caleb’s massive cock? Your current rating isn’t looking so good.

The OF star’s text message replays in your mind. Make sure you practise before saturday. You know what to expect, yeah? Dear Lord, do you know what to expect. Maybe you should have went with someone a bit more… reasonable. The thought makes your heart pang.

If you’re going to do this with anyone, then Caleb is the right choice. He’s always yapping away in his videos, making his fans feel so comfortable yet flustered at the same time. You hope he’ll be somewhat similar in real life. You know he will be!

But you also hope he’s different. You hope you’ll get to see a new side of him, maybe one solely reserved for you. Someone call your therapist because the delulu is speaking again.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

It’s 2pm when your phone buzzes. You smile and nod at the nail technician, silently requesting for permission to grab your phone. The nail tech nods back at you, and you fish it out of your bag with only nail extensions on. Your heart rate spikes.

It’s Caleb.

Clicking on his message, it reads:

[image attachments]

hey honey, here’s my test results. all clear for tonight. i’ll see you at 7

You grin stupidly, a warmth bubbling within as you text back:

Thanks! I’ll see you then

You tap on the documents Caleb sent you. They’re pathology results. HIV, Hepatitis B and C, Chlamydia, and so on as you swipe through. Your thumb freezes on the last test.

Semen analysis. Sperm count: 0. Sperm motility: 0. Sperm concentration: 0.

You stare at your screen, blinking dumbly as you read over the results again and again. Now, you’re no doctor. But you can read a sperm count. Caleb said he got the all clear. And damn it seems he really meant it. No STIs or sperm? You’re winning on all fronts tonight!

Locking your phone, you drop it into your bag and switch hands. You place your now gelled nails under the LEDs while the nail tech slathers more gel onto your other fingernails.

“Boyfriend?” The nail tech asks.

You laugh breathily, “Yeah.” A lie, but there was no way you were about to explain who you were seeing tonight.

When you tried explaining what you had signed up for to your friends, you got some very different reactions. Your long-time best friend was critical but supportive, while your other friends either thought you were crazy or wanted to throw a party for you because it’s about damn time you got laid.

It’s already past 3pm once you leave the nail salon, so you book it back home to start getting ready. You’re going all out tonight: shower, glowy body oil, special occasion makeup, and even styling your hair. You know he likes a bit of bush, so you trimmed yours in anticipation.

You sigh as you stare at your reflection in the mirror while your music blasts in the background. Smoothing your hands down your minidress, you turn to the side to admire yourself.

Your nerves spike at the thought of sharing your body with Caleb tonight. Sometimes, self-love is hard. But you’ve done everything you can to make yourself look good and feel good for your date, and that’s enough.

Snatching your phone from the vanity, you check the time. 6:22pm. You head to your dresser and pick out your jewellery. Some classy pieces, some unique ones. Finishing the look off, you slip on a pair of kitten heels and grab your bag.

It only takes 15 minutes to drive to the restaurant from your house. But for some reason unbeknownst to you, every man and his dog are on the roads at 6:30pm.

You groan in frustration as yet another beat up rust bucket cuts you off. What’s taking so long?! The red light flicks to green but there’s no movement. And when there finally is some, it’s this leisurely crawl across the intersection.

The beetles scurry as you blare your horn. Even the traffic light is intimidated by your sudden road rage. It can hear your screaming and cursing the very existence of driving as you make it past the stop line on orange.

Somehow, you manage not to rear end someone by the time you reach the restaurant. After parking, you race to the glass double doors, your heels clacking on the pavement. Throwing the door open, you stop at the host stand and fix your likely dishevelled appearance. Your heart races and you fan your face, eyes frantically drifting around the cosy restaurant.

Soon, the waiter greets you and you give your name. Leading you to the back, they inform you that your date has already arrived. And then you see him.

The smooth jazz and constant chatter melt into the periphery as your heart skips a beat from his beauty. Soft features, but you know what lurks beneath. An angelic trap. An incubus luring you in with his seductive ways. If his mere presence could be considered seduction (you’re certain it can).

He hasn’t even noticed. No, he’s occupying himself with rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table, seemingly out of boredom.

Once you draw closer, he gazes up. Those eyes lock on you; their depth is like the grape and chiffon sky as the sun is swallowed by the horizon. You smile reflexively, and so does he. Blood rushes in your ears. You swear you’re about to pass out from how ecstatic-anxious you are right now.

Stopping at your table, the waiter gestures to the empty side of the booth.

“Hey,” Caleb grins, a brightness in his eyes.

You giggle nervously, “Hi,” while sliding across the maroon cushions.

“I’ll get you some table water,” the waiter announces before leaving you two alone.

Shoving your clutch to the side, you start apologising profusely, “I’m so sorry I’m late. The traffic was actually insane like, I swear. I literally left at—” Caleb grabs the hand you were making gestures with and brings it to his lips. They’re incredibly soft. Your eyes widen. Pulling back, he swipes his thumb over the delicate skin he just kissed.

Caleb wears a gentle smile as he reassures you, “It’s okay, pipsqueak. Can I call you that? Pipsqueak?” You nod, a goofy grin on your face like you’re back in high school, talking to your crush for the first time.

The waiter returns and sets down two glasses. They pour water for you two before handing out the menu to look at. As they fade into the flurry of tables and other bustling waiters, you open the menu. The first thing you see is not the exquisite options they have to offer, but the bank-breaking prices you’re gonna have to pay for them.

“$68? For… for an entrée?” You mumble thoughtlessly, skimming through the other pages to see how much worse it gets. You’re already paying over $1k to sleep with Caleb tonight, you can’t afford over $100 for a meal.

Your date chuckles, “Don’t stress, pips. I’ll cover the bill.” Gazing up, you stare at him like he’s grown a second head. After a moment, you regain your composure.

“No, no, that’s okay. It’s chill or whatever,” you try to say nonchalantly.

He raises an eyebrow while echoing your words, “’It’s chill or whatever’?”

“I mean— Argh I’m just really nervous, sorry,” you blurt out.

“I’m just really excited to meet you and obviously like for later tonight. Like I’ve been following you for ages so like, this is really cool and—” Caleb’s chuckle cuts you off. He covers his mouth, attempting to cough it off, but it’s clear that he’s laughing at you.

“What?” You ask, your brows drawing together in confusion.

He shakes his head, a big grin on his face as he responds, “You’re really cute. And you look gorgeous tonight. You know that, right?” Your lips part, words dying on your tongue like flames doused by floods. The embers burn, thoughts tip-toeing around the edges of your mind as you forfeit coherence.

“I…” You start. Caleb returns to browsing his menu, comfortable to leave you sputtering and staring from across the table.

“Ooo, how about the coconut caviar oysters to start us off? You like seafood, yeah?” He asks cheerily. Looking at your own menu, you exhale a long breath.

“Yeah, I don’t mind seafood. But what about the wagyu?” You congratulate yourself mentally for not embarrassing yourself for ten seconds.

Your date suggests, “We can get the wagyu if you want, honey.”

“O-okay,” you say quietly. Your palms are positively perspiring with how warm it is inside. The low lighting and quiet atmosphere are almost too moody. And with this hottie sitting opposite you, you’re sure your cheeks are red right now.

The menu items are like a jumble of words, half of them are places before specific food items. Is this what fine dining is? Food from ‘exotic’ locations served in tiny portions at whopping prices? You guess so.

Oh shit!

You drop your menu on the table, your hands frantic as they feel up the booth cushions for your clutch. Your sudden movements attract Caleb’s inquisitive stare. His eyes flicker between you and his menu out of courtesy, though they don’t miss how you search around in your bag like you’re digging for gold. You retrieve a white envelope and hold it out to him. Your date lowers his menu.

“This is for you,” you breathe out. Eyeing you, Caleb slowly takes tonight’s payment from you.

Leaning forward, he murmurs, “You could have given this to me later, pips. I know you’re good girl.” Your soul leaves you body and travels skyward. That’s where you are, glimpsing this moment from the dark heavens above.

“Haha yeah, it’s—”

“Chill or whatever?” He interjects. Again, your mind goes blank. But that’s okay. All you want to do right now is carve the image of Caleb smirking at you into your memory. At you. Not at the camera, where his fans are watching him from as he mutters the filthiest praise from the sweetest lips.

No, he’s here with you, right now. And he’s teasing you.

You observe as he picks up his menu and appears to read it reverently. The glowy drop light overhead brings out the peach tones in his eyes, and catches on the light freckles dotting his face.

You feel like such a creep for staring at him, but you can’t help it! He’s just so attractive. His shoulders are even broader in real life, or maybe that’s the blazer’s doing. Either way, he looks HOT in his suit.

“Something on my face?” Your date asks, glancing up at you with that slight smirk still on his lips. You shake your head.

“No, you’re just really handsome. I’m sure you get that a lot, but like. Like obviously online, you look super hot. But like in real life, it’s actually insane,” you babble. You know you shouldn’t let your mouth run, but he deserves to be complimented. Or—

“Sorry, is that weird? Am I being weird, right now? I’m being weird, aren’t I? Literally forget I just said that—”

“I can’t. I have reeeaaally good memory,” Caleb interrupts you, again. But you don’t mind. It’s not that annoying kind of interruption where you can only get two words out before a man answers his own question.

You laugh quietly, feeling slightly more at ease as you notice the tips of your date’s ears turning red.

“Sorry,” you apologise, bringing your hand to your mouth, reminiscent of how he did minutes ago.

Caleb shakes his head and shrugs, “You don’t have to keep apologising, pipsqueak. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Wow, they really need to turn down the heater because it’s warming up in here.

A hushed “Oh” falls from your lips as the waiter returns.

“So, what can I get you started with?” They ask, readying their tablet. You gaze at Caleb expectantly.

Turning to the waiter, he rattles off your order, “We’ll get the wagyu for starters. My date would like the—” Caleb casts you a glance, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

Fumbling with your menu, you hold it up to the waiter and point at one of the main options.

“Whatever this is, please,” you say.

“I’ll get that, too. And the apple-macadamia tart for dessert,” Caleb continues.

The waiter taps away at the screen, asking habitually, “Anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” your date answers while collecting the menus. He hands them to the waiter, who then moves on to another table.

Shifting back to face you, Caleb grins, “Soooo, what made you reach out to me?” As if your cheeks couldn’t burn any brighter.

You shrug awkwardly, averting your eyes to the bar nearby, “Well, you know, you, uh… you’re staying here for a while, right? And I live here so…”

“I figured.” You can feel him undressing you with his captivating eyes. They notice the deepening shade of your blush, and how you fiddle with your necklace out of nervousness.

Not to mention, Caleb can feel the vibrations of your tapping foot. Oh, how wants to grab it and set it on his lap, maybe rub your ankle and sole while he’s at it to help with your anxiety.

Seeing your determination to stare at the shelves of spirits, he says, “I was really shocked, you know.” Your head whips back immediately, your gaze focusing on him.

“About what?” You ask, urgency lacing your tone.

Caleb grins, glad to have your full attention, “That you texted me. You’re my biggest fan, but you never asked for anything from me until now.”

You’re anxious as you clarify, “Was I supposed to? Or was I not supposed to? Or—”

“Jeez, pips. Relax,” your date exhales. You nod, crossing your legs to stop them from bouncing.

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off, “And don’t apologise.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan, “Fine, fine, I won’t.”

“Good,” he says with a certain finality. It’s quiet between you two momentarily, the cosy jazz filling the space your conversation doesn’t.

Then, you pipe up, “Am I really your biggest fan?” Caleb nods, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

You gaze away for a second as you mumble, “That’s kinda embarrassing, oh my god.”

“Why’s that embarrassing?” He asks, seemingly oblivious to how much of gooner you must be to be his biggest fan.

“Becaaauuuuse,” you drawl. “Think about the kinda content you make. Nothing says ‘I’m lonely’ like being a… corn star’s number one fan.” You lower your voice for that last part.

Caleb almost seems offended as he counters, “One, I’m not a corn star, I’m a model—”

“You’re a glorified prostitute, Caleb,” you reason. Horror twists his soft features, his jaw slack as he stares at you in disbelief.

“I am not a glorified prostitute,” he asserts, his eyebrows drawing together as his lips do.

You raise your hands by your sides, barely concealing your grin as you surrender, “Right, my bad.”

Caleb huffs, “I’m a model—”

“Sure, sweetie—”

“You,” he mutters, his gaze narrowing. You burst out into laughter at how he looks like a confused puppy. Clutching your stomach, you let out all of your joy and jitters.

There’s something so… disarming about Caleb. Yes, you’ve been incredibly nervous and tripping over your words since you sat down. But he makes you feel comfortable and safe.

You feel like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge you for it. But judging and teasing are two different things, and you’re certain that he’s going to do much of the latter.

“My-my tummy hu-hurts,” you chortle, doubling over in a dull ache.

Your date sulks, “Serves you right, pipsqueak.”

“Ow!” You sniffle, reaching for a napkin. Instead, you knock over the carefully arranged salt and pepper shakers.

“Sorry,” you mumble. Caleb hands you a serviette, which you thank him for. As you pat your glassy eyes dry, he fixes the shakers and brushes off any stray seasonings that got on the table cloth. Placing your scrunched up napkin on the table, you fan your scorchingly hot face.

You grin, “That was really funny.”

“I can tell,” Caleb quips. Once you’ve calmed down, he continues, “What I was going to say before you interrupted me was that being my fan doesn’t mean you’re lonely. Of course, I don’t know you very well yet, but you’re a sweet girl. I’m sure you’ve got friends and loved ones in your life to keep you company.” Yet. Your heart beat turns erratic for a few moments.

“I guess,” you say more to yourself than him while glancing down at the table. You press your lips together, attempting to slow your heart rate with sheer willpower. Black dress shoes come into your line of sight; the waiter has returned.

Gazing up, they set a plate of wagyu in the table’s centre and refill your barely touched water before fluttering off.

“Looks good,” you offer, grabbing your fork and gesturing to the fragrant beef. It’s coated in a gravy with pistachios on top. Fine dining really is fucking weird. Caleb picks up one of the slices on his fork and moves it toward you.

“Open up,” he coos.

You sigh, “Caleb,” as you do just that. The wagyu tastes buttery and rich, yet there’s also a tang from the sauce and nuts.

“Mhmm,” you hum while chewing. Your date flashes you the most innocent grin, his eyes all round and soft as he watches you eat.

“It’s really nice. You should try some,” you suggest after swallowing. Poking your fork through another slice, you hold it up to Caleb the way he did to you.

Feeling playful, you swerve your fork from left to right, riding imaginary waves as you giggle, “Here comes the aeroplane.”

He exhales, seemingly exhausted, “Can’t believe I have to spend the whole night with you.”

“Hey!” You exclaim, retracting your fork. He grabs your hand and brings the utensil to mouth. A smirk splays on his lips as he captures your eyes, watching you watch him bite the wagyu off.

Sitting back, he nods in approval, “Really is good.” Your mind is malfunctioning, words scattered across your brain as you try to form some semblance of a reply.

You decide on, “Don’t chew with your mouth open.”

“Caleb!” You squeal as he opens his mouth and shows you how he masticates meat.

He grins, “What?”

“Are you always this weird with your clients?” You ask sassily while stabbing another tender slice of beef with your fork. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps his first piece down.

“Nah. Just with you, pips,” he shrugs. Butterflies swirl in your tummy, adding to the copious amounts of sweating you’re 110% sure you’re involuntarily doing right now. He’s probably just saying that. But with how he takes your hand and makes you feed him once more, you really hope he means it.

Soon enough, you two have eaten your way through entrée and whatever the fuck your main was (some lime, duck, raddichio concoction that tasted pretty good), leaving only dessert left. You’re glad the portion sizes are tiny, because you don’t wanna bloat with your plans for tonight. But even if you do, you’re positive the physical activity will help with that.

The server leaves you two with a scrumptious apple and macadamia tart, complemented by honeycomb ice cream and custard. Caleb breaks into the tart first.

“Do you want ice cream, custard, or both?” He asks, gathering a small slice on his fork.

You murmur, “Both please.” He hums in acknowledgement, focusing intently as he slathers ice cream and then thick custard onto your slice. You lean over and your date eases the tart past your lips.

Hovering your fingers over your mouth, you say between bites, “Wow, this is seriously yummy.”

��Oh yeah? What makes it so yummy?” Caleb muses, already cutting himself a fat slice and heaping on the cold toppings.

You reply thoughtfully, “The apple is a little sour, and it pairs well with the sweetness of the ice cream and custard. And the macadamia gives it this expensive taste, you know?”

“This taste is expensive, honey,” Caleb remarks before shoving his slice in his mouth.

“How come you get a bigger slice? No! Don’t answer that,” you panic, seeing how he smirked at you with his cheeks full like a chipmunk. You can’t help but smile yourself, far too ecstatic for your well-being right now.

Gripping the edge of the plate, you slide it over to you and dig into the tart. By the time you’re both finished, nothing of it remains. The server promptly brings the cheque, and Caleb snatches it up before you can get a glimpse of the exorbitant price.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he tuts, waving his finger from side to side.

“Caleb,” you groan.

“I’ve got it, pips,” he says resolutely, pulling out his wallet and slotting his card into the black folder before handing it back to the waiter.

As they walk away, you sigh, “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’s included with the service,” your date reassures you.

“What else is included with the service?” You ask flirtatiously. It slips out before you can stop it. Your eyes widen, and you stare at Caleb like it’s his fault you said something so raunchy.

He smirks, “Pipsqueeaaak.”

“Shut up!” You scold him just in time for the waiter’s return.

“All good, Sir. You two enjoy the rest of your evening,” they say in that customer service-polite kinda tone. Caleb takes his card while you nod and thank the waiter before they disappear amongst the tables.

Pivoting to face Caleb, you exhale, “Alright. Shall we get going?”

“Sounds good to me,” he chirps, already standing sliding out of the booth. Dear Lord—Was he always this tall?! And buff?! You clamber out of the booth and stumble on your heels, right into his solid chest.

“Sorry,” you inevitably apologise, grateful for his arm around your waist helping to steady you. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, like you were made to complete one another. Lucky coincidence, you suppose. Tipping your head back, you laugh nervously as he gazes at you with concern in his eyes.

Your date confirms, “You okay, pips?”

“Mhmm, I’m fine,” you nod, separating from him and beginning to walk forward. Caleb keeps his arm around your waist as you two make it out of the restaurant.

Slipping past those glass doors, you squeal as your date bends down and picks you up bridal style.

“So, which one’s your car?” He asks, glancing around the fairly full parking lot.

You squeak, “Caleb! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby. Now, answer my question: which one is your car?” You huff while adjusting your grasp on his neck, resigned to your fate.

“In the second row,” you inform him. With a little more guidance, Caleb plops you down in the driver’s seat. Crouching, he grabs your ankle and removes your shoe.

“What’re you doing?” You whine. Your date merely beams up at you, looking like the happiest man in the world as he takes off your other heel.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He teases, holding your heels on his fingers and straightening up.

You pout, “Being annoying.”

He quips, “Not my fault you can’t walk in these.”

“Caleb!—” He slams the car door shut, and you grumble, waiting for him to walk around. Clicking in your seatbelt, the passenger door opens and Caleb sets your shoes down on the floor.

After grabbing your clutch from you and putting it on top of your heels, he declares, “From now on, you’re banned from wearing heels.”

“What?” You exclaim, shifting to look at him. His ridiculously long legs are bunched up before he slides the seat back, and his head nearly touches the roof. It’s like someone squished an attractive car sales blowup man in your vehicle. You notice the hint of a smile on his face.

He explains, “I don’t wanna see you fall over and break your precious ankles, honey.”

You roll your eyes and retort, “You sound like my dad.” Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life.

“Ouch,” Caleb says, placing extra emphasis on the ‘ch’. The ghost of grin twitches on your lips as you pull out of the parking lot and start heading home; the traffic is much smoother now.

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

Ever the gentleman, Caleb carries you into your apartment building and holds you tight in the lift. He sets you down on his black dress shoes, not letting your soles touch the hallway’s brown carpet as you unlock the front door.

Pushing it open, you squeal as he loops his beefy arms around your mid-section and walks you inside. Your date releases you by the couch and placing a hand on his hip, sunset eyes roaming your cosy apartment.

You’ve spent the past few days tidying it up in anticipation for tonight. You could have booked a hotel room, but 1) that would have been even more money and 2) you’d like to have your first time somewhere comfortable, and with someone who makes you feel comfortable.

“D’you want some tea or?” You ask, fidgeting with your hands as Caleb comes to stare down at you.

He grins, “That’d be great, pips.” Nodding, you head over to the kitchen and start preparing the tea.

“Do you want peppermint, camomile, lemon balm, or ginger and turmeric tea?” You shout over the screeching kettle from where you’re standing at the kitchen bench.

Caleb calls back, “Any.” Sighing, you pick lemon balm for the both of you. It helps with reducing anxiety and boosts digestion, exactly what you need right now.

You walk slowly into the living room with two steaming mugs in hand. Your date abandons the fashion magazine you had sitting on the coffee table to take the tea from you. Thanking him, you plop down on the couch and take your mug from his large hands.

After you two get comfy, it’s quiet for a little. You don’t know where to go from here. Do you suggest a movie? Get changed? Chat for a while until things head in that direction?

Caleb breaks the silence with, “Let’s set some boundaries, how does that sound, honey?” You hum in agreement, perking up at the topic.

He wears an easy grin as he says, “It’ll be your first time, right?” You nod.

“And you’ve been practising like I told you to?” Again, you nod, feeling a very familiar heat rising up to your cheeks.

He continues, “I assume you don’t want to do anything too crazy, is that right?”

“Mhmm,” you hum.

“Then I’m happy to do whatever you want tonight.” Your date sets his half-drunk mug down on the low table and slings one arm over the back of the lounge. His muscles bulge out of his white button-up, and your gaze lingers on them a little too long for modesty. Your heart rate picks back up.

He prompts you, “So, what do you want to do, pipsqueak? What are you okay with me doing to you?” You gnaw on the side of your lip, your hands trembling slightly around your tea.

“Um,” you start. You rehearsed this how many times?!

You try again, “Yeah, so like… uh—”

“How about I start you off?” Caleb suggests while reaching over and plucking your mug from you by the rim. It clunks on the coffee table before he takes your shaking hands and squeezes them firmly.

His eyes search yours momentarily, decoding the swirling emotions there for a sign to continue. You nod slightly, your voice rendered useless.

Caleb goes on, “We can make out and see where things go from there, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper. Your heart is thumping in your ears so loudly, it almost drowns out your date’s sweet voice.

“Or do you wanna cuddle first?” He asks, rubbing his thumb over the backs of your hands soothingly.

You lean in closer, your voice small as you ramble, “Honestly, I just feel fucking nervous right now. And like I’m really sweaty, and I’ve like never talked to anyone about this kinda thing before. I just wanna keep it… like, romantic? If that makes sense?”

He nods, “Makes perfect sense, pips.”

Your shoulders slump as you sigh in relief, “Okay good.” His smirk has you melting into a puddle of goop. You just wanna squish his cheeks. But your bravery isn’t there yet.

Caleb shifts his grasp on you, now holding both of your hands with one of his as the other comes up and tucks a stray strand behind your ear. His fingertips brush the shell of your ear and rest against your ear lobe before his hand returns to gripping yours.

“Caleb,” you say abruptly. He nods, urging you to continue.

“Is it okay if I go shower before we… do other stuff?” You ask anxiously.

He lets go of your hands while encouraging you with, “’Course, go for it, pips.”

Getting off the couch, you say excitedly, “Okay cool.” You dash off to your bedroom, thinking about much water you’ll be wasting as this’ll be your second shower of the day when you halt.

Whirling around, you dart back to the living room. Your frantic entrance draws Caleb’s eyes. He stares at you like he’s assessing a threat, but upon realising it’s you, his frame visibly relaxes.

“What is it, honey?” He asks, confused.

You blurt out, “Doyouwannacomeshowerwithme?” He gazes at you with a faint knot his brow.

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, you exhale, “Do you wanna join me? So like, we can bond. Or like not. It’s totally cool if you don’t want to, yeah like—” You don’t get to finish before Caleb’s rising from the couch and pulling you into his side.

“Well, what’re we waiting for, pipsqueak? Let’s get showering,” he says enthusiastically. Caleb drags you along the hallway, and you steer him into your bedroom. Once you’re inside, he releases you. Fluttering over to your dresser, you pull out a pair of underwear and a lacy bralette.

You don’t notice your date behind you until he muses, “I don’t think you’ll be needing those.” You flinch, somehow shocked about the presence of man you literally invited into your most sacred space, being in your most sacred space.

You sputter, “Are you sure like—”

“Oh, I’m sure, honey,” he grins cheekily. You swear your super hot face just got even redder and hotter from that seductive look he’s giving you.

You stutter, “O-okay,” as you put your panties and bra back in your drawer.

Whilst you do so, Caleb palms your shoulders. His touch sends shivers dancing along your spine and down your arms.

His chest touches your back lightly, as does he lips as he asks lowly, “Why don’t you show me where the bathroom is and I’ll get the water running?” It requires all of your strength not to collapse then and there from his raspy voice.

The things his voice does to you… Liquid heat pools in the pit of your tummy, arousal leaking from your cunt as you point to the only other door leading out of your bedroom. Your finger shakes a little; a testament to your nerves.

Caleb squeezes your shoulders before heading into the bathroom, fully dressed. Were you also supposed to join him, fully dressed? That can’t be right, right? Or—argh!

You scamper off to the linen cupboard and grab a few towels: one for Caleb, one for Caleb fucking you, one for Caleb cleaning you up, and one just in case Caleb ruins either of the previous three towels.

Standing outside the bathroom door, you bite your lip in nervousness. Preparing all week felt pretty real, dinner felt pretty real, but it dawns upon you just how real all of this was. As soon as you cross the threshold, the man you’ve gotten off to more times than you can remember is going to see and come to know you in the most intimate of ways.

The door swings open and Caleb gazes down at you cockily.

“You’re not backing out on me, are you, pips?” He smirks. You shake your head and hold out his towel.

“For you,” you mumble. He chuckles and grabs it from you, ushering you inside. Immediately, you notice that the water isn’t running. What has he been doing all of this time?

As if hearing your thoughts, Caleb answers, “You were taking a while so I thought I’d save you some water.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, slowly pivoting to face him. He’s taken his blazer off and undone a couple of his shirt’s buttons.

Stepping closer, he asks playfully, “Soooo, d’you wanna help me get undressed? Or should I help you first?” You glance down at your feet and notice that his are bare, too. Caleb’s fingers trail down your arm, his body dusting yours. You inhale deeply and then exhale.

Gathering up your confidence, you look up and place your hands on his chest. Beneath your palm, you can feel his heart beat. It’s stable, like he’s done this a dozen times.

Oh wait! He has!

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, feeling the weight of this moment as his hands rest on your hips. Breaking eye contact, you start unbuttoning his shirt. As each one pops out, you get a glimpse of the body you’ve seen so many times on your screen. But it’s not the same. In person, he’s so warm and huge. His chest is so toned, and those pecs boobs are bigger than yours.

Your fingertips graze his smooth skin as you pull his dress shirt out of his trousers and undo the last few buttons. He grabs one of your hands and places it on his abs.

You hum softly, fingers feeling the ridges of his hard muscles. Giving his tummy an experimental poke, you find that he’s still squishy. Just a solid kind of squishy.

He yelps, “Ah, pips, what’re you doin’?” You giggle, the melodic sound slipping past your lips with little resistance.

“Sorrrryyy,” you smile, glancing up at his beautiful face.

You compliment him, “You’re way hotter in person, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” he responds, kneading your love handles through your short dress.

“Do I live up to your expectations?” Caleb asks, his tone suddenly sincere. You nod energetically.

Feeling bold, you tug at his shirt, and he helps you pull it off his broad shoulders. You start folding it up, but he yanks the shirt out of your hands and tosses it on the floor with a muttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

You rest your hands on his low waistband, fingers curling beneath the edge as you wait. For what, you’re not entirely sure. But it doesn’t feel right to keep going yet. Your date draws you in, your hips flush against his thighs.

“You alright?” He murmurs, leaning down so his lips brush your forehead. You hum gently in agreement as he kisses along your hairline.

You warn him, “Careful or you’ll be eating my setting powder.” His laugh rumbles in his chest, nice n’ close to you so you can feel the vibrations.

“Really, honey?” He teases, pecking your cheekbone affectionately.

“What am I eating now? Your highlight?”

You roll your eyes and sass back, “That’s my blush, actually.”

“Oh, right. My bad,” he says sarcastically, kissing your gelled brows and made-up eyelids.

“Good try, though,” you say quietly. Caleb hums low as his lips wander dangerously closer to yours. His nose tip nuzzles against yours, and you sigh as your head falls back. Your eyes meet, his seeking permission while yours are half-lidded in anticipation.

He asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Mhmm, yes,” you reply, your hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. You pull him down with surprising courage, moaning as his plump lips press against yours.

Heaven is not a place in the sky, built upon fluffy white clouds and filled with beings of light. It’s a state of existence only acquired after life’s tribulations. But you swear you can taste it’s sweetness on your tongue, a warmth swelling within as your fingers thread through Caleb’s silky locks.

His large hands paw at your hips, pulling you snug against his body. Heat seeps through the fabric of your dress into your bones, and not necessarily the temperature-related kind.

Your yelp is muffled by your date’s wet tongue sliding across your lower lip. You must be hallucinating, because there’s no way in hell the man you’re kissing right now is getting turned on by you. It’s just impossible. You’re the observer of his lust, not the active participant. But isn’t that what you signed up for? What this entire night has been leading you toward?

Still, your knees buckle and your body falls further into Caleb’s as your tongues intertwine. That sweetness is real, a hint of apple and custard poking at your memories. He keeps you sturdy as you lose yourself in him, and his fists bunch up your dress to your waist.

Separating from you, his lips glisten with spit.

Caleb pants, “Let me help you out of this.” You barely nod before he’s hiking your dress up and over your head. He casts it on the floor, murmuring a half-assed apology as he closes the gap between you two once more. His muscular arm circles your waist, and he trails sloppy kisses down the side of your neck.

Your date mumbles into your perfumed skin, “Can I leave marks?”

“Mhmm,” you hum softly while squeezing his shoulders. His tongue is hot and wet as it licks up the column of your neck.

He instructs you to, “Say yes.”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. Those long fingers tangle in your roots and tug gently. You moan quietly, the sound just slipping out as your head tips back, Caleb’s lips now just beneath your jaw.

“This okay, too?” He rasps in your ear. You wish the slick dripping from your core could reply for you, but alas, it can’t.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. His grip on your hair tightens as he sucks a bruising hickey on the side of your neck.

Your back arches, the moan spewing from your lips enough to have Caleb on his knees. But he remains strong yet desperate, his growing erection rocking into your lower tummy.

The self-proclaimed ‘model’ leaves hickeys and bites across your neck like it’s a blank canvas, while his expert hands latch onto your bra and unhook it at the back.

“Caleb,” you pant, pushing slightly at his heaving chest. He steps back immediately, your bra dangling from your shoulders.

His eyes are wide as he asks panically, “Everything okay? Did I go too far?” You shake your head while licking your lips.

You try to explain, “No, I just… um.” Your nerves return, causing you to gaze down. Inevitably, you notice what Caleb’s black pants fight to conceal: his hard on.

“Uhhh.” You gulp and glance back up, but that makes it worse. He’s unravelling you with his eyes like you ate the skin off Maccas chicken nuggies as a kid😔.

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” Caleb asks, his eyes dropping slightly to signal to what’s got extra pink blooming across your cheeks.

“NO! No, I mean, like, it definitely leaves an impression. No, wait! I mean—” His hearty laugh cuts you off, shoulders shaking as he inches closer and takes your hands.

With his signature grin on his face, he says, “Just take a deep breath, yeah? And tell me what’s on your mind.” You nod and inhale as he squeezes your hands.

You exhale, “I just like can’t believe this is happening, you know? Like it’s all so sudden. I never thought you could want me like this.” Caleb pushes you against him, his hands splaying on your bare back while his chin rests atop your head.

Your cheek rests on his heart as he admits, “It’s hard not to, pipsqueak.” You hum in acknowledgement, your hands settling on his waistband again.

His breath hitches slightly as he chuckles, “I was gonna say we can take it slower, but I’m guessing you don’t mind.” You lean back in his grasp and tilt your head to look up at him. His cheeks are tinted red, as are the tops of his ears.

You smirk, “I wanna take it slow, yeah. Wanna take my make-up off, too, if that’s okay?”

Allow me to clarify, you DON’T want Caleb to see you bare-faced, but you equally DON’T want to shower in a full beat or have sex in one.

“Mhmm, take it off now, honey. I’ll actually get the water going this time,” he says playfully. The model tugs your hands off of his pants and starts unbuckling them himself. You turn away, pushing your flimsy bra straps up your arms as you reach the sink top.

After taking off your makeup, Caleb’s already in the shower, presumably setting it to cold asf lukewarm. You sigh as you yank off your bra and step out of your panties, tossing them into the clothing heap on the floor.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you analyse your subdued complexion. Some times it’s hard to feel beautiful in your own skin, especially when an absolute hottie is waiting for you a metre away. But it’s the knowledge that said hottie’s dick is hard from YOU that has you shuffling over to the shower door and opening it.

Steam rushes out as you lock eyes with Caleb momentarily. Momentarily because he shamelessly checks you out, gnawing on his lip all seductively as he does so. Your thighs clench and you hope he doesn’t notice (bad luck, he does).

Your gaze runs down his body as the water does, seeking purchase in the most intimate crevices of such a man. You let your eyes dip and oh shit—You have to avert them immediately.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him like this before. You have. You’ve seen everything he’s ever filmed, but it’s different, looking at him while he looks at you.

Closing the shower door behind you, Caleb’s on you in an instant. He tugs you into his body, groaning as your soft curves collide with his hardness.

Your gasp is caught between his teeth as he pulls you into another breathtaking kiss. He whimpers into your mouth, his tongue slipping between your lips without invitation. Those strong hands push and pull at your delicate flesh, making your back arch and pussy throb.

Your hands cup his nape, his dark strands already damp from the runing water behind him. And you cling to him like your life depends on it, tilting your head and following his pace. He overpowers you, his hunger almost as intense as his hard on.

It’s dawning upon you how severely fucked you’re gonna get be tonight. You hate to be like “It’s so big” but dear Lord… You’re questioning how that is gonna fit in you as Caleb draws you impossibly closer. It’s like he’s trying to tear off your skin and climb into the cavities of your heart. Even worse? You’d let him if he asked.

“Fuck,” Caleb murmurs, drunk on your taste and how goddamn perfect you feel against him. The way you mould to his body; this must have been divined. His hands glide over your moist skin and squeeze your ass. You yelp, his mouth claiming yours again.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting for air. Your laboured breaths intermingle, foreheads connected as you swallow his saliva. The rushing water patters against the tiles, droplets bouncing onto your bodies.

You exhale, “Are you gonna help me get cleaned up or?”

He chuckles huskily, “’Course, baby. C’mere.” Caleb holds you by the hips and shuffles back, positioning you beneath the shower-head. You sigh and close your eyes, the streaming, warm water carrying away your worries and nerves ephemerally. His heat disappears for a second, the popping of a cap echoing throughout the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, your eyes still closed. Caleb’s body brushes against yours once again, and you assume his hands are rubbing together from the slimy, lathering sounds emanating in front of you.

You crack an eyelid open but shut it quickly as he order you to, “Keep your eyes closed.” A mischievous smirk spreads across your lips.

“Whhhhyyyyy?” His hands grasp your shoulders, the familiar sensation of body wash covering them. He starts rubbing the gel into your shoulders and down your arms.

He grins, “I’m cleaning you up, just like you wanted, pips.” You imagine Caleb behind your eyelids, puppy ears atop his head and tail wagging like he’s waiting for you to scratch his chin and tell him he’s a good boy. Your giggle fades into a deep breath out as his skilful hands work the body wash up your arms and on your chest.

“Can I touch here?” His fingertips ghost the fat of your breast, and his voice is gentle, like he could wait years for your answer. You nod, but think better of it at the last second.

You voice your consent with a simple, “Yes.” Squeezing some more wash onto his hands, you date slathers it onto your breasts. You nibble at your lower lip, enjoying the sensation of him squishing your tits in his strong hands. Those slender fingers fleet across your nipples, testing the waters. You can feel his intense eyes on you, reading every micro expression dancing across your features.

Grabbing his wrists, you shift his hands back to cover your breasts, your eyes finally opening. He stares at you, his violets slightly wide and brows raised.

With a nod, you urge him on, “You can do more if you want.” He shakes his head, averting his gaze to the side for a few seconds as he contemplates.

Glancing back at you, Caleb says earnestly, “This is your night. You’re in charge, so tell me what you want me to do, Miss L/n.” Hearing your last name tumble from his mouth does something utterly unholy to you and your pussy. You press your legs together, fresh slick oozing out against your will. Your grip on his wrists tighten as you watch each other, fascinated and patient.

“Why don’t we keep going?” You suggest, sliding his glistening hands down to your tummy. As much as you’d like for him to play with your nipples and make you ten times wetter, you’re in the shower to prepare for that.

“Ah—Caleb!” You whine as he pokes your soft midsection, just like how you poked his comparably harder one earlier. He chuckles and palms your waist, already head over heels for how doughy you are.

He hums low, “Mhmm. So fuckin’ beautiful, baby. You sure you don’t have a boyfriend?” It’s your turn to laugh, your frame shaking as you chortle at the thought—

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say confidently. “But thank you. I appreciate it,” you add. Caleb rubs body wash in circles over your tummy before spinning you around leisurely by the hips.

From behind you, he pries, “Any special reason?” He begins massaging your shoulders, his hands pressing firmly into the calcifications strewn throughout your muscles.

His plump lips touch your ear as he continues, “You’re smart, funny, sweet, sexy. There has to be some suitors, no?” His palm digs into a particularly painful knot. You yelp and he immediately eases off.

“Sorry, pipsqueak. Didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“No, it’s fine! It’s fine! It feels kinda nice actually. I’m really tight,” you assure him. His hot breath fans your neck as he laughs, his hands returning to your shoulders.

He murmurs, “If you insist.” All is quiet between you two as you enjoy his tender massage, even though you have to grit your teeth every ten seconds from his thumbs poking at your knots. His question hangs in the air, perhaps pinned up like the stars as you think it over.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Just haven’t found anyone worthy yet, I guess.” Caleb hums as his fingers map out your back muscles.

“Like, for some reason, most men find respecting women really hard. Like, I’m not asking for much, you know? Just a decent guy who takes care of himself and has some life goals,” you explain.

You date replies, “Mhmm, pop off, girlie.” Immediately you whip around and ‘playfully’ slap his chest.

It reverberates off the shower walls and Caleb covers his pecs and yelps, “The fuck was that for?!”

“Do not give me the ‘pop off, girlie’ when we’re in the shower, Caleb! At least save it for when I’m painting your nails or something,” you scold him. Your arms fold beneath your cheat, accentuating your breasts. His eyes dip momentarily but you catch it anyway.

Slap!

“Ow! Ow! I’m sorry, alright! Fuckin’ hell, pipsqueak,” he exclaims. Your cheeks grow hotter as you realise what the fuck you just did.

“Sorry! sorry,” you murmur, stepping closer and rubbing his reddening chest. In the model’s eyes, the cutest pout splays on your lips as you sooth the spots he’s not really hurting in. Buuuuuuuut, you don’t need to know that just yet.

“As you should be, pips. I was just trying to support you and look what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice laced with fake raw emotion.

You reply earnestly, “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You’ve been so good to me and all I’ve done is hurt you.”

“Huh? Wait, pips—”

“I don’t deserve you, Caleb—”

“Hold on a damn minute, pipsqueak. I didn’t say that—”

“But it’s true! You’re so… so kind and patient with me. And—” Your self-deprecation is cut short my your date cupping your cheeks and shutting you up with his lips.

Your head tilts back, deepening the kiss while his slick hands (from the body wash) slide down your back and rub in the gel. They slip to your ass and squish it, making you gasp into Caleb’s mouth. He smirks against your lips, your tongues lapping at each other’s taste buds and cheeks again.

Breaking apart, he peppers kisses at the corners of your mouth and on your eyebrows and finally, your forehead.

Grabbing two handfuls of your ass, Caleb murmurs into your damp skin, “It didn’t even hurt, honey. So don’t give me that ‘I don’t deserve you’ bullshit, yeah?” You hum softly while chewing on your bottom lip.

Caleb continues on his quest to clean you up. You swear he goes through half of your body wash as he lathers you up. And my oh my is it awkward when he gets down on his knees to coat your legs in the smooth gel. Your pussy is right in his face, but he seems unfazed. Seems is the key word here.

You squeak, “Sorryyyyy,” as his hands work up your inner thigh.

He gazes up at you and grins, “For what? There’s no place I’d rather be, baby. And didn’t I tell you not to apologise, angel?”

“Mhmm, maybe,” you sigh, your fingers running through his soaked locks.

“Then don’t make me tell you again,” he says low.

You nod, “Mhmm, I won’t,” while keeping your eyes on his.

“Good,” he breathes out, leaning forward and chastely kissing a patch of body wash-free skin on your thigh. His fingers come so close to your cunt, you swear he can feel the arousal that’s probably dripped down them. Maybe that’s the point.

A weight comes off your shoulders as Caleb stands back up and you guides you under the streaming water. His hands run all over your body to clear off the body wash, filling you with a tender warmth.

The kind you’d always hoped you’d feel when in love. But that’s crazy talk! You literally just met! Well, technically, you’ve known him for a few years. But that’s besides the point.

This isn’t love. This is paid intimacy. Don’t forget that, you tell yourself.

Caleb’s hands come to rest on your hips as he leans down and whispers in your ear, “So, are you gonna help me clean up, too?” Your eyes snap open, your hands grasping the back of his neck to keep him close so he can’t see how you’re freaking out. Wash him off?! Oh, how you’ve dreamed of this moment. I mean! Ew, boys, cooties, gross. Wash a man? Ugh if I have to, you ‘suppose’.

“’Course,” you say sweetly, releasing him and grabbing your body wash. And just as you suspected—

“Caleb, what the fuck? You literally used all of it!” You exclaim.

He smirks all handsome (like he knows it, too), “Shall I reimburse you, Miss L/n?” For fuck’s sake, he just cleaned down there. What’s he gonna think when you get out of the shower with slick sliding down your thighs?

“Just… shut up,” you say, shaking your head slightly and the bottle violently. It makes those squelching sounds as you flip the cap and attempt to squeeze out what remains onto your palms. It would seem that this mammoth of a man left just enough for himself. You rub your hands together before starting with his arms.

For you, it’s a nice change to give rather than receive. You enjoy receiving, and Caleb is damn good at giving. But it feels fulfilling to soothe your body wash into his skin, to show him the affection he’s an expert at showing others.

You’ve seen it in his videos, how when he does collabs, he always prioritises his co-stars needs. On countless occasions, you’ve dreamed of that being you. Of basking in his loving lustful touch. And now that it is you, it feels incredible beyond belief. But you hunger for more. You’re greedy to return the favour.

“Okay, I have a question for you,” you grin, glancing up at your date.

He nods, “Ask away.”

You hold his gaze as you ask, “When you sent me your test results, you had a sperm count of zero. Why?”

“Oh, that,” he chuckles breathily. Your palms glide across his chest, fingers brushing his sensitive nipples (you swear, all of his fans know this, okay?).

He shudders slightly, “Uh, well, in my line of work, it just seemed to be the most convenient.”

“A vasectomy,” you clarify.

Caleb nods and explains, “It’s not 100% effective in preventing pregnancy, but it’s damn close enough.” Your hands move across his ribs and abs before you pump out some more body wash onto your palms.

You return to lathering up his muscles while asking curiously, “Why do you do bookings? Like, your OF is pretty popular, and most models don’t. With your, uh, quality of content, you probably don’t need to be doing this kinda thing.”

He grins, “If I wasn’t taking bookings, then I wouldn’t have met you, honey.” Your heart flutters as your eyes lock on his. And all you find there is sincerity. Your hands on his low abs still.

“Oh, yeah?” You mumble, averting your gaze to somewhere more reasonable, like his painful looking erection.

Up until this point, you had been avoiding his thick cock like the plague. But you’ve gotta face it (and feel it) at some point tonight, so it might as well be now. His tip is leaking pre-cum, and you almost feel bad with how red his dick looks.

Feeling bold, you ask, “Should I wash your back first, or get on my knees already?” It requires every last piece of your strength to not stutter. And it requires every last piece of Caleb’s strength to not cum right then and there. Your presence does something to him. It’s otherworldly, how comfortable he feels with you, and how fucking hard you make him.

The model is putty in your hands, waiting to be moulded to whatever shape you see fit. Or was it the other way round? Sources suggest it’s a mutual yearning (stargirlygirl, 2025).

“Whatever you like, baby—”

“I’m asking what you would like,” you interject. More pre-cum seeps out, and Caleb would be normally be embarrassed but he just can’t seem to find a fuck to give.

Clearing his throat, he requests, “On your knees, please.” You hum in agreement and do just that, coming eye-to-cock—Coming eye-to-eye with his cock! My bad.

Your fingertips trace the curves of his quads under the guise of soothing body wash into his wet skin. You gaze at his hard-on, a little drool running down the side of your mouth as you take a good look. Doing so only serves to reaffirm your earlier sentiment: that you are completely fucked (or you will be anyway😏).

“Was it always this big?” You ask suddenly, glimpsing up at Caleb’s rosy cheeks and dilated eyes.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters as your fingers draw nearer to his twitching cock. You rinse off your hands under the water before turning back to him.

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest like a baby xenomorph (that one’s for you, @tragicvictoriantears) as you point and ask, “Can I touch?”

He groans, “Not here.” Caleb bends down and hauls you up by the underarms like you’re a misbehaving cat. You’ve never seen someone wash off so fast before he’s dragging you out of the shower, drying you off on 4x speed, and throwing you over his broad shoulder.

Next thing you know, your back hits the springy mattress and you bounce a little. Caleb’s already climbing on top of you, bare and wet. His teeth attack every inch of your skin, ravenous, while his lips soothe your reddening. Your back arches as he takes your nipple into his swelteringly hot mouth.

His fingers trail across your body, his touch hot like a branding iron, marking every part of you as his. Then, they skim up and pinch your breasts, eliciting a yelp from you. You’ve never felt anything like this before.

Pleasure jolts through you as he sucks on your stiff peak, tongue rolling around and over it. Pulling off, his saliva glints in the overhead light, as do his eyes with an insatiability.

“Caleb,” you mewl, pressing your tits up to his grinning lips.

He checks in on you with, “This alright, pips?” You nod energetically, desperate to feel his mouth on you once more.

“You okay if I keep going? Or do you want something different?” He pants, his slender fingers tracing the skin beneath your breasts.

“No, I-I want you to keep going. Feels good,” you reassure him. Caleb moans quietly as his head dips and his tongue roves over your areola again. Your hips buck, in dire need of some friction. Your bare cunt catches on his abs, tearing a raspy moan from you.

“Fuck sake,” your date groans in the space between your tits. His hands travel down to your hips and push them into the bed, drawing out a broken whine from you.

You cry out, “Please! Please. ‘M sorry. Just really sensitive, you know?”

“I know,” he rasps out while gazing up at you. Dear God, you hope you don’t have double chins right now or that would be embarrassing. Lowering your head to your pillow, you stare at the ceiling while trying to wiggle out of Caleb’s firm grip. It’s almost like he’s controlling gravity with how he’s got you pinned.

“Ah! Caleb!” You gasp as he nibbles gently on your tit. Just enough pain to grab your attention, and just enough pleasure to have you craving for him to do it again. You can feel his smirk against your flesh.

“So-rry,” he mumbles insincerely. Your heart accelerates as you watch him shift down your body, his lips worshipping every inch of your skin. Like you’re a swig from the holy grail with how he drinks you in.

Those puppy eyes latch onto yours as his nose brushes the crevices of your inner thigh. You’re positive the tip (of his nose, you freaks; I am freaks) must be wet with how your pussy has been dripping for him.

Shame burns bright red and feels like leaving your hand on a hot plate as he spreads your legs wider. Your arousal glistens and clit twitches under his interrogative gaze. You attempt to close your legs but to no avail.

“Caleb—”

“Stop fighting me, pretty girl,” he moans, his breath fanning over your pussy. Your head falls back as he slides his fingertips up your soaked slit, the sweetest moans escaping from your lips.

The sensation is familiar, yet foreign. Something you must have done a million times when masturbating to his videos. But now that the man himself is between your thighs, simply running his fingers through your folds, you can barely breathe from the pleasure.

And when the pads of his fingers start circling your clit, you’re certain you’ve ascended.

“Fuck!” You moan, high enough to thread your fingers through the clouds and clutch onto them to stabilise yourself. Or maybe you’re clinging to Caleb’s dark roots. You can’t tell.

Something transient; a liminal space. The beginning of your descent into the depths for your sins. But how can something to heavenly lead you to the fiery chambers of Hell?

You almost scream as the model’s tongue laps at your cunt. Your juices spill over his lips in his pursuit of quenching his thirst. But such a trial is doomed for failure.

He’s like a beast, slurping up your slick like it’s his sustenance. It’s messy, and obscenely loud. You’re neighbours are probably going to file a noise complaint, but you couldn’t care less.

Caleb’s fingers and tongue guide you to the edges of the universe and make you count the stars. Galaxy glitter sticks to your cheeks as you float amongst the light. It can’t get better than this, can it?

Clitoral stimulation IS the orgasm game-changer, so probably not. But you remain hopeful as you rock your hips, seeking every last long swipe of his tongue. He leans back, plump lips brushing your soaked ones as he stares at you drunkenly.

“You always this loud, pips? Or is it because I’m here?” Caleb teases.

“Because [of] you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from your endless moans and pleas.

“Oh, yeah?” He grins cockily, licking his lips and groaning at your taste.

He proposes, “Tell me what you want, pipsqueak. More, or something else?”

Your voice is strained as you reply, “Choose f’me.” He chuckles, his thumbs rolling over your inner thighs tenderly. For a moment, you two stay like that, panting and pondering what will happen next. You suck in a sharp breath as Caleb’s tongue glides up your sloppy folds again.

This time, he eats you out with some consideration for your bedsheets and poor neighbours. But he still has you trembling beneath his hot mouth and expert fingers. Your thighs clench around his head, unintentionally but fuck, it makes him rut into the bed like a horny teenage boy who saw a woman’s ankles for the first time.

Caleb draws you closer to your climax, flicking his tongue just right and plunging his fingers into your gummy walls the way you need him to. It doesn’t take much more before you’re slipping into ecstasy-induced oblivion.

Your body shakes and thighs clamp tight, but the model welcomes it with a needy suck of your clit. You pull at his locks, attempting to push his head away as you make a mess all over his mouth and hand.

Your arousal drips down his wrist once he finally eases his fingers out of you. His tongue, though, is unrelenting.

It stings as he circles your clit until you’re crying out, “Caleb! Caleb, I can’t! I can’t, baby, please!” His laugh rumbles in his chest as he sits back and wipes his damp chin and lips with his veiny forearm. Moving to hover over you, he notes your bitten lips and the daze in your eyes.

“Good?” He asks, his voice thick with admiration for his sweet girl—client. Caleb meant client. You nod, panting and exhausted. But you haven’t even done anything yet! To him, you mean. You haven’t sucked his fat cock, or even rode it yet and you could already doze off.

“Can-can we take a break?” You exhale. The model nods and sinks on top of you.

“Caleb!” You groan, shoving him by the shoulders. But he just won’t budge.

He plants loving kisses all over your face and praises you, “You did so good, pipsqueak. Yeah? I’m really proud of you.”

“Caleb,” you murmur. He draws you into a reassuring kiss; your tang is on his lips. The slow pace he moves at blesses you with an inkling of strength.

“Thanks,” you mumble into his mouth.

Separating, he grins, “Don’t thank me yet, pips. We’re only getting started.”

“But—”

“You know better than to give me that, mhmm?” He interrupts you.

Those violets stare at you intensely, waiting for your little nod before he proceeds with, “Now, what shall we do next? Get straight into the heavy stuff? Or do you wanna play for a little longer?”

“I… wanna touch you,” you say, your lazy hand reaching up and cupping his freckled cheek. He gulps, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

He clarifies, “Are you sure, pips? You don’t have to—”

“I want to. I want to make you feel good,” you breathe out, your heart beat steadying. Caleb sighs, his arms squeezing you tightly before he carefully rolls you two over so he’s on his back and you’re on top of him.

He leans in and lightly kisses from your cheekbone to your ear, whispering, “Then go ahead. You can do whatever you want to me.” Shivers run up your spine as his fingers do, and your thighs seize up at his words.

“O-okay,” you say nervously, your flush that never really left returning tenfold. He laughs warmly, his breath battering your skin. Turning your head, you grab his jaw with your hand and squish his cheeks, making his eyes widen.

“What’re you doin’, pipsqueak?” He asks, muffled. You giggle before closing the distance between you and kissing him. Your hand on his jaw softens and slides down to his neck, resting at the base like you’re going to choke him. His breath catches, waiting for you to squeeze. But you change to holding his shoulders, your fingers pressing into his muscles and your elbows propping you up on his chest.

The kiss is deep and intimate. There’s something raw in the way you lick at his cheeks and sample his flavour. Maybe it’s the post-nut haze, but you feel vulnerable.

You feel like your soul is pouring out of your body and only Caleb can bear it. Only he can keep you whole through this life-changing experience. And maybe, he can share a part of himself with you to create something new. Your delusions must have awakened.

You leave kisses on his jaw and down his neck, slithering to his pecs and pinching his nipples.

The OF model yelps, “Hah—guess you know all of my weakness, huh? I’d hardly call that fair.”

“You have the advantage of experience, Mr Xia. I’d call this fair,” you sass back. Oh, Caleb almost busts then and there at hearing his name, so formally, pass through your lips. It sounds so natural. He bites his lower lip and moans as you lick a stripe up his chest.

This is another one of those moments you’ve been waiting for. The chance to suck on Caleb’s pink nipples. And you do, ardently, and staring up at him with doe eyes.

You’re positive that he’s wetting your bedsheets with how dewy his skin still is from the shower. And your date is positive he’s soaking your bedsheets for an entirely different reason. His hips rock, his creamy cock hitting your tummy and making you moan around his sensitive nub.

It slips from your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips and his nipple. You grin wide, ecstatic as you glimpse down at the pre-cum staining your skin.

Fuck, that’s gotta hurt. His cock is so red and messy. You’ve never seen him get like this before. You gaze back up at Caleb to see him shaking his head.

“Take your time. I can wait,” he whimpers.

You muse, “Maybe you can, but I don’t think little solider can.”

“My solider isn’t little,” he bites back. “And don’t call it a solider.”

“Why not?” You ask, failing to conceal your smirk.

He huffs, “It’s kills the mood.”

“I don’t know, Mr Xia. The mood doesn’t seem killed to me, or him,” you tease. Caleb groans, more pre seeping out of his flushed tip.

“Don’t call me that. And don’t call my cock a ‘he’.”

“Don’t like being objectified, pretty boy? Welcome to a woman’s world,” you retort. Grunting, the model tugs you up and snatches the air in your lungs with his lips.

You moan into his mouth as he squeezes your ass, “You don’t like it when I call you Mr Xia?” He sighs into you, large hands squishing your plush flesh before sliding up and gripping your waist.

“Too formal,” he rasps between nipping at your bottom lip and sucking on your tongue. You mewl softly, enjoying how he ravishes you like he’s been starved for days on end.

But that can’t be right, a famished Caleb. You chalk it up to the act. But he must be a damn good actor because you could swear this is real right now. His desperate, sloppy kisses and how tight he holds you, like some entity could pry you from his hands at any moment.

“Caleb—”

“Shush, pips. ‘M not done yet,” he whispers while pulling your hair out of the bun it was in and brushing your locks with his fingers. You cling to his chest, trying to keep yourself afloat in the midst of his hungry kisses. A whimper bleeds between your mouths; you think it’s yours but you can’t tell with the wet patch growing on your hip.

At last, Caleb draws back, his forehead pressing against yours as you both catch your breaths.

“Can I…. please?” You pant. His glinting lips stretch into a grin.

“Can you what, honey? What exactly do you want to do?” He teases. Your hand settles over his heart, and you find it to be beating as fast as yours.

Inhaling deeply, you mumble, “Can I suck your cock?” Mockingly, Caleb turns his head and presses your lips down to his ears by your nape.

“What was that, pipsqueak?” He asks egotistically.

You repeat your question even quieter, “Can I suck your cock?” Your date chuckles as he faces you once more. You stare at one another, your faces both red and burning hot.

“I told you, baby,” he drawls, rubbing his nose against yours fondly.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Caleb murmurs breathily. You whine a little, that lustful look in his eyes setting your entire being alight.

“M’kay,” you nod. And before you know it, you’re positioned between the model’s legs, delicate hands wrapped around his fat cock. Light bounces off your acrylics, and your spit dribbles down his shaft. You smear it with his pre-cum to stroke him better.

“Am I doing okay?” You ask, eyes flicking between his erection and that hopelessly needy expression on his face. Flushed cheeks, lips swollen, and low-lidded eyes.

Caleb groans, “So good, pipsqueak. Doin’ amazing.” You nod, your hair tickling his thigh as you gaze down and focus on jerking him off.

Your hands are all sticky and make the most lewd squelching sounds as you pleasure him. You know he’d never ask for you to go further, but curiosity gets the better of you. It drives you to lean down and dart your tongue across his tip.

Pre-cum lingers on your taste buds, unbearably creamy and hot and salty.

You cringe, “Ew. Why’s it so thick? Isn’t it supposed to be less thick since there’s no sperm?”

“Ah!—No,” Caleb moans. “Sperm doesn’t a-affect the consistency.” Staring up at him, you have another hesitant lick of his cock. This time, your tongue glides up the underside of his head, right on the bulging vein.

“Fuck! Don’t-you don’t need to do that,” he whimpers.

You shake your head and insist, “I want to. Promise.” Enclosing your mouth around the tip of his cock, Caleb moans loudly, completely unashamed of how good your lips and tongue feel around him.

You suck, the back of your mind screaming at you to start bobbing your head and twisting your hands. You don’t go to far down. If you did, you’re certain you’d choke on him instantly. And that’s something you’d like to avoid.

You’ve gone over this far too many times in the past week. That is, how to give a good blowjob. But all of your study flees from your mind as you’re presented with the final exam.

Pulling off, you remark, “Swear I’m getting my daily dose of sodium right now.” Caleb chuckles while shaking his head.

“You can spit it out if you want. Here.” He brings his palm close to your face. Leaning over, you gather his pre-cum on the edge of your tongue and spit it onto his palm.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

He nods, “S’alright,” while grabbing one of the towels you placed on the bed earlier and wiping his hand on it. You two continue this routine: you bob your head a few times until you can’t take the thick brine and cough it out into his waiting hand, and then Caleb cleans his hand and the cycle begins again.

Sucking dick really isn’t as cool as all of those porn videos make it out to be.

Soon enough, you draw him out past your lips and whine, “Can I stop now? My jaw hurts.”

“You can stop whenever you like, pipsqueak,” Caleb reassures you. Nodding, you spit the last of his pre-cum into his palm and straighten up.

“Did you bring a condom?” You ask, already hopping off the bed while your date wipes up his hand. He nods to the bathroom.

“Whole box, baby. In the pocket of my blazer,” he informs you. His arm folds beneath his head as he watches you walk to the bathroom. A cocky grin spreads across his lips as your ass jiggles, and he uses this moment alone to pump his hard length a few times.

From the bathroom, you ask, “Can I have your wallet, too?!”

Caleb laughs, hand still wrapped from around his dick as he calls back, “Go for it!” He’s grinning contently as you step out, condoms in your grasp. Making your way over to him, you plop down and shimmy over to his spread legs.

“Off,” you command while tapping his now pre-cum-covered fingers. Immediately, he lets go and cleans off his hand while you tear into the fresh box of condoms and retrieve one.

“Okay, so teach me. How do I put one of these on?” You chirp.

Caleb instructs you, “Well, first you open the packet—” The red foil is no match for your prying fingers.

“Then, you put it on the tip. Yep, just like that. And then you pinch the tip of the condom. Uh-huh. And now roll it down.” You start rolling it down, but he grabs your wrist.

“No, don’t let go of the tip,” he says, while pulling the condom off and grabbing another foil.

Handing it to you, he murmurs, “Try again.” This time, you struggle to get the condom to roll down.

“Grab all the way around. NO. Okay, let me hold the tip and you use both hands to roll it down.” Caleb yanks the condom off and fetches another unopened packet.

You hold up the barely used one and ask, “Can’t we just reuse this one?”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “There’s a method to it, okay? Let’s try again, pipsqueak.” While you’re rolling this one down, you accidentally fumble the latex and it curls all the way back up.

“Are you sure this is the right size?” You ask, staring at him then his thick cock in disbelief.

Caleb jokes, “Are you sure you’re not just bad at this?”

You grumble, “Hey! It’s not funny, okay? Your condom is the problem, not me.”

“Sure, sure,” he grins, fishing for yet another condom. You reach out to help, but he shakes your hands off.

“Let me handle this, okay? You can put the next one on.” You hum in agreement, watching as he slips it on with ease. Placing the box off to the side, you climb on top of Caleb and straddle him.

But before you can grind on him, he confirms, “You’ve got lube, right, pips?”

“Oh,” you mumble, staring at him wide-eyed. Lube… lube? Lube! You remember you bought some in prep for tonight. But where you put it is the real question. Getting off him, you stumble to your drawers and start pulling out everything in sight, until finally, you hit the jack pot.

The bed bounces as you scramble onto it and open the lid. Clear liquid pools into your hands, the stream too steady. It spills onto Caleb’s shin, and you apologise while closing the cap.

Sitting up, he takes the bottle from you and pours some out onto his palms. You lube up his latex-clad cock, even squeezing his balls and spreading it through his neatly trimmed pubes. Your date caresses your folds and inner thighs, making them all shiny before guiding you to straddle him again.

“You want it like this, pips?” He asks while circling your waist with his beefy arms. You nod and lift your hips. Your hands fly to his shoulders to stabilise yourself as he runs the head of his cock through your slit.

A jagged moan escapes your lips, some sensitivity lingering from your first orgasm of the night. He prods at your entrance, about to press in.

Caleb murmurs, “You ready?”

“Mhmm, I’m ready,” you breathe out. With your affirmative, he pushes in. Your breath hitches, the feeling of his fat cock strange. As you slowly slide down on his length, you think of all the dildos you’ve ever played with, including the ones you were using last night to help with right now.

But no sex toy could have prepared you for having Caleb Xia’s dick inside of your cunt. It’s so warm and thick, and it keeps twitching. Not to mention the accompanying squeezes to your hips and breathy moans slipping from his lips. Once your hips kiss, you gaze up at the model.

“You alright?” He asks gently, his large hands coming to your jaw and holding it firmly. His thumbs swipe across your cheeks soothingly.

Leaning forward, you prop your forehead against his and answer, “Feels weird. Like, it has a mind of it’s own.” Caleb chuckles softly, your sweetness endearing. But it’s cut short when you clench tight around him.

“Gonna be the death of me, pips,” he groans. You chortle while raising your head and shuffling your legs.

“Help me,” you whine, staring at the model expectantly. He smiles and kisses your brow before gripping your hips and lifting them.

“Up we go.” He focuses on the lewd sight of his cock drawing out of your snug cunt. As he lowers you back down, you both moan. It feels weird, but you grow to like it with each drop of your hips.

Caleb rests his head in the crook of your neck, moaning and whimpering so loudly the whole building must know what you’re doing. You’re squeezing the life out of him, making it ridiculously difficult not to nut within the first few minutes.

The model swears he’s better than this! He can last. He can fuck for hours on end. But here you are, ruining his stamina and pride. You lift up too high, his cock slipping out.

You whisper, “Sorry.”

“Ngh—s’okay,” Caleb rasps out while jerking himself a couple of times. He positions himself at your hole again, but you’re tensing up.

“Just relax, honey,” he coos. You nod fervently and try to, but you can’t stop clenching. Sighing, he pushes you into his chest and embraces you tenderly.

In your ear, he reminds you, “It’s okay to be nervous. Just take your time, pipsqueak. We’ve got all night and more.” You hum quietly, grateful for Caleb’s patience.

You two stay like that for a bit in comfortable silence, until he severs it with, “You feeling better now?”

“Mhmm.”

“D’you wanna try another position, baby?” He asks affectionately.

“Mhmm, yes please,” you respond, shifting in his lap to place a saccharine kiss on his lips. Caleb maneuvers you underneath him.

Leaning back, he grabs a pillow and slides it beneath your hips before caging you in with his meaty arms on either side of your head. Carefully, he eases into you, watching for any signs of discomfort as his hips meet yours. Your heels dig into the dips of his ass, and your arms loop around his neck for support.

“Alright, I’m gonna start moving now, okay?” He mumbles against your forehead, planting loving kisses there.

You hum, “M’kay.” Slowly, he thrusts in and out, whimpering pathetically as he does so. You don’t squeeze as hard this time, prioritising comfort while you navigate this new experience with him. This experience where your bodies connect and souls intertwine, fusing into something divine as your moans ricochet off the bedroom walls.

Caleb catches you in a passionate kiss, his emotions spewing past your lips and down your throat. He tugs off your arms from his neck and interlaces your fingers, pressing your hands into the mattress and palms together.

He breathes out, “This alright?”

You mewl, “Mhmm!—Really good, Caleb. But—ah!” Your head falls back as he hits a delicious spot nestled deep inside of you.

“But what, pips?” He pants, gazing at you with concern.

“Wish—hah!” His thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. Your back curves, breasts pressing into his chest as you clamp your legs around his hips.

You moan, “Ah!—wish we had some bgm or something.” His pace falters as a low chuckle rips through him.

“Your kidding me, right? We’re finally fucking and all you can think about is background music?” His tone is torn between playfulness and exasperation. You shake your head.

“I-think of other things, too,” you defend yourself.

He prompts, “Like what?”

“Like—mhmm!” Your lower lip catches between your teeth as Caleb presses against that spot again, eliciting guttural moans from you.

He repeats his question, “Like what, pipsqueak?” There’s an edge to his tone, but it’s lost in the breathiness of his voice.

You babble, “Think ‘bout how good this feels. Want it to last forever. Want you forever.” You’re helpless to stop the confession from escaping your lips as you cry out in pleasure. Your head lolls to the side, hazy eyes focusing on your joint hands while Caleb breathes on your neck.

You can’t bear to look at him, heat spreading across your body. The sweat he worked so hard to scrub off your body now returns in bucket loads.

His smile is etched into your temple as he presses a tender kiss there.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, pips. Won’t you—ah!—get sick of me?” Your head turns back as you gaze at him. His eyes are soft around the edges, but they burn bright with devotion need.

You shake your head and whimper, “Never get sick of you, Ca-leb.” Leaning up, you seize his soft lips in another kiss. This one is broken by resolve-shattering moans and sentimental whimpers. His thrusts become sloppier as the sounds of your sex grow louder.

In the space between breathy groans are the wet popping sounds of his cock drawing out of you. His clammy forehead glints in the cosy light and his cheeks are pink, and you’re positive you look the exact same.

You tug your hands free from his with little resistance and grab his jaw. Holding his face like it’s your anchor, ecstasy courses through your body, buzzing in every little nook and cranny.

Tides of pleasure rise and threaten to overflow as his hips stutter.

He moans, “Fuck, pips! Gonna cum. That okay?” You nod frenziedly, desiring nothing more than for him to finish inside of you–inside of his condom, of course.

With a few more rolls into you, he’s sputtering out fucked out moans and cumming like it’s his first time and not yours. You wrap your arms around his defined back and squeeze him as he releases it all.

Your date murmurs, “Thank you,” over and over like it’s a prayer. You’ve heard his orgasmic, breathy whimpers before, but they sound different in real life. Delusional, you tell yourself it’s because of how good you’ve made him feel. Logically, you recall that microphones can distort people’s voices.

And then you squeal, “Oh my god, Caleb!” He lifts off you immediately, sunset eyes searching yours panically.

“What is it, pips? You okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, concerned. His fingers encircle your upper arms and squish them reassuringly.

Your voice drops to a whisper, “You’re going soft!” He blinks at you perplexed for a few seconds before he erupts into his usual hearty laughter.

“’Course I’m going soft, pretty girl. What did you expect?” Your lips purse and brows pinch together as you stare at him moodily.

With his signature smirk, Caleb slowly pulls out of you and gets up to discard the used condom. When he returns, he embraces you in a lazy hug. You relax into his body, this feeling of being a new woman settling in.

No longer are you some inexperienced dweeb. But now, you are an experienced dweeb. Much the same, yet changed slightly.

“Caleb,” you say softly, nuzzling your face into his neck.

He pats your head lovingly while murmuring, “Yeah?”

“I really liked that. When you’re feeling better, can we keep going?” You kiss his neck gently, his sweat sticking to your lips.

He rubs your shoulder and replies, “Sure, honey. You got something in mind?” You shake your head slightly, which is met by another deep chuckle from the model.

Minutes pass as you two find solace in one another before picking things back up. Caleb takes good care of you by checking in on you at various points and adjusting where need be.

When your bodies are aching and slimy with a mixture of fluids, he kisses your forehead and carries you to the bathroom to shower again.

After freshening yourselves up, he helps you with your skincare and even let’s you lather his face and body up in moisturiser (the Lord knows he needs it). While you change into some comfy pj’s, he takes the dirty sheets off the mattress and puts new ones on.

Settling into your freshly made bed, you two cuddle and whisper sweet nothings.

You had always hoped your first time would be with the man you love. And you drift off into sleep with the satisfaction that it was.

masterlist

star girl's final words: EVERYONE GIVE JAY (@heartyluv) THE BIGGEST THANK YOU for 1) providing such spell-binding inspiration, and 2) letting me yap about my ideas. SECOND, let's also thank nat (@tragicvictoriantears) for listening to my rambles and giving me even more ideas for this whopper. THE FINAL THANK YOU goes to my physio friend who (inspired my zayne fic here and) will probably never read this. thanks pookie for reading my intro n' also listening to my rambles about this fic.

lmk if you'd like a part two!

you can find my thoughts on virginity here. i feel pretty much the same since i wrote this post in april. there will be no infantilised virgins in my fics, i can assure you!

additional reading on vasectomies and sex work:

ABC ⟶ 'what sex work is like as a side hustle' ABC ⟶ 'sex work clients are increasingly women' ABC ⟶ 'so you want to book a sex worker' deseretnews ⟶ 'OF prostitution is ruining lives in real time' vasectomy australia ⟶ FAQs betterhealth victoria ⟶ 'contraception - vasectomy'

taglist - @calebs-apple, @mcdepressed290, @thirstblogforaparchedgirl, @ssushi, @asiatic-apple, @gunningformeow, @calebsbabyapple, @hilliserose

#★’s works #love and deepspace #caleb smut #caleb xia #caleb x reader #xia yizhou smut #lads caleb #lnds caleb #xia yizhou x reader #caleb love and deepspace

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