Louis's Self-Love 8
Louis Dellid is full of energy. It's not the energy he would typically have, but a glow of post-release clarity, coupled with the weight of burden falling off his shoulders. Before his release at the magic touch of his vibrator, Louis had only ever done quick wanks, jerking off into some toilet paper or tissue and then flushing away the evidence. It doesn't matter that he had to take the extra time afterward to wipe the bathroom down—he had to clean anyway. What matters is that he's happy and he's content.
But there's a bit to it he's not quite able to shake off. He is wearing long sweatpants, and a heavy hoodie overtop the femmy stockings and arm warmers. He has to share the living space with his mother and sister, leaving his hood over his head when he passes them. Especially when his mother stops him and says. "You're chipper today."
"Who me? No, I'm not doing anything different! I'm fine, really!"
She nods and leaves him be, but he knows she suspects something. He knows that his dark and terrible shame will come out in the open sometime and that it is only a matter of when instead of if.
Was he happy? Was he beaming?
Not really anymore.
Can he tell his family about this? Probably not. Shouldn't. How would he handle this situation—tell them he's shaved himself in some gender-affirming or autogynephiliac delight?
"I'm not a woman. I'm not a manly man. I'm not a saint," he would say to himself, locked in his room, yanking off his top. He runs his fingers over his chest, wincing at the faint stubble that had reclaimed its territory from his attempts to remain smooth. He curses at it and runs his fingers through his hair. It's long and curly, but as he pulls his fingers back over his head, he notices the forehead and the fifth head.
Groaning, he falls onto the bed, sprawled out, letting the warmth of the heated room brush over his not-so-smooth skin. He's in his thirties now. In his whole twenties, he had been hiding from himself, keeping himself from being able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. And why would he do that? Guilt? Because other people had preconceived notions of what a good boy he was?
Because he thought that was what they thought?
"I'm such a slut," he groans to himself, running his fingers down over his tummy and underneath those sweatpants. He grips at that cock, already stiff, despite the whole ordeal. The way the fabric rubbed against his uncovered dick was so exciting and so taboo. Yes, he wasn't wearing underwear. Yes, it was because he wanted to feel what being commando in sweatpants was like.
Fuck, is he messed up? How could he know for sure as he ran his hand casually up and down the shaft? He takes his phone out and presses the microphone on it.
"I have a problem," he admits. "I don't know what it is," he lies, "but I must take care of it.
And so, Louis Dellid called his old therapist's office just to see if he could schedule an appointment.
That was one of many places he called, of course. He needed to get a physical examination by his physician. It had been nearly a year since his last yearly check-up.
He double-checked his schedule for his dentist and optometrists. After all, his teeth were aching, and his vision was just a bit blurry.
And when he was done with making all those calls, he fell back on the bed, hooking his fingers under his pants and rolling them down, springing his dick free.
"Fuck, I'm a freak," he huffs.
"No… I'm not. I'm a person." He says, wrapping his fingers around that shaft. He beats his meat, squirming on the bed. "I am… a man. Who really, really wants to get laid!"
That's when his mind flashed back to the app. He swipes at it, scrolling, bit after bit, page after page of all the people, desperate, horny like him. He furrows his brow, holding onto his dick as he examines each one until he stops on one account on there.
Such a well-sculpted chest, with an image, cropped out enough to hide all but the most baseline perception of a dick. The distance tracker said he wasn't too far, and his profile… sounds perfect.
"I've been curious for a long time, but I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring."
But he had not only liked Louis's post but also sent him a DM.
Man: I don't know how to do this.
It wasn't too long ago.
Louis bites his lip and lets go of his dick, typing in response.
Louis: Do what?
Almost immediately, the ellipses of conversation hit the text.
Man: Hook up with a cutie like you.
Louis's heart beats faster.
Man: You wanna go for a coffee or something first?
Louis: Maybe. But I want to have sex.
Man: Sorry, I'm bad at this.
Man: I just get so horny sometimes. I don't even know why I'm on this site.
Louis sighs, takes a breath, and responds.
Louis: I need some help right now. You want a dick pic?
The response was quick.
Man: Yes
And with that, Louis turns his camera onto his penis, so throbbing and hard, and he snaps an image.
Louis: This is your fault.
It's partially true.
Man: Oh wow…
Louis: Can we meet?
Man: Yeah! When?
Louis clutches his phone close to his heart. Fuck all the worries of life. He needs to do something exciting!