The Professor’s Holiday Surprise (Cam Show Crush #1)

3. Noah

Chapter 3

Noah

I don’t know when I turned into a man who jerks off on camera. For a long time, I wasn’t a man who jerked off at all. I mean, I wasn’t a complete monk, but I just didn’t feel any deep urge for sexual release.

It’s a weird kind of irony that the sweetest girl in the world was part of the trigger that turned me into a porn star.

Hardly a star, Noah. You have seven people watching you tonight.

And FestiveBrat is only here because she wants to be a streamer herself and she’s studying.

What is it about me that attracts learners?

Well, if I’m not a porn star, I’m at least a porn worker.

I made ninety-five bucks last month from my followers, so I’m definitely not doing this for the money. There are creators who are raking in thousands. I’m not one of them.

I read the last message GoodGardenGirl sent me about crawling into her bed. I should feel bad for using that follower as an avatar for Paisley, but I meant it when I said that was perfect—I want to picture Paisley curled up in bed, waiting for Santa to come and show her his big, hard cock.

Tonight’s costume is very much an homage to my star student, who I overheard last week telling a classmate that Christmas is her favorite time of year.

The first stream I did, I threw on a Santa hat I found in our storage closet, because it seemed fitting for the app. Then I realized that the camera set up I rigged doesn’t actually show my face, so it’s not going to show a hat, either.

The next week, I leaned into the cowboy angle. Chaps, boots.

The week after, I brought rope to my room, hoping like hell none of my brothers would notice.

Then I ordered an elf vest. Not my best stream. I felt silly. The whole thing is silly, but that didn’t work for my alter-ego.

I went back to the North Pole Rodeo Champion shtick and made my cowboy gear festive. A shiny green bow on my belt buckle, some tinkling bells one week when I knew I had the house to myself.

But now we’re in the final countdown to the holidays, and it’s time to put the Father Christmas back in Cowboy Santa.

Off-camera, I pull on the red velour pants and the matching plush jacket. This costume came with a big black belt that I’m forgoing, choosing instead to make my own belt work with the get up, and a giant, oversized hat that I put on even though it won’t be seen on camera.

It’s funny how making my way to the big chair in the corner of my room has now become synonymous with these fantasies of Paisley in my head. My cock is already hard as I take my seat and stretch out my legs in front of me.

I have some questions pre-programmed into my phone so I can trigger them with just a few letters, to minimize the amount of time I’m on my phone. Viewers can tell, and I’ve learned that I am an exhibitionist. I need to know I have their attention, and when I spend too much time typing, the energy flags.

They’re not here to chat with me.

They’re here to see my dick.

On the monitor closest to me, in huge font size, my message appears in the chat.

CowboySanta

Time for Santa’s favorite cowgirl to tell him what she wants for Christmas

I pat my thigh, stretching the red velour tight over my bulge. Imagining a world where Paisley would curl up in my lap and whisper her dirtiest desires in my ear.

There’s a flurry of little presents floating up the chat screen as my fans respond with clicks, and then comments.

Most of them want my dick, as I expected.

GoodGardenGirl

I’d love to hear your voice

Can’t do that, unfortunately. I’m running enough of a risk doing this anonymously with just my body. I’d lose my teaching job real fucking fast if it came out I have an OnlySantas account.

She’ll have to be happy with getting what the rest of them ask for.

I push my hand up my bare chest, then pull it down my abs, thrusting my hips when I reach my waistband.

I can still feel Paisley’s gaze raking over my body that first time we met. Her bouncy curls, her bright green eyes.

She’s a fucking Christmas Elf.

And she makes Santa so fucking hard.

Groaning, I pull my waistband down, pushing the head of my cock along with it. Baring just a hint of hard, masculine flesh. Thick and throbbing.

I’ve thought about this next sequence of messages all week. I write them after every class with Paisley, a form of self- flagellation. Now I barely have to glance at my phone as I send the fantasy dirty talk into the universe.

CowboySanta

look how hard you make me

bad girl, making Santa hard when all I asked was what you want for Christmas

my cock is throbbing so hard it aches

can you keep a secret?

I want to take it out and stroke a bit

Should I do that?

I stroke my thumb up and down the exposed part of my shaft, easing the velour pants lower and lower until it’s just the tip that’s still covered.

The chat goes nuts.

CowboySanta

beg for it

I don’t make them wait that long. I’ve waited all week. I only let myself have this one release each week now. If I didn’t limit myself, I’d be jerking off non-stop.

Planting my feet hard against the ground, I roll my hips and flick the Santa pants down my thighs in a move I’ve practiced every night since the outfit arrived last week, revealing my eager, swaying erection.

My anonymous audience loves it.

I groan under my breath as I take myself in hand and start stroking. The touch I’ve deprived myself of all week, because it’s not the touch I really want.

I want Paisley’s fingers.

This is where I really disassociate from reality and get into the pleasure of making my cock big for her. Big enough her fingers won’t wrap all the way around it.

God, that would feel good.

On my next stroke, a bead of precum pushes out of my slit, pearling on my tip.

CowboySanta

See that? See my seed?

It’s like she’s kneeling between my legs and I’m making it for her.

I work myself right to the edge, then ease back, chest heaving.

Once the lust haze eases, I push my pants down even further so she’ll be able to see the heavy pulse in my nuts as they drive precum up my shaft when I start stroking again.

It doesn’t take long for my cock to start dripping again. Rude and weeping for a girl I can’t have.

I want to be on top of her as I do this. Stroke all this seed onto her belly. Between her legs. Convince her to keep a secret so I can stuff this cock into her tight little pussy.

Bad man.

Bad professor.

Desire has a way of creating shadows around the lines we know we shouldn’t cross. How close can I get before this is really, really wrong?

My thighs are shaking when I stop stroking just in time.

My cock hates me.

Fuck.

CowboySanta

So close

Want to cum for you

Don’t want it to be over, though

Tell me you need it

I don’t look at the chat replies, though. I can’t. I only want to see her name, and it’s never there. I started this because I could pretend she was watching, but as the term has progressed, that’s gotten harder and harder.

It’s time to move on from being the North Pole Rodeo Champion.

Fisting my cock, I fire off one last message to the chat.

CowboySanta

You’re going to make me blow

My phone tumbles out of my free hand. The chat goes wild, presents flying up the screen as she reacts to how close I am, and I can’t reply because my phone is on the ground and my balls are pulling up, up, up.

I squeeze my cock at the base roughly as my release slams into the air in an arc. My vision darkens, spots appearing. I’m holding my breath as if that will hold me in this moment, with my made up avatar for my favorite girl.

“Gonna breed you, Paisley. Fuck….”

Through the pounding in my ears, I’m not sure if I actually said that out loud or if it was just so fucking real in my head that I heard my thoughts.

Fuck is right.

I’m in too deep if I can’t control my voice.

I stare at the wet mess on my belly.

One by one, the viewers leave the live stream after sending a final flurry of present reaction buttons my way. It doesn’t take that long, really.

Six people watching. Five people watching. Two people watching.

And then there’s just one. GoodGardenGirl’s name still has a green light next to it. A horny little Christmas elf, just hanging out with her favorite Santa while his cock softens against his belly, cum cooling on his skin.

What a good girl she is.

I frown, surprised to be this aware of someone who isn’t Paisley.

Still the light is green.

I wonder where in the world she’s watching from. And if her idea of a North Pole heaven is actually the wintery plains of Southern Wyoming.

She’s the only person who asked for something other than my body. There’s nobody else still online, and I can always cut out the tail end of the live stream when this video gets posted for followers to watch later.

And fuck it, I might have already said something anyway. Another woman’s name. My best fan deserves better than that.

“Hey, Good Garden Girl,” I say, keeping my voice low. Maybe she’s who I need to get past my inappropriate affection for Paisley. Maybe I’ll try to think just of her next week and see how that feels. “You’re a very good girl indeed. I hope you get exactly what you wish for this Christmas.”