1/2
Man Ray moaned as he turned the tickle belt up a notch, thighs clenching and unclenching rhythmically, his right hand grasping the sheets, the left holding the controller in a shaky grip. He'd stolen it, after the whole escapade with that damn sponge and star. A choked, guttural moan was caught in the back of his throat as he tried to stay silent. His small apartment's shitty walls would surely let his neighbors know what he was up to. He supressed another groan, tigtening the belt on his cock firmly placing it against his swollen heat. Up another notch. This was obviously not its intended purpose, but Neptune it felt surreal. It was unlike any other fucktoy he'd had--and he'd had lots.
Man Ray, on his back, arched upwards as the pleasure mounted for the third time tonight. A garbled cry spilt from his lips before he could stop it; and he immediately turned downt he tickle belt to hear if anyone had noticed, much to his cock's dismay. The thought of being heard and being caught was both terrifying and exciting. 'Oh Neptune, I have a kink,' he thought, before amping up the tickle belt again, this time releasing the sheets from his grasp and moving to his chest, brushing against his covered nipples. His underwear and tights were pulled down all the way to his ankles, his light blue skin revealed. He kept the mask on, it was his identity, his everything. He was nothing if not Man Ray.
The hand grazed its way down his torso, briefly squeezing the base of Man Ray's cock as it traveled lower, finally making its was to his ass, caressing his cheeks softly before worming a finger between them, finding his enterance. Circling the rim, the intensity of the belt went up. Beneathe his mask, biting his lower lip as to keep silent, he pushed his finger inside of himself, twisting and curling his finger when he was knuckle-deep, aching for something in his ass. Anything, something.
