TANNING STREAMING
The single dad hit “Go Live.” The sun blasted down on his back, making the skimpy striped thong— a size too small— dig into his flesh. He needed the money that badly.
“Alright… hope this works,” he muttered, flexing his back awkwardly.
Within minutes, the viewer count shot up. Comments exploded: “Turn around, big guy.” “Flex the glutes.” “Bend over more.”
He did what they asked. He spread his stance, arched his back. The thong disappeared between his meaty cheeks with every pose.
“Damn… they really pay for this,” he whispered, watching tips roll in.
Heavy footsteps approached. It was his gym buddy.
“Bro… you’re really doing it,” the guy whistled.
“Yeah,” the dad said, cheeks red. “For my kid’s school fees.”
“Damn. You’re killing it,” the buddy grunted, checking the viewer count. “But—” He smirked. “If you wanna earn way more… I got an idea.”
“Okay… what is it?”
“Let me… jack off on you,” the buddy said, his voice dropping. “People will tip like crazy if they see me shoot a load all over those big cheeks.”
The dad froze. “Dude… that’s— that’s a lot.”
“So is the cash.” The buddy held up his phone. The number made the dad’s heart thump.
He sighed, looking at the viewers begging for “more.” “Fine,” he muttered. “Do it.”
The buddy stepped behind him. The dad heard the shuffle of shorts, then the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin. He could hear his buddy beating his meat, the sound punctuated by low, guttural moans of pleasure. The camera caught only the dad’s face: tense, flushed, breathing hard as he listened.
Then, a loud groan from behind him. A hot, wet splatter hit his lower back, followed by another, thicker rope of cum that painted one of his exposed ass cheeks. He gripped the tanning bench, his knuckles white.
Tips flooded in—massive ones.
The buddy stepped back into frame, grinning, wiping his hand on a towel. The dad, still face-down and panting, looked at the screen. His tip counter had exploded.
“Damn…” he breathed, feeling the cum cooling on his skin. “I think I just paid for the whole semester.”
His buddy slapped his back. “Told you, man. Those glutes are a goldmine.”
The dad groaned into the pillow, half-mortified, half-proud. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess I’m doing this again tomorrow.”
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