How To Know If Your Male Friend Has Masturbated To A Photo Of You

I asked him to tell me all about it, of course… in detail.

It’s a first-world problem, I know. But I get frustrated sometimes when I can’t tell whether a male friend who I’m just buddies with has imagined me naked. And, you know, pleasured himself. Has he looked at a pic of me on social media and given himself a wank, fantasized about what it would be like to have sex with me?

How do I know this is a thing — masturbating to social media pics of girls? Well, because I do it.

I do like to go on the Instagram of a woman I’m attracted to and pleasure myself while I browse through images of her.

No, I don’t really do it for Instagrams of guys. What can I say? I like guys in person. And I like cocks. But pics of guys don’t turn me on.

So I have this friend Mario and every time I see him he lets me know that he has seen pictures of me on the internet.

See, I model vintage clothes for a friend of mine, just for fun and to help her out. I’m not a model, but clothes fit me well, so Lilly asks me to do it like once a month.

And like clockwork, Mario when I see him says something like, “I like those vintage leather pants Lilly is selling on her site.”

OK, that’s just weird. First of all, why is he even looking at her site? It’s all women’s vintage clothes, not men’s.

Second of all…is he wanking while looking? That’s what I wanted to know. But I didn’t want him to get defensive. Like I asked him one time if he was cool being just friends with me.

“What? Christine, you’re not all that you know, every guy who sees you doesn’t have a crazy perverted crush on you. Despite that article you wrote.”

See, that’s another thing — he reads every article I write. He was referring to an article I really regret, what’s it like being… I came off as a vain egomaniac.

Which I am. But I want to keep that on the down-low, know what I mean? I don’t want to shout it from the mountaintops for all the world to hear. “Christine thinks she’s all that!”

I don’t think I’m all that.

But what I want to know is whether Mario has wanked to a photo of me. In Lilly’s Instagram “reels” section she’s got little videos of me posing in the clothes. Those are the ones I would probably wank to. Oh, who am I kidding, I’ve pleasured myself to pictures of myself. I just want to know whether my platonic friends have done so too.

It’s just a little bit of an awkward question to ask.

I did it anyway, though. After a couple beers, I said, “Give it to me straight, Mario, why do you stalk me on Lilly’s website? Those clothes are for girls.”

“I’m not stalking you!” he said, irate. “Here we go again! Miss ‘aren’t-I-wonderful-Christine’ thinks everyone’s fantasizing about her.”

“Well, are you?” I said, and I pinned him down with my eyes.

There was a pause. Then he broke.

“Only a little…” he said.

That’s a good one. “Are you stealing from me?” “Only a little!” See, that’s not any better than stealing a lot, is it? I don’t know.

Is it even wrong to wank to pictures of your friends?

I pinned him down again: “Are you jerking off as you watch me on Lilly’s website.”

He didn’t answer.

Finally, he said sheepishly, “Only a little.”

I practically spit out my Paloma.

Mario!!!

“I’m lonely,” he said. “Don’t hate!”

“Do you do it all the way?” I asked him. “You know, to fruition?”

“Of course,” he said, testily. “What’s the point otherwise?”

“To which outfits?” I asked him. “I mean, which picture did you finish on?”

“The video of you in the short dress and the simple tight black top with that orange hat tilted sideways and those, well, they weren’t really cowgirl boots, but they were cute!”

“Oh those zip-up boots,” I remembered. “They’re from the 90s I think.”

It suddenly struck me as so weird.

“What’s the deal, I thought you weren’t into me romantically, Mario?” I asked him.

“I’m not!” he responded adamantly. “But I can appreciate your sexiness, can’t I?”

“I guess so,” I had to admit. “I mean, Lilly puts the photos and videos on there to sell the clothes. But I guess you can appreciate them any way you want, it’s a free country. But please, clarify. I’m sexy but not in a romantic partner way.”

“Chrissy,” he said, and he looked uncomfortable. “I know you. You’re a nightmare romantically. But that doesn’t stop me from…”

“…jerking off to pictures of me in different outfits? That’s pathetic.”

“Oh God, I’d love to see you in some of Lilly’s clothes, in the flesh.”

“Would you now?”

And so that’s how I ended up taking him to Lilly’s studio that night after a few more beers, to model some clothes for him. You know I’m an exhibitionist. I started with a real elegant Anne Klein blue silk dress, ankle length.

“What do you think?” I said, striking the pose.

He knew I was fucking with him. The outfit totally covered me up. It even had long sleeves so you couldn’t see my arms.

“It’s great,” he said. “Next.”

I went back behind the clothes rack and took the dress off. I was momentarily in my bra and panties. That’s when I saw Mario’s pants come down to his ankles. I got a little thrill of excitement. I know, I’m kinda sick. It just does it for me. What can I say?

“Ta da,” I said, and I appeared in a nice white knee length embroidered dress. I appeared shocked when I saw his pants down to his ankles. And his hand on his very stiff penis.

“Mario!”

“What? Don’t play coy with me,” he said. “You know you love it. Now get into something a little sexier please. And hurry, cause trust me, it doesn’t take me long to cum when I look at your photos and videos and this is even hotter. Hurry.”

I knew exactly the outfit. It was a blue suede mini skirt with silver buttons running down the middle. I paired it with a see-through blouse, no bra.

“How’s this?” I said, standing there with my best assets, my legs, in full display for the horndog.

I heard him moan. That was enough for me. I felt a nice tingle between my legs.

“Let’s unbutton some of those buttons,” he suggested.

So I slowly unbuttoned the bottom buttons, which allowed me to open the skirt up and show him my red panties.

“Holy fucking shit!” he gasped.

“Should I touch myself too?” I asked him shyly. I didn’t know how far he wanted me to go, since you know, I was such a nightmare.

“Oh God yes!” he moaned. “Get rid of those panties and that skirt. Let me see your sweet pussy, Chrissy! The one I’ve read about so much. The mythical magical pussy. Come on girl, I swear I’m gonna cum in like thirty seconds.”

I dropped the skirt and I pulled down my panties, slowly, as his moaning increased. Finally I stood there in just the see-through top. I put my hand on my clit and I started rubbing.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked him.

“What the fuck, I can’t think!” he yelled. “I can hardly breathe. I’ve got a lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball. Jesus Christ you are one sexy bitch.”

That was all I needed to hear. Just one compliment is enough to make me cum if I have my fingers on my clit.

“I’m cumming!” I moaned.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ!!!”

He came too. A huge arc of cum shot toward me. We both burst out laughing.

I felt terrible afterwards. Lilly’s studio had been drenched in cum, all over the carpet. After Mario left, with a friendly peck on the cheek, I had to get down on my knees with soap and water and scrub it out. Then I put all the clothes back nicely so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

Later I got a text from Mario. “Just returning to earth, thank you. When I saw your pussy my whole world exploded and I found myself in the outer stratosphere. What the hell is going on with that thing, is it really magic?”

I left him on read for a while, just to let his imagination work. Anything I could tell him would only spoil it.

“I don’t know, but I found your cock pretty magical when it made that rainbow of cum all over the room! Jeez!”

“I know, right! OK, this is feeling weird. Should we just forget this ever happened or should I come over to your house right now and fuck you?”

“What the hell do you think, Mario? We’re friends! We don’t want to spoil the friendship!”

“Oh you’re such a bitch, I hate you!”

A little thing came up saying Mario has silenced notifications.

Which meant, of course, that he hardly hated me at all.

Anyhow, after that I just assumed that all my friends were jerking off to my photos and my stories and whatever. If it leads to glorious arcs of semen like that — fire away, boys! Have at it!