Straight Gym Bro Brad has a Spicy Account

Recap: Cody gets kicked out of his apartment and ends up crashing with the hot, straight gym bro Brad from high school. Brad's always shirtless, always teasing, and way too casual about walking around in skin-tight boxer-briefs. Cody tries to play it cool, but between the blow-up mattress, Brad's perfect body, and a certain jockstrap under the bed, things start spiraling fast. And during one of those late-night scrolls with a hand down his underwear... Cody accidentally finds Brad's spicy account.

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I woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. My head was pounding from being completely wrecked by whatever fever dream I'd had last night. My body felt heavy, drained. The sheets across Brad's bed were rumpled but empty. His was already up.

I sat up slowly, the blanket slipping off me. My morning wood was unapologetically real, and my phone was still on my chest from where it had dropped at some point during my late night spiral. I didn't even have the strength to be embarrassed. My body had one setting this morning, and it was used.

I made my way into the kitchen, hoodie thrown over yesterday's shirt, trying not to look like I'd spent the whole night thinking about Brad's cock straining inside a red jockstrap.

Brad stood barefoot at the stove, shirtless of course, cooking eggs with one hand and holding a mug of coffee in the other. His back muscles shifted as he flipped the pan. He looked over his shoulder when he heard me. "Morning, sleeping beauty."

I scratched the back of my neck and gave a half-laugh. "Barely slept."

He smirked and nodded, like he already knew. "Yeah, I figured. Heard you tossing and turning all night."

My stomach clenched. I opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, trying to stay casual. "It was just hot. Room felt like a furnace."

There was a long pause behind me.

Then Brad said, "Yeah, I bet. Scrolling through my secret account with a hand down your underwear all night'll do that."

I froze.

The juice bottle was still in my hand, unopened. My heart jumped to my throat. I turned slowly and saw him watching me from over his coffee cup, eyes glinting with way too much satisfaction.

I opened my mouth. "Bro... what are you talking about?"

Brad raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "You accidentally liked that old thirst trap of mine on my account. You know, the one with the sweatpants and no underwear. Two minutes later, I get a new follower." One I've never seen before. Same username you used back when we used to game all the time: FrostSignal."

"I didn't mean to....." I started, voice thin, caught somewhere between panic and arousal.

Brad cut me off with a shrug, casual as hell, like none of this was surprising to him. "I'm not mad," he said. "Just surprised you held out this long."

I blinked. "Held out for what?"

He turned off the stove, slid eggs onto a plate like it was any normal morning, and leaned back against the counter with his coffee. The mug sat easy in one hand. The other rested on the curve of his hip, right above the waistband of those goddamn boxer-briefs. His abs glinted in the sunlight pouring through the window. His smirk was borderline devastating.

"My content," he said simply. "You clearly wanted it."

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. My brain scrambled for a joke, a deflection, something to grab onto but I was spinning. Hard.

Brad tilted his head, watching me. Then, without rushing, he stepped forward. Just a few feet. Not enough to touch, but close enough that I could smell the hint of his body wash still clinging to his skin. "I'm straight, by the way," he added casually, like we were talking about the weather. "But you'd be surprised how many dudes would follow you on spicy account if you post the right kind of pics."

My stomach flipped.

"Some even pay me for custom shots," he went on, taking another sip. "That jockstrap you found yesterday when you were supposedly "cleaning" was sent to me by some guy named 'Steven69X.' Said red's his favorite color. Paid extra for pics of me working out in it."

He chuckled, totally unbothered.

"Whatever it takes," he said, stretching his arms overhead, every muscle flexing under his skin. "I enjoy the attention. Gotta keep the audience happy, right?"

Then he looked me over like he was deciding something, then tilted his head just a little, the edge of a grin playing at his lips. "I've been thinking..." he said, voice light, casual, like he was asking about the weather. "It's probably time I post some new content soon."

He set his coffee down, stretched his arms behind his head, every muscle tightening in the morning light like it knew I was watching.

"Steven sent me a more revealing jockstrap last week," Brad said with a smirk, his voice dripping with amusement. "Bright blue, tight as hell. He wants me to do some squats in it.... real sweaty locker room vibes." He chuckled. "Dudes are insane, but hey... if they're paying and I enjoy the attention he gives me."

I swallowed, still not sure if this was a joke or a test or... something else.

Then Brad stepped forward, slow and deliberate, stopping just a few feet from where I stood frozen.

"Wanna help me shoot?" he asked, like it was no big deal at all.

But it was.

And we both knew it.

Brad had said it so casually. Like we were talking about filming a TikTok and not a custom jockstrap video for horny strangers online.

"Wanna help me shoot some content?"

I could have laughed. I could have made a joke, called him a slut, walked away. But I didn't. I said, "Sure," like it was no big deal. Like I hadn't just spent the entire night rock hard thinking about his dick straining inside red fabric.

No problem. Just a little filming. Totally chill.

Now he was standing in our shared bedroom,, the curtains slightly parted to let in a soft stream of natural light. Brad didn't say a word, he just turned his back to me, slid his trunks down slow, and kicked them off without a glance.

He faced the mirror and bent slightly, reaching for the jockstrap on the dresser. His bare ass filled my vision. Broad and solid. Perfect round shape, the kind that looked sculpted. Every muscle shifted when he moved. The lighting caught the dip of his spine, the curve under each cheek. He didn't even glance back at me. Just bent over and stepped into the straps like I wasn't standing three feet away, rock hard.

The blue fabric stretched as he pulled it up. Snug and unforgiving. The back straps slid under each cheek and pulled everything up. Tight. Full. My eyes locked on the way his ass sat inside the jock. High. Thick. Like he wanted me to look. Wanted me to get hard.

I was already there.

Brad adjusted the front pouch with a casual palm. The jock cupped his bulge perfectly. Thick shape pressing forward, the fabric just sheer enough to hint at the shape beneath. I saw the outline shift when he moved. The head of his cock nudged the pouch like it needed space.

"Start recording?" he asked, still not looking at me.

"Yeah. Got it."

"Make sure it's angled a little lower," he said without looking at me.

My hands moved automatically. Adjusting the tilt. Lining him up in the frame. Trying not to look as flustered as I felt.

I tried to focus on the phone. But he was in the frame. Shirtless. Jockstrapped. Facing the mirror. Arms flexed slightly at his sides. He squatted once, slow and deep. His thighs stretched. The fabric tightened around his ass, digging in just enough to frame it. Then he stood again, glancing at the mirror, adjusting his waistband like it wasn't doing something to me.

"Steven likes squats," Brad said. "And ass shots. Said I've got the build for it."

He wasn't wrong.

He squatted again, slower this time. Feet planted. Back straight. His ass pushed back toward the camera. Toward me. The straps slid along his skin, tightening around the base of each cheek. It looked obscene. Way too good. My cock throbbed in my sweats.

"You're quiet," Brad said, catching my eyes in the mirror.

I coughed. "Just making sure it's all framed right."

He smirked. "You wanna direct?"

My chest tightened.

Brad turned slightly, showing off more side angle. His abs caught the light. His bulge swelled slightly inside the pouch, just enough to notice. He ran a hand over his stomach, then lower. Palmed himself again. Not subtle. Not for the camera. For me.

"Tell me what to do," he said.

"What?"

"You're the one filming. Might as well help me get the good stuff. What do you want me to do?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. My cock twitched again, harder now. I shifted on my feet, trying to hide it.

Brad noticed.

He reached down again, slower this time, and cupped himself. The jock bulged in his grip. He gave it a light squeeze, then rolled his hips once. My mouth went dry.

"Grab the waistband," I said. "Pull it up a little."

He did. The pouch tightened around his bulge. I saw it pulse.

"More?" he asked, teasing.

I nodded.

He adjusted the straps behind him too, sliding his thumbs under the bands and pulling them up, lifting his ass even higher. Every muscle in his legs flexed.

"Now turn," I said.

He did, slow and deliberate, until he was facing the camera. The pouch was thicker now. The head of his cock clearly pushing forward. He looked down at himself and laughed softly.

"Getting a little worked up," he said.

I didn't answer.

Brad looked at me over the phone. Then down at my waistband. "Damn," he said. "You're really staring."

I tried to shift again. "Sorry."

He stepped closer. Not all the way, just enough to break the space between us. The phone was still in my hands. His bulge was inches from my chest.

"If you're gonna stare that hard," he said with a grin, "you might as well hold it for me."

My breath caught.

"What?"

His eyes didn't blink. "I'm kidding," he said. Then he smirked. "Unless you're not."

The tension buzzed. My cock pulsed again, harder than before. It felt like my whole body was flushed, humming, aching for something I didn't know how to ask for.

Brad leaned closer to the mirror again. Flexed one bicep. Did another squat. This time he groaned just a little on the way up.

"This one's for Steven," he said under his breath.

I just stood there. Holding the phone. Stiff. Throbbing. Watching every second like I was addicted to it.

Brad turned and stepped closer, slow and sure like he already knew the answer. The jockstrap clung tight to him, straps framing his ass, pouch stretched around the thick outline of his cock. He looked down at himself, then up at me... eyes flicking to the bulge in my sweats, the way I was breathing, the way I couldn't stop looking. He smirked like he was proud of it. Proud of what he was doing to me.

"You know, Cody," he said, voice low, teasing, "my followers would lose it if they saw another guy's hand on me. Bet it'd make the content way better."

Then he nodded toward the phone in my hand and took one last step closer.

His voice dropped even lower. "You ever thought about being in one? Wanna help me make my content better?"