Stealth

When I bought a packer online, my intentions were to simply experiment with having a bulge. Since it was my first packer (and since I wasn't exactly planning on whipping it out in public), I went with the simple choice: a pretty cheap, solid-beige number, just four inches. During the delivery process, my packer was accidentally shipped to the wrong processing place, and as the week during which my cock's arrival was delayed, my anticipation grew and my thoughts turned dirty.

A while ago, I'd developed a penchant for showing people on chat sites my tits so that they would cum for me. I didn't particularly like showing off my tits, however - it was just a means to an end for me. What I really enjoyed is seeing dicks cumming. As I thought about how good it would be to feel the weight of a penis (albeit a rubber one) in the front of my pants, I thought about the guys I encountered online, who jerked off proudly with dicks they took for granted. I wished, just once, I could jerk my cock to make them cum rather than shaking my tits. Then it occurred to me that maybe I could. I'd seen my fair share of poorly-lit, half-hard, grainy cocks, and I figured that at the right angle and in the right light, my member might be able to pass for the real deal.

Finally, my package arrived. I'd bought a strap-on dildo at the same time, which much like the packer was chosen based mostly on its reasonable price. While it would be good to use with a partner, there was no way my dildo would be mistaken for my real dick, since it was significantly paler than my hand. Hey, you get what you pay for. I'd seen the hyper-realistic hand-painted prosthetic cocks which cost hundreds of dollars, and I'd never really understood the appeal.

My packer was far better suited to my skin tone, but not perfect - it was pretty much an exact match for the skin on my hand, whereas dicks are usually a bit darker. Still, the feeling of it sitting at my crotch was great. No sooner had I positioned it in my underwear than I started rubbing my bulge the way I'd seen so many cis men do. No part of the packer was touching my genitals, but I found myself moaning as I rubbed the length of my packer through my jeans.

Then came the moment I'd been waiting for - it was time to see how well my cock could pass on a video chat. I lay on my bed and pointed my camera down towards my crotch, an angle which in the past had been out-of-bounds for me. I opened up my randomized video chat site of choice, unzipped my jeans so that my cock was poking through the fly, and selected "male" as my gender. Looking at my screen, I was sure that I'd have no problems passing. A stranger's dick appeared onscreen above mine, with the site informing me that it belonged to someone in America. I started stroking my cock excitedly, and he did the same. However, when I complimented his dick, he replied:

"Yours looks like a dildo."

I'd be lying if I said that wasn't hard to hear when I'd been feeling so good. Perhaps I'd let myself get too cocky about my ability to pass. Embarrassed, I moved on to the next chat.

My next few encounters where uneventful, mostly because I was more interested in looking at myself than at my partners (a few minutes with a cock and I'd already let myself become a selfish lover - typical). I compared myself to my partners, noting where the most noticeable differences between my dick and theirs could be spotted. There were three main things - the totally monotone beige of my packer where the average boner is colored with reds and blues, the elasticity of the rubber (I suspect that my over-enthusiasm during that first encounter showcasing the difference in texture was how I got clocked), and the difference in stroking rubber with skin rather than skin with skin. I figured out that if I held it loosely and jerked fast by bouncing it in my hand, none of these were noticeable. With this new strategy, I moved on to my next partner.

He was fully naked, lying lengthways across the screen, very middle aged, and French. He had a medium-sized dick, fat in the middle the way I liked them. His internet wasn't fantastic, and he wasn't as close to the screen as, say, a mobile user might have been, and it gave me a hit of confidence that I wasn't under too close scrutiny. I started jerking, and he matched me stroke for stroke, pausing periodically to stroke slower. I was turned on like I'd never been before. He moaned, raising his hips to hump his fist, and I did the same. I knew that there wasn't any sensation in my cock, but one way or another I was getting pleasure like I'd never felt before just from touching it.

It had only been a few minutes, but I could tell that my partner was struggling to hold back. I wasn't surprised, considering the speed we'd both been jacking. His hips rocked back and forth, his body tense with the effort of holding back. I could feel wetness between my legs, but I paid my clit and vagina no attention - I only cared about my cock. When I'd shown off my tits to make guys cum, I'd usually given them encouragement in the chat to blow their load quickly, so I rarely saw guys struggling to hold back like this. I panted, fucking my fist in unison with him. The next moment, he let out a half-grunt half-yelp and spurted a geyser of cum into the air. As his jizz landed heavily on his chest hair, I moaned in pleasure, continuing stroking as he came down from his orgasm. He thanked me and moved on.

I turned off my phone. It was hard to believe that through that whole experience, my clit had remained untouched. I tucked my cock back into my pants and started rubbing it through the fabric as I had been before, only now I pressed a hand against where my clit was, too. It only took a matter of seconds before I came like I'd never came before - back arched, legs shaking, the whole production. In just an hour, I'd gotten far more than my $20 worth out of my packer.