Never Read the Comments Ch. 01

Chapter 1: The First Comment

"Arguing with people online never works, Kyle."

I knew she was right, but it didn't change my perspective. When I saw someone posting some crazy rhetoric online, especially if I detected hate to their words, I had to jump in. If nothing else, it showed other people that someone was willing to stand up against this bullshit.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied.

"I bet you're only doing this because he's hot." Katie laughed at her comment which irked me a bit.

"No, it's because he's a right-wing neo-nazi."

"Sure, sure. But the tight clothes and thick muscles don't hurt."

I squinted at her. I wouldn't be honest to her outloud but she had a point. The guy on Tok I had been commenting on was, indeed, hot. AltAndrew was ripped with a thick beard. He knew what he was doing with his tight clothes or open button-ups. If I had muted his videos I could have been convinced I was into him but the second he started talking racist nonsense it dashed those fantasies. I bet that's why he had a following at all.

If only people weren't so shallow to idolize and follow the ramblings of a hot guy on the internet.

"Whatever, Katie. I guess it doesn't matter since I won't convince anyone."

She shrugged and sighed. "Kyle, I think it's great that you speak up for marginalized people. I just wish it had the impact you hope it did."

"Ha," I laughed, mostly to myself. "Me too."

"Anyway, it's getting late so I should head home."

Katie had been my best friend since high school and was the first person I came out too back then. We'd created a bit of a weekly ritual to get drunk on Wednesdays and catch up on our lives. She had settled down, still no kids yet but a handsome husband, Ben, we had met mutually in college. And here I was, single and arguing with idiots online.

"Okay. You good to drive?"

"Yeah, thanks Dad. You lapped me 2 hours ago so luckily we chose your place tonight."

"I didn't need Ben chastising me too."

"Oh hush, you love it." She winked at me and then started gathering up her things. I gave her a hug and saw her to her car before she headed back to the life she had created with someone.

I poured myself another glass of wine.

Taking it to bed, I idly swiped through my phone reviewing more of the dumb commentary these dumb hunks had to make. I was feeding my addiction.

Katie's words stuck in my head and I caught myself swiping past people until I saw an attractive guy. Then, regardless of if I agreed with his opinion or not, I'd comment. Either reaffirming his good intentions, hoping to be noticed by him, or dragging him for his backwoods rhetoric, hoping the same.

One guy, in particular, had the audacity to say "America is the least racist place on the planet" which triggered me and drove me straight to the comments. There was a 50/50 split on the emotions there, but most points had been made logically and statistically discrediting that 'opinion.' So I added a simple jab:

[You should just stop talking, like, forever.]

I drained my glass and started on my nightly routine. Brushed my teeth, peed, moisturized my face and then laid down with my lotion for the final ritual, masturbating. A pump of white liquid in my hand and a favorite video of mine pulled up on my laptop set the scene.

Underwear pulled to my thigh, I began lubricating my growing cock as I watched a guy struggle to keep a heavy weight up with both hands while his pants began to slip down. I loved the humiliation genre on PornHub and this was one of my all-time favorites. My own cock was at full mast before the band of his underwear began to come into view.

The entire time the actor pretends to be embarrassed and terrified that his pants are slipping but unable to let the weight down for whatever reason. After his pants pass his thigh, his large pouch is exposed to me. I'm almost ready to shoot then and there but it's at that moment the actor notices his underwear is stuck on his back pocket.

As his jeans continue to slip below the frame, it pulls his briefs as well. His panicking becomes more frantic and loud as the waistband starts to melt downward.

Pubes are exposed, thick and private but exposed for me and everyone watching. Then the base of his soft cock. He's begging at this point to put the weight down but is, again, unable to or not allowed to.

He tries to spread his legs to keep his underwear up; keeping his shame covered. But he quivers in embarrassment which shudders his legs together. That movement is all that's needed for the weight of the jeans, now likely at his calf, to win out.

In an instant his briefs are ripped downward out of frame. "Oh god! No!" he yells as his soft cock bounces up and out into view. It's not necessarily a huge dick, probably average, but the thrill is the humiliation.

The moment his cock and balls burst onto my screen I shoot. Rope after rope splatters onto my t-shirt. I can't tell you how many times I've cum to that video. The mysterious man continues to stand there panicking, pleading to cover himself, as I come down from my orgasm high.

Shutting the laptop, I place it on my nightstand. I peel my shirt off keeping the wet parts away from my face and ball the shirt up before tossing it into my laundry bin by the door. Luckily, and a bit surprisingly, I made it in.

With that, I roll over and let sleep take me, high on endorphins and forgetting about the idiots on the internet for a bit.