“Hot cam, bro.”

Mesmerized by his hard dick on my screen, the head just catching the shimmer of reflected light of my own swollen dick, it took me a minute to realise he had messaged me with his other hand.

“You too, amazing dick dude. I can’t stop watching you stroke it.”

Truthfully, I was staring at more than just his dick – my eyes scanning across this portal to him, and this intensely personal, vibrating stream of live content. I flick my eyes and dick in sync, hungrily devouring his nips – left, then the right – and back across to the tight steel rings around his balls, clanking against each other and the bed. Hypnotized by the susurration of the sound of flesh on flesh, sure, but particularly of flesh on fabric – somehow feeling more connected, my own skin tugging against the rough terrycloth under me, stained with lashes of precum.

My own dick is now stretched to its edges, with that pulsation you get when you’re fully hard and fully full. Waving it aggressively, showing right back off to this hot guy, his legs and trainers up in the corners, stretching out his singlet made of material that’s hard to imagine was designed for any other purpose. A diamond of precum on the tip of my dick was the proof of my arousal – I pinch it lovingly off my greased-up penis – making sure not to block the view, stretching it up and off screen for him to see. His tongue flicks out in longing, deliciously enhanced by our distance and the primal knowledge both of knowing what it tastes like, and intensified by the impossible wall between it, and his tongue.

Doorbell rings, gotta get it. Window clicked closed, the room I’m in reasserts itself as if I’d repelled the walls of reality for the last hour. But I don’t leave with much regret or resentment – I know I’ll find these experiences again waiting for me when I come back later. More maybe. Maybe even better.

The vidchat room on Bateworld has been my bate launchpad for years; whether an hour or a day’s worth of time on my hands, it rarely fails to deliver on a dream. Certainly, in my lifetime – decades –  of camming it was neither the original nor the latest – but it was the only one that came attached to a veritable directory of dick that was, most importantly, attached to the most precious commodity of all for a bator – other bonafide bators.

Anyone who’s experienced a bate with another bator can tell you – often gushingly – how different, how connected, how hot the experience is rather than just “having a wank”. And while the details of my own journey to settling into my bator kink identity could fill its own volume, one sure-fire distilled truth is that Bateworld is, was, and remains a core part of my bator experience.

In many ways my cam kink is akin to my bate kink – I relish the restriction, and of the state of experience it gives me to hyper-focus in on what I do have in front of me in the context of what is not. To cam is to relish the hard dick stretching against the containment of a pair of briefs, to long after the set of sweaty feet in a pair of white socks, to cage the cock wilfully and hand over the key. 

It’s not a substitute for “the real thing”, but an ode to it, a worship. To perform a rite in service of, not in spite of it. 

I’m horny again. Back up to the den.

Like the sharp cut of the waning sun the crimson red background of the site makes my room glow with cruising vibes, and before I’m even ready for it I’m looking at all sorts of men in all sorts of states. Hard, soft, at attention, spent – maybe even attached to a smile or a look of ecstatic agony firing his shot off someone’s shoulder, gleeful as cum runs down his face. Opening Bateworld isn’t unlike the approach to the trees, pushing past the rubber slats to the darkroom, or the furtive glances to your periphery strolling into the men’s room. I’m here to test the promise – that fleeting moment of total and arresting possibility of fulfilling the hottest fantasy I’ve hastily constructed in my head. He, they, are here – and I’m here to take it.

“Hey, I’m back.”