Page 44

Jack

Blood pumped in my ears, as I stared unblinking into the darkness of the room.

I fisted the bed sheets. Lying motionless, my brain working overtime instead.

Every single bloody muscle in my body was rigid, scared to move but desperate to in equal measures.

And most frustratingly, my cock was rock hard and creating a tent in the sheets, even though it was strapped down by my pyjama pants.

It was a painful reminder of what I’d witnessed, and the more I thought about it, the longer my erection lasted.

I’d woken to Willow’s whimpers, and like normal, turned over to comfort her. She was calling out my name, which also wasn’t uncommon, but it was the way in which she said my name that differed.

At first it was a whine, almost as though she was in distress.

Then my name turned into raspy little moans that I was almost sure were pleasurable, until she hammered the nail into my cock’s coffin and screamed “You, I need you” and “I need to come, please, Jack . ” I was a dead man the second the words left her plump lips, followed by gasps and melodic moans that sent blood rushing south.

Now I was doing everything to control my desire to roll over and wake her up with my lips over her soft skin. She didn’t know she was dreaming about me, I told myself. She can’t consent, no matter how consensual it sounds .

Beside me, Willow came down from her orgasmic bliss, her moans gradually softening. It didn’t matter to my body though, the moans were ringing out all the same, my name tangled with them. Soon, her body stilled, and she returned to her sleep.

I clenched my eyes as tight as I could, to think of anything but the haven that I’d find between her legs if I just reached my hand over her thigh, anything but the sight of her nipples and how they’d look when they’re aroused.

Would they turn into hard pebbles in my mouth?

Would she enjoy my teeth clamping round them?

It was no use, the darkness only encouraged my imagination to run wild, and lying beside her made it even worse.

If I let my mind wander further, I’d convince myself I could smell not only Willow’s usual delicious vanilla scent, but also the smell of her when she was sated and content. It was the worst form of torture.

I snapped upright and flung myself out the bed, a man on a mission to escape the all-consuming need to wake her, to cover her body with mine and work us both into a release. I flung myself through the bathroom door, shutting it behind me as quickly and quietly as possible.

With my entire back flush against the door, I could finally breathe, until I looked down and found my erection fighting against the material of my bottoms. I dragged a palm down my face at the frustration it was causing me, the pain it was causing.

“Why can’t you fuck off ?!” I whisper-shouted at it.

I rushed to the sink, splashing water on my face, letting it drip down my neck and under my T-shirt, yearning for any reprieve.

Beyond the door, I heard a soft groan from Willow. She could have been rolling over and relishing in the comfort of the mattress, but to my dick, she was moaning in pleasure. For me . Yeah, but only in her dreams. Only in my dreams.

I looked down at my bobbing length, frantically trying to escape from its cotton jail, and eventually came to an embarrassing conclusion – the only way to stop this agony was to relieve it myself.

The second I considered that, desire flushed through my body, and I stifled a groan as I removed my dick from pants, the pressure as delicious as it was forbidden.

I reminded myself when I gripped it in my fist, that this was purely for medical purposes, so it wouldn’t lead to the loss of my favourite appendage, and so blood could return to the rest of my body.

Not because I was lusting over the woman who was currently sleeping in the bed we’ve been sharing for the last three weeks.

As soon as my right hand locked around my cock, the intensity both lessened and heightened, it was dizzying, and I couldn’t get enough of it. The relief to be touched by skin, whether or not it was my own, was no different to teenage Jack who acquainted himself with rampant hormones.

I jerked my hand faster and faster, twisting and tightening my grip over the crown.

I stumbled forward, catching myself on the vanity unit to hold myself up. For a split second, I caught the eye of my reflection, spying the judgement that shrouded his hooded eyes, but I was too far gone to care.

The pleasure coursed through me, and I sped up. I gripped the ceramic sink and held on for dear life, my fingers and knuckles whitened.

In my mind’s eye, I pictured Willow making the sounds she had made merely ten minutes ago, if she’d been awake and uninhibited, unashamed and open to sharing her body with me.

I imagined her with her thighs open, her T-shirt slipped up over her tits, and her hand sliding between her legs, her own fingers teasing her as her head was flung back into the pillow.

I pictured her face a beautiful combination of pain and pleasure, and her perfectly painted toes clinging onto the sheets out of desperation for the release she needed.

Just as I dared to envision her orgasm ripping through her body, her chant as bliss pulsed through her, my orgasm claimed me.

Streams of cum shot from my body, a groan escaping through tight lips.

It felt never-ending, until finally my dick was satisfied, and a heaviness fell in the pit of my stomach.

I regretfully peeled my eyes open – ropes of cum slowly seeped down the mirror.

Where I’d found the release necessary seconds ago, I was now disgusted with myself.

Aside from the odd one-off wanks out of pure boredom, I’d lived an accidental celibacy for eleven years.

I was now reduced to pleasuring myself over… whatever Willow was to me.

I’d wanked myself off over Willow, based on a lust-filled dream she didn’t realise she was having, and will likely never remember in the morning. She’d have no idea that her vivid dream would bleed into my reality and could never have – would never have – consented to this.

I was mortified, repulsed, and I needed to shut myself down as soon as possible.

Clothing myself, I washed up and grabbed a cloth and cleaning spray from one of the under-sink cupboards, cleaning my cum from the mirror. It was harder than expected, smearing over the reflective surface before it finally cleared.

I stood for a moment, contemplating how to move forward from this shit-show of a night.

Until I’d woken to Willow’s dream, we’d had the best night so far – a good time with friends and some small moments with Willow that had been locked away in a place where only the most special memories were held.

At the bare minimum, we were colleagues and roommates, but at the most we were good friends, and I was desperate to cling onto that friendship.

My romantic feelings for Willow may never get to see the light of day, but that didn’t negate the importance of our bond.

In that moment, I resolved to push tonight into the dumping ground, as if it never happened, and continue to be the friend Willow deserved.

I returned to the bedroom. Willow’s crazy wavy hair was splayed over the bed to such a degree I couldn’t be sure where her head was, or which way round she lay. One arm was stretched out towards my side of the bed, clutching Angus’ head.

I knew I’d be unable to sleep now. I had an urge to prepare for the following day, something that friend Jack had spent a good time and effort organising. I was confident Willow would feel like a new woman by the end of it.