Page 41 of No Strings

I get up and offer her my hand, too quickly, because she flinches. She hasn’t flinched with me for almost a week, maybe a little longer. Maybe this was too much.

“Sorry.” I reoffer my hand, slower this time.

She takes it but says nothing. She looks at me, just when I think she might say something, she shakes her head, turns on her heels, and walks off. Esky is quick on her heels. Damn dingo. Letting her go, I decide a shower before the cops arrive might be wise.

I strip as I enter the house, leaving the clothes where they land. I’ll pick them up later. Entering the bathroom, I turn on the water and step under. We might live on the coast of nowhere, but damn do we have good water pressure.

I start to scrub my body, getting the dirt and sweat off. Doing my best to ignore that my cock is half hard. It’s been that way since I pinned Morgan down. I try to remind myself that it’s Morgan, but when I finish washing myself, my cock hasn’t deflated in the slightest, only gotten harder.

Fuck it. It’s just a wank.

I spit into my hand and wrap my fingers around my dick, squeezing slightly while I stroke. My cock grows firmer in my grasp. I repeat the action again, groaning when I’m completely erect. I place my forearm on the wall of the shower and let my forehead rest on it.

Closing my eyes, I play out a sexual encounter. Keeping the person in my head faceless. But she has full breasts and round hips perfect for me to hold on to while I fuck her from behind.

She seductively sways her hips side to side, as I line up at her entrance. I grab a fist of her plump flesh as push the velvet head of my cock into her tight cunt.

“Fuck.” I drag the word out as I imagine myself filling her, stretching her with my cock.

The water pelts my back as my hand works my length, chasing my release. The images fly through my mind. My hips thrusting in and out of her clinging body.

My hand tightens on my cock. Squeezing the tip. Forcing precum to bead at the head. I open my eyes. Watching the head of my cock swell. I fuck my hand quicker. My hips moving in time with my hand.

Fuck.

The base of my spine tinges, my balls drawing up, I’m so close. I teeter on the edge, my faceless woman turns to face me, and who is looking back at me?

Morgan.

And that’s all it takes to throw me over the edge. “Fuck, Morgan. Yes. Fuck.”

Ropes of cum land on the tiled shower wall.

When I come down from the high of my release, I realise what I did, and with whose name was my lips. In my head or not, that can’t happen again.

“It means nothing.” I try telling myself. She’s been the only woman I’ve had interaction with for the last, what, three weeks?

She was the last woman I kissed.

I should change that. I need to change that.

As if conjured by my thoughts, she’s at the door, “Hey Rhys, you done? The cops are here.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” I call back.

Once I rinse the wall of my cum, I get out and drymyself. While walking to my room, I pass Morgan who is running her eyes over my body. For whatever reason I puff up.

Best friend’s sister, dickhead.

I’m almost dressed when I button up my jeans, her words come rushing back “You done?”

Did she mean, the shower or me wanking? I don’t have time to ponder because Beau is calling out for me, “Oi Rhys, ya cunt, hurry up.”

There are two police officers up at the homestead talking to Brent. They all look in my direction when they hear me approach. A coroner is dealing with Trent’s body. We wrapped it as much as we could. But the sharks and the Pilbara sun, that thing is… well, it’s a sight. The coroner doesn’t flinch though.

“Mr. Donovan, we have a couple of questions.” The stocky male officer states.

“Sure.”