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With the head of my dick, I smear cum over her skin like the cream she was spreading over my brother’s face.
When I’m done, I smile, looking at her perfect body painted with my cum.
Satisfied, I lean close and whisper, “You’re mine now.”
I wake up the next day for school, looking at the stream of light coming through the small window. For a second, I forget where I am, but then I look at the small space.
I tentatively sit up and wince from the sharp pain in my lower back. I look at the sticky notes stuck on the plastic lining of the trailer. Reminders of the assignments I need to complete. How behind I am. Shopping, helping Azriel, and then...
Memories from last night cause my stomach to flip. The pool. His magnificent cock.
I brace for the guilt I thought I would feel, but it doesn’t come. Touching his thick, hard cock and the...
I blush, remembering how it felt on my fingers. How he rubbed the head over my breasts, painting his cum over my nipples like lip gloss. I admit I was scared. I was afraid he would see how fucked up I was by my reaction. But Valen proved the little voice in my head wrong. He proved to my body that it could feel.
Now I crave his touch, and it terrifies me.Heterrifies me because he hasn’t been inside me, and if I let him, I know he has the power to destroy me.
I walk into my first class of the day, and when people stare at me, it’s like they know about last night. I know it’s all in my head, but it doesn’t quell the feeling that they know what I did with the king on campus last night. It wasn’t much, but to me, it was turning the page into a new chapter.
The professor drones on about math and how you should practice it every day to avoid forgetting the steps, blah, blah, blah.
All I could remember were the steps of what Valen did last night. I’ve been in a trance since he followed me home after I refused to stay the night. I can’t bring myself to take their offer because that would mean he would be close.
Close enough to kiss and touch me when all I can think about is how it would feel if he wanted to fuck me. I want to feel his face against my legs. How thick his lips are against mine. How thick his wicked cock would feel when he stuffed it in my pussy and made me scream.
When he pulled it out, all I could think about were the barbells disappearing inside me one by one. Would it feel good, or would it hurt a little? Or would it hurt the first time, but not the second?
The next class slides into the next until it’s lunchtime, and I feel like a zombie walking toward the quad on campus. My heart is in my throat, wanting to see if he’s there or not. I'm not sure if I’m ready to see him so soon or if I should lay low so I don’t look desperate. I'm not sure if I could handle more.
It was the first time I could touch my body and not feel scared or hopeless because I couldn’t come. Last night was the first time I could do it, and it was because of Valen. He knew where to lick, suck, stroke, and kiss me.
I didn’t notice I had already reached the table until I heard the familiar voices of his friends. If I’m like this after simple foreplay, I could only imagine the state I would be in if he fucked me. Is this how women feel after he fucks them? A sex hangover?
“Hey,” a guy says, waving his hand over my face like he can’t tell if I’m blind or not.
I look up, and it’s his friend Garret.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You can have a seat,” he says with a smile. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, but you kept staring at me like I wasn’t here. Is everything alright?”
I nod, looking around the table. I spot Charlie flirting with a girl. She must be a senior. They all must be seniors. My eyes scan the rest of the table, but it’s just Charles, Garret, and the girl.
“Yeah. Everything is fine.”
But I really want to tell him nothing is fine because his friend isn’t here.
He’s looking at me with curious interest, and I want to blurt.I want to fuck your friend and can’t stop thinking about his amazing dick, but I’m scared of what it might mean.
“How was class?” he asks like he’s interested.
“Fine.”
He stares at me for a second longer than necessary. He nods like he’s thinking of what to say next, trying to find the right words.
“He should be getting here in the next five minutes. His class is about to end in the next…” He picks up his phone and says, “Three minutes.”
I try to play it off by giving him an “I don’t know who you’re talking about” expression, but it fails. It’s as if he can see right through me, but it doesn’t hurt to try.
