through the door to leave us alone for an hour.
I remember the silky feeling of her pussy as I plunged inside her, frantically and desperately needing to claim her. In all honesty, it was closer to fucking at the time than to making love, which is how I normally liked to have sex with her, but she didn’t mind. She was horny too.
The thought of me slamming my cock into her repeatedly does the trick though. My strangle hold on my penis and frantic friction of it has me coming all over the shower wall and my hips jerk forward with the release; I hear the brief lamenting cry release from my parted lips.
However suddenly I feel sick, flat and stupid.
I can’t believe I keep falling into this trap of reliving and wanking to memories of Shae.
“Will I never learn?” I shout out.
It makes me feel like shit to be thinking about her when I try to find a little pleasure. Surely I can move past this; surely there’s life beyond my time with her. I no longer want to kill myself over it, so why do I still seem to gravitate to thoughts of her? Is it because I have no other experience? Is it because I haven’t met another girl that I feel that way about yet?
But these thoughts, coupled with the parcel yesterday sees me filled with a sudden and progressive rage.
“Aaargh !” I holler out and begin to punch the shower walls. Over and over again, until I see the blood on the white pristine walls and notice my bleeding knuckles and their damage.
“Fuck .” I scream, realizing instantly what I’ve probably just managed to achieve – a first class ticket to an acute setting mental health facility around here.
I stand in the stream of water for a while and feel completely despondent. I have no idea how to fix this. The only good thing about all of this is the fact that I have finally recognised that I don’t feel suicidal afterwards, only angry. I must be moving on, I kind of feel like I am.
But t hat Ethan guy didn’t look like the sort of guy that I could convince to bend the rules. I’m totally on my own here. I could strap my hands up like I do when I have a fight, but I’m not certain I’ll get away with that. Besides, I don’t even know where to get any bandages from.
I turn the shower off and feel the stinging and throbbing of my knuckles as they pulse in response to the pounding I just gave them. I groan over my stupidity. Jade and Ben will be pissed.
I reach across to the towel and tear it free from the rack, and then merely drape it around my hips, tucking it in and trying not to get too much blood on it, since that would be obvious. I walk over to the basin and look into the mirror, briefly taking myself in before settling my eyes down and staring at my hands.
“Fuck.” I whisper.
A quiet tap on my door has me on instant alert. I ignore it, because I don’t want someone coming in to see me. Let them think I’m somewhere else.
No such luck. I hear the door open and I hear a trolley or something with wheels, bump over the little strip across the floor at the doorway, whe re the hall’s vinyl floors become my bedroom’s carpet. The door remains open; I haven’t heard it shut closed. I remain where I am, frozen to the spot and fearing discovery. The intruder walks toward the other side of the room and is about to go past the door of my bathroom, which is open; and I watch in the mirror as she suddenly stops and turns to look at me. I drop my eyes immediately and feel intense fear envelope me; tingling throughout my body and making me feel nauseas.
I find myself crying. What the fuck? Why am I acting like a girl? This is so, so… fucked!
But I don’t want to return to the hospital. I only just got out. I try to hold in the pain and fear of discovery; but it must be obvious to her that I’m upset and feeling immense fear; and so I chastise myself for being so transparent.
I momentarily wonder what’s wrong and why she hasn’t
I remember the silky feeling of her pussy as I plunged inside her, frantically and desperately needing to claim her. In all honesty, it was closer to fucking at the time than to making love, which is how I normally liked to have sex with her, but she didn’t mind. She was horny too.
The thought of me slamming my cock into her repeatedly does the trick though. My strangle hold on my penis and frantic friction of it has me coming all over the shower wall and my hips jerk forward with the release; I hear the brief lamenting cry release from my parted lips.
However suddenly I feel sick, flat and stupid.
I can’t believe I keep falling into this trap of reliving and wanking to memories of Shae.
“Will I never learn?” I shout out.
It makes me feel like shit to be thinking about her when I try to find a little pleasure. Surely I can move past this; surely there’s life beyond my time with her. I no longer want to kill myself over it, so why do I still seem to gravitate to thoughts of her? Is it because I have no other experience? Is it because I haven’t met another girl that I feel that way about yet?
But these thoughts, coupled with the parcel yesterday sees me filled with a sudden and progressive rage.
“Aaargh !” I holler out and begin to punch the shower walls. Over and over again, until I see the blood on the white pristine walls and notice my bleeding knuckles and their damage.
“Fuck .” I scream, realizing instantly what I’ve probably just managed to achieve – a first class ticket to an acute setting mental health facility around here.
I stand in the stream of water for a while and feel completely despondent. I have no idea how to fix this. The only good thing about all of this is the fact that I have finally recognised that I don’t feel suicidal afterwards, only angry. I must be moving on, I kind of feel like I am.
But t hat Ethan guy didn’t look like the sort of guy that I could convince to bend the rules. I’m totally on my own here. I could strap my hands up like I do when I have a fight, but I’m not certain I’ll get away with that. Besides, I don’t even know where to get any bandages from.
I turn the shower off and feel the stinging and throbbing of my knuckles as they pulse in response to the pounding I just gave them. I groan over my stupidity. Jade and Ben will be pissed.
I reach across to the towel and tear it free from the rack, and then merely drape it around my hips, tucking it in and trying not to get too much blood on it, since that would be obvious. I walk over to the basin and look into the mirror, briefly taking myself in before settling my eyes down and staring at my hands.
“Fuck.” I whisper.
A quiet tap on my door has me on instant alert. I ignore it, because I don’t want someone coming in to see me. Let them think I’m somewhere else.
No such luck. I hear the door open and I hear a trolley or something with wheels, bump over the little strip across the floor at the doorway, whe re the hall’s vinyl floors become my bedroom’s carpet. The door remains open; I haven’t heard it shut closed. I remain where I am, frozen to the spot and fearing discovery. The intruder walks toward the other side of the room and is about to go past the door of my bathroom, which is open; and I watch in the mirror as she suddenly stops and turns to look at me. I drop my eyes immediately and feel intense fear envelope me; tingling throughout my body and making me feel nauseas.
I find myself crying. What the fuck? Why am I acting like a girl? This is so, so… fucked!
But I don’t want to return to the hospital. I only just got out. I try to hold in the pain and fear of discovery; but it must be obvious to her that I’m upset and feeling immense fear; and so I chastise myself for being so transparent.
I momentarily wonder what’s wrong and why she hasn’t
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