Page 72 of So This Is War
This is day two of being back from my trip, and this morning, she walked into the kitchen in nothing but a threadbare tank top. I saw the definition of her nipples and had to retreat to my bedroom where I took some calming breaths and attempted to subdue the blue balls that are squeezing me to death.
I refuse to masturbate to the image of her in my head. Absolutely refuse because the moment I do it, is the moment I lose all control. I have to keep her out of my mind.
That’s how I found myself alone in my hotel room the other night, playing Phase 10 on my phone and swearing at an online player who I didn’t know. Player4756. The motherfucker kept skipping me. Several times, I almost chucked my phone against the wall.
Luckily for me, I could take out some of my pent-up aggression on the ice, and it did me well because it was a shutout game for us. No one was getting by me, and certainly not Eli, either. It was a much better showing than before, and Coach even complimented me, which he never does. Sure, his compliment was a nod of approval, but still, I counted it.
But now that I’m back home, it’s like she’s trying to make me hard every chance she gets.
And it’s working.
Last night, I was hard while eating steak.
I went to bed hard.
I woke up so fucking hard.
And now as I sit here in my living room, staring at the tiny fiddle leaf fig tree she got for me, my balls ache, wanting relief.
“Hey, you in here?” I hear her call out from the kitchen.
Here we go. How is she going to torture me now?
I lean back on the couch and say, “Living room.”
“Oh, hey.” She steps up, and when I look to the side, I find her wet with a towel barely wrapped around her body.
Fuck.
Me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, averting my eyes.
“Sorry, I tried calling you, but you weren’t answering.”
“Oh, my phone is in my room,” I groan because fuck me, she’s wet.
She’s in a towel, and she’s wet.
“Well, I ran out of soap, and I was wondering if I could borrow some of yours. And I know what you’re thinking, I’mmaking this up because I was saying how great you smelled last night and I want to smell the same. And whereas a part of that is true, I don’t have any soap and need some.”
Keeping my eyes averted, I say, “Yeah, you can borrow some.”
“Awesome. Thank you. Is it okay if I just finish in your shower since I’m already naked and wet?”
“Finish?” I gulp.
Do you need help finishing?
Because I know a few ways I can get you off in that shower.
“Yeah, finish showering.”
Oh fuck, duh.
Jesus Christ, man. You are way too horny to be having these conversations.
“Oh yeah, sure. Showering. Can’t, uh, can’t just walk away from the water without soaping up, and since you don’t have soap, how can you soap up?”
