I blame Ant, of course.
I’ve tried every vibrator in my arsenal. I’ve watched or read every kind of porn I can think of. I’ve even researched new kinks. Still nothing.
It’s not that I’m not horny. I am. I seem to be very horny all of the time. It’s just that my parts can’t seem to connect with my brain and allow my one brief moment of complete relaxation.
It’s embarrassing and frustrating.
So naturally, tonight, after I’ve consumed several glasses of champagne, I’m feeling antsy. I wash my face, drop my glasses beside my bed, and just as I am about to pull my shirt over my head ,I realize I’ve left the bedroom curtains wide open, letting in the moonlight.
One week, and I’m already being stupid.
I pull my bedroom curtains closed. There’s a blurry figure on the roof across the street, watching me. Just standing stock still and staring at my apartment.
Crap. It’s him. I duck back against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. It’s him. It has to be him. Standing there, watching me. Like the freak he is.
“You think I won’t call the cops?” I say, even though my windows are closed and I’m sure he can’t hear me. “You think I’m too stupid to see you? I’m just going to ignore this? I’m just going to let you watch me? Invade my privacy?”
Why is that idea so hot?
A glance back at the window shows the figure hasn’t moved.
Crap, I shouldn’t be turned on right now.
“Get a good look, buddy!” I yell to my empty room. I flash my middle finger toward the window. “You gross, peeping tom. You think I’m just going to lie here and be your good little pet? You can watch me, and I won’t do anything about it?”
I’m breathing heavily. I reach across the room to grab my glasses and my phone. My hand pauses at the handle to my toy drawer.
Crap, why is this working? The idea that he can see me? That he’s watching me?
I shove my glasses up my nose and unlock my phone. I look across the street again and it’s not him. It’s not anyone. Through the clarity of 20/20 vision, I see the figure isn’t a Mothman at all. It’s a shadow the moon is casting against a wall.
I take off my glasses to double check.
Yep. Just a shadow. No one is watching me.
Crap, I’m so stupid, and still so oddly turned on.
That’s infuriating. I press my hand between my legs, the pressure lighting up those glorious sparks I’ve been missing, there’s a wetness forming too.
If hewasout there, right now, he’d see everything. I run my fingers across my clit, it makes me crave more.
What if he was out there? Hunting me. Watching me, waiting for this moment where he gets a brief glimpse of what he really wants to see. Me fucking myself.
I snatch my vibrator from my nightstand.??3 It was my favorite when I was with Colin. The first thing I picked up when he wasn’t around to get offended.
He never wanted us to use toys together.
But I don’t need a man, I don’t need a cryptid, I don’t need anyone. I have myself, my fingers, my tools, and my fantasies in my brain.
Screw him. Screw that stupid Mothman. With his perfect dick and the perfect way his tongue attached to me. I don’t need him. The memory of him is enough, of his cock filling me, the way his purr seemed to hit every nerve in my body, the way his mouth found that perfect spot.
I come twice on my vibrator. Loud and wet, and I’m proud of myself for not whispering his name. I collapse into my empty bed. The endorphins flooding my brain bring me a brief moment of clarity. I can’t keep doing this. I have to stop thinking about him. I have to cut him out of my brain. I can’t exist in this weirdhalf-life where I am scared of the only male that makes me come when I think about him.
1 Masterbating furiously when Colin was out of the house because I didn’t come while we were fucking.
2 Ant is convinced that Link is the best character., despite the obvious evidence to the contrary.
3 Old faithful, because I always blow right on time with this one.
