Page 25 of The Try Line

I'm stuck here, with a hard-on for my sister's husband and nothing to do. The walls are closing in on me faster than the humidity. I'm going stir crazy already.

Which means that I'm going to have to grow a pair and deal with this head-on. Like a man. No, not like a man, because I already have a problem caused by thinking with my dick. Think like an adult. Amatureadult that understands the consequences of his actions and doesn't want to implode his own family over a crush I had eighteen years ago.

That's all it was. A teenaged crush that ended too abruptly for me to properly process, never mind the years of therapy I've attempted off and on over the past two decades. I'm only attracted to him now because I know I can't have him. Forbidden fruit seems sweet, but it's overripe and will make you sick. Sick to your stomach. Heartsick. Sick in the head. All the things I've been since I first had a taste of Mikel fucking Sanders.

Sick, sick, sick.

I can act like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

Icanact like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

I willact like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

I can. Ican.I will.

I repeat this mantra to myself until I gather the balls to head downstairs. I'm assuming Mik went to bed after dealing with the fridge. Maybe I can plug my phone into the generator and charge it up, grab my e-reader, and get back upstairs before he needs to emerge again. We can just quietly tiptoe around each other and pretend nothing is happening. I don't want my brother-in-law's dick in my throat. I don't.I don’t.I can do this.

I can. Ican.I will.

It's quiet downstairs, other than the hum of the small generator that's powering the refrigerator. I find a small outlet on the side of the generator. I have no idea if it's going to work, but I'm quickly distracted by an open bottle of whiskey on the counter. I pour myself a small measure and swallow it in one gulp, then pour a second. I should probably have eaten something first, but I can feel the alcohol heating my stomach and melting away some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. Maybe I should have been drinking this whole time instead of jerking off in the shower like a fucking tween. There's a thought.

I feel my way slowly down the stairs, only realizing once I reach the bottom that it's pitch black down here. Upstairs, I at least had a sliver of light from the generator and flashes of lightning through the windows. Down here, there's nothing for my eyes to adjust to. Arms out in front of me, I feel my way blindly until I hit the couch. Bending low, I feel my way across the cushions and the floor, knowing I left it somewhere around here. I find it on the ground, leaning against the end of the couch, noticing a slight flicker of light coming from beneath a door when I pick it up.

I crawl towards it. I'm not ridiculous enough to peek under the door, besides I doubt I'd see anything. But I am nosey enough to press my ear to the door. Lust and two large pours on an empty stomach encourage me to lean in when I think I hear a moan, and the pressure on the door makes it click open. Either someone was being thoughtless, or he wanted me to find him, because this door was not latched properly. I stand quickly, holding my breath, expecting Mik to rush over and slam the door, but all I hear is another low moan.

Slowly and quietly, I push the door open. Through the gap in the door, all I can see is a desk and some bookshelves, a candle casting the flickering light around the small room. The sounds I heard are coming from the other side of the room. I peek my head through the door and nearly pass out.

Mik is stark naked, sitting with his legs spread over either arm of an overstuffed armchair. His head is thrown back, eyes screwed tight, mouth parted on a long, low, guttural moan. He's digging his fingers into the sides of the chair, muscles tightening and releasing. His cock jerks with his muscle movements, leaking all over his stomach. My tongue darts out to lick my lips, salivating at the sight of pre-cum glistening and dripping down his long shaft. He's not even touching himself, but it looks like he's close to coming all over himself. By the mess on his thighs and stomach, I'd assume he already has.

His legs open wider, one hand reaching between them to touch–

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck me.

Either God hates me or loves me very much and wants me to have this man, because the sexiest, most erotic thing I have ever seen—in porn or in real life—is playing out like a fantasy reel right in front of me. I can’t fucking breathe.

Is this penance for my wrongdoings, or a reward for some good deed I don't remember? Helping an old lady cross the street perhaps, or giving all that signed swag to the flight attendant's nephew? I don't know, butdamn…

Mik's long fingers press against a black disk that sits flush against his ass, and he hisses and lets out a shaky groan. Those same long fingers wrap around his shaft and pump languidly. His foreskin moves with his hand, and on the downstroke, I see it. I see that glint of light again. I absentmindedly move closer.Is that a…

Mik hears my sharp intake of breath. His eyes pop open, and there's a moment of panic when he finally notices me standing not five feet from him. He pulls his legs down, his body tensing as he moves.

"Ah, fuck," he whines, reaching down to touch the plug again. His ass must be clenching down so tight. The muscles in his abs and thighs are still jumping.

Oh, kill me now. It's fucking vibrating.

I swallow hard and try to think of something to say. As if I could make conversation like this is normal. Walking in on your own personal wet dream, in the form of your brother-in-law spread out like an erotic all you can eat buffet, is totally normal. I can control myself. I can. Ican. I will.

This is fine. I'm fine.Everything is fucking fineand not at all burning down around me in a haze of fiery lust that has my balls ready to unleash a release that would rival the fucking hurricane outside.FUCK!

"You're… pierced?" I say awkwardly, trying and failing to keep my voice even.

Mik clears his throat. "Can you go?" he chokes out. "Please?"

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa… Let’s not be hasty. We can handle this like adults. Rationally.

"Wait!" I say, desperation in my raspy tone. “I—I want to see." Ineedto see.

He can't just put it away when I haven't seen it closely enough. That's just unfair. It'd be rude.

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