Page 8 of The Gargoyle in the College

He was a huge guy in my dream. I gasp when heat slowly builds in my stomach.

I resist the urge to touch myself. I have lessons to attend, and I don’t have time for my fantasy about gargoyle.

But...

If the gargoyle is real...

No way...

In the dream, he asked whether he could come tonight, and I said yes.

But it was a dream, so that wasn’t real, right?

I don’t remember how the dream began and how I ran into the gargoyle, but...

I shiver at how my back is soaked with sweat. It almost feels like...

My heart skips a beat when my fingers work my pussy, sending pulses of pleasure through my body.

Maybe it won’t be a bad idea to enjoy my time with a gargoyle, except he’s not real.

I let out a moan when the pleasure smacks me harder than I expected.

I spread my arms and legs on the bed, letting the bliss linger.

Unless I fix myself almost at once, there’s no way I’d make it to my lesson in time.

I hate college... One would think I’ve spent enough time studying already...

It takes a bit to get everything I need and make sure I leave nothing important behind, which I’ve been bad at a lot of times. I’m in need of a fresh start. I’m an adult now, so I should know how to handle myself better.

I dash out of the lift and into the lobby of the dorm building, almost bumping into a few who are waiting for the lift to arrive.

I keep up my speed, hoping they won’t notice and remember me. I don’t even have time to slow down other than tossing out a sorry before I’m gone.

There are trees along the roadside, and it is hot with the scorching sun up there, threatening to roast me alive.

And...

At the end of the path, there is a group over there, circling... the gargoyle statue.

I sigh. What was I thinking about? Someone, or say, a lot of people, are going to notice the difference.

My heartbeat races almost at once. While I’m kind of proud that I cleaned the gargoyle and it looks good, I kind of wish I didn’t do that. I don’t know whether there’ll be consequences for that, but I already want to hide from everyone.

“Hey, Laura. Have you seen this?”

Oh fuck... Some of these are my classmates and we spent the evening together.

I ask, “What happened with the statue?”

He points at the statue. “He looks super clean, somehow. I mean, even the moss is gone.”

I suppose even he, the party boy, doesn’t want to mention that he sprayed the cream onto the gargoyle’s face.

I take a step closer to the statue, which I did last night, too. “Did it rain? But the moss, though.”

“Right? Maybe the staff cleaned it.”

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