Page 21 of It's Complicated

My cock hardened, rising comically in front of me like a divining rod until it was rock hard and aching.

With a soft sigh, I circled my shaft with my hand and gave myself a few slow strokes, the body wash creating a slick passage as it mixed with my precum.

Deliberately clearing my mind, I kept stroking. Maybe an orgasm would help me sleep.

The pleasure inside me built with each pass of my hand, growing into something wild and desperate in a matter of seconds. That wasn’t normal for me. I wasn’t into edging, but Iliked to take my time when I jerked, enjoying the ride as much as the big finish.

That wasn’t happening tonight, and soon I was fucking my fist, my other hand on the tiled wall of the shower to stay upright as my thighs trembled and my body shook.

The pressure inside me just kept building, getting more and more intense until my mind started to wander, cooking up a fantasy without my permission.

A hot mouth around my cock, a nimble tongue stroking my shaft as navy blue eyes stared up at me.

I came with a cry, my orgasm exploding out of me with so much force my hand slipped on the wall. My moan echoed in the bathroom, even over the sound of the water and overhead fan.

Still shaking from the force of my release, I worked my dick, riding the wave and shooting all over the shower wall.

When it was over and I could think again, I blinked open my eyes.

I was hunched over, my hand still on my spent dick, and my body weak from both relief and the aftershocks.

I’d just come to thoughts of Isaac blowing me.

I’d pictured my best friend on his knees for me, and I’d come harder than I had in what felt like forever.

Jesus Christ.

Shakily, I turned off the water and grabbed my towel, my mind spinning.

What the hell was wrong with me?

5

ISAAC

Jamie was avoiding me.

Not in an obvious way, but I could sense the shift in him.

We’d gone to the gym yesterday and neither of us tried to bail, so no one had to wear the gold shorts.

Usually we grabbed something to eat after, but when I suggested it on the drive home, he mumbled that he wasn’t hungry.

He then spent most of the day in his room and didn’t come out until dinner.

That wasn’t typical, but it wasn’t completely out of the norm. Jamie sometimes got in moods where he needed alone time on Sundays to gear up for another awful week at work, but it seemed different this time. Like he was hiding from me and not just resetting for another week.

He barely touched his food at dinner, mostly pushing it around on his plate, and finally ended up putting it in the fridge, saying he’d eat it later.

When I asked if he was okay, the flimsy smile and faraway look I got in return didn’t match his reassuring words.

He’d ended up going to bed early, leaving me to sit in the living room for hours, my mind racing with all the reasons he could be mad at me.

I knew he didn’t harbor any ill feelings about the stupid shirt or the bet that led to him wearing it.

It had to be the kiss, right?

Did he know it hadn’t been an accident? Was that why he was being so weird? Had I freaked him out so much that he didn’t know how to act around me anymore?

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