up on my bed with my book, and shut out the world.
Of course I often get excited, reading those romance novels. There are loads of steamy sex scenes and they often leave me all hot and bothered, my heart fluttering, my panties wet, not knowing how to rid myself of the building pressure between my legs. I’ve heard of masturbation, of course, but I’ve never really figured out how it worked or what I’m meant to do. I can’t discuss these things with Vivian, and I don’t have any sisters or close friends to ask. And I’m too terrified someone might find my search history if I try to look it up online! So I’ve gotten used to letting the feeling pass. It does, eventually, even if I’m aching and horny still.
As I enjoy cookie after cookie, guilt-free and wrapped in the warm little fairy-lit world I’ve created behind my locked door, I become immersed in the new romance novel of the series I’m addicted to. But when it comes to the sex scene, I’m imagining the hero as Trent from next door. It’s his strong arms that lift the heroine from her horse. It’s his raging hard-on I see when she strokes his bulge. It’s his breath I feel on my neck as he lays the heroine down in the straw.
I feel my pussy contract with lust and I moan at the frustration that’s building between my legs. Feeling restless, I get up and start pacing about my room, trying to dispel the pent-up sexual energy. Suddenly, my gaze is caught by something glinting outside my window. It’s late by now, so the darkness stops me from seeing properly. But the movement is coming from Trent’s garden. I hastily turn off my lights so I can see better while staying in the shadows myself.
My breath catches in my throat as I realize it’s Trent himself, taking a midnight dip in his pool. I squint, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness and as my pupils grow large under the full moon. The silver light of night glints off the water as Trent finishes a lap and suddenly rolls over onto his back, allowing his muscular, tattooed body to float effortlessly on the surface, his arms and legs outstretched, black hair floating around his perfect face. He’s so hot!
As if he couldn’t possibly get any hotter, he pulls his arms in carefully so as not to lose his float, letting his hands rest on that sculpted chest for a moment. Then he slowly runs them down his washboard abs. I can’t believe it when he pushes his fingers under his swimming trunks and pushes them down off his legs, grabbing the fabric and flinging it onto the side of the pool. Because holy shit, he’s naked! He swims around a little and I can’t see much; I imagine he must be enjoying the feeling of the water flowing freely around his private parts. I swallow as I imagine his cock floating between his thighs and bobbing in the water. But I don’t have to imagine much longer.
Arriving on the shallow side of the pool, he hauls himself out of the pool to sit on the cement ledge. Wow, this guy is powerful and perfect in every way, with bulging shoulders and a carved, muscular back. He shakes the hair out his face, sending little silver droplets flying, before smoothing the strands back with one hand. The moonlight shines off his dripping, rippling muscles and as he turns slightly, I see it then. A huge, thick cock hangs heavily over one thigh. Holy shit. My heart starts beating faster. Even from here I can tell that thing is the size of a baton, and if it were erect it would easily be as thick as my forearm.
To my scandalized astonishment, Trent then seizes his cock with his hand and shakes it gently, as if to show off its heaviness. My mouth goes dry as I watch it grow bigger and bigger is his hand, getting harder and harder. He strokes it gently as he tilts his head back for a moment, his strong jaw outlined by the shadows the moon is casting. I can see him biting his bottom lip as he lets his head rest backwards and continues stroking his cock. Then he lets it go and looks down with a slight smile on his features. By now, his shaft stands straight up like a monument to masculinity: huge, strong,