Impulses by V.L. Brock Read Free Book Online

pieces of my own individual puzzle.
    But would the enormity of the amount I have been damaged taint her? Would it break her like it broke me? Would and could she look at me the same?
    Aggravated by my deepening trail of thought, I make a beeline into the en-suite bathroom, hoping that a hot shower will diminish the racing thoughts of my failures, my fucked-up-ness, and mask the unearthing of my exposed nerves, that are still too raw for me to even contemplate freely.
    It doesn’t take long for the bathroom to fill up with steam from the running shower. The gilded, granite titled walls and the oversized mirror of the vanity is already fogged with condensation.
    Removing my clothes and discarding them to a pile at the corner of the bathroom, I pull open the glass cubicle door in its gold frame and step inside. I welcome the tingling, prickling sensation that the hot water bestows upon my body, the droplets cascade down my muscular physique, cleansing me of the tense and overwrought emotions that I have once again submitted myself to involuntarily.
    There is that cursed word again, involuntary.
    I fist my hands through my wet hair, slicking it back securely. If only Samantha was here with me now. My subconscious shakes his head franticly at me, recognizing the trail that my lewd thoughts are hauling me down––but it is too late––Miss Kennedy is already feasting on my desires like a succubus and I relinquish all logical thought and concentrate on what my libido wants me to revel in.
    My eyes flutter open. I wipe them free of the water that blurs my vision, and there she is, as clear as her piercing blue eyes––Samantha––stood before me, resting against the tile wall of the cubicle. Beads of water slide effortlessly over her naked body, her breasts, before skimming over their under curve and resuming the trail down her stomach. I envision her nipples hardening and straining with the change of temperature.
    Giving way to the images in my mind, I watch and feel my hands descending leisurely from her neck down to her breasts, caressing them, kneading them. She groans, and whispers my name as she tips her head back.
    I gradually become aware of my right hand tightly fisted around my erection, gripping hard and purposefully. I stroke up and down my shaft, pulling my foreskin back slowly as I savor the vivid, intense fantasy that’s dominating my mind.
    My legs feel weak. I lean forward and rest my left hand against the cool tile in front of me to maintain my balance. I watch my hand constrict around my length, pulling back and exposing my swollen tip, all the while picturing Miss Kennedy’s mouth taking the place of my hand. Her full lips encasing around me, her hands navigate around my hips, sinking into the flesh of my ass, pushing me deeper into wet heat of her mouth. I contemplate the feel of the back of her throat as she savors me, inch-for-inch.
    A feral groan escapes my throat as my tempo rapidly increases. My abdominals tense and I gasp, the hiss of air hitting between my teeth. I tip my head back to the torrent and surrender myself fully to the fantasy.
    Twisting my hand slightly to allow the pad of my thumb to graze the underside of the crest of my erection, I come apart. I stand immobilized, shuddering as the thick, warm liquid spurts at high velocity from my tip, into my hand and down the drain with the water and the figment of my desire. I tremble internally as I finally find the release that I have craved, and held prisoner.
    Breathlessly, I finish my shower, and step into the cold air.
    Reaching across to the towel rack, I pull free the white Egyptian cotton towel and cloak it around my hips as the remainder of water beads trickle their way from my hair, down my chest and stomach. I stand in front of the vanity, my reflection replaced with a wall of vapor. Freeing the condensation which has formed, I stare intently at my now visible reflection. My hands rest against the white tiled worktop that houses my