Page 10 of Quiet Rage
A hot shower is a last resort kind of thing. Stripping down on my way to the bathroom, I turn on the tap and step into the shower stall once steam starts to rise. Maybe I can scald myself into relaxation.
What I can’t seem to do is scald myself out of remembering the way Tamson chewed her lip this morning. What is it about sucha simple gesture that completely took ownership of my brain? I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all day. Now, as I soap myself up under the hot spray, I can’t help but imagine chewing on her lip until she moans.
My eyes drift shut as my dick twitches in response to the images in my head. I don’t need to be thinking of her like this, but my dick didn’t get the message. It’s rigid by the time my hand closes around it.
Only it isn’t my hand, at least not in my imagination. It’s hers. Stroking me slowly, building the tension, torturing me by promising so much but delivering only a little. Making my heart beat faster every time she teases the sensitive spot under my head and sends ripples of pleasure straight to my aching balls.
Those baby blue eyes of hers. I see them staring up at me as she fucks me with her fist. Faster.Tighter.It feels so fucking good. How can something I’ve done so many times feel so fucking good now, almost like the first time?
I have to lean against the wall when my knees start to buckle. My fist moves in a blur. The splashing sound echoes in the stall with my breathing, louder, faster.
A familiar tingling at the base of my spine tells me I’m getting close and as much as I want this to last forever because fuck, it’s amazing, I want to come, too. I want to come with her pretty face in my mind’s eye.
So I let go, giving in. The rush hits me all at once, like a wave with the power to knock me down and pull me under into sweet, blissful darkness. Cum coats my fist and is washed away, but more replaces it in spurt after spurt until my balls are drained, and my body actually feels a little weak. My ears are ringing, andmy heart is racing out of control by the time I slump against the cool tile wall. I’m breathless. I’m wiped out.
Holy fuck. Never, ever since I first discovered what my dick was for have I ever come that hard. Until it was almost a little scary. Like I broke something.
It can’t be because I was thinking of her. Can it?
Who am I kidding? It had to be. She’s the only thing that’s different from any of the other hundreds of times I’ve jerked off. I fucked my fist to the thought of her and came like a goddamn geyser.
And I don’t know what it means.
Chapter 6
Tamson
“Why is this happening?”
There is nobody in my bedroom to answer that question. Nobody to hear the anxious tremble in my voice. Nobody sees the tears filling my eyes and threatening to fall.
I’ve only been awake for half an hour, but it’s been the longest half hour ever. I’m pretty sure I have experienced every human emotion since I woke up, then picked up my phone to scroll through some social media stuff for a while. My way of slowly getting into the day.
It was weird when I found that I was logged out of my accounts, since I never log out. I figured it was an app update thing, no big deal.
Things got a little worse when my passwords didn’t work.
And by the time I requested reset links that never made it to my inbox, my heart was starting to pound.
Now I look back at the bed, where I left the phone once I got up to try on my desktop. I don’t know what that was supposedto accomplish. I guess I was still trying to tell myself there was something wrong with the phone. The way you flail around sometimes when the situation doesn’t make sense and you have to add everything together.
A fresh wave of bitter tears sting behind my eyes and threaten to come rolling down my cheeks while I stare helplessly at the computer screen. Why? Why can’t I log into my damn accounts? Why can’t I reset my passwords?
I mean, it’s pretty easy to figure out. Somebody hacked me. I understand the logistics of it.
I don’t understand why.
Just like I don’t understand why, after I created a dummy account just for the sake of logging in and seeing if there’s anything up with my page, I found the most heinous, vile meme imaginable. A meme featuring my face, dead center.
That awful, ugly picture! The thought of it makes me gag on hot, acrid bile. How is there a photo of me kneeling in front of a guy with his dick in my hand? I know it’s not real. I’ve never done anything like that, for starters. I’ve never touched a dick, much less smiled while somebody took a picture. But whoever set it up did a disgustingly good job of making it look real. Who has that kind of time?
And why me, dammit? Maybe I’m focusing on the question more than I should but it’s sort of important. Why? I’ve never done anything to hurt anybody. I don’t even know that many people. I don’t have any real friends, since having to pretend to be happy and normal for more than maybe an hour at a time—if that—is absolutely exhausting. Nobody wants to hang out with the girlwho is always feeling down. I never learned how to be like the rest of them, and at this point in my life, I doubt I ever will.
In other words, my social circle is more like a pinpoint. There is, like, no opportunity for me to hurt or offend anybody when I never talk to anybody.
But still, there are people at school going out of their way to do this. That’s who it has to be, right? Like that vile girl who tripped me in the cafeteria—Tiana something, I think is her name. And not a single person came to my defense. Even the ones who didn’t laugh just sat there and did nothing, said nothing.
How am I supposed to win when I have no allies?
