Finish It! #23: Wet Dreams

She could hear them from far. Him of whom she thought would be her future husband and her. Her best friend. How could she! How could they. Slowly she approached the bedroom door, unsure if she wanted to open it and see what seemed so obvious. If she would walk out now she could pretend. Pretend it was just a dream. Pretend it was just her imagination. Go back to normal. But if she opened this door now and saw what she was expecting to see, there would be no return . . .

The door swung open. Jake was standing right in front of her. His sharp angular jaw was still smooth from the last time she’d caressed him save for a few short hairs he might have missed while shaving. She lowered her gaze to the hypnotizing, curly tufts of hair on his hardened bare chest, and further down to the tight sweatpants he wore without boxers. The noticeable bulge confirmed what she had suspected.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Babe, who is it?” a voice called from within the bedroom.

“Where is she? Where is that home wrecking whore!” She tried to push by him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back into the wall.

Lauren poked her head into the into the hallway, and satin robe slipping down her arm as she held it closed around her chest, barely covering her flat stomach. “Serena? Holy hell! How’d she get out?”

“Call Dr. Canning!” Jake said. He pinned her to the wall with his body. He was still hard. Even while fighting her. Her body relaxed. Instead of kicking, she wrapped her legs around his waist, held him tightly against her, evened her heartbeat with his.

Lauren cupped her hand over the receiver. “Hello, yes? Dr. Canning? . . .  She’s at our house again . . . What do you mean did we change the locks? Beef up your fucking security!”

Serena used her big toe to lower Jakes pants. He let her go to pull them back up, and she dropped to her knees in front of him, yanking his pants down to his ankles, circling her tongue around his inner thigh, slurping at his scrotum.

“She’s crazy! She’s fucking crazy! I haven’t seen her since freshman year in college, and I come home one day, and she’s riding my husband like a fucking bull, while he’s asleep!”

Yes, Jake was a narcoleptic, Serena though has she moved her head back and forth, along the length of him, that’s what made pleasing him so easy. She could sneak in while he was asleep on the couch, hands in pants, the highlights on SportsCenter blaring at him from the television. She was already wet for him, she only needed to rub his crotch. Penises responded to the slightest stimulus. Just a dribble of spit, and it would flick up, erect, ready to enter her. She preferred him asleep. He was a better lover. He didn’t fight her, only filled her with his circumference, releasing his sins into her. As she continued her succulent assault, she felt his body slacken, grow heavy. She smiled. He was falling asleep.

He collapsed on top of her, hanging over her head like a damp towel on a rack. She took a breath for a moment to lay him on his back, licking his unconscious pre-excitement from around her lips. She was about to remove her scrubs when she felt the cool plastic of a cellphone case strike her across the forehead.

“You think I’m just gonna stand here and watch you rape my husband?”

“He isn’t yours. He never was.” His erect penis was beckoning her. It quivered under the draft from the vent above them.

Serena lowered herself on top of him, straddling his lap, but Lauren snatched her up by the ponytail, slung her across the hall into the end table, knocking over a vase.

“You stay away from him, you sick bitch!” She blocked Serena from her advances, hovering over him like a protective mother. Behind her, Jake was beginning to come to, his penis falling limp. “The cops and doctors are already on their way. I hope they drug you up so bad, you don’t even remember your name.”

Fully awake, Jake scrambled to his feet, pulling his sweatpants over his waist, and tying the string so tight it dug into his skin.

“I’m not going back there.” Serena backed away towards the staircase, and her heel slipped on the fallen vase behind her, sending her tumbling head first down to the bottom floor.

“You think she’s dead,” Jake asked peering over the railing at the motionless, contorted body below.

“God, I hope so,” Lauren said.

—Nortina


Written in response to the prompt for Finish! #23.

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