35: The Other Man's Touch Part 02

I imagined her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails digging into my back, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper. The memory of her scent filled my nostrils, the way she gasped my name, intensifying the ache in my groin.

My strokes became more desperate, mirroring the frenzied rhythm of our stolen encounters. But my own hand felt clumsy, inadequate compared to the exquisite pressure of her spasming walls, the way she milked me until I was shuddering and gasping for breath. The hot water beat down on my back, a poor substitute for the velveteen folds of her skin pressed against mine.

I squeezed my eyes tighter, focusing on the memory of her climax, the way her body would convulse around me, her cries raw and uninhibited. The image brought me closer, the tension coiling tighter in my gut, but the release felt hollow, a pale imitation of the explosive pleasure she ignited within me. It was a desperate, solitary act, fueled by jealousy and longing, a temporary reprieve from the agonizing reality that she was out there, in the dark, potentially being touched by someone who didn’t know her, didn’t cherish her the way I did. The frustration lingered, a dull ache that only the real, tangible feel of Cecilia could truly satisfy.

Later, the silence of the dorm room was broken by the familiar sound of Julian’s key turning in the lock. My roommate entered, oblivious as always, a small frown creasing his brow, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a troubled confusion.

“Hey, man,” Julian said, tossing his bag onto his bed with a heavy thud. “You seem a bit… tense lately. Everything okay?”

I shrugged. “How was the movie?” I asked, staring pointedly at my phone, feigning disinterest, the lie a pathetic shield against the gnawing jealousy that was eating me alive.

Julian sighed, running a hand through his hair, his usual easy smile absent, replaced by a furrow of confusion that only intensified my simmering rage. “It’s just… Cecilia. I don’t know, man. Things feel… off.” He sat down heavily on his bed. “Remember before my birthday? She was ready, you know? Like, really ready for us to finally fuck. Her hand would grasp around my cock. She’d make the sexiest sounds as I fingered her. And then… nothing. She just… pulled away. It’s like a switch flipped. I don’t get it.”

The thought hit me like a physical blow, a sickening lurch in my gut that sent a wave of nausea crashing over me. Cecilia’s hand, the same hand that had clutched my shoulders as I drove into her, the same fingers that had traced the length of my cock with such exquisite tenderness, now wrapped around another man’s flesh. Julian’s cock. I imagined her soft fingers, the same ones that had explored my body with such innocent curiosity and then such frantic need, now stroking his thick length, the slickness of his arousal coating her skin. The image was a brutal violation, a possessive rage twisting in my chest, constricting my breathing. I pictured her head bent low, her lips, the same lips that had tasted so sweet and desperate on mine, now pressed against his shaft, her breath hot against his skin. The casual intimacy I’d witnessed earlier paled in comparison to this imagined betrayal, this visceral act of her giving herself, her touch, her very essence to another man. My teeth clenched, my jaw aching with the force of my fury, a primal scream trapped in my throat. The possessive beast within me roared, demanding retribution, demanding that her touch, her desire, belonged solely to me.

He shifted, a troubled look clouding his features. “Like tonight at the movies… I tried to massage her shoulder during the previews, you know, maybe even slide them under her shirt, but she just kind of stiffened, shrugged me off. Later, I leaned in to kiss her neck, and she just turned her head away, real quick, like my touch repulsed her. And when I put my hand on her thigh, just trying to… You know… slowly make my way to finger her, she just… she shifted, pulled away. It was like she didn’t even want me to graze her.”

A low growl rumbled in my chest, a primal surge of anger and jealousy at the thought of his clumsy, unwanted touch even attempting to explore the body that had yielded so completely, so passionately, to mine. Julian, lost in his own oblivious frustration, didn’t seem to notice the barely contained fury simmering beneath my forced indifference.

“At first, she seemed okay with me holding her hand, but as the movie wore on, she kept saying she was really interested in what was happening on screen. It was like… she was using the movie as an excuse to avoid me.”

The possessive rage intensified, the image of his hand even near the damp heat I knew so intimately sending a violent tremor through me.

“Do you think… is she stressed about exams or something?” Julian’s innocent question twisted my stomach into a knot, a nauseating mixture of guilt and a perverse thrill at the danger of being caught. His innocent confession was like a physical blow, a stark reminder of my betrayal, and a perverse turn-on, a dangerous dance on the edge of exposure.

I forced myself to meet Julian’s gaze, trying to appear sympathetic, even as my cock stirred at the vivid memory of the secret intimacy I shared with his girlfriend, the way her pulsing depths had enveloped me. “Yeah, man, probably just stress. You know how she gets.” The lie felt like acid on my tongue.

Julian still looked troubled, his confusion a painful reminder of my deception. “But it’s more than that. It’s like… there’s a distance. She’s not… as affectionate. It’s weird. I just… I miss how things were.” He shook his head, a helpless gesture.

Fueled by a toxic mix of possessiveness and guilt, I let slip a subtle, barbed remark, a dangerous game I couldn’t seem to resist, my voice carrying an undercurrent of the secret knowledge I held. “Well, maybe some things are just meant to change, Julian.” My tone was off, carrying an undercurrent of bitterness and a possessive desire that even I didn't fully register, a dangerous hint of the truth that lay beneath the surface, a subtle taunt that made my own skin prickle with anticipation and fear.

Julian looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He seemed to sense the shift in my tone, a subtle negativity that was unusual, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes that made my pulse quicken with a dangerous excitement.

I quickly backtracked, trying to appear nonchalant, the lie a clumsy shield against the truth, even as my body thrummed with the memory of Cecilia’s touch. “Nothing, man. Just… people drift, you know? Relationships evolve.” The lie felt clumsy and unconvincing, the air in the room thick with unspoken tension and the weight of my betrayal, the silence amplifying the heavy thump of my guilt-ridden heart.