Pleasure yourself

From Create Your Own Story

The figments of dream gather in a precise picture and your heart flutters as a blush creeps on your cheeks while you pull the skin down over your glands with a stroke of your hand.

Ron, laying atop his bed... you remember the way his arm moved, as if underwater. There was a sort of gravitas to every moment your father made. You remember the lush head of his cock peeking out from his fist. And, after, your father's toes curled against the bedpost as...

The door creaks.

"Is anyone he-" John stops mid-sentence as your eyes lock.

Cover yourself

Stare back at John