“Where the actual hell is it?” I said aloud, five minutes later. I was almost completely soft and my backside was sore — and not in the good way. I might’ve lost my erection, but mentally, I was still hard as a rock. And I couldn’t come. I couldn’t fucking come.
I cleaned my lubed hand with a tissue and checked the time on my phone with my other hand, and blinked because I thought I was reading it wrong. I’d wasted half the day sleeping and then trying to jerk off.
Fuck’s sake.
I jumped out of bed, shoved on my clothes, washed my hands thoroughly in the bathroom, then headed to the gym. At least there I could burn off my frustration.
Despite remaining at the gym for almost two hours, I didn’t feel any relief. If anything, being surrounded by sweaty toned bodies made things worse. More than once I caught sight of long legs or a broad expanse of back, and my heart leaped into my throat because I thought it might be Taylor.
Once back at the dorm, while rinsing the sweat off my body, I tried to jerk off again. It still didn’t work.
That night, I lay in bed, flat on my stomach, my boner digging into the mattress, my phone screen lighting up the dark room. I typedsex toysinto the search bar.
The first result led me to a website simply titledSex Toys Galore Australia. Hating myself, I clicked on the dildo category. Not that there was anything wrong with buying a dildo. People could do whatever they wanted. I just couldn’t believeIwas buying one.
But I didn’t have any other choice. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get off. As the day had gone on, the more that hunger inside of me grew, and if I was totally honest with myself, I wanted to be filled up, by something bigger than my fingers. I wanted something that would hit that spot inside of me, that spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
I’d never craved it before…
“Motherfucker,” I hissed, thumping a fist against the mattress. Taylor had broken me. He’d broken my ass and that’s why my body was all messed up.
I should march over to his room and demanded he’d compensate me by buying me a dildo of my choice. The thought made me roll my eyes. Yeah right. He’d laugh me out of his room.
Besides, there was no way I could ever give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d messed up my body.
I returned my focus to my phone. Wow. I knew dildos existed, but I’d never paid them much attention before. There were pink ones, purple ones, blue ones…others in various skin colour shades, from very pale to dark brown. Some were a neutral cylindrical shape, others resembled a real penis with detailed veins on the shaft. Then there were others that looked like they belonged to mystical monsters.
Alright, I couldn’t get overwhelmed with choice. I needed something affordable — the prices of some made my jaw drop — and something that would actually work. Not too small, but not too big either.
Thankfully, each product had the length listed. Three inches insertable length…five…seven…
How big was Taylor?
Now, doubly hating myself, I adjusted the filters so I was looking at dildos that were exactly Taylor’s length and girth. I’dhave to hide the toy really well when I got it. If he’d ever found out what I’d done…
Eventually, I found one that seemed good enough. It wasn’t particularly realistic, just a cylinder with a mushroom head, and it was a neutral light blue colour, with a flared suction base. Good. I didn’t want something that looked real. The dildo would simply be a tool. I didn’t want to look at it and imagine the real thing…
The listing said it was made of body safe silicone, and, after hitting the checkout and putting in my shipping address — Room 407, Valentina Hall, Halverton University — the website informed me it would arrive in two business days.
CHAPTER THREE
The Substitute
Your package has been delivered.
As soon as I read the email, I dropped my phone, ditched my toast, and ran out of my room. Taylor was at the kitchenette, making some protein breakfast thing. I ignored his gaze as I shoved on my shoes and left the dorm.
Valentina Hall’s mail room was on the ground floor, with letter boxes for each dorm, and packages of all shapes and sizes left on the floor. I scanned them all until I spotted a label addressed to Archibald Hayes. The box was light, but I heard something slide around inside.
I hurried back to the elevator, and it was only when it opened, revealing a group of girls who stared at me in horror, I realised I hadn’t dressed, wearing hotdog-patterned purple boxers and a grey unzipped hoodie.
By the time I returned back to the dorm, my face was hot, both from embarrassment and tiredness from sprinting down the hallway. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, catching my breath.
“What’s got you so wound up?” Taylor asked, hip propped against the kitchen island. “I haven’t seen you so excited since —” he cut himself off abruptly.
