What the hell kind of fucked up dream was that? First I’m making love to my wife and then somehow I end up fucking Quinn.
I throw back the covers on my bed and hit the shower, a cold shower, but the freezing water that cascades over me does nothing for the raging erection that’s still throbbing painfully from that fucking dream.
I stand under the water, an arm braced against the cool shower wall while I jerk myself off like some pubescent teenage boy after watching porn, but it’s not porn that I’m thinking about while I pump my dick in my fist. It’s her.
Quinn.
Her name slips past my lips as my release sneaks up on me fast. I was already teetering on the edge in my dream, so it’s not long before I’m coming.
A deep groan rips through me as my cum splatters against the tiles, my fist continuing to pump, wringing out the last of my release.
I rest my head against the tiles and wait for my breathing to slow. I watch as the water washes away all evidence of what I’ve just done.
I feel dirty.
Disgusting.
I just jerked off while thinking of my student.
Mynineteen year-oldstudent.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
∞∞∞
Later that afternoon, I get home from work and the sound of laughter filters in through the living room. I set my bag down and head in. Logan is sat on the couch beside his mom, his andGrace’smom and I stop dead in my tracks, guilt and sadness tugging at my insides.
Her eyes drift up to catch mine and she smiles warmly. “Hello, Dwight.”
I clear my throat, swallowing around the lump. “Pamela.”
She rises from the couch and makes her way over to me, pulling me into her arms. She’s short, so I have to bend, but I hug her back and the feeling that washes through me is mixed with both guilt and relief. “How are you, Dwight?”
“I’m alright. Yourself?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I was happy?”
“Yes. You look incredible. Logan told me about the new man in your life.”
She grins. “Lawrence is wonderful.”
“I’m happy for you.”
Somewhere along the line, Logan leaves Pamela and I to our small talk, though we both know we’re dancing around the elephant in the room, and rather drag this out longer than needed, I go for it.
“Pamela, I’m so sorry,” I begin. “Sorry for everything. I’m sorry for failing her when we were married, and failing you when I left without a word, I just didn’t know how to handle it. I had no idea how to face you at that funeral, or allow my family to support me, so I took the coward’s way out. I-”
“Dwight,” she cuts me off, with a hand on my forearm. “You don’t have to apologise to me or for anything. Sure, it hurt when you left, but I get it. Everyone grieves differently and that’s nothing to apologise for. And don’t for one minute think that you failed Grace, because she was lucky to have you towards the end.”
“But how did I not see it? All the signs were there but I was just too blind to see them, too busy fighting with her.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Dwight. You can’t live your life based on what ifs, you have to put the past to rest, otherwise it’ll eat you up inside.”
I know she’s right, but it’s just so easy to blame myself, to dwell on my past mistakes.
“Anyway, how is everything? Have you… met anyone else?”
“No,” I reply too quickly. “Well, there is someone, but I don’t think it will go anywhere. It’s probably nothing.”
