Corrupt Me

I spent a very long and lonely weekend at home. I barely left my room for the entire two days, and when I did, I made sure to avoid my mother at all costs. I was so annoyed at her. I wanted to see my boyfriend. I wanted to talk to my friends. I wanted to be able to do something. But no, I couldn’t do anything that involved technology or friends or going out anywhere. I actually ended up almost finishing our biology project, I was that bored. And let me tell you, trying to draw penises and testicles on a large scale onto a piece of cardboard is really uncomfortable, especially in a houseful of sisters who don’t know the meaning of a closed door and open said closed door without knocking. Even several hours after it happened, I still blushed at the fact that Elise caught me staring intently at a cross-section picture of a penis in one of the library books Angel and I borrowed, trying to figure out how to draw it. She’d crept up on me while I was concentrating, and I only realised that she was there because she snorted in my ear.

I’d jumped, and she’d laughed at me. “Wow, Micah, you make out with one guy and suddenly you’re obsessed with dick!” she whispered to me.
“I am not!” I whispered back, “It’s for a stupid biology assignment, alright?”
“Whatever you say, Mics, whatever you say. By the way, how is that guy we rescued? Angel, right?”
“Um… yeah. He’s… he’s good. Um… yeah, good,” I managed to stutter out, going bright red.
She considered me for a moment. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Y-yes?” It came out like a question.
“You do,” she said definitively. “I can tell. You two should go out.” Then she smiled at me, squeezed my shoulder briefly, and left. It took me a few moments to register what she said, and then I smiled to myself, knowing that just the day before I had already taken her advice. It’s odd how different I feel after saying ‘yes’ to Angel asking me out than to when Isabelle did. I actually feel kind of giddy and excited this time, whereas I was nervous and confused before. Strange how much someone can change just because of the person they are dating.

Before I knew it, I had been daydreaming for over an hour, and nothing else had been done on the assessment since Elise had come in. With a sigh, I began to pack up the books and art supplies, knowing that there was no way I would be able to concentrate on finishing my diagram. I was proud of myself for finishing every other aspect of the assessment, though. I thought that maybe I could make Angel do the drawing instead, because I can’t draw for anything.

Once everything was away, I threw myself down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering what Angel was doing. Probably something much more interesting than what I was doing, that would be for sure. I wish I had the freedom he does. He gets to do whatever he wants, go wherever he pleases, and with whoever. I have to go through the Spanish Inquisition before I’m aloud to go anywhere and as for friends, my parents have to know everything about them and their parents before I’m aloud to spend any time with someone. I’m surprised my mother was so accepting of Isabelle so quickly. But then, I suppose a cute, Christian girl with a pastor for a father wanting to date your only son would be a cause for celebration for my mother. That’s really all she’s wanted for me, after all. Ha! If she found out that I’d dumped her perfect match for me for someone the exact opposite she’d probably have a mental breakdown or something. It would serve her right.

My pondering eventually turned into sleep, and I’m embarrassed to say that when I woke up early on Sunday morning, there was an uncomfortable result of a very erotic dream in my pants. I was still wearing the jeans from the day before so thankfully it wasn’t too obvious, but it was still there, and no matter what I tried to think about, it wouldn’t disappear. I groaned, and tried to will it away. That did absolutely nothing. I had to do something. It just refused to go away.

With another groan, I dragged myself off my bed and peeked out into the hallway, making sure that there was nobody around. I hadn’t had a shower the day before, so I had the bright idea that I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. That, or the relaxing shower will make my problem go away. Once I made it to the bathroom without meeting anyone and finding the bathroom thankfully empty as well, I made sure to lock the door behind me, and proceeded to undress myself. As I took off my underwear, I watched as my… um… thing sprang free and stood proudly upright. My cheeks flushed red. This was all entirely new to me, and embarrassing as hell.

“Fuck off,” I whispered to it. That did as much good as telling my eyes to stop blinking or my nose to stop smelling. It did nothing.

I sighed, and turned on the shower, trying to ignore what was going on in my nether region. I stepped under the warm water when it was up to temperature, and immediately felt more relaxed. I washed my hair and body slowly and thoroughly, hoping that in doing so, my problem would go away. But once I’d spent about fifteen minutes showering and there not being much change down there, I had to succumb to the fact that I had to actually do something about it.

Feeling more awkward than I ever had in my life, I slowly reached my hand down and around myself. My breath hitched in my throat at the contact. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but I figured that if it felt good, I was doing it right. I began to move my hand up and down, and God, it felt amazing. I imagined that someone else (Angel) was doing it for me, and that made it feel even better. I picked up my pace little by little and let my head rest against the shower wall, letting the pleasure continue to build, until I was overloaded with lust and I was sent into a dizzying high while quietly groaning my boyfriend’s name.

I let my whole body slump against the shower wall for a few minutes while I waited for my head to stop spinning and my legs to remember to hold me again. Once I regained control of my body, I took a curious glance down, to find that everything was back to normal again. I sighed in relief, and turned off the shower. I stepped out and grabbed my towel. As I began to dry myself, my thoughts wandered. I’d always been taught that what I had just done was dirty and wrong and that only sinners did it, but how could something so exhilarating be so bad? As long as it’s not hurting anyone else, what’s the problem? I’m not going to turn around and start doing it twice a day, but what’s the harm if someone does it every once in a while? There’s no harm, as far as I can tell.

***

I spent the rest of Sunday switching between being embarrassed as hell and feeling euphoric. I spent most of my time in the family room trying to read a book that I picked up from the family bookshelf, but my thoughts never stayed on the pages for long. I think my sisters caught an elated smile a few times, and probably thought I was crazy, since I was reading a Stephen King book, but I didn’t really care too much. It was only when my thoughts turned slightly negative and my cheeks burned that there was really a problem. A small part of me kept thinking that maybe I shouldn’t have touched myself the way that I did, but the larger and slightly more dominant part kept reminding me of how amazing it felt and that it’s a perfectly normal part of being human and that I probably would have gone crazy trying to think it away if I didn’t fix it manually.

It’s funny, before I met Angel, I’d never in my life had that sort of problem, and I certainly never would have considered fixing it myself if I had. He’s changing me so much, and I don’t think he realises it most of the time. I kind of like that, actually.

I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face, wanting desperately for it to be morning so I could see Angel’s face and talk to him again. Thankfully, there was no repeat of Sunday morning when I woke up to my alarm clock buzzing obnoxiously on Monday.