please read author's note at the end, love you guys xx
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Walking in on someone jerking off is actually nowhere near as sexy as erotic fiction makes it out to be.
If only I could have warned my past self. If only I could have come bounding out of a Tardis and screamed 'Stop! Don't go in there! You'll throw up your dinner if you witness this!' I would have. I'll be the first person to chip money into the time machine indiegogo.
If only Marty Mcfly could have prevented me from entering my family's guestroom to come across Liam sitting there having his hand around his dick trying to satisfy his sexual needs.
He didn't even notice me at first, too immersed in his laptop, his earbuds tucked into his ears. The room was dark excluding the light from his computer, which illuminated everything.
I kind of just stand there, in silence, trying to figure out what to do. My mouth dries out, and my hand twitches around the doorknob unconsciously.
It's unintentional, but I can't help but take in the image. He's jerking wildly into his fist.
I knew this was not going to end well. This was not porn. He wasn't going to turn to me, smiling cheekily and in a sultry voice mutter "wanna help me finish the job?" and toss a wink my way. Not to mention, jacking off does not look half as sexy as it does on your laptop; Liam was making a weird face and a couple of strained noises.
"Em, hey."
I mentally punch myself for not walking out of the room and letting it go. Instead, I decide to subject this boy to two more weeks of embarrassment every time he sees me.
He yelps and in a blur of movement, has hidden his parts away with a pillow. The slam of his laptop closing rings through my ears as we spend the next few moments staring at each other wide eyed in the darkness.
"Sorry." I wheeze it out like I just broke a vow of silence or gave up on fifteen years of smoking.
A quick 'fucking shit' catches my ear as I close the door behind me.
I stand outside in the hallway, rocking on my feet. Tucking my hands into the pockets of my old high school sweater.
It had been four years since I had spent a summer with my Dad and Mom, or even been back to England. I had packed up to go to America for college and didn't come back until I was done.
One part of me regrets not maintaining any contact with anyone, the other is happy I immersed myself in the experience. After my sister had passed I knew I just needed to be anywhere but home, and that was the opportunity. My parents were heartbroken that I barely kept in contact, but I think they understood; Ella was my best friend.
But I had graduated now, I was wandering aimlessly around with a minimum-wage job, and I only thought about Ella a few times a day. Life is cruel, but then we move on.
I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but I stretched my left arm over and knocked on the door quietly. No need to wake the folks up.
"um," I could hear the rustling of sheets. "Be there in a sec."
I spend another few minutes curling and uncurling my toes, admiring the sparkly green chipping nail polish that adorned each nail.
"Liam, the floor is cold, can you hurr—"
The door clicks open and he peeks his head out, puppy dog eyes staring up at me. He must have shaved before he went to jerk it, because he looked so clean and pretty.
