Volume Two.

If I remember right, the bathroom window was open. I always loved the fall in Texas.

The breeze that you could feel during the fall there was just awe inspiring. It made you wonder why anyone would ever want to be anywhere else. I could hear its whistle as it made its way into my small bathroom. It created a surreal and calming environment for me.

“Oh...” I snarled as I began what I knew would be one of my best “Bathroom Sessions” ever.

As I stroked my blood filled erection between my legs I heard the television still. At this point the top of my penis was so engorged with blood that it had turned a deep purple in response to my thunderous stroking. Trent was still playing his game with no idea. I kept picturing him staring right at me with his blue eyes with more depth than one’s entire soul. I pictured him holding me tight as he kissed my check and I wrapped my arms around him.

I then moved my arms lower. Until his beautifully shaped butt was in my hands. It was Nirvana; my Nirvana. It was the place of my dreams; his arms. The place that was so unreachable that it might as well have been the closest thing to me. It was.

He kissed my lips and that was all it took after everything else I thought of. I was right. It was most I had came in a very long time. The floor in front of me resembled how it looked that time I spilled shampoo everywhere as my friend Brandon and I had been fighting over who got to use the bathroom first.

I remained leaned against the bathtub and I continued to listen to the wind. The way it made the curtain sway was truly hypnotizing. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as far as I could. I got lost in my hypnotic, calming state. Nothing else in the World was present in my mind. I was truly entranced after blowing my load. Then I began to run my hand down my legs ever so slowly----

“What the fuck!” a voice from the now opened door screamed in disgust.

“Trent! Holy shit! I forgot-I mean-I didn’t…” The bathroom door slammed and I heard his pace quicken. I pulled my pants up and ran out the door as fast as I could force my feet to go in that situation.

“Trent. What the heck dude? Don’t you know how to knock?” I said defensively and rightfully so as he opened the door to his truck.

“You were jacking off in your bathroom, Damon, while I was in your bedroom. What in the Hell is wrong with you?”

“It was just I-It was just –you.” I said. I had uttered ‘you’ before I even realized the gravity of using that subtle little word.

“Damn it!” I said to myself.

I looked at him for a moment during my pause. I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. I feared it would be the last time. I couldn't think of anything more to say – anything that would make any kind of sense at least. So I just walked off without uttering another word hoping to minimize the damage already done. Maybe he didn’t recognize I had said that ‘you’ or maybe he did and wouldn’t think anything of it as I did.

He drove off as I made my way back into my house.

“Bye.” I said more to myself than him.

I could still feel my penis throbbing in my pants, as did my heart in my chest. I peeked into my underwear and as I expected I had made a mess. Funny, because that was the problem I was trying to avoid in the first place. I cleaned the mess in the bathroom, as well in my pants, and got back to strumming my guitar and observing the breeze do battle with my room’s curtains.

They both put up a good fight.

I remained calm in my solidarity, as I often did. It was fake. I was dying on the inside. I don't know why I tried to hide it when I was alone. I couldn’t lie to myself, but that never stopped me from trying.

I went to sleep with so much anxiety. What if Trent spilt what I did in the bathroom when we went back to school on Monday? What if everyone called me a pervert? Or worse, what if he figured out who I was fantasizing about as I masturbated? He wasn’t dumb. He could put two and two together as easily as the next guy.

That would have been the end for me. That thought haunted me all night. There would have been no fighting back from me. I wouldn’t do battle. I couldn't anyway.

I wouldn’t have withstood the humiliation or the depression that would be bound to follow. If that would have come to pass I would have ran and hid until I didn’t even know who I was.

Not that I really knew who I was anyway...I was a sorry excuse for a man sometimes; A man who couldn’t even remember to lock a door when his dick got hard.

I remember just wanting to fall asleep and never waking up again.

After hours of tossing and turning my mind ceased its onslaught of furious thoughts and gave me peace at long last, but only for the time being.

I had forty-eight hours to fix everything. Or else I would be ruined...