62

I extended my brain’s rain check, pulled the hardest throw pillow we had under my belly and parked my cock between it and the mattress, my eyes nailed to my phone.

I never expected it to be arousing, but it was. I watched what I was doing, and at the same time, I felt what I was seeing. I gave in to this new private little game, watching and feeling myself play it. Still not fully awake, I didn’t even bother to come in my fist, too comfy with my arms around my pillow, where I sank my face for that blessed blinding moment of absolute oblivion.

“Nice.”

For a moment, I thought I was still sleeping, and I was hearing Big Ellie speak to me in a dream.

“That would spice up the most boring meeting. Thanks for the call.”

I didn’t move, keeping my face against the pillow when it caught fire, so bad my ears burned, as I grasped what had actually happened: in my numb sleepy state, instead of recording, I’d just facetimed the whole thing to the last number in my calls log. I should’ve felt gratef