You shove a hand under your mattress to collect one of your old mags. It's been a while since you've spent some quality time with your right hand, and you figure it's high time for a reunion.

You prop up your pillows and get comfortable. You flip a few pages, trying to find a choice piece of ass to aid you. Only the finest for you and your tainted desires.

You find one and admire the girl on the page. Big brown eyes, fiery red hair, and rockin' curves. Perfect.

You set the magazine down next to you and lean back against your pillows. You draw down your zipper and pull yourself out, hissing at the cold touch of your own fingers. You stare down at the model for a few more moments before letting your eyes fall shut.

Your mind starts to conjure all the things you'd do to her, and you bite your lip as you start to stroke yourself. You're consumed with thoughts of her full, supple breasts and her luscious, painted-red lips. You think about her—

This isn't working. You know it's not working, so you sigh your frustration and roll your eyes open. You look back down at the magazine and throw through a few more pages.

When nothing you see fits your mood, you groan and fall back against your pillows. You're frustrated, clearly, but you know what you need. Only you know, not the magazine.

You try to relax and get comfortable again. You start to pump yourself again, slow, your fist lazy. You need to focus, get yourself to come up with something appropriate. Something you want – need. Yeah, you need it so badly, so fucking badly.

You bite into your lip again and your eyebrows push together as you try to conjure the perfect image.

Suddenly your door slams open and you jerk into a sitting position. Your room is dark and you realize that whoever opened your door has turned off your lights. You can't see who it is.

You take up the porn magazine to try looking preoccupied to cover up the fact that you're dick is out and you're hard.

The other person approaches and you look up and still can't make out their face. You can't even quite tell if it's a man or a woman.

They take your magazine and toss it on the ground. "Forget that shit," they say, and your heart skips a beat as they crawl onto the bed, over you. "Just use me instead."

You recognize that voice. You know that voice.

He leans in close, his eyes intense as he stares into yours. You can finally make out his features.

"Craig?" you ask, but your voice comes out small, cracked. You can't believe what you're seeing. But his body is touching yours and your pulse is racing and you're still hard.

You watch his eyes slip shut as he leans in to kiss you, and your heart stutters again. You bring a hesitant hand up to his chest to push him away but you notice that he's not wearing any clothing.

Your skepticism is only slightly louder than your arousal and you manage the coherence to ask, "Are you high?" His mouth soon finds your neck and you give a small shameless moan as you lean into his tongue, his teeth.

"Just take off your fucking pants," he mumbles against your neck. His hands soon find your jeans and then they're sliding off your hips. Your pulse throbs and you can almost already feel him touching you. Your bottom half is naked in a matter of seconds and you're sure he's left you several pretty purple marks around your neck.

You're already near writhing beneath him and he hasn't even touched you yet. You're going to be driven fucking mad at this rate.

"C-Craig, just fucking touch me already," you breathe out. You're ashamed of your stutter, the lack in control of your breathing, but that's just the affect he has on you. You wonder if he knows just how much power he has over you.

You can feel him smirking against your bruised neck and moments later there's a firm fist wrapped around your aching cock. You feel his fingers flex and it makes you shudder. You let out a satisfied moan, hoping to encourage him further.

He starts off strong, giving you just what you need, pumping you quickly. You arch into him and your bodies press together, which only further excites you. You love the closeness.

His hand slows, and you whine against his ear, pressing even still against him. He shushes you with a chuckle and you're embarrassed that you're so eager to have him on you. Normally you'd be the one in his position, but you just can't with him. He fills you with this overwhelming desire to submit, and so you do.

He drags his hot tongue down your chest, and you can already see where this is going. If possible, you grow even more excited. Before you can fully anticipate what's going to happen, his lips are wrapped around you and all you can manage to do is sigh.

He works his tongue along your shaft and teases you in all the right ways. He sucks hard and it's impressive how far he can take you in. It makes your fucking toes curl.

You can barely control yourself as you squirm beneath him, keening and whining and moaning. You hope you're being quiet – at least quiet enough that Karen won't hear.

The more he works you, the longer his mouth is wrapped around your dick so deliciously, the closer you can feel yourself getting to your end. It isn't long before the tension inside you releases and you're left panting and boneless on our back.

You laze in your glory for a moment, enjoying the high that comes post-orgasm. You notice though, that you no longer feel Craig on the bed.

You crack your eyes open and instantly shut them again as the bright light of your bedroom invades your pleasant darkness. You blink them back open and realize that you're alone in your room, and also that you have soiled sheets.

Goddamnit, not again.

Sooo… sometimes I write you guys porn still, I hope you haven't forgotten about me yet. D;