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Vapid And Aimless

Summary:

Sometimes, I think of my mistakes.

Notes:

author is horny, sad, and desperately wants bottom growth.

Work Text:

Running my hands down my body, my breath catches in my throat. This is the third time today that I let myself think too much. Too long.

I can't help but mentally slap myself, tears welling up in my eyes as I lie face-down in the middle of my bed.

My thighs squeeze together pathetically, attempting to ease the nagging pressure between them. My pants don't feel tight enough.

Damnit, I sound dumb.

Every guy's biggest fear is getting hard in public. Why do I envy that so badly.?

I try to push that thought aside, but it keeps coming back up, clogging my throat with a lump, and making my eyes well up with tears. I try to shift my packer so it forms a visible bulge, but the socks won't stay up. I bite my lip, clenching my jaw as my chest tightens.

Involuntarily, my hand reaches up to grasp my sternum, but the two..things.- on my torso, make the lump grow worse.

Fuck, no wonder he liked him more. My mind drifts back to the pictures I sent to my now-ex boyfriend a little less than a year ago. Filthy, dirty secrets I kept with me since those nights. Pictures of my pillow stuffed between my thighs, pictures of my left hand grasping my packer as my right held my phone steady-

..I never really saw anything in him. And I knew I didn't. I try to think back on how his lips felt against mine. Attempt to think back on how his hands oh-so sweetly caressed my sides, how it felt when I carved his name onto my thigh with some stupid little pair of scissors.-

..But I can't help but remember, that I had felt nothing. I did it, purely because I felt like I needed someone to rely on. 

That fucker never even sent anything back, and the letter O is still there. Faint, but there.

"..."

Pushing that thought away into a quieter part of my mind, my hand slipped into my sweatpants, running along my scarred upper legs, before settling beneath my boxers.

My brows furrow as I open an incognito tab on my phone, connecting my earbuds. Just a quickie, only to get my mind off of it.

I can't help but notice how the guy in the video relieves himself, giving his t-dick short, soft strokes and jerks. An impressive three inches, at least.

My stomach pools as I notice my inability to do the same, only being able to rub circles onto my pathetic fucking nub.

Is it bad to envy someone who most likely struggled with the same issues you struggle with? Is that selfish.?

Burying my face into my pillow, my fingers move faster, trying to block out the thoughts of my past failures.

I got rejected by a girl merely a few months ago. I stopped liking her the second after. Did I blow my chances at even just being friends..? She was cool. Hell, it's why she became my hallway crush. But, still, why the fuck would she have been into me??

My breathing comes out labored as the knot in my stomach tightens, and I shove my phone screen-down next to me. I can't help but rip my hand out of my pants, biting the inside of my cheek.

 

...

 

Fuck.