I pointed to my neck to indicate the dark oval bruises dotting her collarbone and jugular. She glanced down trying to assess the damage what's-his-name may have inflicted.
I smirked and shook my head. The nightlife was never lost on Miranda. She stumbled to her room to sleep off the rest of her adventures that I was sure I would hear all about tomorrow, granted she remembered them.
Miranda and I had become fast friends our freshman year. In that awkward uncomfortable sea of feeling over confident to finally be a college student and also woefully overwhelmed and self conscious, finding out that Miranda and I both danced growing up was all the glue our friendship needed in the beginning. We bonded over long nights of late night milkshake runs and swapping horror stories of forgetting dance steps on stage and crazed teachers swearing they would chop our toes off if we didn't point them. When the opportunity to move off campus together came, we took it.
Once my tea was made, I brought it, and my tired self, back to my room. I peeled off my purple tank before pulling off my shorts. I hadn't slept clothed in years. It was fall, but in southern California, that didn't mean much. I switched off the lamp on the desk by my bed and laid down. I pulled my soft duvet over my naked body and lay on my back for just a moment. A familiar itch that I had gotten good at suppressing throughout the day surfaced in my body. The feeling that began to kindle in my core began to spark and flame as my mind wandered back through all the stories I had read and the videos I'd seen. As my hand began to wander down my body, I dwelled on a familiar scene I had read over and over again online. In my mind's eyes I could see a handsome, muscular man behind a woman with her legs splayed. He had her wrists tied in front of her on the bed, and she was bent at the waist. I imagined how he roughly grasps her hips as he thrusts into her wet pussy. I imagine him reaching up her body and grasping a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, and making her scream. As my mind indulged in these thoughts, I began to slowly rub my damp pussy. I could feel myself getting wetter as I rubbed.
I picked up my pace, running my fingers through my wet folds. I ran my other hand down to my breast. I kneaded the soft mound in my hand as I slowly began to press my fingers into my tight slit. I stifled a moan as I pressed two fingers all the way into my dripping pussy. I let out a sigh of pure pleasure as I gently pinched my nipple and began to press against my g-spot. The aching flame inside of me was at a full blaze now as I continued to imagine scenes of rough, hair pulling, neck biting sex. I pinched my nipples a bit harder, my fingers now thrusting in and out of me. I could feel my tight walls clenching around my fingers as I got closer and closer to climaxing. With a final thrust all the way into my now soaked sex, my back arched, and I came with abandon. Finally sated, sleep began to creep into my vision. My tired eyes consumed me as my body lay in the afterglow.
I woke up with a start. My breath was heavy and sweat dampened my brow. I chewed my cheeks to relieve my extreme case of cotton mouth as my eyes fell on my window. The moon was high, and the city slept. I rubbed my eyes for a moment, debating. Could I fall back to sleep? The nightmare I'd become all too familiar with had settled in my subconscious again. I looked around my room focusing on anything else but the tendrils of memory slowly slipping away.
I sighed before swinging my legs off the side of the bed. Sleep would not be an option right now. I'd had so much trouble sleeping lately; I constantly felt watched. I always felt like I wasn't alone. Nightmares had plagued me for months now, and I went to bed nearly expecting them. Strange houses, large mazes, horrifying monsters, and dark faced men. These were all my companions after I closed my eyes. I was annoyed at this point. Nightmares as an adult felt not only terrifying, but downright embarrassing.
I drug myself out of bed and pulled on my running shorts and a sports bra. I grabbed my tennis shoes as I walked out into the kitchen. Glancing at the illuminated stove clock before I left I saw it was nearly 5. My classes would be rough today, but running always made me feel grounded. I strode out into the warm, but breezy, California night and took up a slow jog; a short run would exhaust me enough to get a couple more hours of sleep later. I loved being out when the rest of the world slept, nobody was expecting anything from me, I didn't have to be anywhere, every moment mine.
I ran down a side road past my apartment and passed a slew of cookie cutter houses with minor variations between them. All trying to prove their individuality in a sea of conformity. There were clouds over the moon, and I heard nothing but the sound of my breath getting heavier as I ran. I saw no one, not that I expected to. A low rush of wind passed me and made the hairs on my arms stand straight up. The quiet suburb I ran through let off to a connector road between two
