Ness felt a wave of panic wash over him. There was no reason why he would have pulled away at the last second. Every agonizing spurt of his denied pleasure was simultaneously torture but an affirmation to him; his subconscious telling him "good girl" with every second his hand was away. He was just a passenger, allowing himself to be ferried to dissatisfaction.
Ness looked at the time, he realized his sister would be home from work soon. He began to take the silky clothes off, as he got up from the bed, he'd better put it all away before she got back.
Ness and his sister Jane, had been living together for 6 months. After a bad breakup with her boyfriend, Ness didn't hesitate to offer her a place to stay. It was a great deal for Ness, even when they were at school he remembered he never got any shit from anyone. Being a feminine guy would have been impossible for most kids, but almost as soon as the slurs and abuse started, Jane put an end to it. "Only I get to pick on my brother" she'd say.
Ness loved Jane but he never stood a chance against her physically. Any kind of confrontation between the two of them would always end up with Jane on top. She could pin Ness down in a heartbeat, tickling him into submission, he'd hated this, but thank God he wasn't really fighting her.
He put the nightie away in his sister's wardrobe and replaced it with a pair of his lounge pants. He went to the kitchen to get some water.
"Did any of that really just happen?"
Ness took a sip from the glass, it was already helping to clear his head.
"Maybe I was just getting too into it, I mean it was kinda hot." He scratched his bare chin, looking out the window. He still felt so horny, it was as though he'd only taken the edge off of his lust, it was still there in full.
"Fuck, I still need to bust fully, I can probably sneak a cheeky one in before Jane gets back." He put the glass down on the kitchen top and smirked, this time it's personal, he marched back to the bedroom, a soldier ready for battle.
He started to stroke again, a bit like pulling rope this time, but it didn't matter, this wasn't about the pleasure, it was about the principle. He had to get the full nut. "Please God don't make me message that creep".
As he was stroking he realized whispers fading in and out. The words swirled wearily in his head, not quite in focus, only in the peripherals of his mind, the desire to feel unsatisfied, to stay horny, to ruin again.
