The sound of a door slamming downstairs reverberates through the house. It appears at least one of my new housemates is home. I know I should go down and introduce myself, but after the day I’ve had so far, all I want to do is sleep and hopefully dream about my stress-free life by the sea in Maine.

When I wake up, it’s dark and my stomach is growling with hunger. I have no idea what time the cafeteria serves food until, but judging by my internal body clock, it’s late, or perhaps early. Grabbing my cell phone from where I set it to charge on the bedside cabinet, I check the time.

Two thirty a.m. Fuck, I’ve slept for like eleven hours, that’s one hell of a nap. Blinking awake, I let my eyes roam over the unfamiliar room. There’s a faint woody scent that’s vaguely familiar but I can’t quite place it. I’m beneath the covers, but I remember falling asleep on top of them, I must have gotten cold at some point during my epic nap and got into bed properly

My bladder protests and I slowly climb out of bed and pad to the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on and instead just fumbling about in the dark. My clothes are clinging to me and my skin feels clammy, so I turn on the shower, quickly strip, and step beneath the warm stream of water. There’s something about showering in the darkness that’s oddly therapeutic and I sigh, exhaling. I don’t remember my dream, but the pulsing between my thighs says it must have been a dirty one. It’s a myth that women don’t have wet dreams, we do, we just wake up hot and bothered, not in a puddle of our own jizz.

Deciding to relieve a little of the tension my dirty fantasy has left behind, I slip my fingers between my thighs and run them through my slippery folds. My clit is a little swollen and I shudder as I rub my fingertip over the sensitive ball of nerves. Thanks to my entanglement with Sebastian, I’m more than a little gun shy when it comes to guys, hence why I’m still a virgin at almost nineteen. That doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to get myself off. Pushing first one finger, then two into my sex, I slowly start to fuck myself, closing my eyes and relaxing into the pleasure I’m causing.

An unwanted image of Sebastian touching me like this flashes into my mind and I try to force it away, but instead I remember the way it felt when he pinched my nipples, rubbed my clit and made me beg him to make me come. Even years later, it’s still him that makes my sex heat and pulse with desire. I’ve tried to push his image away, but no matter what I do, when my eyes are closed and I’m touching myself, it’s only him I see.

My legs buckle and my body jerks as I come on a pained cry, feeling his touch, the heat of his lips on my neck. I’ve tried watching porn, tried imagining someone else in his place, but in the end the thing that tips me into ecstasy is always him.