I wasn't in a great place mentally at the time. I can admit that now. Marie was all the way in Kansas, we didn't talk as much as we probably should have, and her good Catholic values meant that sending me the kind of material that would have helped me unwind was out of the question. So when the snowstorm hit, and we all lost power, it was never going to end well. My sexual frustration, a lack of quality internet connection and the bottle of apple pie moonshine only hastened my demise.
"It's snowing, but we haven't lost power. Don't get too crazy." I read her text, and shot a quick reply pleading my innocence, and threw on my boots. Erin had invited me and my roommates over to their house to burn the last few hours of daylight of our unplanned vacation. We were all teachers, so the snowstorm meant a snow day in the rural Mississippi town we all worked. The low bridges over the river quickly iced over, and the small county didn't maintain much in the way of salt. Erin and I had gotten close fairly quickly, in a way that felt surprisingly platonic. But she thoroughly enjoyed putting me in situations where my formerly religious nature went to war with my unbridled sexual appetite.
"I'm glad you came over, and I know Courtney is glad too." The last part was said much quieter and only to me. Erin knew I had a soft spot for her roommate, and enjoyed watching my feathers get ruffled too. "Come on, they're in the living room. We already started drinking."
We gathered around their small coffee table, pouring shots of moonshine into small glasses and Mason jars--playing like we weren't a bunch of millennial expats who had come to South to play white savior. As the liquor flowed, I found myself getting much worse at filtering the thoughts that fired off in my brain. I tried to be good, and redirected my energies back into flirty texts with Marie. "We're drinking moonshine. And I keep imagining what I'd do to you if you were here"
"LOL. Have fun." Not the response I was hoping for at all, I put my phone away. I would just get blasted drunk instead, that seemed a better use of my time. I emptied my cup, and challenged Courtney to keep up. She went shot for shot, drink for drink with me as we all swapped stories of ex-partners, risky hookups and poor life choices. The more we talked, the more I realized I needed to get the hell out of there. I needed to get home, jerk off and get my head screwed on straight.
The night waned, and as the realization that we would still be without power dawned on us, I crossed the street and headed back home. Never one to give up on a plan, I resumed my drinking and settled into a night of Pornhub and pleasure. As my hands settled into the rhythm I needed, my mind played the highlights of my conversation with Courtney. I painted pictures in my fantasies of her toned ass, a relic of her days as a college soccer player. I imagined my hands tracing the curves of her body, how good her lips would feel wrapped around me, how I'd grab a fistful of her caramel hair as she begged me for more.
I came hard, shuddering as my muscles spasmed in the aftershocks. Spent, still a little drunk, and still nowhere near satisfied, I walked to the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth to clean myself off. I had scratched the momentary itch, but the larger desire still remained. I grabbed my phone and opened Messenger. There her name sat "Courtney Stark", with the little green dot that showed she too was online. I sent some stupid little comment.
"Too drunk to sleep too?"
"Haha no. Too horny."
Fuck. This was the point when I should have backed down, should have realized I was in over my head. But I was drunk, horny and arrogant.
"Come over. I can take care of that."
