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CHAPTER THREE

1

It was Friday night. The autumn wind was battering the window of our living room. Jill was downing half a bottle of wine to herself, avoiding the subject of our planned visit to Gary's house in 24 hours time.

"I know you're masturbating at night," she began, smiling through the effects of the alcohol, "it's obvious."

I said nothing.

"What a shame you have a fiancée who won't attend to your needs, Matt." She giggled. "That you need to sneak downstairs to play with yourself when you think she's asleep." Jill was wearing a short skirt and adjusted herself so her panties were just visible. "What a shame she's too consumed with thoughts of another man's cock to see to yours."

I squirmed in my seat.

"Are you hard now, baby?"

"No," I lied. ...

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