Ben tried to relax on Friday. He cleaned up some trash, did some laundry, and stocked the fridge. He did mundane tasks, but he found himself getting more wound up as the day went on. Everywhere he looked, another project needed to be done. No matter how productive he had been this week, he was nowhere near done with the house.
It was starting to make him anxious.
He feels stir crazy. He usually wasn't so homebound. Ben wasn't a party guy in nature, but he was a people person. He worked from home, but really, he just needed his computer and the internet. He frequents coffee shops and bookstores, simply enjoying the company of strangers.
This week was a lot of himself and working. He needed to socialize. He needed interaction.
"I need to get laid," he announced to his empty living room.
It said nothing back.
He shivered as a cool breeze blew past him. He must have left a window open.
If Ben was going to go out and hook up, he needed to get ready. He hadn't had a chance yet to unpack all his clothes, but he did put all the boxes in his closet.
With a pep in his step, he headed to his room. But his door wouldn't open. He didn't remember closing his door, and he definitely didn't lock it, but when he turned the handle and pushed, nothing happened.
He put his shoulder into it and pushed the door as he turned the handle.
Nothing.
He checked the wood of the door jam to see if it was swollen, but it looked normal. He tried the door again, jiggling the handle aggressively and shoving himself against the door, but it wasn't budging. He lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face of the sweat that was accumulating. When he dropped it back down, the door was open.
He shrugged. These old houses were so finicky. He found it charming.
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Ben no longer found it charming. After finally getting the door to his room open to find his closet doors stuck! The doors were old, heavy pocket doors. The usually slid open and fit seemllessy into the wall. Now they were stuck. He pushed against the door but didn't have much to work with. He didn't want to break the stupid things.
Ben's good mood had plumeted. Doors were out to get him. He looked down at the outfit he was wearing. The jeans were dirty and had holes. They were jeans he wore when working on the house. His shirt was no better. There was not going out like this. He tried the door one more time before throwing his hands up in defeat.
He would just have to find another way to relax. Ben whipped his shirt off and threw it behind him. The ceiling light flickered. He really needed to call an eletriction.
He shimmied out of his jeans and headed to the bathroom.
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The hot water pounded on Ben's back. He groaned and wrapped his hand tighter around his hard cock.
This was exactly what he needed after working so hard. A nice hot shower and an orgasm.
He ran his thumb over his leaking head and thrust into his hand.
Behind his closed eyes, he pictured his last hook-up. He reached his other hand down to tug at his balls the same way she did while deep-throating him. He twisted his wrist on a downstroke and moaned. She had moaned and squirmed each time he had fucked into her throat. He remembered her riding her own fingers, and she choked on his dick.
His hand moved faster as he chased his orgasm.
He pictured that girl on her knees, frantically getting herself off when he held her head down and came down her throat. Heat pooled in his gut as he remembered the way her throat worked his cock.
He heard the door to his bathroom creak. He opened his eyes but didn't stop his hands. He was so close.
He didn't see anything through the fogged-up doors. He threw his head against the wall, his body tightened up as he came all over his fist with a long groan.
The lights in the bathroom flickered madly.
He thought changing the bulbs would have fixed that. He breathed through his afterglow, the water washing away his release.
He hoped he didn't have to call an electrician.
He pushed off the wall and almost slipped when he saw the glass doors of his shower.
They were all fogged up. All fogged up except for a spot that had been wiped away in a smear and two perfect handprints.
Ben didn't remember touching the door. He held his hands up in comparison.
The handprints were smaller and inverted.
They came from outside the shower.
Well, shit.
His house might be haunted.