chapt 21 • A Much Better Lesson

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The water fell over my face, over the tip of my nose down to wash the soap off of my body

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The water fell over my face, over the tip of my nose down to wash the soap off of my body.

It's gotten to a point where touching myself isn't satisfying enough. My self-control was deteriorating slower and slower. As if I were close to finishing just for it to stop and kept leading me on to a painful end.  

Alessio and I have been actually "studying"  for the past two days and it's been killing me.

It's never been easy to deny my sexual urges, simply because I've always given in. But now, it feels like I'm on some sort of sex ban because there's only one person I truly want to fuck and I can't do that because he's is far away from being ready and probably hasn't even seen a pair tits in his life.

I feel like dying now, the image of Alessio's blushing face fills my head if I were to show him my tits for the first time clouds my mind.

It was so easy to think about the dirtiest things to do and show him, and harder to ignore the way I wanted to walk to his room right now and have, loud, hot and wet shower sex with him.

Fuck.

I turn off the water and walk in front of the mirror to study my body. It was obvious my body turned him on and he hadn't seen all of it yet. Clear as day Alessio Rivers liked dirty talk and amounts of praise to acknowledge that he was learning well.

There was no telling when he'd be asking me the four words I've been craving to hear. Four words that would solve all the pain I've been putting my body through.

Trying to clear my head of him, and the thought of him. I found the ruby red journal lying on one of my pillows, the book that hasn't felt the smoothness of the ink of my pen today.

My phone next to it lights up, two blocked numbers show up on the screen.

Both Father and Grandma haven't stopped calling and leaving voicemails since Father's mistress answered the phone last time, I know for a fact it isn't calling to apologize and she's calling to defend him and keep her perfect son-in-law image of him in her mind.

I pick up the journal instead, the first three pages are filled with words I can't say to my mother and how much I wish she was here calling me instead.  The next two are for father, words I've said before, and words he's said that leave dents and holes in my chest. Then to Grandma, asking her questions, wondering how she could treat her daughter as if she was nothing.

Reading over the words, my room grew cold. I close it and put it deep in my closet where the rest of the things I want no one to find hide.

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