Day 9.
White walls.
The paint is peeling slightly in certain areas of the large cement blocks making up the eerily square walls in my room. It kinda reminds me of my middle school cafeteria, way back before the MMC days. In theory, the memory should conjure up some remote thoughts of happiness, but in all honesty, it just makes me feel like I’m in a prison even more. I’m pretty sure I’ve replayed my entire life at least four times, yet the part where I get to mentally choose to leave this fucking nightmare conveniently never shows up. Fuck me.
Every once in awhile, mostly out of boredom, I’ll reach over from my sedentary spot on the bed to touch the shriveling paint, watching it crumble and leave a chalky dust on the floor. I’m sure when they find it, they’ll bill me some outrageous repainting fee, but it’s the only physical thing that I can do to keep my mind somewhat occupied.
I’ve been trapped in what I like to call “solitary confinement” for almost two days now. You see, I fucked up royally when I got back from my little outing into town. I had been so excited about the girl I had met at the Starbucks that I forgot to throw my cup away. I waltzed my stupid white ass right back in here, cup in hand.
This wouldn’t have been a problem if Nurse Jackie had still been on post at the front desk. Unfortunately, she had been on a lunch break, and there had been a changing of the guard. It was my luck, of course, that I got the most ruthless bitch that was in this place. She saw my Starbucks cup, the inquisition followed, and here I am--stuck in “solitary confinement” for an indefinite period of time. Luckily, I was deft enough to ensure Nurse Jackie didn’t get ratted out and lose her job. I needed to keep her on my good side. Plus, she’s an easy lay if I get desperate.
Anyway, it’s officially day 9 of rehab. I’m not sure if it’s the solitary confinement, or the lack of sexual release from someone other than myself, but I can literally feel myself starting to lose it a little. I know it may seem silly, but it’s true. I’ve only been here an entire week, but not only have I lost my cool at least a half dozen times, but I also can’t get my mind off of Starbucks girl.
Cadence.
Cadence, Cadence, Cadence.
Cay-dense!
I let my head fall back on the pillow with an exasperated sigh. Fuck.
I just see her face, her hair, her laugh. And then I get so hard I can’t stand it, spend 20 minutes jerking off into toilet paper, and then I lay in the middle of my twin bed languidly, wishing there was a warm body I could do something with.
God, she gets me so hot and bothered.
Just as I’m about to reach my hand down for my dick again, the doorbell turns, and there’s a doctor there that I haven’t seen before. It’s a guy, and he looks fairly friendly, although it’s probably because he’s in his mid-40’s and reminds me of a nicer version of House.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Batey. How you feeling, Mr. Timberlake?”r32;
I laugh. “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling. I’ve been in here for only God knows how long. How would you feel?”
“Touche. Well, with that, I’d like to let you know that you’re free for the afternoon to just kind of meander about, get reacquainted with the patients and the doctors, and hopefully we won’t have any more incidents that require us to isolate you again. You understand, right?”
I sighed. Blah, blah, blah. “OF COURSE I do!” I could be a sarcastic prick when I wanted to be.
“Great. Come on...it’s dinner time, and then you’re free until lights out.”
I was so ecstatic that I jumped out of bed and ran out into the hallway. As sad as it was, I was actually looking forward to some food. It wasn’t that good, but it was on a tray that I got to procure, so it was infinitely better than the bag mush they were feeding me in “confinement.”
I sat down at the table after going through line, and was more than happy to be by myself. I really didn’t want to get to know anyone, but since I was at least in the same room as people, it wasn’t as nerve wracking. And perhaps not quite as lonely.
I bowed my head, said a quick word of grace, and moved my nimble fingers to the orange juice carton. I fumbled a bit a few times, but finally was able to pry the two pieces of triangular cardboard apart. Longingly, I tipped the carton to my lips, closing my eyes and enjoying the flavor. When I pulled the carton away, I heard a loud moan.
Startled, I opened my eyes rather quickly and noticed two gay men that had eerily parked themselves uninvited at my table. They were definitely staring at me, and it was definitely uncomfortable.
After regathering my wits, I reached the back of my hand up to wipe my mouth from the sloppy sip I had just taken. Part of me also hoped that it would deter them from thinking I was sexy. I might be horny, but I certainly wasn’t about to let some crazy asshole find a way to pound himself into mine.
“Uh, can I help you?” I asked.
“Mmmhmm, you sure can, honey.” A very small, Italian looking man that was completely unattractive responds. He kinda reminds me of The Situation from the Jersey Shore. Except gay. Very gay. Well, moreso than that guy, anyway.
“Well, keep dreaming. I don’t swing that way, and you’re not my type. You can see yourselves to a new table...” I finished defiantly, focusing on my orange juice again before preparing my meal for consumption.
“Eh. Davey, you hear the way he’s talkin’ to me?”
“Yeah, little sissy boy over here thinks he’s too good for us, Jonesey.”
I just rolled my eyes. “I am.”
“Woah, woah, woah. You’d better watch what you’re saying around here. We run this place. You hear me? What we say goes, and if you’re not careful, we’re going to have prime access to that prissy little ass of yours.” The man I assume was named Jonesy/aka The Situation! replied, in a very hostile tone.r32;
“My ass doesn’t go anywhere I don’t tell it to go, so let’s just get that straight.”
The two men just laughed at me, and I wanted to fucking kill both of them. Davey was a little scary looking. He was one of those big ass security guard type guys that was a closet freak and dressed in drag on Sunday nights at the local lesbian bar. I didn’t really want to fuck with him, but I certainly wasn’t going to allow myself to be entered into some sex rehab bullying situation. I needed to stand my ground, even if it meant breaking another rib.
I was about to stand up when I felt another presence next to me. A tray clicked against the wood table, and I turned my head to see another man joining the table. I suddenly felt very anxious, and really wasn’t liking the way this situation seemed to be unfolding.
“Leave the new blood alone. Get the fuck out of here, you fucking gay ass trash. No one wants you, or wants to fuck you. Skedaddle!” he nodded carelessly.
Whew. My heart rate slowly started going back to normal, and the testosterone was starting to even out a little. I was ready to rumble, but was infinitely glad that it didn’t seem like it was going to be necessary. It was better anyway, because if I did get into a fight, I would most certainly end back up in solitary confinement. And let’s be honest, we all know I don’t need any more of that fucking punishment.
“Thanks,” I offered, once the two men scattered.
“No problem. Those two are douches. They watch way too many reality shows, and try to scare each new guy into fucking them. It’s the only way they get laid in this joint. I just thought I’d save you some trouble.”
I nodded and thanked him cordially. “Thanks man, I appreciate it. What’s your name?”r32;
“Jake.” I watched him smile, and he had this thing about him. I could tell he would be a cool dude, and it felt kind of good to feel like I had someone on the inside with me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to go through this painfully alone.
“Nice to meet you. Justin,” I offered. I reached my palm out to shake his, and was surprised by how firm his grip was. He wasn’t a skinny dude, but his frame was small. He was muscular---kinda built like a soccer player, although his muscles were a bit understated. “How long have you been in here?”
“Oh, you know. Almost two months now.”
“Holy shit, two months! I thought this was supposed to be over in a month.” I could feel my heart starting to pound again at the prospect of being stuck here longer than necessary. If I didn’t have a heart attack before, I was surely about to have one now.
“Yeah, well. I don’t know many people that get out of here before six months. You’re lucky if you do, that’s for sure,” he nodded.
Shit.
“Fuck me.”
“Yeah, right?” Jake laughed. “You kind of get used to it after a while.”
“You do?” I asked. I lifted my head to look around at all of the men wearing white. They obviously separated the women from the men during most social times, which made it even more awkward for everyone. The entire dining room was built with glass, so that you could see the hallways with people coming in and out. Somehow, it was supposed to make you feel like you were “part of a living organism,” instead of rehab. I call bullshit.
“Yeah. I mean, I know it looks...clinical, but you really do kinda get used to it, I guess. Just kinda get numb to the glass and the white everywhere after awhile.”
Hmm. “Well, still waiting for that to kick in, I guess.” I nodded again and looked around. I watched a group of young children pass through the hallway corridor between the male dining room and the toy room. “They let kids in here?” I asked, confused.
“Oh, yeah. This building is shared with a kids hospital--you know, the kids with cancer?”
That’s odd. A kid’s cancer hospital sharing space with a sex rehab clinic? That just screams disaster.
“I know it’s weird, but the old hospital burnt down a few months ago. They’re here temporarily until they get the new hospital built again, I guess. And they’ve temporarily not allowed any pedophiles in, I guess.”r32;r32;“Oh, that makes sense,” I laugh a little, although it came out slightly awkward. I watch as the line of children finishes passing through the glass hallway next to the dining room, and then I see a woman. She was tall, had legs for days, and as I allowed my eyes to travel up her chest, I notice a familiar sweater. It was the same sweater that the girl from Starbucks had. My eyes raced up to her face, and as soon as I saw her eyes, I knew it was her. I shake my head to make sure I’m not imagining things, since I have been daydreaming about her for three days now, but it definitely looks like her. Cadence. Starbucks.
Cadence!
Am I hallucinating? Seriously, I have to be crazy right now.
“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Jake asked. “I always sit here ‘cause I get to watch her take the kids to the toy room in the afternoon. She’s...yeah, she’s gorgeous. I’d hit it.”
I just nodded. That’s all I could do, since there was a really awkward lump forming in my throat.
“Who is she?” I finally muttered.
“Oh, I dunno. One of the teachers or something. Doesn’t matter, you won’t ever get to talk to her, so just get it right out of your head. That glass is just there for looks. It’s like a cruel test.”
Cruel indeed.
I can’t.
I can’t get her out of my head.
Holy jesus.
I can feel my dick instantly harden, and I almost squeeze my carton of orange juice to the point where it exploded.
“I’ve got to go.” I finished. “Thanks...for....yeah, going.”
Jake looked up at me confused, obviously by lack of sensical English. I just shrugged and bolted. There wasn’t much else I could do. I needed to get to a bathroom quick before I grabbed the nearest body and fucked the shit out of it. With her, at this point, it could happen.
I heard Jake’s laugh get quieter as I sprinted to the nearest bathroom.
This is a cruel joke. A cruel, cruel joke.
Story Tags: randomhookup bathroomsex rehab roughsex angrysex nymphoj copiersex planesex dirtyseries slutpuppyj
