Long Distance Call | tayley ✓

10 | Hangover

{smut warning}

[Taylor]

I slam my phone down. Fucking hell. I press my face into my pillow and let out a scream. If it weren't so muffled by the pillow, I'd surely be receiving noise complaints.

I flip myself over, now facing the ceiling of my bedroom. "You are one dumb dude," I say to myself, words clearly slurred. My existence alone is a constant reminder of my stupidity.

Instead of spending more of the night pitying myself, I do my best to fall asleep. After what feels like an eternity, I finally fall into a deep sleep.

—

The following morning, I'm awoken by a grumbling stomach without much memory of the events from last night. Along with my loud stomach, I have the worst headache I think I have ever experienced. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to only eat a large bag of Doritos prior to drinking. Also, maybe it wasn't too smart to drink as much as I did.

I sit up, a hand rising to run through my messy curls. I look down to see that last night, I had decided against changing out of the clothes I had worn to the bar. My black jeans still cover my lower half, my button-down top still covering my upper half, for the most part. All of the buttons except for the bottom one have been undone.

When I stand up, I experience an immediate feeling of light-headedness. My hand presses against the wall, my eyes wide as I try to collect myself. I succeed in calming myself down after a few seconds.

I remove almost all of my clothing, leaving me now to wear just my boxer briefs. A shower will definitely be needed today, but I need food first. This is probably the first time I've woken after a night of drinking where I haven't wrestled with nausea. I'm not facing that now, at least. Lucky me.

I head into the kitchen and scavenge through my cabinets in search of something I can quickly prepare. In actuality, I don't have all too many options. My food shopping was rushed, so I mostly purchased junk food.

I was so ready to purchase my favorite junk foods, only to discover that many of them are only available in the states. I was outraged, and will be demanding that my mom sends me a care package of all my favorite snacks immediately.

Some of the cereal options were cereals I'd never heard of before. In reality, most of them were unknown to me. So I settled on choosing plain old Cheerios. No, not even the decent kind that have some flavor. But the boring kind. Not even the honey nut kind. This is what I get for being a picky American.

I head to the fridge to see if I had gotten milk yesterday. I feel like I remember getting some.

I scratch my head, as I pull open the refrigerator door. It's soon discovered that there is nothing in there except for one large bottle of coca-cola. Pouring that in my cereal doesn't seem so appealing. But why do I vaguely remember getting milk?

Oh, I remember why. It's because I got ice cream. And because I was in a rush, yesterday, to get back to my apartment. And while rushing to buy my items, I zoomed by an aisle that held plenty of milk. Instead of stopping for just a few seconds, like those few seconds would make the biggest difference in the world, I decided that milk wasn't as vital. But apparently, ice cream is.

Filling a plastic, disposable bowl (because who wants to do dishes?) with the bland cereal, I frown as I fill my plastic spoon with dry cereal. I lift it to my lips, eating a mouthful of the Cheerios. I can't even lie and say that I enjoyed that mouthful of cereal, because that lie would be clear as day.

It's brutal to finish that meal. Though my tastebuds are begging for no more, my stomach begs for more. It needs food, man, even if it feels more like I'm eating cardboard than food.

I toss my spoon and bowl into the trash. The box of Cheerios go back to their original location, though the trash is a more appropriate place. I'll make sure to go shopping for milk, more cereal, and just more everything. Maybe later. But first: shower.

I crank on the shower, having more ease with controlling the temperature of the water than I had previously. Yesterday was quite a mess, resulting in a slightly uncomfortable shower experience. But I figure it out much quicker, and when the water is tested by my hand, it is not unbearable.

I strip myself of my boxer briefs and climb into the shower. For a few moments, I allow the water to cascade down my body. Once wet, I lather my dark locks in shampoo, rinsing them after a minute. Following that, I add conditioner to my hair. I let that sit for a moment in my short curls. I take the new, full bottle of body soap into my hands. Pouring plenty into my palm, I cover my chest in the suds.

After cleaning my underarms, my hand trails down my front. It stops when I reach my member. I briefly glance down, and though I know that there are things I must do today, it's hard to just...resist. Most likely due to instinct, I peek my head out of the shower. After a split second of looking outside the shower, I remember something.

I fucking live alone.

Right now, I'm not feeling so upset about that loneliness. It's not fun to have a constant fear that your mother or father will walk into the room to witness you pleasuring yourself. But enough of that worrying, because I don't have to deal with that anymore.

My hand tightens around my length, the palm of my free hand pressing against the white tiles that can be found within my shower. The warm water flows down my body, my breathing hitching as my hand moves quicker and quicker. I step forward a tiny bit and tilt my head back, my forehead being hit with the water.

My eyes go closed, and as they do, I allow myself to think about whatever fantasy is on my mind, whatever person is on my mind. Usually, my mind is not on the latter. I typically think of some fantasy, not typically thinking about a specific person. But as I continue, my thoughts are taken over by the girl I bumped into at the pizza place. The gorgeous girl with the multicolored hair.

My breathing pattern changes as I feel myself growing closer and closer to my orgasm. All that's on my mind is her. Short breaths and whimper-like sounds pass my lips as I grow closer and closer to my inevitable orgasm with each stroke.

"Fuck," I pant out. After a few more strokes, I reach my release. "Hayley," I whine, letting my imagination run wild. I stop my actions, completely, now standing in the shower. I'm sort of regretting this, but at the same time...not at all.