High Hopes In Low Places

Chapter Three: Sweet Dreams

CONTENT WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL SCENES, CURSING

THIS IS A STORY MEANT FOR THOSE EIGHTEEN AND OLDER, READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED

"And then I went out to the garden and I fucked my best friend!"

It had been two weeks since the incident with my parents. I hadn't received a phone call or a text, or even seen them anywhere on my social media. They apparently blocked me on everything, which is honestly a godsend. I don't want to hear from them anyway. The pain in and on my chest is still fresh. Speaking of, the whelts on my chest and belly have gone down, and the bruises aren't black anymore. They're green, yellow, and fading.

James and I have also since filed a report at the local police department and given the pictures we took of my bruised body. I also went to the A&E recently because I've been having trouble breathing. As it turns out, I have two cracked ribs from my dad both kicking me in the chest and from him standing so heavily on top of me. Even better for my case. The police asked us if we wanted to press charges for physical assault, and I said yes, but it's probably going to take awhile to get things sorted out because of--I don't know, some bullshit. I'm glad that's out of the way.

I've had nothing but nightmares since I left, and its taken everything in me not to drink and smoke my problems away. Although, last night I did have a very interesting dream. Thankfully, it wasn't another nightmare.

In the dream, we were in James' flat as we usually are these days. I'm sitting on the sofa and drinking a wine cooler from a pack he bought that was never finished from a party that he had a month ago. It doesn't really taste like anything except fizz. The telly was also on, but I didn't know what was playing. I wasn't really paying attention. James comes in after going out to meet a client for a deal, counting his cash after coming in and shutting the door. He pockets it pretty quick after he sees me sitting on the sofa and smiles.

"Having fun today?" he asks me.

"I suppose. A bit bored." I shrug, "Could use a trip to the cinema or something."

"I could do that. What film?"

"Don't care, just want to see something interesting."

"That's fair."

Not much else is said between us, but he joins me on the couch. He does say something about how his deal went, but I can't remember what he said. I finished off the cooler and put the empty bottle on the table before us. I sit back and sigh heavily, craving a cigarette. It isn't long before my mind wanders into the back alley. I look at my pants after a few minutes, feeling tense and tingly, and notice that I've pitched a tent with a raging boner in my joggers. Great. I start blushing madly and let my eyes wander around the room, hoping that he doesn't notice the unfortunate thing that's going on in my pants. It's a lost cause trying to cross my legs to hide it, as it hurts when I try crossing my legs with a hard dick. I want to get up and take myself to the loo to take care of myself, but I'd have to walk right past him with my willy standing at attention. I get more desperate as each second passes, so I try to make a break for it but my trousers snag on the coffee table and I trip, falling right on my front and also my dick. I groan and roll over without thinking about how I'm still harder than hell, eyes closed and arms holding my still-healing chest.

"Whoa, mate are you o--" James stops mid-sentence, "Oh. Oh."

I open my eyes to see him staring at my friend who was very happy to see him, and then tracing his eyes up to mine. I see a bit of blush on his pale cheeks.

"Fuck, mate...I...sorry you had to see that." I muttered in embarrassment.

"That's not...that isn't, er...I didn't cause that, did I?" he stuttered.