True Confessions

He knew it was wrong. God, did he know it was wrong but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. It was this sick, lustful, crazy sex drive of his that drove him insane with desire and made him do this horribly perverse act every other night.

The very idea of what he was doing both repulsed him and enticed him every time, not to mention the fact that he'd always managed to get away with it, fueling him to do it even more.

Already he began to feel the beginning signs of arousal forming below as he flattened an ear against the door and listened intently to the muffled sound behind it. A quick glance to his clock before he slipped out of his room reminded him that it was a little past two AM but he didn't care how late it was; he had exactly what he needed to fuel his lustful desire.

Sometimes he would get bold and slowly, very quietly, turn the knob and crack the door open just a tiny bit just so he could catch a glimpse of what he was hearing.

Some nights though he got lucky. The door would be open just enough to get the perfect view from where he hid and God was that the best view he could ever ask for.

Pathetic.

The word flashed through his mind and once again the shame of what he was doing returned. It had become such a part of his life though, such a habitual thing that he found he needed it to get off, or at least he needed to think about it on those lonely unforgiving nights. His bodily needs somehow ended up outweighing his sense of morality and thus he was brought back to this lowly somewhat humiliating position on the floor of his best friend's bedroom door listening to him masturbate on the other side, listening to every muffled cry and moan as he pleasured himself, most likely to one of the actresses who had worked with them on a video that week.

What was more pathetic was when an actual girl was there and he would linger nearby, watching them, waiting for them to run off to his bedroom and fuck just so he could get off on the cries of pleasure streaming through the walls.

He would always tune out the female voice, imagining himself in her place instead.

He didn't need to tonight though. Ian was alone and Anthony was feeling a bit bold.

Anthony placed a shaky hand on the doorknob and slowly began turning, listening to every little creak, making sure to be as quiet and stealthy as humanly possible.

Ian hadn't yet reached his climax yet so Anthony had just enough time to pry open the door a bit and watch. He listened intently as Ian gasped and moaned, adding to the sounds of his slick strokes to the otherwise silent house.

Anthony had now fully turned the knob, feeling the blood rush down to his lower region beneath his boxers. He knew it was risky but his starving libido demanded he continue. He took a deep breath and slowly began pushing with one hand. His other hand slipped over his own growing erection and began pressing down. Thank God Ian's door didn't creak at all or he wouldn't be able to do this. He held his breath as he pushed, his own cock pulsating and yearning for more. He was so very desperate and he only needed one more inch as he cracked the door open.

Then suddenly silence.

Dead silence.

No sounds of movement, no climax. Just the clock ticking all the way in the bathroom and his own heart beating could be heard.

It scared the shit out of him and Anthony began to panic.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Then the worst thing imaginable pierced the brutal silence.

A quivering, almost fearful voice that spoke only one word.

"...A-Anthony?"

His heart raced madly as what he had always feared, what he had never fully prepared for, was happening in that exact moment. His sweaty hand gripped the doorknob tightly and he didn't dare make a sound.