If you can believe it, Kevin, the asshole, actually insisted we watch the rest of Cruel Intentions. So we did – well, he watched it. I pretended. I kept sneaking looks in his direction, checking to see if in any way, shape or form he seemed to be as freaked out about what had happened between us as I was. Apparently, though, he was fine. In fact, it was almost as if it had never happened. As if he hadn't just gotten blown by his best friend. He was just sitting there, looking relaxed and normal, engrossed in the movie as he munched on a Snickers bar. He even made the appropriate gagging noises at the part where “Sebastian” and “Annette” finally have their big love scene, and shouted “God, you are a pussy!” at the television screen. Then he turned to me and rolled his eyes as he said, “Yeah right, would that guy do a 180 in that amount of time. In love, my ass!”

In the meantime, my cock was aching. I still hadn't had any sexual relief, which Kevin seemed to conveniently forget. Or did he? Maybe he liked making me suffer. I wanted to strangle him, and briefly wondered if a judge would go easier on me if I explained that the only choice for Kevin was death after giving me the worst fucking case of blue balls I had ever had.

I couldn't concentrate on the movie at all. It seemed pretty pointless to continue sitting there pretending to be into it, so I stood up.

“I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to bed,” I told Kevin.

He looked at me and frowned. “Why? Don't you want to watch the rest of this?” he asked.

“Not really. I'm kind of beat,” I told him.

He raised a brow at me. “Beat, eh?” he asked. Then he got this shit-eating grin on his face. “I bet I know what you'd like to beat right about now,” he said with a small chuckle.

Asshole! I gritted my teeth. He really was asking for it - a slow, tortuous death. “You know where the blankets and pillows are. See you in the morning,” I told him, and stomped off, leaving him there by himself on the sofa.

I went into the bathroom and started the shower, adjusting the temperature to my liking. I stepped into the tub and leaned back into the hot spray of water. I then looked down at my cock and frowned. It was so hard it was fucking purple. Damn fucking right I'd wanted to beat off. I wouldn't have had to though if only...

Before I could finish my thought, the shower curtain suddenly flew open. “Fuck!” I yelled, my heart racing a mile a minute.

Kevin started laughing of course. “What do you think this is? A scene from Psycho?”

“Asshole! You scared the shit out of me! Ever hear of knocking?” I asked, glaring at him.

Kevin shrugged and then got into the tub with me. “I didn't think you'd care,” he simply said, and then he looked down and smirked when he saw my engorged dick. “I was right.”

I blushed then, having forgotten all about my hard-on. I wasn't sure exactly what he was referring to when he said he was “right”, but I guessed it didn't really matter. I immediately turned around so that I was facing