Chapter 5: Peter
The first thing Peter becomes aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the cold dampness at his crotch.
God. How long has it been since he had a wet dream? Isn’t he too old for that crap?
Remnants of the dream still cling to him—the half-remembered press of ghostly lips on his body, his arms around someone’s neck, hands at his waist, unzipping his pants, stroking him until he came…
That was a dream, right?
He hopes so, because the more he tries to hold onto the sensations, the faster they slip away, and he has a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he tries to recall the face of whoever it was straddling him while he slept.
It was a dream, he tells himself. You had too much to drink last night and you know alcohol makes you horny a
