Ben wakes up

Ben woke slowly, coming out of a confusing dream of fantasy and magic—something that felt ripped straight out of one of his ex-girlfriend’s erotic fiction books. He groaned softly, the remnants of the dream lingering in his mind as he became more aware of his body. A distinct tension pressed against his shorts, and he swallowed hard, wondering what he was supposed to do with "that."

He peeked over at Jennifer, her sleeping bag open, her clothing in disarray. Her top had ridden up, exposing the corner of her breast, pale and soft against the dim light of the embers. A faint stain marked the corner of her shirt, catching his attention. He frowned slightly, noting that she didn’t look like she’d slept well—though her steady breathing told him she was sleeping deeply now.

His gaze lingered a moment longer, drawn to the curve of her breast and the faint shadow it cast in the morning dawn sun. Heat flared through him, and he cursed himself silently, looking away. But the pressure in his shorts was insistent, demanding relief. He swallowed again, debating, before carefully sliding his shorts and boxers down over his erection. It stood at full attention, hot and aching, the sensitivity making him gasp softly as his hand closed around it.

He kept an eye on Jennifer, ensuring she remained asleep as his hand began to move. Slow, deliberate strokes sent shivers through his body, his mind slipping back to the remnants of his dream. He thought of the nymphs and sirens who had seduced him in the fantasy, their perky breasts and lithe forms teasing him relentlessly. But as his hand moved faster, the image shifted. The breasts in his mind grew heavier, softer, with large areolas and full, inviting nipples. He gasped, his strokes tightening. The shift in his imagination startled him, but he couldn’t deny the effect it had on him.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting back to Jennifer as she stirred. She turned onto her side, her top sliding further, revealing her breast entirely. The soft morning light illuminated its round, soft shape, the fullness of her areola, and the way her nipple stood prominently against the cool morning air. His breath hitched, his strokes faltering as he stared.

He cursed again, quieter this time, unable to tear his gaze away. Her breast looked so real, so touchable, the kind of softness that begged to be cupped, kissed, and tasted. His hand moved faster, his grip tightening as he let the image consume him. He didn’t know he liked bigger breasts; all his ex-girlfriends had been modestly sized. But now, with Jennifer’s exposed form so close, the thought of her softness beneath his hands sent his arousal spiraling higher.

"Fuck," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t believe he was jerking off to Jennifer’s tits, but the way his body responded left him no doubt. If it was working, then...

His strokes quickened, his breathing shallow as his climax built. He bit his lip, his free hand clutching at the edge of his sleeping bag to keep quiet. The tension coiled tighter, the image of her in his mind growing clearer with every movement until he couldn’t hold back any longer. His body tensed, his hand slowing as his release spilled over his fingers, warm and thick.

As the warmth spread over his hand, he found himself shuddering, unable to stop the way his body reacted to the images in his head. He swore softly, his chest heaving as the aftershocks rippled through him. The guilt came quickly, but so did the lingering arousal, as if his mind couldn’t let go of what he had just done.

He stayed still for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. His gaze flicked back to Jennifer, relief washing over him when he saw she was still asleep. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing even, and the sight of her calm expression only made the pang of guilt stronger. He reached for a corner of his shirt, cleaning himself off quickly before pulling his shorts back up.

Lying back down, he stared at the sky, still dotted with stars as the sun woke, their cold light contrasting sharply with the heat still coursing through him. His thoughts raced as the heat of the moment faded, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease. What the hell had he been thinking? Jerking off to his best friend while she lay right there?

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, closing his eyes tightly. But even as guilt crept in, the vivid image of Jennifer’s softness lingered in his mind, refusing to let go. His hand found its way to his chest, pressing lightly against his pounding heart, as if to steady it.

The forest was silent around him now, the soft hum of crickets the only sound. Ben sighed, forcing himself to focus on the rhythm of his breathing, but the feeling of her so close, the sight of her so exposed, was burned into his memory. And despite himself, he couldn’t help but wonder what she would say—what she would do—if she had woken up and caught him in the act.