Search the closet … on a ‘cock hunt’

I locked my door before opening my closet door. In the panic of last night, I had overlooked the intricacies of my bedroom, like what clothes had been replaced by Roland's game.

Throwing open the closet door, my jaw dropped. What caught my eye first was a cheerleader uniform hanging as one set: the sleeveless top and skirt.

Me? I was a cheerleader? That couldn't be right. I had memories from my life, not Roland's creation, but MY LIFE of getting hard over the cheerleaders in my classes on game days when they were allowed to wear their uniform. I used to toss my pens down as an excuse to sneak a peak up their skirts and I would store a stash of cheerleader pictures on my iphone for masturbation at home.

The thought that I was a cheerleader in this reality, that I had been the object of who knows how many boys lust as they held my cheer pictures in one hand while beating their meat with the other gave me a chill.

One of my fondest memory with my older brother, Lloyd, was when I helped him stand on my shoulders to snap pictures of the cheerleaders in their locker room. Those pictures were golden and Lloyd and I used to rate the cheerleaders and tell both rumors and fantasies of each of them.

What were those memories in this Roland's game world? THE GAME! Once again the realization of the task set before me comes crashing down upon my thoughts. I need to find a cock to suck to completion before the day is over. Thinking of cocks, only one comes to the forefront, drowning out any images of Roland’s cock. It’s a beautiful cock, long and thick, and my mouth salivates thinking about it. I can practically taste it upon my lips and tongue. The need for that cock drowns out any sense of reason as my hands drift towards some short gym shorts. I pull them over my hips and let out a giggle, noting how my butt cheeks peek out from the bottom hem. That’ll do the trick! Next, I pick out a simple, rather sheer half tee. Pulling it on I marvel at the way it hugs tightly to my form, leaving my midriff completely bare, and coming down to just below the swell of my breasts. My nipples poke prominently through the sheer fabric, their peaks clearly evident just below the word “Princess”.

Satisfied with the look, Mom’s mantra, “Gotta look good for the boys,” echoes in my brain. I return to the bed and plop down, content to wait until his return. I put on my headphones and the music from a multitude of popular boy bands plays on. I glance to one of the posters and imagine the lead singer, crooning to me directly.

I drift into a contented half-sleep, awaiting my first cock in this quest I’ve been given.