Run! To your friend

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight. I grabbed the bag and ran. Doctor Rose let out a sigh as I set off for the door. "In any case," she said, "I'll be right here if you change your mind. Don't go to those donors. There's plenty single women who would want a boy like you."

Looking into her eyes I understood she was genuine. But I had other plans. "Thanks," I said, and head out the door.

I didn't even know where I was going at first. But my legs seemed to know, and I ended up two blocks away from where I lived - a decent private accommodation about ten floors high, a cozy-looking squarish building with faces of red brick and sleek windows. This is where Tasha lived.

We met in the last year of high school. We hadn't really talked a lot even though we were on the same course, but we hung out a few times, and I felt quite comfortable with her. As I peered upward at the building I suddenly felt a strong **** - fear, anxiety, maybe? - about this whole thing. Any of these windows could be hers, and her room.

I found myself already typing in my phone, already on the page that was her contact.

"Hey, I need to talk to you about something"

"Are you in? I'm downstairs."

"It's quite urgent"

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and shoved my hands into my coat pockets. It was cold, the wind made it bite. I became aware of my dick confined in my boxers, how it begged for rest after being erect for so long. Thank goodness for the coat.

"Yes"

"I'm coming," she replied.

In a way I had hoped that she wasn't in after all. But seeing her reply I felt something shift within me. A slight, brief inkling I was now under her power. My mouth started to water, with a sweet taste but the thirst never subsided.

Within a few moments the door opened. She greeted me with a concerned, curious smile, and let me through with her keycard. We entered a lift, she pressed a button and turned to look at me.

God, she was beautiful.

"John?"

"Huh?" Oh right, she had asked what was the matter, or something.

"I'll tell you when we get to your room - can I go into your room?" I said.

I had never been in her room before. "Uh - " she said, showing a slight **** but still keeping a smile. "Yeah, okay."

We went into her flat, pass the common area where I had played cards with her friends and roommates just two weeks before. Why does I feel like that would never happen again?

The door to her room opened with a click of her keys. It was a normal student's room, with an oak studying desk and a modern single bed. The windows showed an angle of the street away from where I stood just now, letting the evening light gently float in. Although it was quite small, the modern design and fixtures told me the room was more than I could afford.

She closed the door to a calm silence. Only the faint whirr of her laptop over her open notes - 'Neurochemistry Chapter III'. "So, what is it?" she said, plopping down on her bed.

I stood there, guilty of the erection under my clothes, even though it was hidden. "I - " I gulped.

I tried to swallow but couldn't. Tasha was wearing cropped short jeans, the fashionable but appropriate type that still showed off the pristine skin of her thighs. The front of a long-sleeved pink waffle shirt was tucked into it.

"John, are you alright?"

The words came out of me breathlessly, like a sigh. "I - I've got - have you heard of that new addiction disease?"

Her brows furrowed. Flawless, rich, dark brows - furrowed in concern. "The... addiction to cum? No, not really, it's not that common, right? what about it?"

I wanted to practically scream at how she didn't understand a single thing. Maybe it was because we were both medical students, talking casually about diseases wasn't new. But still!

I reached into my bag and handed the diagnosis to her. But even before she received it I knew she was understand, with the way her smile slowly vanished.

"Shit..." she said, looking at the diagnosis, then looking out the window.

At this moment something within me exploded. "You know. You don't have to," I said, voice much firmer than usual. I realized how small I had felt, how weak, ****. I almost snatched the diagnosis out of her hand.

"Wait, wait," she said. "So you came to me to..." She didn't have to finish her sentence because that was pretty self-evident. She walked over and perched her arms on the desk. "Just give me a moment to think." She sighed. "God."

I gave her the pamphlet about the symptoms. She read it, at one point casting a glance at my crotch, but of course that was under my coat. While waiting for her to finish I didn't know whether to sit or continue standing.

Maybe I had overreacted. I was asking for a huge favor, after all. I don't know how I expected her to react. When she finally finished she lifted her eyes from the page to mine. Maybe she saw that I was genuine as well, because her eyes softened. Like I had gone from a nasty traitor just trying to get into her pants to a friend that needed help - her help.