Page 81 of Unalive On Air

When I poke my head through the wall, Trystan’s right there. Standing under the stars, holding his arms out as though asking me if anything’s wrong.

He smiles then “shoos” me back into the hut. “If you don’t want to do that, that’s cool. I kinda need to, but we can hang out after.”

He needs to. Oh my god. I want to ask him what’s going through his head. What thoughts is he having that are making him so horny?

“Okay,” I say breathily. “Okay, I’m gonna do it. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“In you go, then,” he says, shooing me back inside.

I pop out again. “Okay, but like, are you just gonna . . .” I make a crude gesture, and Trystan laughs. Under the moonlight, I’m sure I see blush stain the tops of his cheeks. “Right here on the beach?”

“Yeah.”

Oh my fucking god.

“Unless you wanna swap places, and I’ll go in there?”

“No, I’m scared.” Shit, did I say that out loud? “I mean, I don’t want people watching me.”

“No one will see.” Trystan’s voice is almost a whisper. “Only ghosts can see us, remember? But they won’t come this way usually.”

“Okay, okay, okay! I’m gonna do it.” I float into the hut. And out again. “No, I am gonna do it,” I blurt out, and I hear Trystan laugh, but I’ve already turned back inside. Before I can second‑guess myself for the millionth time, I unzip my overalls and step out of them, kicking them aside so I’m standing there in only my vest, boxers, and socks.

I’m so hard that my underpants no longer contain the entire length of my cock, and the tip juts up above my waistband. I spare one last look around the hut for any signs of life . . . or death.

Here goes nothing.

Sweet, beautiful friction as my hand glides along the shaft. So far, no different from when I was alive, but it was always great back then too.

Safely tucked away inside Trystan’s hut with my fist wrapped around myself, my eyes closed, I let myself think of him.

These moments, mid wank, were the only times I ever allowed myself to daydream this way. Because I knew it meant nothing, would amount to nothing.

In this fantasy, Trystan is standing—no, kneeling, kneeling is hotter—in the middle of the beach. I’m also there, and this is all very consensual. He licks his lips and parts his mouth, and he doesn’t say anything to me. Or maybe he does, but I don’t know what a cool guy like Trystan would say to a dork like me, so for now he’s silent. Tonight his shirt is done up, and without taking his eyes off me, he loosens the top button. Underneath, he’s naked, because why the fuck not? He moves to the second and third buttons, the fourth, and slides the fabric from his arms. Moonlight bounces off his tanned flesh, highlighting his beautiful pectoral muscles. I think he would have freckles on his shoulders, and . . .

Oh, fuck. I’m already coming.

Oh my god, I’m coming. And coming, and coming, and this is definitely better than when I was alive, holy Jesus.

Cum stripes my wrist, but I don’t check to see where the rest of it lands.

It’s just a shame that I didn’t get to imagine Trystan’s dick. I bet he has a beautiful dick. I steady my breath. Open my eyes. Pause.

I . . . could simply . . . go again.

I feel like I could keep going. I place my hand where it was, expecting to feel that usual sting of oversensitivity, a jolt that hits me all the way to the base of my spine, but this time, nothing.

Well, not nothing, it still feels amazing. Oh, okay, sure. I start stroking once more. Gingerly at first, because that’s what I’m used to, but it actually doesn’t need to be handled with extra care.

I close my eyes again and pick up where I left off. Trystan on the beach, unbuckling his belt—does he wear a belt? It doesn’t matter, he does now. It flops open. His fly is pulled down. His hand slides under the fabric of his underpants, freeing his cock.

He utters an adorable little “Uhhh” sound and—

Oh, wait, that was me in real life.

Damn, I never make noise, but fuck, this feels good. So fucking good. I speed up, vaguely cognizant of the slapping sounds my flesh makes, the grunts and whines emitting from my throat without consent. I’m already coming again.

Holy fuck, this is unreal.