Life choices Stories

The dispassionate, curt, and calm demeanor of Grant Friarheart haunted my dreams that night. I woke up in the middle of unceremoniously dry humping Sven’s leg. “Are you alright?” He asked, groggily, as I started to stir with more wakeful movements. “What time is it?” “10:06 AM.” “What time did you wake up?” “Eight, like I always do.” “How long have I been --” “--Dry humping my hip like a bitch in heat? About the last ten...