Chapter 7

When I woke the next morning it was still dark, probably a consequence of my having gone to bed so early. Perhaps my near-death experience had stimulated my urge to procreate because, now I was warm and safe and rested, I felt incredibly horny and my dick was rock hard. I grabbed a wad of tissues and started masturbating.

Alexandra Ferguson, a gorgeous girl in my class with dirty-blonde hair and green eyes, leapt into my mind as the fantasy object of my lust. The daughter of a rich property developer, you couldn’t exactly say she had model girl looks because she was neither stick-insect thin like a catwalk supermodel nor pneumatically curvaceous like a glamour model. To me though, she was a perfect in-between and, for teenage boys like myself, that was enough to have us drooling over her. Despite being able to take her pick of boys, I was pretty sure she didn’t have a steady boyfriend.

Alex was also very popular with the girls, not liked because she was rich and fashionable, although she was both, but because she was a genuinely warm person. Her one drawback was that she was that she didn’t seem to take anything very seriously, always collecting poor grades as a consequence. Still, with her family’s wealth, and with her looks and personality, lack of academic achievement wasn’t going to matter. Alex and I had little interaction because we couldn’t communicate. Or rather I couldn’t communicate when confronted by such a beautiful girl.

Picturing Alex in my mind’s eye, and with the advantage of teenage virility, it wasn’t long before I began to sense an impending completion as I enthusiastically rubbed my dick. The trouble was that the strange headache in the upper rear of my head was returning. Desperate to cross the finish line, I rubbed myself faster and harder, but the pain grew and grew until, just as I was on the very verge of finishing, everything went black and I passed out.

When I woke, the headache was gone but I felt weirdly disorientated. My dick was soft but my pyjamas weren’t sticky so I hadn’t achieved completion. And I was still holding a wad of tissues. But I sensed immediately everything seemed different. The ambience of the room was wrong – it wasn’t my room. And the bed was too soft – it wasn’t my bed. And I wasn’t alone!

My first thought was that I had sleepwalked into Janey’s room and got into bed with her. We had slept in the same bed when younger and it hadn’t been a big deal. But when she was ten she had developed a strong sense of modesty so there was the issue of propriety; we had an unspoken agreement not to do it again. There was a night light providing a low level of illumination; Janey didn’t have a night light. And, peering through the gloom, I could see the dimensions of the room were much larger than Janey’s bedroom.

I turned to look at my bedfellow. Definitely female, although the scent I had detected had already told me that. She was lying on her side facing away from me, her blonde hair obscuring her face, and she was emitting cute little half-snores. She was wearing pale blue flannelette pyjamas decorated with pink hippopotamuses. From behind, she looked a lot like Alex Ferguson. The only thing that stopped me panicking was the fact I had to be dreaming. If it was Alex, I wondered whether this dream me would be able to talk to her or was this in fact a nightmare.

I think my movement must have disturbed my bedfellow because the snores ceased, and a few seconds later she turned over to face me. It actually was Alex Ferguson! When she saw me she screamed full force and I may have too at her reaction. My strange headache returned with a vengeance and I blacked out again.