His Private Swim Sessions - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
You are reading His Private Swim Sessions, Chapter 12: Chapter 12. Read more chapters of His Private Swim Sessions.
After wrestling with myself for what felt like hours, I finally set my phone down.
No cops. No confessions to friends.
In the end, I caved—doing exactly what Vincent Roland wanted, clinging to the fragile hope that he'd actually keep his promise. That maybe, just maybe, those videos would disappear forever.
But after my shower, as I lay in bed, sleep refused to come.
What if giving in only made him bolder? What if he hurt someone else?
Had he already sent those videos to someone?
Was he lying in his own bed right now, getting off to them?
The questions twisted into darker and darker shapes, multiplying no matter how hard I tried to shut them out.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under—but not into peace.
In the dream, a hand slid beneath the sheets, creeping up from my ankle, between my thighs, higher…
I fought, but my body was lead—heavy, useless. No matter how hard I strained, I couldn't move.
Trapped.
Then a face hovered over me.
Vincent.
I thrashed, desperate, but my limbs stayed locked. He slid under the covers, his arm snaking around my waist, his smirk sharp as a blade.
This time, there was no curiosity—just terror.
His mouth crashed against mine before moving lower.
And it felt real.
Ring—
The phone's shrill scream tore me from the nightmare.
I bolted upright, gasping like I'd been held underwater. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
No cops. No confessions to friends.
In the end, I caved—doing exactly what Vincent Roland wanted, clinging to the fragile hope that he'd actually keep his promise. That maybe, just maybe, those videos would disappear forever.
But after my shower, as I lay in bed, sleep refused to come.
What if giving in only made him bolder? What if he hurt someone else?
Had he already sent those videos to someone?
Was he lying in his own bed right now, getting off to them?
The questions twisted into darker and darker shapes, multiplying no matter how hard I tried to shut them out.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under—but not into peace.
In the dream, a hand slid beneath the sheets, creeping up from my ankle, between my thighs, higher…
I fought, but my body was lead—heavy, useless. No matter how hard I strained, I couldn't move.
Trapped.
Then a face hovered over me.
Vincent.
I thrashed, desperate, but my limbs stayed locked. He slid under the covers, his arm snaking around my waist, his smirk sharp as a blade.
This time, there was no curiosity—just terror.
His mouth crashed against mine before moving lower.
And it felt real.
Ring—
The phone's shrill scream tore me from the nightmare.
I bolted upright, gasping like I'd been held underwater. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
End of His Private Swim Sessions Chapter 12. Continue reading Chapter 13 or return to His Private Swim Sessions book page.