I AND MY UNCLE EVERY NIGHT WHEN I VISITED THEM FOR HOLIDAYS 🍎🔞
EPISODE 3:
I Touched Myself Because of Him
Rose’s POV
The silence was a blanket too heavy to sleep under.
I tossed. Turned. Curled into myself. But my body wouldn’t settle. It remembered.
The steam. His eyes. The breath between us in the dark hallway.
Everything in me was tight — wound like a string pulled taut, one tug away from snapping.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. Slow. Deep.
But that made it worse. Because when I breathed, I saw him.
The way his chest rose when he caught me watching.
The way his voice dipped, just for me.
The way my name tasted when he said it in the dark.
But ever since that night in the hallway, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Every time I blinked, I saw his body thryyhe seam. Every time I satnear him at breakfast, I could barely swallow.
And when he leaned close to passing me the butter and his hand brushed my wrist... my whole tensed.
I knew he noticed.
He always noticed.
That night, I couldn't sleep again. My skin felt too warm. My chest tight. My thighs aching with something I don't know how to name.
I bit my lip. Slipped a hand under the sheets. Just to calm myself. Just to stop the throbbing my legs. I thought of nothing. I told myself it wasn't about him.
But I pictured the towel slipping off his hips. I imagined him behind me, whispering. I imagined his palm closing around my wrist, guiding my fingers deeper—
I imagined his voice in my ear.
"Good girl... go slower."
My fingers moved deeper. I arched.
And then--
Knock.
A soft, low sound.
I froze. Heart in my throat. Hand still under the blanket, slick with guilt and something darker.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Nothing followed. Just stillness.
But I knew.
I felt him on the other side of the door.
And my body betrayed me all over again.
Dickson’s POV
I stood at her door longer than I should have.
She thinks she’s quiet — but a man learns to hear things, over time. The creak of bedsprings. The rustle of skin beneath fabric. The held breath of a girl unraveling in the dark.
She was touching herself.
And she thought I didn’t know.
I could have walked in. Could have said her name. Could have let her see what she was doing to me.
But no.
That would come later.
Tonight, I only needed to mark her mind.
So I knocked.
Soft. Barely there.
Let her lie there wide-eyed, her fingers wet and frozen in guilt. Let her feel me without seeing. Let her body twitch with shame and ache and wonder.
Because the first surrender is never with skin.
It’s in the mind.
And I own hers now.
To be continued...
Are you ready for episode
Do well to follow Modesty Kelechi for more interesting stories and jokes #storytelling #everyone #everyoneactive #followersreels #follwers #topfansfollowers #highlightseveryone #viralstory2025 #everyonehighlightsfollowers
EPISODE 3:
I Touched Myself Because of Him
Rose’s POV
The silence was a blanket too heavy to sleep under.
I tossed. Turned. Curled into myself. But my body wouldn’t settle. It remembered.
The steam. His eyes. The breath between us in the dark hallway.
Everything in me was tight — wound like a string pulled taut, one tug away from snapping.
I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. Slow. Deep.
But that made it worse. Because when I breathed, I saw him.
The way his chest rose when he caught me watching.
The way his voice dipped, just for me.
The way my name tasted when he said it in the dark.
But ever since that night in the hallway, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Every time I blinked, I saw his body thryyhe seam. Every time I satnear him at breakfast, I could barely swallow.
And when he leaned close to passing me the butter and his hand brushed my wrist... my whole tensed.
I knew he noticed.
He always noticed.
That night, I couldn't sleep again. My skin felt too warm. My chest tight. My thighs aching with something I don't know how to name.
I bit my lip. Slipped a hand under the sheets. Just to calm myself. Just to stop the throbbing my legs. I thought of nothing. I told myself it wasn't about him.
But I pictured the towel slipping off his hips. I imagined him behind me, whispering. I imagined his palm closing around my wrist, guiding my fingers deeper—
I imagined his voice in my ear.
"Good girl... go slower."
My fingers moved deeper. I arched.
And then--
Knock.
A soft, low sound.
I froze. Heart in my throat. Hand still under the blanket, slick with guilt and something darker.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Nothing followed. Just stillness.
But I knew.
I felt him on the other side of the door.
And my body betrayed me all over again.
Dickson’s POV
I stood at her door longer than I should have.
She thinks she’s quiet — but a man learns to hear things, over time. The creak of bedsprings. The rustle of skin beneath fabric. The held breath of a girl unraveling in the dark.
She was touching herself.
And she thought I didn’t know.
I could have walked in. Could have said her name. Could have let her see what she was doing to me.
But no.
That would come later.
Tonight, I only needed to mark her mind.
So I knocked.
Soft. Barely there.
Let her lie there wide-eyed, her fingers wet and frozen in guilt. Let her feel me without seeing. Let her body twitch with shame and ache and wonder.
Because the first surrender is never with skin.
It’s in the mind.
And I own hers now.
To be continued...
Are you ready for episode
Do well to follow Modesty Kelechi for more interesting stories and jokes #storytelling #everyone #everyoneactive #followersreels #follwers #topfansfollowers #highlightseveryone #viralstory2025 #everyonehighlightsfollowers
