Hidden desires

LEAKED AND WATCHED PT 1

Jayla woke up to her phone buzzing nonstop on the nightstand. The screen lit up with notifications of texts, DMs, group chats, even tags from accounts she didn’t follow. She rubbed her eyes, still groggy from crying herself to sleep, and tapped the first message that popped up.

It was a screenshot from her roommate, Tasha.

The image showed Jayla’s bare breasts, the one she’d sent Justin six months ago when they were still good. Her dark n*****s tight from the cold dorm room air that night, the silver hoop piercing glinting under the lamp. Below it, another screenshot: her ass in the mirror selfie, cheeks spread just enough to show the pink slit between them, fingers holding herself open the way he’d begged her to.

The caption read: “Campus bicycle finally leaked, who's next?”

Her stomach dropped. She scrolled and there were more screenshots.

Her face is clearly visible in every one. The videos too, short clips he’d recorded without asking, her moaning his name while she rode him reverse, ass bouncing, p***y gripping his c**k so tight you could see the creamy ring at the base every time she lifted.

She threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a crack. Her chest heaved as heat flooded her face, then her whole body.

She laid back on her bed sobbing loudly.

The whole campus had seen her.

Tasha burst in without knocking. “Jayla, get up. We’re not letting him win.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jayla said. Her voice cracked. “Everyone’s seen me naked. Everyone.”

“Exactly,” Tasha said. “So you hide and they talk louder or you show up, head high, and make them choke on it. The sooner you carry on with your life, the sooner they'll forget it.”

“I really don't want to.” Jayla cried

“The football game starts in two hours. We’re going, all of us. You need air and noise. You need to remember you’re more than his shitty revenge porn. Plus everyone will be too busy looking at Devin anyway.”

Jayla stared at the ceiling. Tears slipped into her hairline. She wanted to disappear. But Tasha was already pulling clothes from the closet.

She pulled up Jayla’s favorite ripped jeans, the cropped black hoodie that showed a thin strip of stomach, the red bra that pushed her t**s up just right. “Wear something that says f**k you,” Tasha said. “Not f**k me.”

Jayla didn’t argue. She showered fast, scalding water turning her skin pink. She avoided looking down at herself. Every time she did, she remembered Justin’s hands there, his mouth, the way he’d groaned “mine” against her c**t until she came shaking.

By kickoff she was in the stands with Tasha, Maya, and Diana. The stadium smelled of hot dogs, popcorn, cut grass, and sweat. The crowd roared every time the home team gained yards. Jayla kept her hoodie zipped to her chin, arms crossed tight over her chest like armor. She felt eyes on her anyway.

“Is that her?”

“Damn, she looks better in person.”

“Bet Devin’s pissed he’s missing this.”

Devin? She looked at the field. He wasn't there, he wasn't playing tonight.

He was the school's star player and he was also best friends with Justin. He’d flirted with her at parties, never pushed, always respectful. Last week he’d texted her after the breakup: You good? She hadn’t answered.

Now the announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers: “And folks, we’re missing our number one receiver today for personal reasons. Give it up for the rest of the squad!”

The crowd cheered, but the murmur around Jayla grew louder. Heads turned and phones angled subtly in her direction. She felt the heat climb her neck again.

“I need the bathroom,” she muttered.

Tasha grabbed her wrist. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back.”

Jayla slipped through the crowd, head down, weaving between bodies. The concrete tunnel to the restrooms smelled of bleach and stale beer. She pushed through the door and entered. It was empty.

Thank God, she thought as she sat on one of the chairs stationed outside.

She pulled her knees to her chest breathing through her mouth so she wouldn’t cry.

Minutes passed. Then she heard a low moan followed by a groan.

Jayla froze.

She considered leaving but she decided against it and went closer to the stall the sound came from.

She shouldn’t look. She knew she shouldn’t. But she was curious and the stall door didn’t lock perfectly; there was a half-inch gap at the hinge side. She leaned forward, just enough to see through it.

Devin stood at the far sink, back to the mirrors, cargo shorts shoved down to mid-thigh. His c**k was out, thick, dark, veins standing out along the shaft. The head was flushed deep purple, with pre-come that beaded at the slit. In his right hand he held his phone.

The screen glowed bright and Jayla’s own face stared back from it.

The photo was one she’d forgotten about, her on her knees in Justin’s dorm, mouth open, tongue flat, waiting for him to finish on her face. But Devin wasn’t looking at that part. His thumb swiped. Another photo loaded, her bent over the bed, ass up, p***y spread wide, glistening, two of Justin’s fingers buried inside her to the knuckles.

Devin’s hand moved faster. Long, firm strokes from base to tip. His foreskin slid back with each upstroke, exposing the sensitive ridge. Pre-come leaked steadily now, coating his fingers, making the shaft shine under the fluorescent lights. His breathing turned into ragged, short, harsh exhales through his nose. His free hand braced on the sink edge, knuckles pale.

Jayla’s mouth went dry. Heat pooled low in her belly, sudden and unwanted. Her n*****s tightened against the thin bra fabric. She pressed her thighs together hard, trying to stop the ache starting between them.

Devin’s hips jerked forward into his fist. His balls drew up tight against his body. A low groan rumbled out of his throat, deep, almost pained. His thumb swiped again.

This time the video played muted, but she knew the sounds by heart. It was filled with her own moans and Justin telling her to take it deeper.

Devin’s strokes turned frantic. His abs flexed under the tight team jersey. Sweat beaded along his hairline, trickled down the side of his neck. His c**k throbbed visibly, then he came.

Thick ropes of c*m shot out, splattering the sink basin. White, creamy spurts that hit the porcelain with soft wet sounds. One landed on the edge of his phone, streaking the screen where her picture still glowed. He kept pumping through it, milking every drop, breath hitching. Come dripped down his knuckles, ran along the underside of his shaft, pooled on the tile between his sneakers.

He sagged forward slightly, chest heaving. His hand slowed, then stopped. He stared at the mess he’d made, then at the phone.

Jayla’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought he’d hear it.

She shifted a little, and the stall door creaked.

Devin’s head snapped up.

Their eyes locked through the narrow gap.

For a second neither moved.

Then Jayla pushed the door open, stepping out slowly. Her legs felt unsteady.

Devin didn’t tuck himself away. His c**k hung heavy between his thighs, softening but still wet, c*m glistening on the head and along the shaft. His shorts stayed bunched at mid-thigh. He didn’t look ashamed.

Jayla’s voice came out quieter than she meant.

“What are you doing?”