-Henry Bowers-

Henry Bowers was so fucking hot.

It was the truth. I mean, even with his violent acts. . Fuck. He still turns you on so damn much. Everytime you guys make eye contact for a second too long, you feel a familiar heat pooling in your gut

There's was just something about him. Perhaps it's the way he carried himself, the arrogant, confidence. Or maybe it was his toughness? Chicks dig bad boys.

But, you weren't sure that Henry knew or not. The Gang did. Belch always gave you that "oh shit" look when Henry's near. Not the "oh shit" you're fucked way. In the "oh you're gonna be fucked." Hopefully, that's true. But for now, you could just pretend he didn't make your heart flutter or how you cuddled with pillows, pretending it was him.

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Today was different. It was Summer, one of the perfect seasons to relax. You could get a nice tan in, hanging with friends, getting a glow up, the possibilities were endless. There was just one thing you wanted to see. Henry Bowers.

So, you went on a mission to see him. If he wasn't going to do anything, you might as well. Even if it was just a glance or an eye roll, it was everything you craved, just getting his attention even for a split second.

The Bowers gang usually hung out near the Kissing Bridge or the Barrens to go scare off the Losers Club. That's where you went. The Kissing Bridge. Maybe one day you'll hopefully suck face with him.

You got to the bridge and there he was. . Walking through the bridge like he owned, because he basically did. You froze. The closer and closer he got, the more your heart hammered against your ribs. . Then you and Henry made contact.

"Freak," Henry muttered, pushing past you, deliberately bumping your shoulder as he did so.

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"Freak". That one word. So harsh, so rude, so him. That one interaction went on and on and on inside your head. His shoulder against his.

You shifted on your bed, spreading your thighs. The silicone dick in your right hand, your left on your thigh, imagining it was Henry's. You slid the cock past your slick, wet cunt, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. Your back involuntarily arching, your body already craving more. You swallowed hard and began to pump.

Your thoughts were filthy. You imagined Henry's cock shoved between your thighs, just like the silicone one. He'd probably tilt your hips up for a better angle, biting and leaving marks on your collarbone and neck while ruining you. Maybe the bed would creak. Fuck, you'd hope so.

Another thought flashed in your find. The cock could be replaced by Henry's fingers. Fingering you till you dripped down to his knuckles and then some. A shiver ran down your spine.

Maybe one day this fantasy will be real. But, for now, you'll just have to cum to the thought of Henry cleaning your guts out until there's a mold of his cock inside you.