The sunlight pierced through the window, landing on Sam's face as he opened his eyes.
There was an indescribable sense of weariness in his body - perhaps from the exhausting battle yesterday?
Rubbing his head, Sam felt there was something more important he should remember.
He hadn't drunk any alcohol the previous day and was definitely not in a drunken state. So...
His gaze shifted to the bedside. This wasn't his room, nor his bed.
Zoe.
The name suddenly came to him, along with memories of the previous night, even the dream-like, surreal experience.
He threw back the covers and looked at his cock. There was nothing unusual about it, no dampness, no sticky sensation.
Instead, his cock felt surprisingly fresh, as if it had been thoroughly cleansed - a stark contrast to his thoughts that what had happened with Zoe, snuggled under the covers and intimately connected to him, was just a figment of his dream.
