12 Days of Kinkmas – Afterword

When I settle in with a book, I always look forward to an afterword, to gain some insight on the making of the story I would have just read. I hope you’ll stay here a while to indulge me with my own. For those out there that have kept with me these 12 Days.

I had a lot of fun writing this batch of stories, to the point where I had to trim down several. Cult of Helen had a three page character set up, just a quaint calm before the storm before I decided to start again and jump right in the middle to trim it down, where as The Gift was sketched out to go on much longer than it did.

Part of the trim was because I didn’t want to bore the reader. It’s always hard to tell what’s a good length because some devour an 8 page story while others struggle. All of us have busy lives too, which is another reason why I trimmed down parts.

There were stories that didn’t make the cut either, for a few reasons. I wanted each story to have a different theme or vibe and so when I realised I had several stories that were similar to others that made the list, I decided to cut the others out.

In the end, I learnt something about this process too – there’s an appetite for dark and violent stories laced with sexuality. Nightmare Inn, an actual nightmare I experienced right down to being trapped and forced to Fuck, got a response I wasn’t really expecting.

It showed me that while some may not find their voice to speak up about their interest in dark impulses, they will delight in any that comes their way.

Lastly, thanks to all that dropped by for a read. I appreciate it more than I could put into words. It warms my heart to know you enjoyed it and have had it longer in your thoughts.

If you have any questions regarding meaning, any constructive criticism, any questions about theme or inspiration or maybe there was a story element that spoke to your interests in ways that startled you, please feel free to let me know. I welcome all lines of dialogue – the good, the bad and the ugly!

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #12 – The Dreamer

They were real to him. Every one of them.

When he slept they knelt by his ear, whispering their wicked delights, lamenting their haunted lives.

They crowded the room, waiting for their time, their chance to speak, to be heard.

When he woke, they appeared before him, always in his bedroom, in his living room, dressed from another life, waiting just for him. Waiting to continue.

When he wrote, they appeared in his dreams, guiding him as their lives fell from their lips in smooth velvet voices.

Their lives, their memories, their existence were as real, as living and breathing and flesh and blood and messy and alive as his existence was.

When he was done, they’d smile and leave the room, out of sight and out of mind, gone but immortalised, leaving room for the next of them to visit.

12 Days of Kinkmas: Day #11 – “A Kitten for Christmas”

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She kept the best gift for last.
After all was unwrapped on their quiet Christmas morning, after they had their breakfast together – coffee and blueberry bagels – she disappeared into the spare room of their first house together, pulling open the cupboard door and reaching up over head to grab the box with the red and white stripes pattern.
She returned to him waiting on the couch patiently, hands in lap, and gently sat the box down in his lap.
“What’s this?” He asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.

She knew he didn’t like surprises – and something in her delighted in this small twist of fun she was doing to him – but she nodded towards him in a gesture that said open it and see.
He did so, carefully lifting the lid with both arms to see — the contents wrapped in plain gold wrapping paper.
He sighed, the way he knew she found funny, and paid no mind to the delicate wrapping paper, tearing it free and finding –
Cat ears around a headband.
He pulled it out of the box, running his hands over the black fuzz on the ears.
She couldn’t supress the smile on her face, it spread like wildfire, her cheeks taking the full brunt of the force.
Below the cat ears was a pink collar, as soft and fuzzy as the ears, with a little silver pendant attached reading Kitten.

“Interesting…just your size.”
He placed the collar on the cat ears – there was more to come.
Below the collar was a medium sized butt-plug, sleek and black. Attached to the end of it was a cat tail, soft and fuzzy (again) with a white stripe down the middle of it. All of this bought for just $79.99 – though he would never know that.
“I…must say. I am lost for words.”
She knew this, could tell this, from just the sound of his voice. He had this tone about him when he couldn’t find the words. It was a sweet feature. Genuine and shy and honest.

She could tell he liked it though, she could see thatin his eyes, the way they lit up with mischief, his mind going a million miles an hour just thinking of the possibilities.
Before she could talk about it, before she could say what was on her mind or even address how they’ve both been wanting to explore this part of themselves for the better part of their busy year, he was already getting up, pink fuzzy collar in hand.
“May I…Or would you rather –“

She was already brushing the intruding hair out of her eyes and behind her neck before he could finish.
With the collar attached, warm and snug around her neck, she felt truly at home – comfortable. At peace. She could tell by the way his eyes were beginning to glass over at he was at the same spot she was.

He put his arm around her and drew her in for a cuddle.

12 Days of Kinkmas: Day #10: ——— —

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Nothing mattered but her.
Her soft moans, her delicious whimpers, her frantic breathless voice begging for him to fuck her sweet self, the words that came out of her mouth.
Their bodies were one, lathered in sweat, united in ecstasy, a symphony of sight and sound. The purest form of pleasure, pain and anything else in between.
He had never felt so high than he did now, slipping out of her drenched little cunt before tearing back into her again, not even bothering to ease gently.
The rhythm was an addiction, feeling his cock ease into her, pushing past her smooth lips, feeling him becoming absorbed in her. Lather, rinse and repeat.
No word, in any language, could describe just how it felt to fuck this woman – not make love to, not gently – fuck.
This was life. This was death. This was madness.
When his cock slipped from her, she grunted, frustrated playfully, whimpering for him to put it back in, hurry please. He did. He found her again. The rhythm came and he was not far behind. He

 Held onto her hips as they met each other, her back into him and he into her. Her cries were different now, genuine. Sad. Mixed with pleasure.
A terrible uneasiness slithered over his body, casting an icy chill over the sweat lathered across him.
Where was he, who is this bent over him? He went to pull away and something cool and solid pulled at him. Chains.
He was naked, mid-intercourse with a woman, a –
He looked at her; the blonde woman was now turning around from where she had knelt before him, glazed with sweat. Her eyes were furious, yet questioning.
His chest tightened, a scream was gestating in the pit of his stomach. He looked around and saw only darkness.
His senses were kicking in. There was hay at his feet, pinching at his knees. The floor was cement – cold, hard exposed cement.
He could hear movement around him, other gasps, other moans, and feminine, masculine, other sexes.
He opened his mouth to scream, it was rising in his throat.

“Don’t” The woman before him spoke in hushed tones. “They’ll hear and they’ll punish..”
“Where….”
Speaking felt strange. His throat was sore; Freddy Krueger was at work down there. Dehydrated maybe? He blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness.
“Are you? Who knows? Not me. Not them…”
“What the fuck is going on….” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in hours or days.
“You don’t know….” The woman said. Realisation was in her voice.
“’Course. That’s why you took me so willingly…you were still drugged…”
“Drugged?”
“What do you remember?”
He racked his brain. What did he remember? He was….someone….where was he? Home? At work? Shopping? How did he get here?
“It’ll come back to you.” The woman spoke. “My name’s Alex. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Days? Weeks? I can’t tell. Anyway. You better get on it with it.”
“What?”
“You better finish…you know….You’ve got to come within me.”
“Why the fuck for?”
His body was beginning to tremble. Anxiety swept over him, bringing with it the wave of panic.
“Because that’s what they want you to do. To get us pregnant.”
“I can’t!”
“You must, else you’ll end up like the rest – dead. And someone else will replace you. There’s always someone else.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“I’ve seen people refuse, I’ve seen them leave this room and never come back. Look around you, the others…they’re ignoring us. Why do you think that is?”
“I….”
“Look, I don’t want to die. You’ve got to come. Otherwise, we’ll both be punished..”
Footsteps. Fading in from somewhere. Shuffling on the floor. Getting closer.
“You’ve got to do it” The woman hissed.
“This is absurd –“

Door hinges squeaked, light flooded the room.
He blinked at the light, shielding his face, as footsteps broke the deathly silence – and then –

Nothing at all.
The man blinked until his eyes adjusted, he looked down the barren room, spotting two other couples – no, three – all nude, all huddled together against the grey concrete walls, all looking back in the direction of the light.
“I’ve been told you didn’t want to proceed.”
A male voice from the light.
Tightness gripped the man’s chest. He kept his head low – how did they know?
He cast a look at the woman named Alex, her eyes wide and terrified.
“I can’t. You can’t ask me to rape this girl. She’s what…? Barely 17?”
The man at the far end of the room huddled against the wall. He looked like a dad – thin grey moustache, shaved head that could’ve been bald. The woman in question did indeed look barely 17, it was in her face. Her body, though, was different, her breasts were large and her pubic hair was trimmed well.
The figure strode past the man, his cologne choking the air. He was dressed all in black, a hood concealing his hair, a mask concealing his face. His voice deep. Changed. Altered by something. His boots seemed to have a presence all on their own as he walked, clomping down on the floor.
“You are wasting our time then.”
“Look, please – you’ve got to let me, I mean her, go.  I will do what you ask but this is no place for a girl.”
The masked man sighed. “Fair.”
The Dad sighed in a relief the man felt in his chest. “Thank you, that’s all I ask. We won’t tell anyone, I won’t –“
Sound exploded through the room.
A woman screamed.
Muffled voices and – ringing, emerging above it all. Ringing so loud it throbbed in the pit of the man’s ear.
“Get him out of here, dump him with the rest. Consider him a lost cause.”
Sobbing came low quietly as two other figures dragged the corpse of the dad out of view and into the saturated light.
To the figure left behind him, the masked man said – “Find another for the girl. Quickly.”
The figure left, leaving the masked man, seemingly in charge, alone in the room.
Silence.
“You.”
The chill swept over his body. He felt like he needed to vomit.
“You’re new. Aren’t you?”
The masked man didn’t wait for a response.
“Let that waste of a life be an example to you. We are all part of…one great cause.”
Even digitised and altered, the voice seemed to relish saying we are all part of one great cause, as if it aroused him.
The altered man cocked his head at Alex, who sat with her back against the wall, looking down at the floor.
The altered man then turned and left – the light retreating from the room until they were covered in the darkness once more.

The man listened for the footsteps…waiting to hear them fade….and then turned to Alex.
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
A voice hissed at him from the darkness. “There is no escape, don’t you get that now?”
“Ssshut up” Another voice hissed.
To the man’s right, there was movement, low moaning. A man groaned in the throes of his climax. He peered back to Alex, feeling her eyes on him.
“Hey” She said softly. “It’s okay. You’re….you’re nice, you know? I can sense that. It’ll be okay…”
Her body scuffed the concrete, her arm reaching out gingerly in the darkness to find his.
“Make it quick. Hope for the best.”
Light flooded the room. Door hinges screamed. Two masked figures stepped inside as the man blinked the light into his eyes and accepted its warmth.
He looked to see one figure stride over to his right, where the man was still coming down from his climax.
The figured shoved this man aside into the wall – paused – then knelt down and studied the whimpering lady.
The woman, freckles across her body, fair red hair, sat against the concrete wall, her head buried in her arms.
“This one’s got spunk dripping outta ‘er.” The figure spoke, voice altered.
“Good.” The other said from the doorway. “Means he’s working well aye.”
The first figure laughed, which came out as a distorted garble. “Let’s go.”
He turned to leave, following after the one in the doorway.
The room fell back into darkness.
To the man’s right, the woman was breathing shakily. The man went to speak, when he felt Alex’s hand on his wrist again. “Leave it.”
A beat.
The man looked to the right then back to where Alex was before him, bent aon all fours in front of him, her cunt glistening in the darkness.
That was when he had an idea.
“I’m done! Hello? Hey, I’m done over here. Finished!”
Footsteps.
“Definitely done. All of it.”

The light flooded in the room. A sole figure stepped through and looked across the room at the men and women inside.
“Who speaks?” Came the garbled voice.
The man raised his trembling hand. He was working on pure adrenaline.
“I do. I’ve, uh…I’ve done it. What now.”
The figure approached, toting his rifle.
“Now you wait. And do it again.”
“Really? Is that how impregnation works? I’m…”
The figure stepped closer.
“I’m not sure…you know?”
Just a little bit further.
“Just do it again.”
The figure was over him now, gun in his face.
“Okay.”

A beat. The figure looked down at him, his breathing coming out in short altered bursts. He turned to leave.
The man grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him down. He hit the concrete with a hard THUNK and let out a garbled groan. The men and women panicked but the man was dragging the figure towards him by the leg.
When the figure raised the rifle, Alex yanked it free, clumsily ripping it from the hands of this man.
The figure was now reaching for the walkie-talkie attached to his belt, the walkie-talkie that the man hadn’t noticed yet. The man swirled the chain linking his hands together around the neck of the figure and pulled.
The figure, heavily built, leaned back into the man, kicking his legs out. Somewhere a woman was sobbing quietly.
The man didn’t know what he was doing, he hadn’t killed anyone before, he didn’t think, he had never strangled anyone, so he gripped the chain around the neck tightly, pulling, pulling with all of his might.
Alex freed the walkie-talkie from his belt and tossed it aside.
The figure was now reaching back to the man, his hands swatting at anything to get a grip of, to pinch, to pull, to get some ground.
The two men were grunting now, straining.
How hard did he have to pull the chain against his neck? How hard did he have to choke him before –
Alex raised the rifle. The butt of it came down on his head. Once. Twice. Three times.
Alex was grunting. Crying. On the verge of screaming.
The figure had fallen limp, sprawled out on the floor. Dead weight.
This time it was the man who put his hand gently to Alex, telling her it was okay, it would be all right, even if he weren’t sure, not entirely.
She quivered, sniffled, and shakily said, “Okay.”

A beat.

Quietly and quickly, Alex and the man searched him down for a key, finding nothing but cigarettes in only his left pocket.
“Fuck.” Alex spat.
The man searched across the floor, squinting in the darkness where the light from the doorway couldn’t reach. Nothing.
Alex was already on it.
“Put your arms on the floor.”
“What?”
“Just do it. And be still about it.”
The man did so, not yet realising he was holding his breath.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it fast.”
He could hear footsteps in the distance.
TWHACK.
His hand flew loose, the chains dangling from his wrists.
“What the fu-?”
TWHACK.
His right arm flew free of the wall chains.
“You shot me?”
“Quick. Do me.”
Alex stuffed the rifle to his chest.
“I don’t know how to shoot.”
“Hold your breath. Watch your eye. Realise your aim. Aim with your heart.”
“What?”
“Do it.” Alex hissed quietly.
The man aimed, shakily; now realising he was holding his breathe. He exhaled, his hands sweaty, trickling down his wrists.
Thwack. Thwack.
Alex grabbed the rifle, rose to her feet. The man watched in awe as she went from man to woman, freeing them of their chains with the silenced rifle. One by one the men and women rose to their feet, shakily, gingerly.

When all of them were freed, Alex seemed to take command.
“Who were you?” The man asked breathlessly.
“I….don’t know.” Alex replied matter-of-factly.
She handed the rifle to the man, who didn’t know how to hold it.
When he took it, she peered down the hallway, her eyes scanning, and her pupils large.
“Looks to be empty. But….
She turned to the small group of people. “We’ve got to go. Stay low and follow me…”
They moved low as one – one after the other, through a dilapidated hallway, the wallpaper peeling, water damage in the corners. Everything smelt of mould.
Up ahead – double doors to the left. Alex tried the rusty doorknob, the door squeaked as loud as the door to their prison.
Beyond the double doors was a stairwell only leading up. They were on the bottom floor.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The group travelled up three flights of stairs, following the faded painting on the walls till they reached words saying GROUND LEVEL.

Bursting through the double doors, Alex came face to face with infinite darkness.
Beyond that, the man peered, eyes once again settling into the dark – “Snow?”
The landscape before them, ‘neath a black sky, was a floor of snow leading out towards a tree line and into the night.
“Okay. What we need to do is –“
A flash blinded the man’s eyes. A spotlight? A searchlight?
An alarm, deafening their senses, blaring shrilly into the night, warbling low, warbling high, screeching, bloodcurdling.

“We’ve got to…keep….our”
The alarm silenced Alex’s voice.
Men and women began to panic and scream.
The man looked to his right to see a woman stumbling on her feet as if losing her balance, she turned around to face him, a bullet hole where her left eye should be.
The man felt panic seize his chest as the woman fell face forward into the snow, melting the surrounding blanket of ice with her blood.
He didn’t hear the gunshot, nor did he hear the next one that took the man next to him off his feet. Alex was dragging him away; their backs low to the brick wall behind them.
The man resisted, seeing lights flash through the tree line before them, seeing the bricks spray dust clouds ahead of him, seeing bodies in the snow, piled on top of one another.
“What the fuck?”
“We’ve got to…round this….” Alex was screaming over the alarm.

Up ahead was the corner of the building. They rounded it in a heartbeat, the man half expecting to be blown away by gunfire.
The cold was everywhere now, all over his body, gripping his chest, seizing his bare cock.
“….car…..”
“A car?”
He couldn’t hear Alex.
“It’s…we’ve got…”
She was dragging him along, like a ragdoll, his back scraping against the brick wall behind.
They made it into open space – the infinite darkness ahead of them and all around them. Beneath their feet, numb and falling asleep evermore, the man saw white lines marking the ground. He took a breath and peered before him – a car park.
A light switched on behind him, engulfing him in its presence, and he looked behind to see –
A sign – glass cracked, light flickering in and out of existence, reading – N CANCY.
The doors of the hotel, boarded up and crossed with a black X. It’s windows equally barred by rotted wooden planks, as is fighting off an impending attack. Cracks were splintering across its structure, forking out in every which way. Whoever stayed here, owned this place, had not been here in quite some time.
The whole place, lit by the searchlight and covered by the surrounded darkness, looked like something out of a hellish dream.

“Hey, let’s go!”
Miraculously, they made it to the car. Miraculously Alex found the keys, smacking an overhead visor and knocking the keys loose. Miraculously, she got it started under duress.
The man looked behind him, taking one last look at the remnants of the area before turning back to look at Alex, her face covered in grime.
They drove into the night, the alarm beckoning them to come back.

 

 

 

N I G H T M A R E     I N N

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #9 – ‘The Interview’

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ELIZABETH ABIGAIL QUINN

PART ONE OF RECORDED INTERVIEW

Date: – 9/12/18

 Duration: – 14 Minutes

No. Of Pages: – 3

 

 

Detective Andrews: This interview is being tape recorded at 10am. My name is Detective Aaron Andrews. Miss, what’s your full name?

Elizabeth Quinn: Elizabeth Abigail Quinn.

Detective Andrews: Okay. Just start whenever you’d like to, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Uh…I’m not really sure where to start.

Detective Andrews: From the beginning – what do you remember? Or we can do this when you’re feeling up to it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I remember…I…I….It was late. I was…heading out to drinks. A get-together. Only…uh…someone….I mean, I don’t remember the next part…

Detective Andrews: That’s okay.

Elizabeth Quinn: I woke up in the room. Cold, I remember it being cold but it was like a bedroom. Uh. Unfurnished but with a bed… in the middle, the bed that I…uh…was tied to on. And there was this man…A santa, with a santa mask but with the full outfit, the red suit and…He would…He dressed me. Candy Cane socks and….green and red underwear and…this stupid elf hat. I was his Elf, he would say. His sweet elf. He’d..uh…he taught me things at first. How to, uh, kneel. To kneel with my back straight. If I was wrong he’d…

[Elizabeth turns around and lifts up her blouse, showing scars on her lower shoulder blade where she had been struck by the unknown assailant.]

Detective Andrews: He’d hit you.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes with his fist. Other times with his belt. Most times he’d…punish me by uh, forcing me to….orgasm by….by….[inaudible]. A candy cane…. [inaudible]. Other times he would rape me. As a gift each morning he would say, and uh, each night as a goodnight. Sometimes I would wake up and I couldn’t tell what day it was, except that I was…..soaked. And he’d tell me. He’d say it in his santa voice – he’d always use that Santa voice – he’d talk to me about hypnotic suggestion. That he could cause me to…..orgasm. To squirt. I didn’t know what to believe, but sometimes I’d feel…well, I’d feel out of my body. But watching. And I would feel there, and present but I was only watching. And I could see myself… touching myself and….enjoying it? And…orgasming and squirting on cue and on myself and on the bed… I don’t know what to believe now. What was a dream and what was not…I mean I could see myself doing things I…..

Elizabeth Quinn: Before all that…he’d sit and read to me, gently, like some sort of children’s television host. He’d teach me about kneeling, yeah, and behaving – about slave discipline. About obedience. About servitude. About….about….my….

Detective Andrews: When you were found this morning, er, nude in an alleyway off of the CBD, you were talking about….other Elves?

Elizabeth Quinn: Other helpers…willing helpers.

Detective Andrews: Willing? Could you describe them?

Elizabeth Quinn: I can’t…I…I mean, they had their own masks…

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give me.

Elizabeth Quinn: One was a woman…she’d love to…She sounded…foreign? Uh, English I think? The other was a man. I couldn’t tell where he was from.. The both of them would help train me to be…what they’d call obedient, in the name of Christmas cheer. They’d take turns. Sometimes she would come, and feed me breakfast…uh…sometimes fruit…sometimes not. She would force me to watch porn with her and if I didn’t, she would hit me with her…paddle. I would come, for her amusement. Sometimes with her too, alongside her. A double…

Elizabeth Quinn: Other times I would be chained beneath them sometimes, while they masturbated over me, watching me and each other. Sometimes I’d be forced to…perform oral while someone took me anally. It was like being in a nightmare. I never knew it would end. When they would decide to stop flogging me, both of them. Almost in time. Almost.

Elizabeth Quinn: Sometimes…sometimes I could be above all four of us, watching. Like something out of a dream. Hovering and watching me, seeing how pink my….behind was. How raw my skin was, like I wasn’t me anymore. Like I WAS this elf….or that I no longer existed anymore. That I was viewing a dream of myself. Or that I was waking to reality.

Detective Andrews: This was the hypnotic suggestion?

Elizabeth Quinn: Yes. Or. So I think. I don’t know. Is this what you want?

Detective Andrews: Anything you can give us, about who these criminals were, about where you were for so long…Your family filed a missing persons report back in June…

Elizabeth Quinn: June….I can’t believe it’s been so long. This elf – I mean…I’m sorry. I’ve been trying not to do that this whole time.

Detective Andrews: No, do not apologise.

Elizabeth Quinn: They called it speech protocol. If I got it right without missing a beat, I’d be fed. And if I didn’t…

Detective Andrews: We don’t have to talk about it.

Elizabeth Quinn: I’m sorry.

Detective Andrews: There’s really no need to apologise, Miss Quinn.

Elizabeth Quinn: Please don’t [inaudible].

Detective Andrews: I would never. Er, we can stop this here for now.

END OF PART ONE

 

 

 

 

12 Days of Kinkmas: Day #7 – “The Dance”

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When he smacks her playfully on the ass, he can tell – she’s wearing no underwear.
Suddenly it’s his mind that’s traveling through space and time, processing moments across years, exchanges of dialogue in days gone by.
He sees both sides of her in that moment – the ambitious, friendly co-worker, the outspoken daughter, the kindly friend and the introverted girl who finds it difficult to explain what turns her on and why, the submissive who desperately wanted to clean his shoes, the slave who begged to taste his come, the pet who wanted the cage, the deviant who spurred him on to choke her.
The woman who can manage a business efficiently, solve problems to save her life, yet finds moments to pause when it comes to her own love life.
He loves her for all of her sides.

So when he can tell she’s not wearing underwear in her smart business-appropriate dress, she can tell that he can tell.
Their eyes meet, knowingly, and for the briefest of seconds he could’ve sworn he saw a wink in her eye, a mischievous glint that dared him on, to act, to say something, to create that force.
She can get this look to her eye, he thinks, that harkens back to the classy ladies of the 1940s and 50s, to the Grace Kelly’s and Marilyn Monroe’s – the look that says ‘Who, me?” if called out on deviant behaviour. The sort of baby-doll, innocent expression that comes with a sharp edge of knowing behaviour and wit.
He can tell she’s baiting him, just as she can tell he’s going to want to draw this out, to test her resolve and a part of her wants to see this through, to see if he’ll say something or nothing at all, and the other part just wants to be taken against the wall, neighbours be damned.

Neither of them act. They’ve got all day.

12 Days of Kinkmas – Day #5 – ‘Born Again’

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Seventeen year old Jennifer was sprawled out on a towel on the floor, dressed in only her lime green cotton panties. Her long blonde hair fell across her snow white-skin, curling around her small breasts.
Freckles spread outwards in a sporadic pattern across her stomach, where they would reach across her thighs and around to her ass.
Never had she felt so alive than she did now.
Never had she felt like someone understood her so completely, in all of the ways, like Caleb did.
He stood before her, completely nude, her boyfriend of just one year, messy crop of blonde hair.
“Are you ready?”
“Mhm…”

Her response came out strained, rushed by her giddiness, her breathlessness.
She reached down, arms brushing past the curves of her breast, to peel back her panties and toss them aside.
The basement in which they were in was silent, save for the low hum of the mini fridge tucked away in the corner across the other end of the room.
Light filtered in through the window next to where Jen lay. Outside it was a summer’s day, middle of December, but you’d never know by the grey skies and gentle wind a-blowing.
Jen felt her nakedness now, could feel the cool air around her exposed nipples, around her shaven cunt.
Caleb let out a sharp exhale, then his eyes narrowed and focused downwards.
Something in her mind told Jen to close her eyes, she followed suit.

When the stream hit her, she jumped – and instantly felt like a fool. From somewhere behind her eyes, Caleb was moaning in relief.
The stream lashed at her stomach, warm and stinging. It travelled upwards across her breasts, falling across her hair and pelting at her skin.
Jen felt that breathlessness rush out of her tightened chest and up through her throat. She joined Caleb in the fever dream, in this frantic vocal act.
She wanted to reach down and relieve this building pressure in her clit but she remembered Caleb urging her not to before hand, demanding it to her as he had liked to do since they began to be more intimate.

The stream splashed off her breasts and onto her chin, leaving a droplet on her lower lips.
Almost instinctively, she licked her lips and tasted a saltiness her mind instantly described to her as ‘sweet’.
The stream travelled downwards, marking her stomach with its sting, wavering slightly but still with a power to pelt.
It reached between her legs, scalding her clit before traveling downwards across her clit.
Her legs trembled at the sensitivity, at the act, at something she wasn’t quite sure she could accurately describe if someone had asked her.
The pressure in the stream began to falter, coming to drip across her right leg in short bursts before dying completely.
The two teenage lovers panted breathlessly in that moment, maintaining eye contact.

Every inch of Jennifer’s body was stinging from the shower, tender to the touch, coated in Caleb’s essence.
She only had one thing on her mind then – could she play now?