Not the best introduction
Tiny Way Of Life
chapter 6
by
copier
· original author:
wr1ter98
A hand fishes you out of the water and puts you on the counter. It belongs to a girl about your age, maybe a little older. She has messy blonde hair, dark brown eyes that would be extremely pretty were she not extremely hungover, and a bleary expression, like she might fall back asleep at any moment.
"Thanks," you say, glad to be out of her ass.
"Yeah," she says quietly, "Could you keep it down, though? Working on a headache here."
You nod in understanding.
"Do you think you could put me in the sink so I can clean off? I smell a little ripe."
She cracks a small smile. "Sure thing, little man."
She gently places you in the sink and turns on the water, then sits back down on the toilet, head in her hands. It's a little cold, but considering the alternative, you're not complaining. "I'm Steve, by the way," you say as you lather with a small chunk of soap, "What's your name?"
"Jessie." She leans over and turns off the water, giving you a hand towel to dry yourself. It's the size of a blanket, but it gets the job done. You wrap it around your waist to try to preserve some of your dignity.
Now that you're clean(ish) and out of Jessie's ass, you look around the room, taking in your surroundings. It's a nice bathroom, probably part of an upper-middle class house. The wallpaper is a tasteful gold, and the towel racks are a dark bronze color. The white tile on the floor is spotless. You could probably eat off that floor, not that you'd want to.
"So, Jessie," you say, stretching, "What's on the agenda for today?"
"Well," she says slowly, thinking, "Today is-
"Thanks," you say, glad to be out of her ass.
"Yeah," she says quietly, "Could you keep it down, though? Working on a headache here."
You nod in understanding.
"Do you think you could put me in the sink so I can clean off? I smell a little ripe."
She cracks a small smile. "Sure thing, little man."
She gently places you in the sink and turns on the water, then sits back down on the toilet, head in her hands. It's a little cold, but considering the alternative, you're not complaining. "I'm Steve, by the way," you say as you lather with a small chunk of soap, "What's your name?"
"Jessie." She leans over and turns off the water, giving you a hand towel to dry yourself. It's the size of a blanket, but it gets the job done. You wrap it around your waist to try to preserve some of your dignity.
Now that you're clean(ish) and out of Jessie's ass, you look around the room, taking in your surroundings. It's a nice bathroom, probably part of an upper-middle class house. The wallpaper is a tasteful gold, and the towel racks are a dark bronze color. The white tile on the floor is spotless. You could probably eat off that floor, not that you'd want to.
"So, Jessie," you say, stretching, "What's on the agenda for today?"
"Well," she says slowly, thinking, "Today is-
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June 2
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