Teenage Rule #12 - Never Fall Asleep at a Party

Jerking awake, Morris found himself in complete darkness, enfolded and wrapped in warmth and practically incapable of movement. Flesh, its flesh his brain registered. He had only recently become acquainted with the natural scents associated with female private parts. Here was a little pungent, sweat with a subtle background tartness of urine. He knew where he was, wedged in amidst the labial folds of someone’s vagina with something pressing behind him and pinning him in place. Panties? Trying to turn his body was extraordinarily difficult, the flesh refusing to cooperate. Shifting an arm through a mass of tissue, he tried to snake it up toward his face. The air was close and it was hard to breathe. The flesh around him seemed to undulate and shift and he wondered if the owner of this particular pussy was walking or moving. Trying to time the movements, he was able to get his left hand up near his face, swiping away damp tangled blond hair from his mouth and eyes. The smell was different, the taste in his mouth was different. Whose beaver lodge am I riding with? Squirming, he tried to get his right arm up, pushing at the dense tissue holding him firm.

Suddenly, the whole area compressed around him, painfully crushing him in place. Any hope of movement other than blinking seemed impossible. Did she just sit down? Is that why everything snugged up? Over the noise of his own beating heart and shallow rapid breathing, he tried to listen for other sounds, voices, some indication of who he was with or where they might be. Other than the biological sounds she was making, there was only muffled white noise, indistinct.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of immobility, his muscles aching from inactivity, the pressure lessened slightly and he was able to draw his right hand up beside his left.

Squirming, he tried to turn the right, pushing against the flesh with his shoulder. It felt as if the ambient temperature in the region was increasing, getting warmer and the tissue around him seemed to, for want of a better word, inflate. He ceased in his movement. She was getting aroused, whoever she was. The scent in the air changed.

Suddenly there was pressure on his back, bearing down on him and driving him harder against the swelling flesh. He was moved in a semi-circular motion a couple of times before the pressure abated. The area around him moistened and the heated air became more humid. The area around his feet felt positively aflame.

Okay, he thought, movement, let alone escape seems futile. He chuckled to himself. Escape to where? He didn’t know where here was. School? Riding in a car? What? What was going to happen to him? Was this ‘her’?

“Who are you?” he called out weakly to the darkness. Nothing.

Frustrated, he tried to thrash against the bonds restraining him, digging in with elbows and knees, even trying to head butt the flesh in front of his face. As before the tissue around him seemed to respond, engorging with blood and getting wet, viscous pre-cum, slippery, coating the front of his body.

“Aargh!” he yelled, half twisted to the left, able to feel the texture of the panties against the side of his face.

The motion of the body and flesh around him seemed to become more animated. She was walking faster, then suddenly it stopped.

There was a moment of some light, then he felt the hard edge of a fingernail, digging itself between him and the fleshy folds holding him, separating him from her and dropping him a short distance into her panties below.

He raised a hand over his face, shielding them and blinking against the bright overhead fluorescent light.

“You’re awake,” she said, grinning down at him lying in the gusset of her panties as she sat down on the gleaming white porcelain toilet.

“Silke?” he asked, recognizing her voice.

She chuckled softly.

Eyes adjusted, he looked at her, taking stock of the surrounding with his peripheral vision, on either side of the girl, two metal dividers. The smell of floor cleaner acrid in his nostrils. They were at the school, girl’s washroom.

“I trust you’re not too uncomfortable?” she asked, he could hear it over the sounds of her piss hitting the water in the bowl as she began to urinate.

Away from her and the warmth of her body, his skin puckered, goosebumps forming all over his flesh, he lay there motionless.

“Trying to get me all hot and bothered?” she teased, arching an eyebrow, half smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Rolling onto his side, “Help!” he yelled as loud as his little lungs could manage, eyes round and full of fear, looking down the length of her leg at the floor many feet below.

She giggled, “Hush now Morris,” she encouraged, placing her right index finger on the side of his face and pushing him against the stretchy fabric of her thong.

He pushed at the finger, feebly, ineffectively.

“Who do you suppose is going to come to your rescue?” she asked, withdrawing her finger and raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he said, “I don’t want to be little.”

Her expression softened, “It’s alright now, everything will be okay, just relax,” she said.

Shaking his head from side to side, “No,” he bleated.

She smiled, drawing a short strip of off white toilet paper from the giant roll inside shiny silver dispenser attached to the wall of the bathroom stall and dabbing the pee from her privates.

“Silke,” he said, eyes petitioning her face for some measure of understanding.

“Shh,” she said smile still on her pretty face, rising to her feet.

“Don’t” he said, putting his hands out.

Bending forward, she pointed at her hairless crotch, “Was I lying? Smooth,” she said with a grin, carefully drawing her panties back up, securing him against her vulva before pulling up her blue jeans and blotting out the light once again.

If she was smooth, who had the lightning bolt?