After noticing more and more towels needing to be washed more and more often, Lacey snoops through your room to find out why. She gasp at the sight of the waste basket under your desk, overflowing with a heaping pile of dried, crusty tissues. And your laundry basket, overflowing with stiff, crusty towels you haven’t washed yet
She feels a heat set in from her neck throughout the rest of her body. Her hands are shaking, her heart is racing, she clinches her thighs together and lets out a loan moan. She knows what this is, she knows what you’re hiding, and now she’s struggling to maintain her own composure.
“Ooooooh my god…. I… I..mmmmm fuck!” she squeezes her thighs tight, the wetness spreading through her jeans “Get it together Lacey….control yourself, you’ve been sober sixteen years”
she pulls a pair of your boxers to her face, inhales deeply, and moans quietly just as you walk into your room “FUCK YOU SMELL DELICIOUS”
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