Content notes: hand sex, masturbation, getting caught
It was officially cold enough that I couldn’t just throw my winter coat on over my threadbare Spice Girls tank top and short shorts to take out the trash without risking my nipples slicing holes in Baby and Posh’s respective faces. I crossed my arms in front of my tits as I walked back to my apartment building in the snow, so as not to draw the attention of the elderly gay couple who somehow always managed to start fucking the exact moment that they spotted me out their fourth-floor window.
I was ten winters deep in Chicago snow and it never got easier. My phone buzzed in my coat. It buzzed again. For a moment in the haze of the cold, I just let the phone vibrate against my pubic bone for warmth when I remembered — ‘wait, nobody ever calls me.’ I uncrossed my arms and quickly stuck my hand in my pocket.
Call from Winnie.
I got so nervous that I dropped the phone. It skidded across the ice. I dropped to my hands and knees t...
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