Sortie / Day One / Embarrassment

You find it easy to pluck at the already resounding chord of her embarrassment and shame. Her eyes dart to the door, humiliated by the thought that someone might enter and see her, half-naked and inexplicably...wet?

She scrabbles at her bundled panties and pajama bottoms, trying to cover herself. The tangle at her knees does not come free at one tug and the smear of slime on her fingers causes her hand to slip free. She lets out a whimper of frustration and rolls out of bed, smearing the cum on her sheets and landing with a flounce on the carpeted floor. She gives up on the panties and just hauls the pajama bottoms up over herself, allowing the panties to tangle on her crotch and around the bottom of her hips.

She hauls herself up to her feet using the edge of her bed and limps toward the door, clasping at the stretched out waist of her bottoms to keep them from being dragged down by her tangled panties. Then she lunges toward the door. She has just enough caution to peek out before waddling into the hall, trying desperately to ignore the way her pajama top is pasted to her belly by the yellowing slime. Seeing no one in the hall, she limps as fast as she can to the bathroom door, only to find it closed and locked.

Too ashamed to even knock in order to hurry the occupant, Sara just stands in the hallway, whimpering while holding her straining pants up with one hand and bracing herself against the wall with her other. Just as she begins to glance back toward her bedroom door, considering some kind of retreat, the bathroom door opens with a puff of damp, warm steam.

The older boy, whom you will later learn is named Alexander, is tall and muscular, with near-black eyes, mocha-brown skin, and handsome hawk-like facial features. His thick, coarse black hair falls to his waist. This striking hair and his naturally smooth chin reveal his Native American blood. It is not clear whether the hairlessness of his body is congenital or the result of manscaping.

Sara barely notes the handsome, well-built young man who steps out, his tanned body only covered by a white towel, pinched closed at his waist. Instead, she dodges past him into the safety of the bathroom.

As she pushes the door shut, she fails to notice, (though you do not) the lingering gaze and quirked half-smile on the face of the older teenager.

There is nothing for you to do but...

• ...let her clean up.