In the linen closet

You grab the handle to the linen closet, swing it open, and press your back (and your butt) as tightly against the shelves and towels as you can. Once you’re in place, you pull the door shut, squishing your boobs in the process.

Squeezed tightly inside, it doesn’t take long for you to become acutely aware of your more sensitive assets, and every slight touch against them as you breathe. Tucked in this claustrophobic space, the feelings soon amplify, leaving tingling trails across your skin. The fluffy texture of the towels against your butt, and the unrelenting pressure of the door on your tits have you perpetually trying to squirm away, but only seeming to make things worse, making your breath heavy and your pulse quicken.

It feels like this goes on for minutes, dodging away from fluffy invisible hands and sentient bumps on the door. Before it’s over, your incessant fidgeting and rampant imagination have transformed the closet into some merciless creature that has trapped you and won’t stop touching your naughty bits. You’d free yourself if only you could find the doorknob amidst the total darkness, but your savior comes in the form of Elaine opening the door. You immediately fall forward, your head landing squarely in her cleavage as you declare into her boobs, “Your linen closet *huff* is a pervert!”

You can’t see her face, but you’re almost certain it’s a condescending one as she asks, “Did you just accidentally lewd yourself?”

You reply with an indignant shout, “YOUR HOUSE IS THE LEWDER, NOT ME!”