Use your cellphone to record the conversation

"W... wait..." you try to command, the words somehow coming out as a mere whisper. "I need... I... Oh!"

Your words end in a long groan as Len's slug-like tongue continues to slime its way into your slit, spreading his germs and filth into the pristine depths of your most sacred place.

Coarse bristles rub your tender thighs raw as his unshaven cheeks rasp against them, making you spread your legs in self-defense to avoid them, an act that draws you downward and gives him better access to your privates.

Dimly you remember you needed a plan about something, if you could just remember what the problem was. The smell of mold, unwashed man, rampant mold and old garbage?

Laughter reaches your ears from beyond the wall, and you struggle to latch onto it. Brandon! You have to hear what Brandon says! Because...

Reason fails, but you latch on to the notion that you need to know what he says. Again you nearly lose yourself in the sensation of Len nuzzling between your legs, his nose pressing against your little lady as his tongue pokes within you like he'll find his next meal.

Record... need to record. How? With what?

The answer pops into your head as your hand encounters something that isn't a bottle or a disgustingly wet and smelly rag of some sort. Your purse! More importantly your cell phone!

Knowing that you might become derailed at any time and forget your cause you fumble through the bag, letting out an ardent moan of relief - yes, relief of course - as your hand closes on the sleek little phone.

Like everything you own it's the best money can buy with all the features anyone could want. High class, just like you.

"Record," you whisper, fumbling to turn on the display.

What you don't seem to have realized is how the backlight of the cellphone will light the room, no doubt making Len look up from his delicious - disgusting! - worship of your privates.