The wooshing machine - A P1nk short story

Dedicated and written at the request of Master mysteriopark. I hope you enjoy.

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My mother said being a woman is about making sacrifices to fill something with beauty; but having breasts that fall just short of filling a B-cup bra while still having to deal with the itchiness and the stares and sweat... well it just felt like an unfair tradeoff.

The sun shone with unusual strength for April. I was standing just in my lingerie and yet even my scalp was sweating, my light brown hair drenched. I had church in a few hours so I had to bathe, and probably would have to again before this week’s date with my lovely boyfriend but I wasn’t sure if I would have time because after church I had to come over to Betty’s and she wouldn’t tell me why and URRRGGHH!!!

I kicked the washing machine hoping it would finally just start, but my foot slipped on a single sock that had escaped the basket. My body fell forward, forearms landing on top of the washing machine, it’s corner hitting between my legs, the white plastic was suddenly pressing itself against my panties.

And the machine started. At that moment I became keenly aware of one more layer of frustration insode me. I exhaled breathily, red ran across my smooth cheeks, goosebumps over my slim body. It was sthe sweat that stuck my thighs to the calmly throbbing appliance but when my mind ordered my legs to step back they attempted to close. An animal instinct struck my hips. I let out... a sound as my unfocusing blue eyes travaled across the bathroom in desperation – as if locking onto something wpuld suddenly take these last few seconds back inro nothing. But my eyes did lock onto something. On the side of my bathtub sat a small purple dildo with the word „P1NK” pressed into it’s side in cursive. Betty bought it for me a month earlier as a cruel gag gift – she knew me and Jack would wait for marriage. She approved just couldn’t fathom it. She put it there with a wink – it would have been too rude to throw it out but it was too disgusting to touch. So I just left it there angling away from it every time I bathed.

I pushed myself away from the washing machine with sudden determination. I wouldn’t act that easy, not even alone.