Vroom Vroom

Random thoughts continue to float through me as I rush to my car. Things like: I should have brought a towel for my seat, and why is the supermarket so empty tonight? Bright parking lights almost blinding me, lighting me as if someone wanted to make it perfect lighting to capture me in my barely clothed aroused state. No one around. Blinks. Do I actually want to be seen or want to not be seen? Bites my lips and wiggles, not wanting to answer my own question.

I imagine the return home being a blur. Or, attempting to drive like that. No, I don't want to be pulled over by the police, or get hit, or hit someone. So. Slow and easy. Not too slow, though, or a cop would pull me over for going too slow.

Why do I live so far away from this supermarket! Mmphs. It's, like, a half mile away from my apartment. And then I have to go up to the fourth floor! Why did I have live so high up. Well, at least I won't have to walk up stairs. Well, but, that elevator is slow. Well, elevator speed. And someone might see me, get on with me, I might see myself in the, right, there are no mirros in the elevator.

Where the heck am I? I need to pay more attention to my surroundings. I feared, imagined returning home in a blur. Right. Slow and easy. Get in car. Drive car home.

I rush home, park. Speed-walk to the elevator. I'd been thinking about it in the car, but no. Wait, not in the car, in the parking lot. Shesh it's hard to think when so aroused. Lost my train of thought, ah, good, empty elevator. Oh, that, right. Prefer. Empty. Release, needed.

Flining my body down the hallway, bouncing off my apartment door, trying to get the stupid key to get into the stupid keyhole. Yes! I'm inside! Quickly I pull at my clothing, breasts bouncing as I rip my shirt up and off my body. Twirling as I wiggle out of my skirt. Spinning and, squealing and as I spot my neighbor starring at me and I hurriedly close my door. Right, doors, note for future, after entering apartment, before ripping clothing off, close and lock door. Squeal. Checks door thirty-seven times. Yes, door locked.

Shaking and shuddering, sliding down naked against my door. My locked door. Sliding over onto side. Brain trying to work, body shaking and wiggling, and gasping from a powerful orgasm. Tries to remember, had plans. Things was going to do. Now on side, on carpet, naked.

Slowly wiggling back to brain functioning. Hmm. Comfy carpet. Why is there only clothing around me? Where'd my groceries go? Mmphs. Do I have to put clothing back on to get my groceries? I don't want itchy, stractchy, clothing against my skin. I don't want . . . did. Did, was I imagining seeing my neighbor earlier?

Energy returning quicker than expected, I hop up and look out my door hole. Peep hole. Whatever the fuck that fucking thing is called my neighbor is standing right there starring at my door! Eyes wide, mouth open! Fuck me. Gah.

I wonder how hard it would be to climb down from my building. Go out onto the balcony, and crawl like I was spiderwoman down the outside. Get my stuff. Stuff that won't last long in this temperature. Don't . . don't wanna go outside door. Into hallway. Near person who is still starring at me. At my door. They saw and heard everything.

Ah. Good, they leaving. Maybe I can get them to get my stuff for me? Bah, what the heck am I thinking. What's becoming of me? Become of me? My brain is too messed up to think straight. They'll be gone from the hallway and my brain my work after I take a shower.

Yes. Shower.

Shower first, then I will get my apples and cuccumber and clothing pins. For Mistress. Wanted cuccumber sandwich and apple pie. Not sure why she wanted the clothing pins.