In Her Room, Afterwards Ch. 01

This was my first ever attempt at writing anything vaguely erotic, over a year ago. It was inspired by a contributer on this site; I sent it to her at the time and she was very gracious and encouraging in her replies. Many thanks to her, again.

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"Hey, you in?"

I pushed the door closed behind me, taking comfort in the sharp click of the lock securing it. After only a week in the new apartment, I was not yet certain about my new neighbourhood- or my new neighbours, for that matter- so, until I could get a feeling for the surrounding area, I was going to take extra care in matters of security. Sure, I didn't have much worth stealing. But I wasn't the only person staying here.

The hallway of the apartment was empty, aside from a small side-table and a few empty cardboard boxes stacked next to the kitchen door. Our collected kitchen utensils had finally found their homes in different drawers and cupboards. We both still had unopened boxes and suitcases in our rooms, their order of unpacking decided by necessity and convenience.

I slung my jacket onto one of the coat-hooks by the door and walked past the still-bare living area; there was a TV and a sofa, sure, but the process of decoration would be a slow one, reflecting the adjustments necessary for two strangers living together. Before moving into the small apartment, we'd only met once. After meeting up for coffee and discussing the mutually beneficial rental (and making sure we didn't hate each other), Ella and I agreed to sign the terms and move into our new home.

Having been out for most of the first Saturday in the place, I still wasn't sure if she was here. If she was napping, busy or just wanted some privacy, I wouldn't want to disturb her. So I started moving quietly towards my room, thinking about the unpacking that still awaited me.

Passing the bathroom, a sound suddenly broke the silence. I paused, my heart rate increasing in alarm. It came from Ella's room, up ahead, where the door lay slightly ajar. It was... what? A sigh? A moan? No, my imagination was playing with me. I was living alone with a cute girl I barely knew, so of course my imagination was...

Another sound quickly followed, this one sounding almost painful, somewhere between a cry and a sharp gasp. As my brow furrowed in concern, the thump of something or somebody falling to the ground stirred me to action.

I quickly marched to Ella's door. Hesitating, I announced myself through the small gap in the doorway.

"Ella? Are you alright in there?" I didn't hear anything other than my heartbeat, pumping away in fear and anxiety. Maybe she'd fallen and hurt herself. Maybe something heavy had fallen from a shelf. Concern for Ella's safety overrode my respect for her privacy and, slowly pushing the door open, I peered inside.

There was nothing to prepare me for the scene that confronted me. In the middle of her room (I noticed that it was much tidier than mine), Ella was sprawled on the floor, almost entirely naked. Her desk-chair was next to her, toppled from its usual position at her computer. Wearing only a black bra, one strap of which was hanging loose over her shoulder, I couldn't tell if she was moving or not.

I rushed over to her, panicking and uncertain. My first instincts were to make sure that she was okay: I pressed a finger to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was strong, although she was covered with a sheen of sweat. Turning her over, I could see that she was breathing quickly and deeply, like somebody recovering from running a marathon. Her eyes, however, where half-closed and she seemed barely conscious. A moan escaped her soft lips as I brushed errant strands of hair away from her blood-flushed face.

She seemed okay, but I started looking around to see what had happened. This was when my conscious thoughts caught up with what my eyes could see, alerting me to the situation I had stumbled upon.

On the carpet next to her feet lay a flesh-coloured dildo.

This was the first time I'd really been close to one, to be honest. Certainly, I'd never been so obviously present at the scene of one's recent use. It glistened wetly with... I couldn't proceed to guess what it glistened with. My imagination furnished me with all the likely possibilities, which did nothing to relax me under the circumstances.

Kneeling next to Ella's hyperventilating body, I shook away the surprise. I couldn't leave her on the ground like this. Estimating that I'd have little trouble carrying her, I carefully picked her up from the carpet. Turning towards her bed, I felt something else drop by my feet. Ignoring it for now, I lay her on the soft sheets of her queen-sized bed, her legs slightly apart and her arms draped loosely by her sides.

I turned around to see that the new object on the floor was yet another sex toy. This one buzzed wetly in a small, viscous puddle.

Two?! What was she doing with two?! For that matter, what would she be doing with just the other one...

I quickly prevented my imagination from attempting a recreation of the possible scenario, in a very visual manner. The main facts were evident: Ella had been... enjoying her own company, while sitting at her desk. Either through unintentional accident or very-much intentional success, depending on how you viewed it, she'd lost control of the chair's balance and tipped over the edge. Perhaps while being "tipped over the edge."

Great, now my imagination was dealing in double entendres.

Deciding that my imagination was swiftly on its way towards becoming my enemy, I appealed instead to my practicality. Ella was moving slightly, now, and her breath was gradually returning to normal. I had no idea how she'd react when she fully came around. I suddenly felt a responsibility to ensure that she at least reached that stage safely.

Leaving her room, I stumbled my way towards the kitchen. I took a large glass (one of mine) from a cupboard and rinsed it out a few times before filling it with cold water. I brought it back to Ella's room, finding that she'd rolled over in my absence, curling her arms and legs around her quilt duvet. Lying on her side, I couldn't help but notice her round, pert buttocks, curving out from her toned hips and smooth back. Her half-conscious turning had left a dark, damp patch on her bed-sheets.

I left the glass of water on her bedside table. When she woke up, she'd definitely need to rehydrate. She seemed to be sleeping, now. I wondered if that was a good or a bad thing: she must've needed the rest but, after falling over, the last thing you'd expect somebody to do is fall asleep. If she was moving, I figured, it must be regular sleep. Still, it seemed odd.

Not as odd as the buzzing that intruded on my thoughts. Oh, right. The vibrator. As if I'd forget about that.

Both it and the less animate, anatomical looking object lay on the floor next to the overturned chair. Wonder struck me, once more. Had she been indecisive? Or had both been used simultaneously? Looking to Ella, as if for an answer, I only received a perfect view of her reddened, slightly plump pussy, peeking out from between her parted thighs. Liquid continued to seep onto her white sheets.

My erection had snuck up on me, during all of this, and strained uncomfortably within my jeans. Growling upon noticing my arousal, I set myself to bringing some order to the room.

Righting the chair was the least problematic issue. As I placed it back at Ella's desk, it tapped quietly against one of the desk's legs. The computer's screensaver dissipated from the monitor, revealing the desktop. In the background, various pornographic images were displayed on a browser window. In the foreground, an audio recording program was running.

It was still recording.

I looked around the desk, spotting two directional microphones, at different heights and both pointed towards the chair. Handling the mouse, I paused the recording in progress. The total recording length stopped at 1:07:23.

She'd been recording her masturbation for over an hour. Why?! Ella's level of exhaustion started to make sense. Depending on how often she climaxed, it's certainly imaginable that somebody could pass out after... exerting herself for so long.

On the matter of running processes, my attention returned to the still-humming vibrator on the floor, along with its partner in crime. I didn't know how long the battery would last. Nor did I know what the female by-product of such activity would do to the carpet. Sighing with resignation, while also going light-headed at the prospect, I decided to pick them up.

Gripping the base of the vibrator with two fingers, I looked over it for the on-off switch. Avoiding skin contact with the clear, sweet-smelling liquid coating the appliance seemed to be a futile effort: only the flat surface of the base seemed relatively dry. After a few slippery seconds of fiddling with it, I worked out how to switch it off, leaving a noticeable silence in the absence of its buzz. Looking over at the slumbering Ella, I tried to ignore the fact that the moulded plastic in my hand had probably just enjoyed a sizable length of time inside her. I failed miserably, resulting in a rush of blood to my face and other extremities.

I picked up the other, larger dildo and made my way back to the kitchen. I was tempted to compare the size of the rubbery facsimile with the increasing protrusion snaking its way across the front of my jeans. Feeling foolish for entertaining the notion, I went straight to the sink and tossed them both in, turning on the hot tap.

After a few minutes of wiping the toys down with a cloth and rinsing them, I set them down on the draining board. As I considered drying them, another sound from Ella's room set my heart racing once more.

Footsteps.

The soft padding moved slowly down the corridor, stopping at the kitchen door. As I stood facing the sink, Ella's soft, tired voice slid towards me from behind.

"Hey... what happened?"