Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Assignment 060711: The Shirt


The Shirt (Available for FREE at AfterDark Online!)
By Breanne

06/07/2011

I pulled open the door quietly and glanced down the upstairs hallway. Dark ripples varied with beams of sunlight through glass windows. The hall was deserted, just as I expected. My darting eyes moved left and right, quickly analyzing the best way to proceed. Theft is never an easy thing and the last thing I wanted was to get caught. I was dressed inconspicuously of course; flip flops, blue denim skirt, a pair of dark pink panties, white cotton bra, and a tee shirt. But if you got close, and I mean really close, you might have also heard the slight buzzing coming suspiciously from my under my skirt and beneath the panties.

That was the vibroballs trembling inside me.

Yes. It is tough to commit theft when you’re being sexually stimulated, but I’m used to it. Oh… not theft! I mean being sexually stimulated. I’m a NHPS: nympho humiliation pain slut. Of course on that day, that afternoon, I was ALSO a thief.

I hurried down the hall, my flip flops clack clacking along despite the plush carpet. I found the appropriate door and turned the knob, knowing the room behind was empty. I had carefully cased the joint first, making sure that those who also had access were busy elsewhere in the facility. The door creaked a little and I winced, freezing. I wasn’t sure it would be heard.

When no one appeared to investigate, I entered the room. It was dark and I didn’t dare turn on the light. I navigated the darkness with the aid of a few stray beams of sunlight filtering through the closed blinds. There were only a few obstacles to avoid and I did so easily. Familiarity is a handy thing to a thief, and I had been in this room hundreds, if not thousands of times before. Hell, in all probability, I was CONCEIVED in this room.

I found the inner sanctum. I was going to need a bit of light at this point, and a quick flick illuminated the tiny chamber where my sought after booty was hung. Moving as fast as possible, I snatched my prize off the bar with only a slight clang as metal scratched metal and then I had it pressed to my chest. This would be the hard part. Escape. I couldn’t fold it, couldn’t hide it away. Speed was my only option. I almost forgot to turn off the light…

Once more I checked the hall. Deserted. Thank God. I stepped out into the bleak light, totally exposed, my prize clearly visible. Just a few more steps! I almost tripped I moved so fast and I snatched at the door knob leading to safety. It opened and I pushed my stolen goods through first.

“Breanne?” my mom’s voice came from the stairwell. I turned and looked. Her head had just appeared and my hand quivered as I held the item inside my room, against the wall, hoping she hadn’t seen.

“Yes, Mom?” I asked innocently. I’ve had lots of practice at this. I’m REAL good at feigning innocence. Trust me on this.

“Would you mind grabbing a new towel for the downstairs bathroom? The one down here got dirty.”

I smiled, nodding. “Sure, I’ll bring it down in a moment.”

Mom returned the grin and then disappeared downstairs. Disaster averted. I slipped into my room and closed the door. Holding up my prize I looked at it with a mixture of fear and excitement. I would need it in just a few hours. Hopefully Dad wouldn’t miss it either. He had enough of them, though he only wore them on Sunday morning for church and we had already done that… come and gone. I lifted the metal hanger and stuck it on the hook in my closet. It had to stay unwrinkled of course. Who on earth would want to wear a dress shirt, a man’s six button dress shirt, wrinkled?

Not me.

Get the rest of the story of Breanne's "The Shirt" at AfterDark Online, a new erotic fiction library that's exploding with new authors and fascinating stories. Click here to read Breanne's "The Shirt"

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