The Old Woman, The Boy, and The Girl_(2)

The Old Woman, The Boy, and The Girl

She knew it was coming on again. The Urge. The irresistible urge that always won out over her weakness. She decided to take a cold shower in an effort to blunt the increasing desire. It didn’t work. But then, it never worked.

In fact, the shower was actually the start, the catalyst. Instead of taking the edge off of her wild need, she ended up fondling herself, teasing her clit under the cold water. She soon turned the hot water up.

She suspected that she subconsciously knew that the shower would do her more harm than good, that instead of relieving the urge, it would only escalate it. It always did, and she knew that that was what she really wanted. Telling herself that the cold shower would help fight the urge was only lying to herself, deluding herself into believing that she wasn’t a completely depraved young woman. This was what she wanted. She grabbed her razor.

There wasn’t much to shave. It had only been a few days, certainly less than a week since the last time she had been out so she didn’t have more than stubble down there and soon that was gone too, disappearing down the drain.

Caressing her now smooth pubes, she checked for any remaining stubble. The Old Woman would not allow anything less than a perfectly bare vulva as she had learned long ago, the hard way, through pain. She allowed her fingers to tease her clit briefly but was careful to not let herself go too far. She couldn’t afford to slip over the edge. To come. Not yet. If she did, she might not be able to go on, to do what she had to do, and she needed to do it.

Stepping out of the shower she dried herself quickly, then went into her bedroom and opened the special drawer in her dresser, the one containing her stuff. It was primarily full of jockstraps. What would someone think if they looked into a young, single woman’s dresser drawer and found it full of jockstraps?

She had bought the first few herself, nervously picking them up in the sporting goods store well before the first time the Old Woman had found her. She had mumbled something to the clerk about ‘My nephew.’ Now the Old Woman made The Boy buy them for her, which was good, because she ended up losing a lot of them.

Most of them were brand new, some still in the packaging, but she selected one of the already open ones. She slipped the cup into the pouch, wondering if men put the cup in after donning the garment or before, like she did. She supposed she could ask The Boy about that, if she ever spoke to him that is.

She put the jockstrap on, snugging it up against her pussy and giving the cup a little knock with her knuckles, then reaching around with both hands and slapping her butt cheeks, then grabbing them and squeezing.

She sat on her bed and put on her sneakers without bothering with socks.