– 3AM –

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Babes

[Warning: There is no actual sex in this particular installment! There is referencing to kissing, and an interest in physical intimacy, but no actual physical intimacy takes place. I placed the story in the ‘Lesbian Sex’ category, so as to make it easier to find for readers who prefer stories about girls who like other girls. Unfortunately, if you are in search of some quick, hot sex, you won’t find it here. Sorry!]

~ Hey all, this is my first actual ‘Story’ that I’ve submitted to Literotica, and I’m very excited to finally share some of my story telling with the rest of the world! I’m not by any means a professional writer, but I have put in my best effort to make this piece worth reading, and I hope you find it to be a pleasurable experience. I plan on writing and submitting more written works here, however writing does take a lot of time and energy, and I’ve never written a story once that I did not edit severely before it met my satisfaction. So, simply put, submissions will probably be few and far between. But with any luck, there will be more to come! I hope that my writing style is appealing to readers, and that you will come back for more. Until the next one, take care.~

*****

– 3AM –

The first thing I notice, is that I’m in bed. And I don’t think it’s my own. I’m tired enough I could lapse back into my slumber. But then there is to be bahis firmaları considered, that sick, twisted up wrench in my gut that’s trying to tell me this isn’t a good time to sleep.

Perhaps it’s the almost eerie silence. It’s quiet as death, aside from the humming of a heating system, and possibly the constant sound of a highway a little further off, but at the same time, isolated.

Or maybe it’s just time for me to face the music, and I sensed it in my sleep- that I have to call myself to attention for this specific moment in time.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they often say. Reluctantly, not entirely sure what to expect, I ease open my eyes.

Well, there we have it. I’m definitely not at home. It’s dark, and the walls are blank. I’m under some garish sheet, and it stands to reason (from how it feels on my skin alone), I’m not wearing my usual clothes. These details are, to say the least, not particularly reassuring.

I could easily just draw my conclusions here, and have a panic attack, but much more preferable options are also at my disposal. I focus back on the room instead (look first; then panic: a much wiser strategy). It’s a simple affair. Whitewash and mint green. The look isn’t a particularly alluring one. On a basic level, such a color pallet would whittle the location down to being either an icecream parlor, or kaçak iddaa a hospital. However, logic dictates that you don’t just wake up in a strange bed, inside an icecream parlor. So probably not the former. Oh look. That’s definitely an iv in my arm, isn’t it. I suppose that’s confirmation enough. Ah, well then- rest assured: I have every right to panic now. What a relief.

I’m not such a fan of hospitals. As per usual, my impulses are screaming at me to lurch upright, throw aside these blankets, and swiftly make my departure. But rationale says otherwise, as it busily runs through my options: “This isn’t going to fly, crazy bitch. You’re probably locked in here for the night anyway. And then there’s that whole ‘what the fuck are you doing here’ thing. And- oh hey, what is this?” Oops. Crucial detail that- there’s someone holding my hand. Somehow I’ve managed to not register that particular corner of my vision as a person. Go me!

I suppose I could freak out, but upon further consideration, the hand holding mine is too soft and sensitive to be a man’s, my only real fear over the situation. Again, good.

It’s hard to make out her face, but she smells faintly of cigarette smoke, and maybe a trace of weed. Could it be? Quite possibly. I don’t know anyone else who would show up to my hospital room at some ungodly time of day. Regardless, it’s no small comfort kaçak bahis to have something familiar to tie me back to my reality. I nestle back into the industrial-grade covers and let loose a soft sigh of relief. Not alone.

I give her hand a subtle, affectionate squeeze, and feel the minutes slide past, busy staring at the ceiling while I mull things over. How the hell did I honestly end up here? She obviously must know. Oh yeah, see? Pin it on her, like you always do. Classic.

Funny how familiar this all seems. Me in a hospital bed, her right by my side, like something out of a cheap romance novel. I swear, no doubt there’s some fantastic irony hidden somewhere in all this, but it’s going to be completely lost on me at the moment. Must be the drugs that I’ve no doubt been administered. That’s alright though. Processing everything in earnest can wait until later. Drug stupor is good for limiting the overprocessing anyhow.

I can’t tell what hour it is, but it’s probably not anywhere near morning. This being so, I’ll be waiting quite some time before she stirs. Dammit. It’s dark and lonely in here, and I’m probably not getting back to sleep anytime soon. I’m tired and confused. I want her to wake up, kiss me, and tell me it’ll all be okay. I want to cuddle. I want this to all go away.

But when I look over at her, she seems so tired, and so relaxed. I’d hate to make her lose anymore sleep, over me especially. She needs that rest. She’s more than earned it, I’m sure.

Oh well. I guess it’s decided then.

See you in the morning, baby.

– The End –

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