Girl in the Wardrobe

She quietly scooted back, settling herself against the side wall of the wardrobe. She rested her forehead on her knees.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck," she said under her breath. 'I'm gonna spend my 18th birthday trapped in a fucking closet.'

She repeatedly, softly hit her head against her knees. 'Fucking fuck. I thought I was done with this shit.' She continued hitting her head a few more times, then stopped. 'I did this to myself,' she acknowledged.

Ever the optimist, she looked at the bright side. At least this was nothing new for her. With rare exception, she'd had the misfortune of being placed in pretty shitty foster homes.

No one tried to rape her, or anything, but sometimes the kids were not very nice, so she avoided them by hiding. Sometimes for long periods of time. She's had years of practice, to say the least.

After she ran away, it was better, but she still had the occasional reason to put herself into a cramped space to remain unseen. Sometimes it was a cop checking for squatters. Sometimes it was just a dude wanting to rob her, or fuck her, or both.

'Today is Thursday. Please go shopping again,' she prayed. 'I don't know if you have a regular grocery shopping day, but I hope so. Or just go out and do something else.'

She could hear that the TV had been turned on. It was loud enough that she could understand most of the dialogue. At least she had SOME entertainment. She rested the back of her head in the corner and closed her eyes, listening to the TV.

Some hours passed. She was feeling decidedly hungry. She hoped he would go out to eat, but eventually the sound of the microwave disheartened her. The air was feeling rather short on oxygen, so she thought while he was eating was probably a good time to open the door enough to let some fresh air in. That keyhole was a poor excuse for ventilation.

She wedged the tip of her pinky in the hole again, and carefully pushed on the door. It clicked and she opened it a few inches, thankful not only for the cool air, but also that the hinges did not squeak. Small blessing.

She pulled the door shut again, and decided that she would try to take a nap.

She snorted awake, looking around, momentarily forgetting where she was. It wasn't the first time she'd awakened in a small, dark space. She knew well not to panic and start trying to do shit. Stop and listen.

'Oh. Right.' She wiped drool from her chin, then wiped her hand on her shirt. The air was thick and warm, and low on oxygen again. 'Glad I had that shower, yesterday. It'd be smelling pretty damn ripe in here, by now.' Again: Small blessings.

She had no idea what time it was, but the TV was still on. Her watch was an old wind-up analog, so it had no light, which made it pretty useless with the door shut.

'Maybe I should invest in one of those little keychain flashlights.'

She went about opening the door again. As the fresh air wafted in, she looked at her watch. There was not much light, but she could barely make out that it was 4 something in the afternoon.

'Good grief.' She pulled the door shut again. 'Crap. I have to pee.' She did the math in her head. 'I've been in here almost 9 hours. I have to pee AND I'm thirsty. Fuck me. ... And I'm definitely not killing to birds with one stone.'

She started assessing and strategizing.

'Okay, if he's sitting on the couch, watching TV, then the bedroom doorway is in line with his head. All he has to do is turn his head and see into the bedroom. The only option I would have is to cross the room to the bathroom, hoping that he doesn't notice out of the corner of his eye.'

'Assuming he doesn't notice, I'd have to trust that he didn't pick that time to come in here for something, namely, to use the bathroom himself. Maybe he would use the guest bathroom, since it's closer to him. On the other hand, he's a meticulous person, therefore, probably not given to laziness. The guest bathroom is for guests. He'll probably use his own. Or maybe not. FUCK!'

'I have to fucking pee, and it's becoming increasingly worth the risk. Okay, I make it to the bathroom. What do I do? I'll most likely spew like a firehose and make a lot of noise. Flushing will make noise and not flushing isn't an option either.'

'I don't know if the sink can support me. I could squat in the tub. The curtain is not see-thru, and he keeps it closed. It's big tub, making it easier to squat and aim for the drain... theoretically. I don't know where the drain is in that one. Okay, the tub sounds like the best option.'

Something in the back of her mind told her that she should probably bring her cup with her. She slipped out of the straps of her backpack, pulled it around in front of her, unzipped it and took out her cup.

'Probably better take off my shoes. And socks.'

She did so, stuffed them into the backpack, and then pushed it against the opposite side wall.

'Here goes nothing.'

A practiced procedure, at this point, she unlatched the door and slowly pushed it open all the way. She moved the crawl out, and the shift doubled the urgency she felt to just let it all flow.

'Fuuuuuuck,' she paused, adjusting to the pressure change. 'Let's try that again.'

She crawled out, managing not to piss herself, and she stayed low, walking to the edge of the doorway. She carefully peeked around the frame. He was nowhere to be seen.

'Uh oh.' That was like a bomb that was supposed to go off, but didn't. Is it safe, or will it blow you to shit when you go to check it?

She listened carefully, but did not hear any noises except the TV. He didn't seem the type to leave home with the TV still on. Did he step outside for something?

She creeped past the doorway, keeping a watchful eye. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was beyond the other side of the frame. She noticed her heart pounding. 'Fucking hell.'

She went on into the bathroom, and as a precaution, decided to close the door halfway.

'A door closing a little, on its own, is not too unusual, right? It'll help keep any noise from travelling as well as it would otherwise. Worth the risk, even though the low light would make this more difficult. At least I get some light through that little bathroom window up there.'

Taking extra care not to let the shower curtain hangers make too much noise against the rod, she climbed into the large, square tub. The drain was in the middle of the tub. 'Thank fucking god."

She unbuttoned her shorts and pushed them to her bent knees. 'Crap!' A leg was going to have to come out. She tried to ignore the distracting feel and sound of her heartbeat.

Positioned to aim for the drain, she paused. 'This is a plastic tub and hollow underneath. Pissing on this will verberate like a drum. The cup. Don't forget to wash it before drinking out of it again.'

She experimented with different position, trying to figure out what was the best option, but the realization finally hit that the cup was plastic as well. Given the force of her pee, it was going to be loud regardless.

'Dammit!' She was about to burst. Pissing directly into the drain would be even louder. It was bad enough that it just going casually down the drain would be noisy, but the TV might drown that out, if he was even still in the house. If he was in his computer room, then he was further from the TV and closer to her. Maybe he was wearing headphones.

No time to worry about maybes. She'll need to piss against something that is not hard and not relatively thin, but something that would not divert the flow every damn place, like the outside of one of those shampoo bottles would. It would need to be something soft and concave.

'Ah, fuck,' she thought, realizing what she had to do. She made a long trough of her slightly curled fingers. She adjusted herself closer and lower, putting her fingertip on the edge of the open drain, and the meat of her palm at the top of her pussy.

'Here goes.' She relaxed and urine flowed in a torrent. She made minor adjustments in the shape and position of her hand, in order to minimize the sound and splashing, all the while wrinkling her face in disgust at the fact that she's pissing directly into her own hand.

It felt like about 20 seconds had passed, and she was still going strong. 'Good god. Hurry up.' Another 15 or so. 'Are you fucking kidding me?'

A few seconds later, the stream began to slow and was soon a slow trickle... that continued for another 10 seconds. 'Oh, come on!' She was finally empty. She shook her hand a little, in a less than effective attempt for get her fingers to at least stop dripping. 'So gross.'

She looked around. 'Now what the hell do I do? Should've brought some toilet paper in with me. Fuck.' She flicked her fingers at the drain, then wiped them on a dry part of the tub floor, for all the good it did. At least she wasn't dripping.

'Why did I even bring this fucking cup?' She observed the traces of dark yellow, a sign that she was dehydrated, that had not gone down the drain. If it was so clearly noticeable in the low light making its way through the translucent shower curtain, then it would definitely be noticeable if she left it to dry and he saw it the next time he showered 'Oh. Right.'

Trying not to touch anything with her wet hand, she climbed back out of the tub, as quietly as she could, losing her shorts and panties in the process. Outside of the tub, she glanced through the doorway as she moved to the roll of toilet paper, tore off a couple of squares, and then dabbed her fingers and pussy dry.

Putting it in the toilet was not an option. She looked into the nearby trash can. There was an empty soap box and some kind of plastic packaging. She folded up the toilet paper and tucked it underneath the trash.

She retrieved her shorts and panties from the tub and put them back on. She mostly stood up, looked into the sink and felt around the drain. There was already a little water collected around the drain. He must have used it recently. That was good. She turned on the water just enough for a decent flow that was not too loud, and then she rinsed her fingers and filled up the cup.

She turned off the water, and returned to the edge of the tub, stretching her arm in to carefully pour out the water and wash down the remaining urine. Not all of the water went down, of course, but as long as he didn't look in the tub in the next few hours, he would be none the wiser.

She returned to the sink and filled the cup with just enough water to sufficiently slake her thirst, drank it, and made her way back across the room.

'I gotta find out if he's even home. If I can leave, then I sure a hell need to.' She poked her head past the frame and listened carefully. 'Damn TV.' Her heart beat faster as she crept into the hallway.

At the edge of the door into the computer room, she listened for the sound of keys being tapped and a mouse being clicked. She still heard nothing but the TV. She'd have to risk peeking in.

'Okay. Minimum exposure. Stay low. Head straight up.' She got into position and started easing sideways, paused a moment to pull the left side of her hair back, then continued. Wall. Back of the chair. Dude's back. 'Shit!' She quickly retracted and turned, heading back into the bedroom.

Unfortunately, the computer desk was against the same wall as the wardrobe, putting him perpendicular to the doorway. Trying to sneak past him without him seeing her out of the corner of his eye was too much of a risk.

She crawled back into the wardrobe and shut the door. She breathed a little easier. Her stomach growled. 'Quiet, you." She pressed her stomach in a largely ineffective attempt to ease the unpleasant twisting sensation. She put her backpack in her lap and pushed it into her abdomen, then rested her head in the corner and closed her eyes. More waiting.

She jerked awake at the sound of a rattling. 'Huh?' It had stopped. She noticed a little light shining through the keyhole. She carefully put her backpack against the opposite wall and moved to get a look.

The bedroom and bathroom lights were on. The sound of water hitting water. 'He's peeing. Don't look in the tub. Don't look in the tub. Don't look in the tub.' He finished peeing, flushed the toilet, and then washed his hands.

He turned off the bathroom light as he exited. 'Thank you.' He picked up a bottle of pills from the bedside table, opened it, bumped out at least one, closed the lid and put the pill bottle back. It was an orange prescription bottle.

He opened the water bottle next to it and drank some down along with the undetermined number of pills in his other hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes and socks.

'Is it night already?' She took a second look into the bathroom, noticing that there was no ambient light. 'Aw, sweet! He's going to bed. Maybe I can get the fuck out of here soon.'

He stood back up and began unfastening his pants. 'Okay. Now the show's starting,' she amused herself. His jeans dropped to reveal a very snug pair of boxer briefs. 'Is you're name Notch, coz damn," she joked.

He stepped one foot out of the jeans, lifted them up with the other foot, grabbed them with one hand, and then tossed them beyond the foot of the bed.

She was expecting him to pull back the covers, but instead he pushed down his underwear and tossed them away.

Her eyes widened and she nearly blurted something out, but put her hand over her mouth in time to stop herself. 'Holy fucking god!'

It was a combination of factors that elicited that response from her.

Firstly, it was simply unexpected.

Secondly, he'd never seen a real live dick that close up. The closest she's ever come was when a couple of other squatters in an abandoned building apparently didn't give a flying fuck who else was in the room, but she never got a full view of it. Flapping balls, yes. Full-length dick, no.

She watched them have sex about 15 feet away from her. She was curious, disgusted and a little turned on, all at once. It was weird.

Thirdly, he was about 6 inches limp. She's watched porn before. She's seen a dick grow and stiffen. She's familiar with the standard "before" size.

'How the hell do you live alone?'

He laid down on top of the covers. 'Okay. What's going on. I thought you were going to bed?' She could not see him anymore. Only a little bit of the edge of the bed was in her view, and he had not pulled back the covers.

She waited. Suddenly she heard some kind of audio being played, but she couldn't tell what it was. Soon, there were sounds that very distinctly reminded her of that time those two squatters fucked in front of her.

'Holy shit, he's watching porn. He's gonna jack off. What am I gonna do? What do I mean, what am I gonna do? I'm stuck in here. I can't fucking leave.' She continued listening.

'I can't see either.' The thought surprised her. She didn't realize it at first, but it became quite clear to her that she really wants to see just how long this guy is hard.

'He left the light on. Can't risk opening the door. Damn.' All she could do was sit there and listen. She sat back, resigned to her continued entrapment.

It was a background noise at first, but as the audio continued, she began to imagine the accompanying video. She imagined a man repeatedly thrusting into a woman, causing the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh.

The expanding sensation of electricity emanated from her pussy, eventually tingling the fingers and toes. The wardrobe suddenly felt quite a bit warmer.

She closed her eyes and pictured him laying naked on the bed, gripping his rock hard dick and sliding his hand up and down its impressive length.

She absent-mindedly touched her breast, rubbing slowly. Her other hand caressed her inner thigh. Her belly.

She hasn't touched herself is a long time. She didn't like the idea of masturbating when she was unwashed for more than a few of days. Feeling generally yucky was not very conducive to it, plus she definitely couldn't afford to get some kind of infection. It had been a long time since she was sufficiently washed, in her view. But she had taken a very sufficient shower, yesterday.

She unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts and slid her hand down her panties. For an instant, she wished that she had been trimmed, but she let it go the moment she found her clit. She gasped as a shock went through her. She rubbed up and down.

She moved her other hand beneath her shirt and pinched her nipple. Twisting. Occasionally giving the other one attention as well.

The fingers on her clit dipped into her wet folds. Her shorts began to feel decidedly constricting. She raised her hips enough to push her shorts along her legs to her ankles. Her hand returned to its work, and the smell of her began to fill the inside of the wardrobe, furthering her arousal.

Without a thought, she transferred saliva to her pussy. Just like riding a bike.

She inserted a finger, working it in and out, wondering what it would feel like to have something as big as that guy's dick inside of her. She's never had anything larger than two of her fingers in her pussy. She inserted a second finger and imagined that sensation multiplied.

She pushed deep, imagining what it might feel like for something to be deeper than she could reach.

"Ohhhhh," she moan quietly. 'Don't. Gotta be-' She quickly removed the hand under her shirt and covered her mouth with it, barely muffling another, louder moan in time. She held that hand firmly over her mouth as her other fingers wiggled and thrust inside her.

Air from her nostrils noisily buffeted the side of her index finger. 'Fuck. Not so loud,' but she quickly stopped caring. Her body contracted causing a faint squeak in her throat. For an instant, she made no sound other than the wet squishing of her franticly pounding fingers.

'Oh my god,' she managed to successfully think before the orgasm gripped her. Two seconds later, her body released and she sucked in a desperate breath, turning her head side to side, fighting the urge to cry out.

She withdrew her fingers and just slowly rubbed between her legs as she calmed. A single tear had rolled from the outer corner of her left eye. Feeling it was finally safe to uncover her mouth, she wiped the wet trail away with the back of her hand.

She sighed, both physically and mentally. 'I'd forgotten how good that is. God damn,' she thought, licking her fingers. 'Ohhh, and the taste.' She habitually closed her eyes to enjoy the salty sweet flavor, which seemed stronger than she remembered. It was either an unreliable memory or simply dehydration.

She heard the sound of grunting from the bedroom. He was blowing his load maybe 6 feet from her, and she couldn't see a damn thing. That eruption had always fascinated her, and she wanted to see one up close for herself, but under the right conditions.

After a minute or two, the audio stopped. She returned to the keyhole to see what was going on.

There was a slight bounce of the mattress. Nothing. Suddenly his legs swing over the edge. A brief pause, and then he stood up, giving her a clear side view of his, '7 inches, at least. Damn. Probably not fully hard anymore, either.'

He left the bedroom carrying a laptop. A few seconds later, he walked back in and into the bathroom again. Once again, he peed, washed his hands and turned off the light on his way out. She just stared at his schlong bouncing with every step. 'Schlong is definitely a suitable word for that thing.'

He pulled the covers back, turned off the bedroom light and, if not for the ambient light of the full moon seeping through the closed blinds, she would not have been able to see him climb into bed.

She leaned back and quietly pulled her shorts back up. 'I hope it doesn't take long for him to fall asleep.' Her stomach reminded her that it hadn't been fed in over 24 hours. She pushed her fist into her belly, trying to ease the pain and to hopefully prevent any further, potentially louder, growling.