Life as a good little girl/She didn't want you at the sleep over. Best to head up to Tiff's room.
From Create Your Own Story
Much as you want to follow Tiffany - and maybe jump on her with the biggest sloppiest kiss she's ever experienced - you don't really want the other girls seeing you like this. Tiffany's one thing since you know it makes her hot. Didn't she just say she wanted to make out with you? Oh sure, not in so many words, but she did say she wanted you to make her cum, right? Just thinking about it puts a big stupid grin on your face and you bump into chair after chair as you try to navigate in the gloom of pre-sunrise darkness.
A few sounds from downstairs make you freeze at the base of the stairs, but you force yourself bravely on. After all, you braved a thirty minute walk in the nude to get here. What's a ten second walk to Tiff's room?
It turns out to be a bit more than that as you stumble on the stairs a few time, freezing for ten or fifteen seconds before continuing with your heart pounding wildly. What if someone in her family heard? What if they came out and saw you like this? Naked and with a big dildo stuck inside you? The thought freezes you for even longer and you moan - in fear, of course - as your heart pounds even hearter. Continuing onward you promptly bump into a table, her brother's doorknob and a picture frame, freezing each time for what feels like half an hour but is probably only thirty seconds. Your fingers instinctively go down to your cunt, as if the dildo is a bell that needs to be silenced before anyone hears, but between your tightness and the cold water it doesn't seem to budge when you touch it. But even laying your hand on its surface makes it press subtly against your well stretched walls, making you bite your lip. Finally manage to get to Tiffany's room without anyone storming into the hallway to find out what the racket is. You stand in the doorway for a minute just to be sure no one's going to storm out and catch you, then accidentally slam it shut in your haste to close it.
Thankfully even that draws no attention - Tiffany's family must be heavy sleepers, you think.
You've only been at Tiffany's a couple times. You first met her as a pretty, but aloof girl who dressed in daring clothes as she waited for the same bus as you. Then you formally met her when your parents introduced her to you as your strict babysitter. On that first night you heard her having phone sex with someone, giggling and sounding - of all things - nervous. You mustered up the nerve to tell the beautiful sitter than you're not a baby, that you've had sex before too. Naturally she didn't believe you so you had to try and convince her by telling an outlandish tale about a daring sexcapade. It was pure luck that you'd stumbled upon one of your brother's porn collections, otherwise you probably wouldn't have had any material to draw on. Since then you told her another story every time you met, trying to make them more realistic each time. It's amazing to think that you haven't really known her for long, and yet here you are in her bedroom.
Aside from baby-sitting you both take the same bus to your distant school. Outside of that you mostly meet each other somewhere, like the mall.
Thinking about the mall makes you curious about Tiffany's closet. Are all her clothes so daring? Would she have anything that might fit you? Should you dare to put the light on and check?
In the dark it's hard to get much of a sense for Tiffany's room. You recall it being surprisingly girly, with pictures of boy bands on the wall, a pink bed spread, a few stuffed animals, and a make-up table. Your room was pretty bare in comparison. While it's tempting to curl up on her bed - in which she has no doubt slept naked every night - and inhale her scent, you want to look around for a moment.
Thinking about the make-up table draws you to it, although in the dark it's hard to make out just what she has. What would it be like to have make-up and be allowed to use it? Your fingers itch to try it, but you can't just raid her things, can you?
Stepping away you spot a laptop on her desk, her phone beside it, and wonder what secrets they might hide. A log of her many sexual exploits? A porn stash to rival those of your brothers? A diary outlining her crush on a certain eleven year old bestie, and her plans to ravage said-bestie? A small blinking light on her phone tells you she has messages of some kind awaiting her, and the desire to peek almost overwhelms you.
Backing up, you ponder your options, nearly stumbling on the rug before you feel the slim, smooth bedpost nudge against your rear. It reminds you of the dildo lodged inside of you.
