Sliming Through The Wetlands – Chapter Fourteen

I’m running out of good verbs for these titles. Only a few more left to go, though. Are you excited? You should be. This is the chapter where Helen masturbates under her hospital bed.

TMI

When we join Helen, she’s laying in her hospital bed mid sex fantasy about Robin.

I lick each vertebrae all the way back down. To his butt crack.

Yes, this is where it’s going. I have to be totally honest, it’s an extremely well written scene.

My left hand makes its way underneath to his cock. It’s so hard it’s like a stone column wrapped in warm skin.

It’s hard to find anything that Helen does or wants to do remotely sexy, however. I applaud that description because it’s perfect and unique, but while in Helen’s head it’s completely impossible for me to get in the mood.

He’s a pig, this Robin.

Um. You’re the one fantasizing about eating his ass, Helen. Not judging, some people are into that. Just maybe a little pot/kettle here.

A knock at the door. With my luck it’ll be Robin and he’ll instantly figure out what I was just picturing. Nope. A female nurse. She asks whether I’ve had a bowel movement.

“No, have you?”

The nurse gives a pained smile and leaves.

LOL.

Helen decides to go pee, and while she’s up and about, get some mineral water for her avocadoes.

I waddle to the washroom, lift my hospital gown and piss standing up, just the way an ass patient is supposed to. No need to flush. Nobody else is going to use it but me. Drives hygiene-freaks nuts.

Or just people that don’t want to smell old piss.

She fills a glass from the tap and thinks about how her dad taught her about surface tension in water, meaning you can fill a glass above the rim and it won’t overflow. She can’t remember the exact details, and is happy that she’ll have something to talk to him about when he visits, to avoid any long silences.

I drink the entire glass in one go. Nice change. Still water instead of sparkling.

I don’t really know much about Germany and their sparkling water, but I know that Hungarians are absolutely batshit crazy for it. The older Hungarians in my family that were born overseas are obsessed with Club Soda. One of my friends went over to Hungary for work for a couple of months and said that there is like no such thing as regular water over there. Every glass of water is carbonated, unless you specifically ask for tap water. I personally fucking hate sparkling water, so it’s a bit of a culture shock to me to imagine only having that around. I’m assuming from Helen’s sentiment that it’s the same in Germany? What is it with Europeans and carbonation?

Anyway. Helen decides to keep her ass hanging out as she leaves her room.

BecauseReasons

There are stacked crates of bottled mineral water (I guess that debunks my whole Germany-only-has-sparkling-water theory, unless this is just because it’s a hospital) near a visitor’s seating area, and Helen grabs three and then turns her back on the family sitting there.

I can hear that my rearview has created a stir among the family. Have a ball. I walk as quickly as I can to my protected cave.

She squeezes behind her bed to the windowsill where the avocado pits are hiding, and refills the glasses. She realizes that the water evaporates pretty fast in the window, and berates herself for not paying more attention.

She realizes that the room looks different from the corner, and shoves her bed out to hide behind it on the floor.

I feel the cold linoleum on my peach and ass cheeks.

Firstly, I forgot how much this book made me hate peaches. Secondly, I shouldn’t be surprised by the fact that she’s okay sitting her bare vagina on the hospital floor… but dude. No.

I feel between my legs with my hand. I stick two fingers in and use them like tweezers to pull out my homemade tampon. I put it on top of the shoulder high radiator.

Why? You could have thrown it in the garbage and made a new one later. You could have honestly kept it on the floor next to you, since you’re all about rubbing your bits on the floor. Why on top of the radiator? Why.

I take my middle finger and put the tip of the nail directly on my snail tail. I press on it with the edge of the nail. That must make an indentation.

WHY.

My pussy immediately begins to drip with slime.

Every time she uses the word slime in reference to her vagina, I mentally gag. And that doesn’t often happen to me. I just can’t help but picture radioactive green goo.

You're welcome.

You’re welcome.

 

I spread the two fingers apart inside my pussy and make a twisting motion.

That just sounds uncomfortable.

Normally, as I get more and more into it I stick my pussy fingers in my ass. That’s not going to happen, though. The ass is fresh from surgery and already occupied by a plug.

I’m impressed that that is stopping you.

I move the pussy fingers inside me toward the back. It feels like a very thin dividing wall between pussy and ass. I can feel the plug. Even though I’m in the pussy. I know this feeling. But not from a plug, of course. From shit.

Did you need this again?

I’m so sorry. Here’s that kitten again.

It’s often lined up at the exit before it’s allowed to leave. And if you’re in the pussy you can feel the log of crap through the thin dividing wall. I wonder if men have ever felt one in me when we were hooking up?

You know, I’m often morbidly curious about gross things. I will try a lot of things that other people won’t. But this, I am not remotely curious about. Neither about feeling this by myself, or somebody else feeling it. Honestly. Dude. This is what Helen thinks about when she masturbates.

I also like to feel the sphincter work from my pussy. I tighten it, cinch my ass closed, and feel it from inside.

There’s a cow on the grass, hallelujah. Opens and closes its ass, hallelujah.

Is this seriously a saying or a song for German kids? Or did Helen just make this up herself? Between egg holes and cow asses…

Now I want to feel the front wall of my pussy. The back wall has been sufficiently investigated.

Why do you need to ‘investigate’ your innards, anyway? It’s glaringly obvious that you know every inch of space in there already.

Here the pussy feels like a washboard.

Also the term ‘pussy’ has lost all meaning from this paragraph.

Sorry, kitty.

Sorry, kitty.

When I press hard against it, it feels as if I’m going to piss all over my hand and I usually come immediately. When I come that way, a fluid often shoots out, too, like sperm.

Why.

I need both hands now. I rub my dewlaps really hard with both pointer fingers.

Seriously, with the dewlaps. I don’t know why that word is so gross to me.

Suddenly there’s water all over me. It’s ice cold. No way I can come now. I’ve knocked over one of the avocado glasses and the water’s spilled onto my head and run down my chest.

Saved by the avocado glass! Helen tries to rub herself back into action.

It’s just not going to work. I can’t even quietly give myself a handjob hidden under the bed in my own hospital room. Usually easiest task.

Sorry, Helen.

Just as she’s about to get up, there’s a knock and somebody walks into the room.

They keep catching me with my hand on my pussy.

[…]I can see feet and a handle with a big mop attached to the bottom of it. The cleaning woman is making her rounds.

That cleaning woman narrowly escaped having to clean up Helen’s squirt all over the hospital floor.

That’s it for this week, folks. If you’d like to read a masturbation scene that’s actually sexy, check out The Boss by Abigail Barnette.

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