Originally posted by MrX
Hypothetically let's say a person is wound a little tight and has been rather bitchy lately. I would say that is understandable knowing that she was robbed, and then lost the rest of her belongings in Hurricane Katrina and is now staying in the home of strangers for three months while she attends school in Boston- a city where she knows no one but that's just me (you might disagree).
So lets say (still hypothetically) that she was mad at the world and an ex-boyfriend (good for nothing bastard) so she came home to let off a little steam. Now I will remind you she is living in a house full of strangers who have graciously opened their home to her. She been here long enough to know that she will be alone in the house for a few hours.
So out comes BOB (thank god that she remembered to bring her battery operated boyfriend when she fled from the hurricane really what else is there to do? Watch weather channel people try to stay upright in wind and rain???) So she gets down to business. She's half nekkid at this point and starting to make a little noise (who's home to listen?) when the bedroom door swings open. It was the #*&%#* cat investigating the racket coming from the room.
She thought about ignoring him ,but he was sniffing around a little closely for her comfort so she shoo�d him out of the room and got up to shut the door. Now, being half nekkid as she was, it was a little difficult to walk in jeans pushed down to her knees. So she stumbled and knocked over her bookbag, tripping into the door which shut with a slam and stepped on said bookbag and its splayed contents on her way back to the bed.
She made herself comfortable and got back down to business. Well, I think I mentioned that she was kind of stressed out so it took a while before she was thrashing about, but getting there is half the fun right? Might as well stop to do a little spanking and nipple twisting and dirty talking along the way, right?
As her the sound of her beating heart fades from her ears, she hears a weird muffled sound. She sits up, looking around � it sounded like talking, imagine that. There is was again! WTF? And then, OH ****!!!!! as realization dawns. In her haste to get back to the bed, she has stepped on her cell phone causing it to activate one of it�s speed dial numbers that just so happened to be under her heel.
She dives for the phone, to hear - Your message has been sent, thank you. She frantically presses buttons in hopes that it was all a mistake, but no. Her call log reveals that she has left a 17 minute message on her father's voicemail. Can you say OMG?
There's no chance of him not knowing where it came from, he has caller ID. What to do now? So she calls his cell phone, to tell him not to listen to the message. She's gotta get to him quick before he plays it, but she needs a second to think up a reason why he shouldn't play it.
He answers.
Him: What's up? How are you?
Her: Oh fine, fine. How are YOU?
Him: Hang on a second, I just have to get a voicemail.
Her: Dad, wait. I think that was from me. Just delete it. Now. I got what I needed already. [brilliant line if I say so myself]
Him: OK. Hang on, how do I delete again? No that's not it. Wait that was the speakerphone. Is it 3 or 7?
Then from the phone (undeniable in her voice): Mmmmmmm. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Oh god, yes. YES! YES!! YYYEEEESSSSSSS!!!!
And that it why she can't go home for Thanksgiving (and probably Christmas).
great pic