RedCherry - Part 1: Caught in the Act in the Bedroom

In the bedroom, semi-darkness reigned, broken only by the dim glow of a pumpkin-shaped string of lights left over from Halloween preparations. Outside the window, the night was already deep. Bridget lay on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, while Jack moved slowly on top of him. Their bodies pressed tightly together, and every thrust was accompanied by a quiet, restrained rustle of the sheets.

Jack leaned closer, his hot breath brushing against the other’s ear.

— Quieter… they’re in the kitchen… — he whispered.

Bridget only gave a weak nod, biting his lip. Short, stifled moans still escaped his throat; he tried to muffle them with the pillow. Jack moved at a measured, almost lazy pace, as if deliberately drawing the moment out. His hands slid along Bridget’s sides, holding him steady.

— Does it feel good? — Jack asked almost inaudibly.

— M-m… yes… just not so loud… — Bridget answered in a trembling whisper.

They were both without clothes. The room filled with the soft sounds of skin against skin and occasional quiet whimpers. Jack sped up just a little, and Bridget gripped the sheet tighter.

— I’m… already close… — Jack exhaled against his neck.

At that exact moment the door swung open.

On the threshold stood Bridget’s aunt, holding a plate of cookies. She froze. Her eyes went wide.

Bridget flushed crimson to the tips of his ears and tried to push himself up, but Jack was still inside him and clearly had no intention of stopping at the last second.

— Bridget…? — the aunt said quietly.

Jack let out a short, almost plaintive sound, his body tensed, and he came heavily right inside. Hot fluid filled Bridget. Only then did the guy abruptly pull out, snatch his clothes from the floor, and, without looking at the woman, slip past her into the hallway.

— Sorry!!! — he shouted already from the darkness, and the front door slammed.

Bridget sat on the bed, trying to pull on his underwear with trembling hands. A whitish liquid slowly trickled down the inside of his thigh. He blushed even harder, as if trying to disappear into the bedspread.

— Auntie… it’s… not what you think… — he muttered, pulling on his pants.

The aunt was still standing in the doorway with the plate. The cookies trembled slightly.

— I… just wanted to ask if you two would like some cookies… — she said in a very even voice.

Bridget had already pulled his shirt on inside-out and was hurriedly buttoning it.

— I’m going to go walk by myself. Without him. So that… well… no one gets any weird ideas.

The aunt slowly nodded, turned around, and left, carefully closing the door. From the kitchen someone’s voice drifted in:

— Well, did you get the cookies?

And in the bedroom Bridget sat on the edge of the bed, still feeling the warm wetness inside him, and quietly muttered to himself:

— Next time… better just go straight outside…