The Duty of Youth

As she opened the door to his room, the thick staleness of the air hit her and she blanched. Then she stepped in bravely. She wouldn’t be there for long. She was just there to pick up his washing. He was still in bed, of course. Bloody students. “Where’s the washing?” she asked. He hadn’t even gathered it up, of course. He did now, stumbling at first – probably stoned. She was surprised at how skinny he looked. Surely she was giving him enough money to eat? Well, never mind. He had been chubby before. He handed the washing to her. It seemed to consist entirely of socks. “Agh!” she exclaimed, and retched, almost vomiting. The entire pile – it must be fifty pairs of socks – were all crispy with cum. She threw them back at him and fled, wanting to help but desperate to escape the smell of dried semen.