This is the first story I ever wrote, and I wrote it in English. It is fiction.
I have no trouble in analysing myself and so I know why I do get turned on by masturbation, particularly masturbation by girls. I started masturbation even before puberty myself, and despite that I have very open parents, there always was this feeling of guilt which accompanied the wonderful feelings in my lower stomach. In those days, I didn't know what I was doing, it didn't have a name, it was just a naughty secret which made me feel both ashamed and aroused.
Luckily for me, books can teach a child a lot so, I knew more about this so called secret, and I knew that I wasn't the only one doing it, far from it. But still the roots for my fascination, maybe even my obsession with masturbation were founded then and there. When I grew up further, and things between me and my friends got bolder and more open, I even got to know for certain what I, till then, had only read in books: people masturbated. They tended to like it, just as much as I, those details were not as freely shared as details of "common sex."
Especially girls weren't as open and free as I would like. Most of my female friends were very discreet about their solo-sex, and even after a very open talk few only admitted that they did it once in a while...and so my obsession only grew....
Statistics only told me about 60% of the teenage girls did it...so 3 of 5 of the girls closest to me indulged in this private pleasure. The question was...which one?
My mind's eye was filled with confessions of them, where they told very detailed things about how, when, what and where...and those fantasies sent me the most thrilling orgasms I even experienced. So to feed those fantasies, I became quite in expert in hearing girls out. Buy you...you always proved to be the most challenging one. When we met it was great, and even now, when we both just celebrated our 19th birthday, my obsession with you and your solo sex life only grew.
I was always attracted to you. You have a great sense of humour, you are nice and kind to everyone, and I found you very, very sexy. Maybe you aren't quite the looker that some models are, but something about your physical appearance made me really crave for you. Yeah, I know you are a shorty and always claim you are a bit curvy, but it only makes you more appealing to me, just as your long black hair. It glowed with the blueish glow that you often see on Asian people, yet you are very pale, without looking unhealthy. Your eyes are dark too, and I could feel myself drown in them if I looked into them too long. Your breasts are not very big, but because she isn't very tall it appeared so. She herself isn't too thrilled with those ("Guys don't talk to me...they talk to my boobs," I can hear you say), and I don't really care about boob-size, but with you I had the idea that their seize is just perfect. I would love to do a whole lot of things to you, and have done so in my imagination, but nothing would turn me one more then to hear you confess to the very thing that I was doing when I thought you.
But fate wasn't kind on me. You always were a bit shy, and though you love to talk about various subjects, including sex, I could not discover whether you ever masturbated or not. I tried every trick I knew. I asked you straightforward, and you denied. I wasn't surprised by that, more girls did so, and later changed that. So I tried more and more. But even after I had confessed that I did it, where I loved to do it, since when I did it, how often I did it, you kept her own private affairs...well, private, even though you admitted that you didn't object to hearing my stories. You never told me they turned you on either. You did make some vague hints that you might not have told me the truth to the very question, and even later you told me that the things I told you made her so curious that you tried something yourself, but you never gave me details, you just looked at me and said: "Nah, I'm only kidding..." or something like that. Maybe you knew all along what you were doing to me. It would explain why you invited me over to watch the movie Sliver together, along with some other movies.
Of course, the Sharon Stone masturbation scene had turned me on like hell, as well as several of the other voyeuristic scenes in the movie. It was the last movie we had to watch, and I decided to try and hear you out once more. Maybe you ware a bit excited herself, because you seemed more open then usual. You told me that you really had appreciated my honesty in such private matters, and I told her I was more then happy to do be so for you...if it could help you come to terms with urges and feelings of guilt that you might have. You just laughed and told me you had nothing to feel guilty about. That didn't help me much though, and it frustrated me as much as I got turned on by there very suggestion of you masturbating, but I just sat there and admired her. That's what I did when I was with you and have nothing to say. You are looking very good today. You wore a black t-shirt, which was very tight, and a short skirt also black. Normally you didn't dress that way, but more descent. I guess you were in a wild mood. I tried not to look at your breasts, but I thought I saw your nipples were hard. But again, I could not look very long because I still have some decency despite my own fixations. But somehow I think you saw the lust and adoration in my eyes, because she said: "I think I am gonna take a shower."
Now here I stand....you are going to be in the shower soon. Was it my imagination, or did I saw you started to pull out your shirt when I looked through the crack of the door? And If you did, was that a vague hint or a suggestion? Was there something I had to do now? Knowing whether you masturbated or nor was number one priority to me...but seeing you naked a not so distant second.
I got up as quiet as I could manage, and looked around the door. I saw your shirt, on the ground, and your skirt was not very far away, so my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. I didn't see you though, unless you count the last flash of your left foot and ankle, disappearing behind the door of the bathroom. I didn't see a bra or panties, so I had no way of knowing for sure whether you had worn them to begin with. My mind was telling me that that is the kind of crap your read about in porn magazines, something that didn't happen in real life. But I did seem to remember that your nipples had looked very outlined in your shirt...or was it my imagination playing tricks on me? There was no way of telling, but it must be said that it was strange of you to undress in the hallway, leave all your clothes there and then walk into the bathroom. I did imagine how you would look now. Naked as the day you were born, yet more exciting of course, with your breasts hanging loose and her nipples hard from our early conversation. Maybe not wearing panties either. If you didn't wear them in the first place I know that you were trying to turn me on...and you must have known that you succeeded, and now left me in the room to saviour your victory over me. I thought of you...your often pale skin now a bit red in a sexual blush, as pale woman mostly have when the urges get hold of them. Your mouth slightly opened, and breathing a bit faster then normal, which made your perfect breasts go up and down, as if they tried to hypnotise me. If you truly did this all as one big tease, what had been your purpose. Did she just love to tease me and make me a willing victim. You must have guessed my obsessions with masturbation by now, and had you decided, for the sheer fun of having power over me that she would give me a good tease. Or had that been the original plan, and did you find yourself in the same ecstatic spheres as I found myself in, because the game started to play the players? And if that was so...what were you doing all alone there in the shower? Could it be..?
I just stand there in the hall, as I hear how you put on the shower. My mind's eye immediately reacts to the sounds that I hear, when I slowly walk through the door. I wanna hear the water when the drops touch you. In my mind, I see a visual of how I think it will look. Your hair hangs down, glistering and heavy with water. The hot water makes your pale skin turn red...a bit more red then it already was perhaps? Tell me it's so...Do you wash yourself in there Laura? Do you soap yourself all over, and do you use your hands Do your hands glide over your body, just they way I think (want) them to do. So terribly erotic? Do your hands caress your nipples the same way I think they do? Is that a soft moan I hear, or is my mind playing tricks on me and does it let me hear what I want to hear? I hear the sound of slippery feet on the shower floor, are you opening your legs so you have a better access to yourself? Do your hands travel down, under those beautiful breasts, across your belly button, and over your hips? I have to know...
There is only one way to find out. I knew her bathroom once had an old fashioned lock, which was replaced by a bolt some time a go. I heard her lock the door, but the old keyhole could be big enough to look through. I might just now miss out on her softly touching her boobs or even rubs softly between her legs, as I am standing here, and no way in Hell I was going to let that happen. I just had to see. I approached the door and knelt before it. My own hand was also rubbing there, but you often told me that you are not as I am, considering this aspect of life....was that a lie? Or, even more exciting to me, wasn't it, and are you now experiencing everything that I do just about every day?
In my mind, you are indeed already touching your venus mound, so nice and wet...but nice and wet of the water or nice and wet because of something else?
All that I see when I look though the keyhole is a vague shade...you closed the shower curtain. But lady luck is on my side for once...the hot steam caused a wind stream, and the curtain is moving a bit. I can see inside the shower, but only a little bit...again I see a part of your leg, and the foot that stands in the shower. By the angle it makes I can see that your other leg doesn't seem to be close. Do you stand there, with slightly spread legs and do you do what I hope you do? Or do you just know that I am watching, and do you just give me something to keep my mind going? In that case, it works....
I feel that I lose control. The things I see and think to see are too much for me..an orgasm build inside me...and just before I am that close you turn of the shower. I have to stop right away with touching myself. The rustle might give me away, and I would be to embarrassing to be caught like this...I see your left arm, reaching out of the shower. I even see a small part of your left-boob, before you grab a towel and wrap it around you...damn could you wait until you were out of the shower? But wait...it's short. I can try to look underneath it, if I bend just a little bit, but it's better if I take a few steps back. You might just open the door and catch me in the act...caught "hot handed." But then again, is it a sin to be turned on by you?
I can't really move, even if you are right in front of me and seem to take something from a shelf next to you. Why would your wear a towel when you are all alone in the bathroom? You only do that when someone is watching you.
God in heaven! You took off the towel. Right there in front of me I see a very nice shaven pussy....I am biting my lips not to scream in joy and triumph. I just try to drink the very sight of you. It looks wet, but you were in the shower. So is it we or...wet? I can't tell, I would need more time. And that I don't have because, somehow my luck ran out. You don't open the door, you do something far more cruel...you hang your towel over the doorknob...my view is blocked. I almost scream again in frustration....
But I hear your footsteps. You head back to the shower, and turn in on. The sound the water makes gives me the chance I need. I move the doorknob, so your towel falls onto the floor. I can only hope you won't think something of it.
I wonder why you left the shower curtain open. I can see you now. Too bad you are facing the wall, not me. But my mind jumps as I see how your take the showerhead. Oh yess...I know what girls can do what that...I have read about it so often...and tried so myself. But the question is are you going to do that. I can do nothing but wait, but in anticipation my mind tells me an entire scenario how your put the showerhead right between your legs so the hot water stream can help you reach an orgasm, while you slowly turn yourself towards so I can finally see what I long to see, the sight of you masturbating yourself right in front of me.
But for real, you surely seem to take the time of washing and cleaning yourself everywhere. But not there. Not there where I want you to point it at...I whisper to the keyhole "put it between your legs baby..." If I had magic, it would work. I hope I have.
I hope you are gonna masturbate with me...oh God I hope, I hope, I hope.... "do it baby...you must know how it works..." I continue my almost silent plea; "please, please, please...." Why does time go so slowly? It's only a few inches from your belly button to your pussy. There is no need to take so long...or is my mind playing tricks on me again, this time in a more cruel manner? Just before the water jets hit your pussy I hear you ask: "wanna come in?"
What? What is going on? Did you catch me? Have I not been silent enough? I take a huge but silent jump away from the door as I hear how your leave the shower and unlock the door. "We can talk if you enter the bathroom."
I hope you don't notice that I unbuttoned my jeans, but I am so lucky that you don't leave the bathroom. You return to the shower I hear. I try to remain calm and say a cool "ok". I walk into the bathroom and think what a joy it will be to see you naked. Damn, the curtain is closed again. All I see is this shadow again and a voice that says: "You don't mind if I finish, do you?"
"Hell no, finish yourself off", I think but all I do is stutter. And just stand there. I wanna look around the curtain. Finally I wanna know whether this is just a weird coincidence and the products of my imagination gone wild...or that you are just teasing me, or whether it's the result of a game that has gone beyond our control. When I open the curtain do I just see you washing your hair, or do I see something different. My mind tells me that you stand there, leaning against the wall, one leg slightly lifted so you can put the showerhead between your legs so the water stream directly hits your clitty...one hand searching for support against the slippery wall, the other used to spread your lips, so the water just hits the right spot...if that is the case you are experienced at this, and then I wanna know all about if.
I am masturbating myself right through my jeans, as I listen to the water that hits the floor of the shower. Does it sound strange, because the water stream is pointed upwards, in order to satisfy both our needs, or is it the normal acoustic of this bathroom...never knew for sure. Surely I must be able to peek, without a sudden disturbance that could end both the please. What if I approach very silently...Was that a moan? It sure sounded like one, but it could have been the sound of a foot slipping, mixed with water drops. But what made it slip? Are you opening you legs further...God this waiting is killing me, I have to know
My hands are inside my jeans, and I approach.....And just one of your hands opens the curtains for me....