In high school we were required to do some community service and I volunteered to work at the nursing home near our school, just talking to old people and generally being friendly with them. The staff loved it when we came because it meant they didn't have to check in on the patients too often, knowing that we'd call them if there were any problems.
I made friends with an old eccentric and slightly senile patient named Wendy. She had a lot of health problems and so was usually in her bed, in her room. I would go in and sit next to her bed and chat to her. She had lots of photo frames around her room. I especially loved one picture of her and her two sisters when they were young, happy, bright blonde girls with beautiful wavy hair. Uncannily, they had looked just like I did right then. Maybe that's why Wendy liked me so much. She'd tell me a lot of stories about growing up on a dairy farm and I actually really liked to listen to them.
One time I went in to talk to Wendy, she asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said no and she said that was probably for the best because I was still quite young. But, she said, a girl my age still needs to give herself some pleasure. She asked me if I knew how to touch myself down there. I spluttered and flushed bright red but before I could give any sort of answer she started telling a story.
Wendy told me that she rarely got any privacy living on the farm so, when she was my age she used to sneak into the hay shed to get some alone time. She told me how she liked to relax in the piles of hay, remove her knickers and play with that nice little spot until she reached the 'top of that hill'.
I stared at the picture of the shining faced girl and imagined her, lifting the hem of her home-made gingham dress to play with her beautifully aroused little pussy. Far from my initial mortification, I was now highly aroused. Wendy was saying how wonderful it was to have such a lovely secret to keep from the other children. Of course she was passed that now, but she thought every girl should know about the wonderful feelings her body could give her.
Wendy started to drift off topic then, talking about other things but I couldn't listen. I was squirming in my chair, highly aware of how hot it felt between my legs. I knew my panties were soaking and my heart was pounding. I was relieved when four o'clock came and it was time to go. I said goodbye to Wendy and as I was at the door she called out in a loud whisper, 'you'll do that for me won't you? You'll touch yourself nicely? You deserve it.'
Embarrassed, I scanned the empty hallway and quickly promised. I said goodbye again left.
I think I masturbated to that thought every night that week. My clitoris pricked up and my panties flooded every time I thought about it. Nobody had ever told me something like that about themselves before. The image of the blonde girl swam around in my head and I could only imagine how perfect her pussy must have been. Did she touch herself the same way I did? Light, little circles gently caressing my clit, building up faster and faster. Was her pussy this wet? Did she think about other girls masturbating too?
I was slightly sheepish walking into Wendy's room the next week. The blonde girl smiled at me from the bookshelf. My heart skipped a little beat when I saw her. Wendy was her jovial self. She didn't mention our conversation from the previous week at all until I was just about to go.
I was still sitting on my chair between the window and her bed when she asked me. She asked if I'd done the thing she'd said would feel so nice. Flushed red again, I mumbled that I had. She asked me if it felt good and I said it really did. I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd actually discovered the feeling myself when I was small, she seemed happy to have 'helped'. Wendy seemed eager for me to tell her more. Suddenly I had a guilty idea. I asked her if she'd like to see. I didn't wait for her to nod. Discreetly, I lifted the hem of my uniform up just enough to show my crotch. Then I wriggled my panties a little way down my thigh. Shielded from the doorway by the bulk of Wendy's bed I sat, showing my small hairy pussy to my elderly friend.
'Like this' I whispered as I parted the lips of my vagina to expose my swelling clitoris. I circled it gently with my fingertip. Even with the few strokes I touched myself, I could feel the pleasure increasing. I quickly pulled up my panties and flopped my skirt back down. Wendy reached over to pat my hand and told me thanks, that was lovely.
Cutting through a park on the walk home I only managed to make it to a thick clump of thick bushes before I had to touch myself again. I flung my school bag on the ground behind the hedge and dropped down. With my panties around my knees I humped my swollen pussy against my hand until I reached a wet climax, gushing juices all over my hand.
Wendy and I never talked about masturbating again but I've thought of her story and of showing her my pussy many, many times in the years since.