Awakening II

In the weeks after getting home from the camping trip, I was in a daze.  All I could think of was Josh, how he made me feel, and the amazing sensations in my body when he touched me.  Just daydreaming about it would trigger me.  I ran over what had happened in my mind.  I fanaticized about what could have happened.  I imagined myself confidently peeling off my shirt, reaching and stroking his hard penis. I’d brushed up against it during out make-out session, so I had a general idea about it in my head.  But in my mind, I pictured myself sliding his shorts down, holding it, making him feel as good as he made me feel.  But exactly what I would have done with it, I had no idea.  But I knew a few things: thinking about it made me throb between my legs, and now I could tell I was actually getting wet down there.  I could also feel my nipples tighten, the more I thought about it.  All of the daydreaming and fanaticizing did me no good though.  Josh was a thousand miles away, and I was stuck alone with my parents, in a small town, attending an all-girls high school.

Each day of school seemed to crawl by.  I was caught in the cycle of class, then practice, then homework.  My parents obviously had no idea of what had happened.  I’d either walk home from school, or my mom would would pick me up after practice.  She’d make dinner; I’d eat, I’d do homework.  If I finished my work, I’d read something for fun.  Sometimes, honestly, I’d just stare at the book, imagining what Josh and I could be doing. My daydreaming grew more detailed-and more graphic-as the days went on. 

It finally came to a head one hot September Saturday evening.  For some reason, I’d picked up an old book I used to read, “Deenie” by Judy Blume.  My parents had gone out to a church bingo night.  I was really skimming the book.  But my mind was racing.  I was lying on my bed, in a tank top and gym shorts, fanaticizing.  But for some reason, I REALLY started my mind going.  This time, I imaging Josh nude, that same bare chest and arms hugging me, pressing down on me while I was naked.  I thought about what it would be like to have his hard penis up against me, pressing at the same spot where he had slipped a finger in.  All of a sudden, I imagined myself flat on my back, pulling my knees up and spreading my legs, letting that warm, hard penis push into me, while he cradled my head in his hands and kissed me.

All of a sudden I realized I actually ached between my legs.  I reached a hand through the leg of my gym shorts and lightly brushed the hair down by my pussy lips. I gently traced a finger down the middle of the inner lips and was met by a slight opening, and a realization I was soaking wet, a slightly slimy sensation, like baby oil. I shuddered and tried to return to the book from my all-too-vivid fantasy.  A few minutes later, I came across a page where Deenie was describing rubbing her “special place.”  The realization hit me.

My parents wouldn’t be back home for at least an hour.  I puzzled about leaving the door to my room open or closed.  If I left it closed, and they came home early, they’d open it to see where I was.  If it was open, I could easily hear the car pull in the driveway.  I turned off the light in my room, but it was still dimly lit by the light on in the adjoining bathroom.  My room was hot, but the ceiling fan over the bed was steadily pushing air downward.  I stepped over next to the bed.  I slid my shorts down (I wasn’t wearing underwear), and peeled the sticky tank top off.  I reached up and unsnapped my bra (it was a front clasp), and let it fall.  Then I just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.  So I hopped on the bed, lying on the sheets (no blankets-too darn hot). On my back, my head on my pillow.  I looked down, surveying my body.

My chest glistened with sweat.  I remember thinking the air from the fan felt good on my naked body, and as I watched, my small nipples grew erect in the breeze.  My boobs perkily stuck up (today, decades later, when I assume that same position, I swear they’re in my armpits!).  I could see the hair between my legs, my then-flat stomach giving me a fairly clear view.  I wasn’t sure how to proceed.  

So I decided to start imagining Josh kissing me all over.  Instead of me crawling on him, I imagined me lying there on my back, while he crawled onto me naked.  I trembled.  With my left hand, I gently felt my boob  like he had done, squeezing the and gently pulling the nipple, feeling it harden further.  A flush of warmth spread downward.

I slid my right hand down, using the back of my fingertips to lightly stroke my stomach, then my pubic hair, eventually coming to the slightly protruding inner lips. Using my fingertips like he had done, I lightly stroked the lips, feeling their wetness, while butterflies built in my stomach. This felt pretty good.

I continued to brush the lips, almost startled by the flood of warmth.  I brushed one finger the length of their entire length, stroking both lips as I did so, and was startled by the amount of wetness oozing out of me.  The more I brushed, the wetter I got.  I remember finding myself breathing hard.

I then remembered what he did, lightly capturing my clitoris with the top of both lips, and gently rubbing it in a rhythmic fashion. I now crept my left hand down past my right, and carefully slipped my index finger into me, almost to the second knuckle.  I remember how good it felt as it first slipped in, the amazing amount of wetness, a sensation of heat radiating inside me, and the smoothness giving way to a wrinkly texture.  I remember how Josh worked his finger in and out, timing it with the gentle rubs.  I did the same.  

The sensation was incredible.  My breath grew ragged and I moaned. It all felt amazing.  After a few minutes, I could feel a growing wall of tension, like in the truck.  I abruptly withdrew my finger and returned to gently squeezing and pulling my nipple. That changed things- I could feel I was on the brink of that great feeling again.  

I closed my eyes and remember rubbing faster.  Unbidden, the image of a naked Josh came into my head. I imagined him looming over me, his erection pressing against my opening, I pretended to spread my legs further, tilting my pelvis back and my knees toward my shoulders. I could feel the breeze from the fan on my pussy, cool on the wetness.

And then it hit.  I gave a whimper crossed with a cry, crossed with a moan, crossed with grunts, as a wave of contractions hit me.  I felt a flood of tension and relaxation at the same time.  I could feel the rhythmic contractions-strong and snapping at first, then gradually ebbing away, my entire body twitching with each one.  It was amazing.

And with that, I discovered masturbation.  Even decades later, whether alone, and with every man I’ve been with, my sure-fire orgasm trick is to spread myself wider when the time comes, tilt my pelvis a bit, and pull gently on a nipple.  Sure, I can cum other ways.  But that’s super easy. And when I’m alone, I often flash back, imagining Josh doing it to me, holding each of my shins, pushing them up while I get railed.

And that’s my first time masturbating.