Within 24 hours, Annabelle went from not knowing where her clit was to teaching her sister her unique masturbation method.
The house was quiet, the kind of silence that only comes when everyone has finally settled into sleep. I lay on the couch, curled under a blanket, staring at the ceiling. The glow from the hallway barely reached me, and shadows flickered across the walls whenever someone shifted in their sleep. I could hear slow, steady breathing from the other girls scattered across the floor, wrapped in their sleeping bags or curled up on spare blankets.
I should have been asleep. I wanted to be. But my mind wouldn’t settle, restless thoughts keeping me trapped in a cycle of shifting positions and sighing into my pillow. That’s when I noticed movement—small at first, just the faintest stirring of a blanket. My eyes flicked toward it instinctively.
Ella.
She was petite, with a slim build and delicate features. Her blonde hair, long enough to cascade past her shoulders, lay in soft waves against the blanket. In the dim light, her blue eyes were barely visible, but I had seen them countless times—bright and piercing during the day, now heavy-lidded with something else entirely.
She was lying on the floor, just a few feet away from me, her body mostly covered by a blanket. I wouldn’t have thought much of it—except she wasn’t just shifting to get comfortable. Her movements had a rhythm. A deliberate, steady rhythm. The kind of movement that wasn’t meant to be seen.
My stomach clenched, breath catching in my throat. My first instinct was to look away. But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
From my position on the couch, I had the perfect vantage point. I was just high enough to see past the edge of her blanket, to the subtle way her legs pressed together, to the slow undulation of her hips. Her face was turned slightly away, but I could see enough. Her lips were parted just slightly, her breath soft but unmistakable in the silence of the room. Every few moments, a quiet exhale, almost like a sigh, would escape her. Not loud enough to wake anyone—but loud enough that, in the stillness, it felt amplified.
Then I saw it—she crossed her legs tightly at the knees, squeezing them rhythmically. At first, I didn’t understand why she was doing it, why the motion seemed so deliberate. But as her movements continued, the realization crept in, slow and undeniable. This wasn’t just restless fidgeting. She was *masturbating*—something intentional, something that sent a shiver down my spine before I even knew why.
Her blanket kept slipping, shifting downward with each subtle movement, and I couldn't tell if it was intentional or simply a consequence of how absorbed she was in touching herself. Either way, it revealed more and more, the shifting fabric allowing glimpses that made it impossible to look away. At first, it only revealed more of the shape of her body, the lines of her legs, the way her hips lifted just slightly. But as she continued, the blanket dipped lower, making it easier to see—more than I should have been able to. The flickering glow from the hallway barely lit the room, but it was enough. Enough to see the tension in her muscles, the way her body responded to every slow squeeze, the way her breathing grew just a little more uneven.
My heart was pounding, a strange heat creeping into my chest, my skin. I should have looked away. I knew I should have. But my body stayed locked in place, my breath shallow as I watched.
Her movements weren’t rushed. They weren’t shy. She wasn’t fumbling under the blanket, uncertain or hesitant. She knew exactly what she was doing. Each shift, each press of her palm against her clit, each tiny adjustment was intentional. The realization sent a fresh wave of something electric through me. She knew what she was doing. And she didn’t care that she wasn’t alone.
The pulsing in my own clit started as a faint awareness, like a distant echo of what she was feeling. I clenched my fingers into the blanket, pressing my thighs together, not quite sure what I was doing, only that my body was reacting in a way that felt completely out of my control. My breath was shallow, my skin hot.
Then Ella’s breathing changed.
It became uneven, broken by tiny gasps, the kind of breathlessness that spoke of a rising tide, something she couldn’t hold back. Her movements became tighter, more focused. My eyes flicked to her face, and what I saw sent a shockwave through me.
Her brow furrowed, her lips parting slightly more, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts. The tension in her body built visibly, her fingers gripping the blanket beneath her. I could see it happening, the moment everything inside her coiled impossibly tight. And then—
A sharp, quiet exhale. A shudder. Her entire body tensed, her face twisting involuntarily, mouth open but silent as she reached *orgasm*. I saw it. I saw everything.
A rush of arousal crashed over me. I was breathing too fast, my own body wound so tight I felt like I might snap from just watching her. I had never seen someone like this before, never seen what it looked like when someone lost themselves completely. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t expected, something raw and personal unfolding in front of me. Watching Ella, I felt a strange mix of awe and longing, an awareness awakening inside me that I didn’t yet know how to name. It was as if a door had opened to something I had never considered before, a world where pleasure was something owned, something taken rather than stumbled upon. The realization made my pulse race, my breath come faster, my thoughts a tangled mess of curiosity and hesitation. I had seen things on the internet, but this—this was different. This was real. Right in front of me. And I couldn’t look away.
The throbbing of my clit between my thighs was relentless now, an ache that wasn’t painful but insistent, demanding something I didn’t fully understand. I squeezed my legs together, not moving, just feeling, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. My mind was spinning, tangled between the shock of what I had witnessed and the undeniable, growing need within me.
Ella’s body relaxed, her breathing slowing, her limbs loosening as she sank back into the blanket. Her face softened, her expression hazy and spent. If she had any idea that I had been watching, she gave no sign. She simply let out a final, quiet sigh and shifted onto her side, disappearing further beneath her blanket.
I stayed frozen. My heart pounded in my chest, my breathing uneven as my mind tried to process everything I had just seen. My muscles were locked in place, caught between the instinct to move and the fear of making a sound. Heat coursed through me, my limbs tingling with an unfamiliar energy. I didn’t know what to think, only that something had shifted inside me, something I couldn’t yet name.
My breath was unsteady. My body felt foreign to me, alive in a way I didn’t understand. The heat that had settled in my belly wouldn’t fade, lingering even as my mind screamed at me to pretend none of this had happened.
I swallowed hard, turning onto my side, squeezing my legs tighter in some desperate attempt to control the way I felt. But nothing would make me forget what I had just seen. Nothing would make me un-feel this.
I didn’t try *masturbating* that night. I wouldn’t—not until I was home, alone, where no one could see me. But the memory stayed with me, playing over and over in my mind, impossible to ignore.
Ella had known exactly what she was doing. And now, so did I.
---
The afternoon sunlight poured through my bedroom window, warming the walls and filling the space with a lazy glow. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that made everything feel suspended in time. I lay sprawled across my bed, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. It started out innocent—funny videos, dance trends—but then the algorithm did what it always did.
One suggestive video turned into another, then another. My scrolling slowed, my attention lingering longer on each one. A girl ran her fingers through her hair, her gaze smoldering at the camera before whispering something low and teasing. My stomach twisted. Another video—someone biting her lip, letting her shirt slip lower, the movement so deliberate, so practiced, that I felt a slow heat spread through me. My breath hitched, my fingers tightening around my phone as I shifted against the sheets. I swallowed hard, shifting against the sheets. My body buzzed with warmth, memories from the night before flooding back.
Ella.
I closed my eyes for a second, exhaling slowly. The way she moved, the rhythm, the breathless sounds she made—I couldn’t shake it. It had been playing in the back of my mind since I woke up, a quiet hum beneath every thought. And now, with my phone still in my hand and heat curling low in my belly, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
I locked my door, my hands slightly shaky with anticipation. My heart pounded against my ribs, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting together. I wasn’t sure what to expect, only that I wanted—no, needed—to touch myself, to chase the same release Ella had found.
My heart was already pounding as I climbed back onto my bed, sitting up for a moment, uncertain where to start. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together just like I had seen Ella do. A slow squeeze. It felt... nice. But it wasn’t enough.
I shifted slightly, adjusting, trying to find that movement, the one that had looked so natural when Ella did it. Was it the way she pressed her thighs together? Or was there a subtle rhythm to her fingers working her clit? I hesitated, testing different angles, feeling out the pressure, my breath catching when something—just barely—felt right. It wasn’t as effortless as it had seemed for her, but I could sense I was close. A little more pressure. A small rock forward. My breath hitched. There.
A slow warmth spread through my belly, deep and pulsing. I squeezed again, harder this time, my fingertips brushing tentatively over my clit through my underwear. My thighs trembled just slightly with the effort. My phone was still in my hand, the screen glowing, and I glanced down, scrolling absentmindedly until I found another video—a girl with flushed cheeks, exhaling into the camera, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. I bit my own lip, my hips shifting instinctively, a quiet gasp slipping out.
It felt good. *Really* good.
I let my eyes flutter shut, the glow of my phone disappearing as my mind drifted. Ella. The way she had looked beneath her blanket, the way she had touched herself, slow and deliberate. I could see it so clearly. My breath came out unsteady, my body responding before my thoughts could catch up. The pressure was building now, growing warmer, heavier, tightening low in my stomach.
I found a rhythm—small, careful circles over my clit that sent waves through me, each one stronger than the last. My breath deepened, my body gradually surrendering to the sensation. The warmth in my belly intensified, radiating outward in slow pulses. My fingers curled into the sheets, gripping tighter with every shift. A quiet moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it, my body tightening instinctively as the tension built higher. The pressure wasn’t just physical anymore—it was electric, coursing through me in a way I had never felt before. I could hear my own breathing, uneven, matching the girl’s soft sighs from the TikTok still playing beside me. My thighs clenched tighter, the heat inside me burning brighter, deeper.
I knew I was close. I could feel it, that edge, the point of no return. My body tensed, coiling tight, and then—
A sharp gasp tore from my lips as something inside me snapped, pleasure crashing over me in deep, rolling waves. My head tipped back, my legs squeezing desperately as the heat spread through every inch of me. My breath came in ragged bursts, my body trembling with the intensity of it.
For a long moment, I just lay there, letting it wash over me, my limbs loose, my skin flushed and warm. I felt different—like I had just crossed an invisible threshold I hadn’t even known was there. My body still tingled, my breath slow and measured as I tried to process what had just happened. Had Ella felt like this? Had she known how overwhelming, how consuming an orgasm could be? A mix of wonder and satisfaction settled in my chest, along with the undeniable urge to feel it again. The room felt different—brighter, softer, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.
I let out a shaky laugh, bringing a hand to my forehead.
That was *incredible*.
And I wanted to do it again.
---
The hours after my first time masturbating passed in a haze. I barely registered the rest of the afternoon, my body still humming with warmth, my mind stuck in a loop of what had just happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, replaying every moment, every sensation. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to see if it could feel even better. And, more than anything, I wanted to share it with April.
The thought had been creeping into my mind ever since I came down from that high. I didn’t just want to tell her—I wanted to show her. There was something thrilling about the idea of watching her experience her first orgasm, of guiding her the way Ella had unknowingly guided me. The idea made my stomach twist in the best way, a mix of excitement, curiosity, and something else I couldn’t quite name.
Later that evening, we were in our usual spot—curled up on the couch, watching TV. The glow of the screen flickered across the room, casting soft shadows as we mindlessly took in whatever show was playing. It was a familiar scene, comfortable and effortless, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. I kept sneaking glances at her, wondering how to bring it up.
Eventually, I shifted, crossing my legs and pressing them together, testing the sensation again. Even the smallest movement sent a spark through my clit. My breath came just a little deeper, my fingers gripping the couch cushion as I found a rhythm beneath the surface. I glanced at April, hoping she’d notice.
She did.
Her eyes flicked toward me, eyebrows knitting together. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
I hesitated for only a second before grinning. "Just try it," I said lightly, keeping my tone casual, playful. "Cross your legs and squeeze. Right... there." I gestured vaguely toward my own thighs, hinting at the pressure on my clit.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "You’re so weird."
I shrugged, pretending to focus on the TV, but my pulse quickened. I kept moving, subtly adjusting, making sure she could see—not just to prove a point, but because I wanted her to feel what I felt. The anticipation of her reaction made my own movements more deliberate, the pressure between my legs building with each shift. I bit my lip, wondering how long it would take for curiosity to win her over. The throbbing in my clit was already insistent, warm and familiar, and the thought of her joining me only added to the intensity.
April sighed dramatically but finally shifted, her movements slow and uncertain. She crossed her legs hesitantly, glancing at me as if to gauge whether she was doing it right. Her fingers twitched slightly against the couch, and she let out a small, uncertain laugh before settling into the position. "Like this?" she asked, a mix of curiosity and reluctance in her voice.
"Tighter," I instructed, glancing at her. "Now squeeze. You’ll feel it... lower."
She followed my lead, her expression still skeptical. A moment passed. Then another. And then, her breath caught. Her eyebrows lifted slightly, her lips parting in surprise. "Oh."
A slow smirk curled at my lips. "Yeah," I murmured. "Now you get it."
She shifted again, testing it, her movements uncertain at first. I could see it in her face—the exact moment she found the sweet spot, the pressure against her clit. Her body tensed just slightly, her eyes widening before she quickly looked away, like she wasn’t sure what to do with what she was feeling.
"Why does that feel so... *weird*?" she muttered, shifting again.
I chuckled, my own breath coming a little heavier. "It’s not weird. It’s good, right?"
She didn’t answer right away, but she didn’t stop either. Her fingers curled into the couch cushion, her breathing growing shallower. I knew that feeling—the slow unraveling, the realization that her body was responding in a way she hadn’t expected. Watching it happen to her, knowing exactly what she was feeling, made my stomach tighten with excitement.
April bit her lip, exhaling shakily. "It’s... stronger than I thought."
"Told you," I murmured.
She nodded absentmindedly, her focus clearly shifting inward, her movements becoming more deliberate. She was getting lost in it now, just like I had. My own pleasure grew alongside hers, intensifying with each passing second. The warmth in my belly spread outward, my thighs tensing instinctively as the sensation deepened. My breath hitched, mirroring hers, our bodies locked in the same slow, deliberate rhythm. The tension coiled tighter, a thrilling anticipation growing with every squeeze, making my skin tingle and my pulse pound. Watching her lose herself in it made everything feel even more electric, heightening my own response in ways I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t stop watching her, my breath matching hers, my body reacting to the tension building between us.
Then, suddenly, she gasped. Her body jerked slightly, her thighs clenching tighter, her face twisting in shock and something deeper. "I—I think—"
I knew that look. I knew that sound. My own body tensed in anticipation, the thrill of watching her push me closer to my own edge. "Just let it happen," I whispered, my voice unsteady.
And then, April came. Hard.
Her entire body went rigid, a sharp inhale breaking the silence, her hands gripping the couch as she shuddered. Her breath came in stuttering gasps, her muscles visibly tightening before releasing all at once. I watched, completely captivated, as her orgasm crashed over her, her expression shifting from shock to overwhelming relief.
The sight alone was enough to send me spiraling. My own pleasure crested just seconds later, the tension snapping, pulling me under in a wave of sensation that left me gasping. My grip on the couch tightened, my body trembling as the heat spread through me, just as consuming as it had been the first time—maybe even more so.
The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing. I felt weightless, as if the entire world had paused in this moment with us. A warmth lingered between us, something unspoken but deeply understood. My heart was still racing, my body still tingling, but more than anything, I felt closer to April than ever before. Had she felt that too? Was she thinking the same thing? I wanted to say something, to acknowledge what had just happened, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I simply let the silence stretch, knowing that whatever this was, it had changed something between us forever. I slowly relaxed, my body sinking deeper into the cushions as the aftershocks faded. April lay beside me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes wide with lingering disbelief.
I turned my head, meeting her gaze. A slow smile tugged at my lips. "Well?"
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "That was..."
"I know," I said, grinning.
She swallowed, still looking dazed. "I can’t believe—I mean, I didn’t know it could feel like that."
I chuckled softly. "Me neither."
A pause stretched between us, the air thick with something new. A silent understanding. A shift in our bond that we both felt but didn’t need to put into words.
April let out a breathless laugh, rubbing her face. "I feel like I need to do that again."
A rush of warmth spread through me at her words, excitement flickering in my chest. "Yeah," I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Me too."
The TV continued playing in the background, forgotten. The world outside didn’t matter. In this moment, it was just us—closer than we’d ever been, bound by something we couldn’t name.
Something that would always be just *ours*.
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