At 14, my boobs had grown about as much as I figured they were going to. I was simultaneously very proud of my grown-up look, and a bit freaked out about how big they had become. I remember the day they first started to have that folded-over look – you know, where they aren’t just bumps on your chest, but flop down against your chest. I happened to notice on a warm day when I felt sweat under there for the first time.
It had become quite common for me to get naked in my room when my brother was out, and my parents were at work. I’d spend most of an hour just admiring my body in my full-length mirror, and just running my hands over my tits, over and over again, sometimes just squeezing a bit. Then, at some point, I’d start running my fingertips ever so lightly over my nipples, especially my right nipple for some reason. Sometimes I’d take this soft makeup brush I had and I’d tickle my nipples super lightly.
Of course you know that would set off the full-on, irresistible horny feelings, and pretty soon, a fly on the wall would have seen me with my right hand between my legs rubbing my clit like there was no tomorrow, and my left hand fondling my right nipple. Sometimes, I wasn’t even very gentle. I’d be all contorted on the bed, having orgasm after orgasm.
In the throes of that state, as I’m sure you know, one isn’t very cognizant of one’s surroundings. It didn’t matter. It was just my room, the door was jammed shut with a door stop I had slipped under the edge, and my silly brother and parents were all out.
Or so I thought! Suddenly, the door burst open. I had no idea anyone had come home early. I had no idea that the door stop would just slide out of the way.
It was my father. My handsome, tall, policeman father. A man I admired greatly. In fact, more than one of my masturbation fantasies involved him!
“Oh, Sweetie!” is all he said, before he quickly closed the door and left. He sounded quite disappointed, but maybe he was just surprised. Maybe that was a sort of apology for barging in. The way he said it, I couldn’t tell.
The position I was in on my bed gave him a very clear view of my anus and pussy. Not good!
You never saw a girl get dressed so quickly in her life! My brain was running in high-speed circles. What would I say? How could I explain this to him? Maybe I could tell him, I was just scratching an itch. My vagina itched. No, that wouldn’t work.
I waited in my room as if it was a jail cell for an hour. I couldn’t even look at the computer or anything. I was just running multiple scenarios through my brain as to what was going to happen when I saw my dad next. None of these scenarios were good.
Finally, my mom called me down to dinner. I had to face the music. I went very, very slowly down the stairs, and was no doubt blushing big time as I came to the dinner table.
My oblivious brother didn’t notice anything different. If my mom or dad noticed anything, no one said anything. At least not for a moment.
Then my mom said, quite cryptically, “Hon, we respect your privacy…” It seemed like she was about to add something more, but fell silent.
That’s when my dad started in. I was practically shaking in fear. “Honey, and Jim, you too,” glancing at my brother, “I know you guys have been wanting locks on your bedroom doors. I’m going to the hardware store right after dinner, and I’m going to install locks for you.”
That’s all he said. I kept waiting for the axe to fall. I figured I’d get some lecture to end all lectures, and right in front of my brother. But not another word came from either parent about what had happened. Instead, the conversation was about driving to the hardware store, and my mom wanted some touch up paint for a scratch on the fridge, and so on. You can be sure I wasn’t going to bring it up.
To this day, twenty years later, not a thing has been said about that incident. My dad did install the locks. It took me a week before I felt good about masturbating again, but in time, I returned to admiring my boobs in my mirror, and then bringing myself to crashing orgasms.
Sometimes, when my husband is at work, I still start a session of fondling my boobs, tickling my nipples, and then launching into full on masturbation. Only these days, I add in a vibrator, and sometimes even another little vibrator in my butt.
One thought on “Girl at 14”
Locks on bedroom doors that can’t be easily overridden are not safe.