by Jenelle Watson
I’ll be the first to admit I’m a geeky girl. I am the product of geeky parents. They instilled in me a sense of self that is stronger than most. So, while everyone else in high school was partying, getting all sexual and experimenting with pot, I was studying computer science. I wanted to be a programmer.
Perhaps because I didn’t have much of a social life, I enjoyed masturbating – a lot! Or, perhaps because I masturbated a lot, I didn’t have much of a social life. Either way, I was really quite happy as a solo-sexual, or so I thought.
I’ve been lucky. I had an older brother and older sister who were both in college during my last high school years. We’ve always had our own bedrooms, with locks on the doors. I don’t know what they did in their rooms, but I spent many hours wanking. It calms the mind, and I’ve heard it is good for one’s physical and mental health.
Naturally, you can understand that I was concerned when it was time for college. My family is not rich, so I’d have to live off student loans, a small scholarship, and a little help from my parents. That necessitated dorm living. The problem with that is roommates. And the problem with roommates is no privacy for masturbation. But what could I do? Life isn’t always peaches.
I arrived on the UC Berkeley campus a day before my first classes, got signed in, and found my room. My roommate hadn’t arrived yet. I was hoping that she’d be someone nice. After unpacking, I thought it would be nice to have a little frig, but thought better of it. My roommate might arrive at any moment. It was the first time in a while I wasn’t able to have an orgasm after hours of not wanking, and it was frustrating.
Instead, I started wandering around the huge campus looking for, well I can admit it, I was investigating bathrooms and private areas, anything that might afford opportunities to masturbate.
When I returned to my room, my roommate had arrived. Red flags went up right away. Frankie was a short girl, with wild dark hair, wild dark eyes to match, and large tits. Even larger than her breasts, was her voice. She was loud and seemed quick to say whatever she was thinking.
That made her the exact opposite of me. I tend to keep my opinions to myself. Some would say I’m shy, but I think I’m just more contemplative. I’m also the opposite of Frankie physically. I have flaming red hair that I’ve never really liked, I keep it straight, and not too long. Anything else is just too much trouble. I’m freckled, which I do like, and I’m tall and thin, a somewhat unfortunate combination. My lips are too big for my face, but hey, what can you do?
But you know what? For a person who’s going to be a programmer, none of that matters.
Early that evening, I made my way to the gym for the first, informal meeting of the volleyball team. I had made the team and was proud of it. I really enjoy volleyball. It’s all I do for exercise, but believe me, it’s all I need. It was a volleyball scholarship that paid a portion of my college tuition.
When I arrived, I saw a few tall girls standing around, and there was Frankie. What was she doing here? I found out soon enough. The coach had us all introduce ourselves. It turns out she was our star setter. I didn’t realize a good player could be that short, but then again, setters don’t hit or block. So that was cool, my roomie was going to be on my team!
She said “Hi, Jenny.”
“Frankie, could you call me ‘Jen?’ I like Jenelle or Jen, but somehow, Jenny rubs me the wrong way.”
“Oh, sure, Jenn.. Jen.”
As we got to playing in an informal practice, I found it annoying that Frankie was coaching everyone, like how far out to run for a spike, where to stand, and how to efficiently move in a 4-1 pattern. (There were only ten players in the gym.) Like we didn’t already know that stuff. Furthermore, what was the coach doing? She hardly said a word, as if Frankie was the coach.
Afterward, we hit the showers. Frankie came up to me and said “Hi.” so loud that I almost jumped. I noticed her particularly large tits and found them intriguing. My own tits are way too small, like little cupcakes on my chest. For me, a bra is just a formality. As if we weren’t opposite enough already, her properly floppy tits were topped with big diameter dark nipples. My nipples, are little pink pencil erasers. I noticed, too, that she shaves or depilates her crotch. She must be one of ‘those’ girls. You know the kind, the ones who will have sex with any guy at the drop of a hat.
Being naked in the shower among people, even if all women, made me hornier than I already was.
We met up a little later in our room. I was trying to like her, but I wasn’t so sure it would work out. She opened a suitcase and came out with two Hershey bars, and offered one to me. The timing was perfect, I was hungering for something like that. It was very nice of her to give me that. Maybe she wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Around 10pm, an hour after I usually go to bed, I went down the hall to the bathroom, washed a bit and brushed my teeth. I thought about rubbing one out in a stall, but there were too many girls going in and out. It just didn’t seem like a good idea.
When I returned to our room, Frankie was not there. I turned out the light and decided I’d give myself an orgasm under the covers.
A minute later, the door opened quickly, and bumped loudly against a desk. The fluorescent lights came in, and Frankie practically yelled, “Hey Jenny.”
I quickly took my hand away from my crotch and said, “Frankie, do you think you could come in quieter in the future?”
“Oh sure. Sorry.”
“Could you turn out the light?”
“Sorry,” and she flipped the switch. She then left to brush her teeth or something.
I knew I couldn’t masturbate any more, so I turned over and went to sleep. I was quite horny, but also tired, I had just fallen asleep, and the fucking door crashed open against the desk again.
At least she hadn’t turned the lights back on.
I was having a bit of trouble getting to sleep a second time, and heard her rustling around and getting into bed. I was not at all used to someone else around when I go to sleep, and was not very happy about the whole roommate idea at that point.
Just when I fell asleep again, I heard a hoarse whisper. “Hey Jenny. Are you looking forward to college? What are you going to study?”
Oh, no, she wanted to talk!
I’d like to say I was polite, but I just didn’t have it in me. “Shut the fuck up, please, and go to sleep.”
She exhaled loudly, saying “Geez!”
I tossed and turned a bit, and finally did fall asleep for the rest of the night.
Around 6am, bang! A chair fell over. It was Frankie, of course, unpacking her stuff. Now, usually, I get up around six, also, but prefer not to be woken with a crashing chair.
I hit the bathroom, grabbed my phone, and headed for the cafeteria. After getting some food, which looked pretty good, I found a chair at an empty table and sat down, starting to read a book on my phone and eat. A sensed someone approaching. Looking up, I saw that it was Frankie. She didn’t ask. She just plunked down in the chair opposite me and started talking. So much for reading.
I still hadn’t had an opportunity to masturbate, and it was having an adverse effect on me. My vagina was almost itching, and my lower stomach felt weird. So, I might not have been as accepting as she’d like. She started going on about the classes she was in and her expectations. I was like “umhum,” while continuing to try to read.
Frankie said, so loud that conversations around us stopped for a moment, “At least you could make an effort to be nice!”
I’m not one to be contrary. That’s probably because I’m too shy, or contemplative, to cause a fuss. So I apologized, and set down my phone, trying not to look exasperated. At the same time, I was trying to remember the exact definition of “narcissist.”
I attended my first two classes that day, and they were exhilarating. I was starting to feel that college, the thought of which had made me nervous, would be enjoyable after all. Except, I hadn’t figured out what to do about the masturbation thing. I hadn’t masturbated once since I arrived in Berkeley, and it was starting to drive me crazy. Oh, and the roommate situation. I was pretty sure I didn’t like Frankie.
My dad always said when you get lemons, you should look for a way to make lemonade. I was hoping I could make it work with Frankie.
When I got back to my room, Frankie was there, and she had some of the worst music you’ve ever heard blaring full-blast on a little Bluetooth speaker. She was dancing to stuff that seemed like a mix between acid rock and Motown. That little speaker was distorting terribly, turned up as loud as it was.
I asked her to turn it down, and couldn’t believe her response: “No, it’s good for you. Music heals the soul.”
How does one handle something like that? I walked out, and right into the housing office. I told the woman there, a Mrs. Rosemont, I need a new roommate. I was prepared to enumerate the weirdness of this Frankie person, but Mrs. Rosemont interrupted before I could even get a start on my tirade.
“It’s against campus rules. We never allow room changes. We find it is good for students to work these things out among themselves.”
Fuming, I returned to my room. My backup plan was to grab my phone, maybe a pillow and a blanket, and set up camp in the bushes that form a little gap against the back of the dorm building. I didn’t have to do that, because Frankie had left, music and all.
While I was getting a start on my homework, I was dreading the moment of her return. I stepped out for dinner, then returned. By 8pm, she hadn’t returned, and I was starting to relax a bit. I was kind of hoping something happened to her, like maybe a horrible traffic accident. At the same time, I was oddly worried about her.
By 9:30, with all my studying done, I turned to a Netflix movie on my laptop. By ten, I turned in, and promptly fell asleep.
Bang! The door crashed against the desk, and the fluorescent lights came on. Frankie had returned.
It was too much. Way, too much. She was ruining my college experience, which was supposed to have been glorious, but if these first two days were any example, It was going to be a miserable year. There was nothing, absolutely nothing I could do about Frankie.
I curled up in my bed, and started crying, trying not to make enough noise that Frankie would notice.
“Oh, are you crying?”
“Are you crying about something Jenny?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How can I help?” And with that, the awful girl climbed onto my bed, and spooned behind me, putting her arm around my shoulder. It was oddly comforting, made all the more weird by who was doing it. I was really starting to hate Frankie.
“Get off my bed!” I growled between tears. Actually, it was more of a squeak.
“No, you need a hug, and a good listener.”
I was thinking, ‘Fuck, will it ever end with this crazy girl?’
I didn’t say anything, and she didn’t get off my bed. She continued to hold me close, and my sobs became more out of control. I was so sad, and she was the reason.
I started blubbering like a four-year-old, but said some very un-four-year-old-like things.
“I came to college and I was so excited, and it’s turning out so fucking badly,” I exclaimed between sobs. Catching my breath, I went on. “Just everything is wrong. It’s too loud. You’re too loud. I can’t find any privacy to masturbate, and I really need to…”
Oops, I certainly didn’t mean to say that. Can a person cry and blush at the same time? I’m pretty sure I was.
Frankie didn’t say anything. She just continued to hug me. I continued crying and I told her pretty much everything. Well, I didn’t say any more about masturbating. but I told her about my background, how I’m shy, and I thought the world was full of people like Frankie. I told her I didn’t blame her for being so boisterous. I blamed myself for not being more flexible. I went on and on.
When I had pretty much run out of words, she quietly told me, “I’m so sorry. I can be such a blob at times. I think I was trying to impress you or something. I promise, with everything that I am, that I’ll change for you.”
Whereas I very much doubted it, I was quite touched by the apology.
It seems I fell asleep in her arms. When I awoke, she was sound asleep in her bed, and we had an hour to get ready for classes. She and I both had classes at 9am. I gently woke her, and for a change, she didn’t make a racket, throw on lights, knock over a chair or anything. She simply said, “Thank you.”
As I was doing my morning things in the bathroom, she came in and between brushing her teeth and brushing her hair, she said, a little too loudly, “I meant it.”
I still doubted it.
I didn’t see her until late that evening. I’ll bet she was chasing boys around or something. I heard her before I saw her. She was talking loudly to someone in the hall just before she came in.
I couldn’t believe that when she came in, she held the door so it didn’t crash into the desk. And, although it was dark in the room, she didn’t throw on the lights. She changed, went to the bathroom, came back, whispered “G’night Jen,” and turned in.
Unbe-fucking-lievable. But I figured time would tell. She’d probably revert.
The next morning was Saturday, and we had no classes. I was determined to find a place to masturbate. It had now been days. Frankie was still asleep, so I decided to do what I could under the covers. But it was still no use, I couldn’t manage the mood knowing she might detect what I was up to.
A few minutes later she awoke, stretched, and once again was surprisingly civil. She threw off her covers, and I was surprised to note that she had slept naked. Grabbing a robe, she went down the hall to the bathroom. I frantically frigged myself while she was away, and finally, finally, had an orgasm. It wasn’t a very good one, because I was quite concerned that she may have forgotten her shampoo or something like that, and might return at any moment.
When she did return, I was reading a textbook at my desk. Frankie said “Hello, Jen” quietly, and took off her robe. Right there in front of me, while I was looking right at her, she stood nude, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Well, I suppose that’s good and proper. After all, it was just us two women, and of course we saw each other in the showers after volleyball. By the way, she was a very good setter, a real asset to the team.
A couple more days passed, and she started actually favoring me. I couldn’t believe it was the same girl. The one who was making all that noise with complete disregard for me, was now favoring me over the other members of the team so far as I could tell, giving me more sets, even short back-sets, which I loved smashing. And, she stayed civil.
She also slowly blossomed into a full-blown nudist during the course of a week or so. Whereas she took off her robe before putting on other clothes that first post-crying day, she was now sitting at her desk and studying while staying nude. I kind of liked her body. She was nice to see.
Figuring it was OK, I started getting nude myself briefly while changing clothes. I can’t really explain this, but I kind of wanted her to see me, to notice me, when I had no clothes on. She, however, remained totally casual, as if everything was exactly the same between us, clothed or not.
One night, as we lay in our beds, she and I got to talking, and we went on until one in the morning. She really opened up about her upbringing. She was the youngest of four children, so she had to be loud and crazy to be noticed, and as she put it, ‘to not be stepped on.’ She also claimed that her mother is the world’s biggest narcissist, having no concern for any of her children. She called her mother a short little frog. Evidently the woman is shorter than Frankie, considerably fat, and, according to Frankie, even more obnoxious.
OK, so I’m starting to understand Frankie better. I shared my home life, my dreams and ambitions with her. You know that I’m studying software design. She’s studying psychology. I can see how she’d make a good shrink.
In another week, I could see that it would be fine with Frankie. She was turning out to not only be a good roommate, and good volleyball teammate, she was becoming a good friend, too. My best friend, at the moment. And I was hers, too. I could tell because one morning in the room before we left for our respective classes, she gave me a great big hug. The girls on the team hugged after every good point, but this was different. Decidedly different. She held me close, for a long time. It was the kind of hug that only a good friendship makes possible.
Oh, she talked to a lot of people, both boys and girls, but she seemed to keep them at arms length. I was surprised, because I thought she’d be the sort to pick up a boyfriend right away.
Now that the Frankie problem was taken care of, I had only one problem left. In the three weeks since college started, I hadn’t yet had a good masturbation session. I was left rubbing myself only once every couple of days in the restroom, or sometimes under the covers in my bed, if Frankie wasn’t around. It didn’t help a bit that she and I were spending much of our time nude in our room. I mean, it didn’t help me with masturbation one bit, but I did rather like the sense of freedom of being textile-free around her.
As it turns out, Frankie had been developing a plan since that day I bawled my eyes out. The nudity was only the first phase.
One time, I came crashing home, enthusiastically throwing the door open, almost Frankie style, after a particularly interesting lecture. I probably should have knocked or something, because I interrupted Frankie. There she was sitting in my computer chair, rubbing her bald little pussy.
Oh, I was so embarrassed. I’m sure my face turned three shades of red. “Sorry. I can come back later.”
“Oh, no need Jen. I was just… well, you know.”
I thought she might be more embarrassed. It seemed I was more embarrassed about busting in on her in such a private moment than she was for being seen in that state. I thought it was sort of weird, but just attributed it to the boisterous person she was. I also admired her a bit more for that. I really doubt I’d have been so calm if someone had caught me masturbating, God forbid!
As I settled into the room, starting to take my clothes off as usual, she got up, put her robe on, and started doing something on her laptop on her bed. A few minutes later, she took her robe back off. We talked a bit about our classes, the masturbation incident forgotten.
Well, not entirely forgotten. Seeing her frigging herself like that, and being so casual about being caught, had an effect on me. I went down the hall to the bathroom, and had a barely satisfactory wank on one of the toilets. I was glad there were no other girls in there at the time, or of course I couldn’t have done that. Oh, I know the stalls have doors, but there’s a small gap, and someone might have seen something.
Life went on, and she continued to respect me properly, and I was very appreciative, even though I probably didn’t express it as much as I could have. Every now and then she’d slip, and exclaim something crass way too loud, or bang a door, or drop her shoes loudly on the floor, or suddenly start whistling in a quiet moment, but I could easily forgive those momentary lapses.
I caught Frankie masturbating again. It was more casual this time. She didn’t jump or anything, and kept her hand between her legs for a moment. She looked a little hesitant, then finally said, “I hope you don’t care. Something came over me.”
It was my turn to be a little weird, so I said the first thing that came to mind, “Don’t mind me.”
Why the fuck I said that, I don’t really know. It was as if I was inviting her to go right on masturbating right there in front of me. Come to think of it, I guess I was inviting her to do just that. Frankly, it was kind of hot. I mean, I wasn’t into women, or at least I didn’t think so, but there was something so freeing, deliciously rebellious about the idea. Then too, I suppose it wasn’t such a big step. We’d been nude around each other, a lot. Maybe that wasn’t quite right, I didn’t know. But how much more of a step was it, really, that she could masturbate while I was in the room? I mean, it’s a natural thing, right? We all masturbate.
In her typical boisterous way, she said “Don’t mind if I do!” and sure enough, she walked back over to my computer chair, and started rubbing her vagina, right there with me staring right at her.
The only problem is that I wanted to use my chair to write some software for class. So, I told her to use her own chair.
Why that struck us as so funny, I’ll never know, but we started giggling, then laughing, then it got so bad we were squeaking, and couldn’t catch our breath. Every time one of us naked girls tried to get serious, our faces would twist all up again, and we’d laugh some more.
Finally, we settled down. She did get into her own chair, and looking perhaps a bit self-conscious, she started weakly rubbing her vagina. She kept it up, even though it seemed like one of those times you get, and I’m sure all you girls reading this know what I’m talking about, when you can’t orgasm, but you really want to.
She was a brave little trooper and kept it up until she did start getting into the spirit. Meanwhile, I was trying to pay attention to my C++, but it wasn’t happening. From time to time, I turned around and glanced at her. I was a bit confused as to whether it was OK to look or not. I didn’t want to embarrass her. I also didn’t want to seem overly interested. But by gosh, I really was interested!
On one of my glances, I noticed she was totally staring at me. We made and held eye contact. There was some sort of electricity between us.
She started arching her back and lifting her butt out of the chair. Her legs were spread in front of her in a very unladylike manner. She was moaning quietly, she slowly became ridiculously loud, and the next thing I know she was yelling “fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I was embarrassed that the neighbors probably heard it. She was cumming, and I had never seen anything so, hmm… so comfortable, in my whole life.
“Holy fuck, Jen, that was one of the best orgasms of my life. Thank you so much for being so supportive!”
I hadn’t really thought I was being supportive, but I guess that’s what it was.
After that day, our friendship took on a new level.
The first thing that changed is that I was able to take care of business fairly well that very evening. After we got in our beds, and Frankie turned the light out, I felt like I could masturbate under my covers. I did it. Oh, it wasn’t free and out in the open like it had been at my parents house, but I had an orgasm and everything was OK. I imagined that perhaps I could rub under the covers every night, and went to sleep satisfied.
It was probably two days later that I came in and found Frankie masturbating again. We were both quite casual about it. After we said “Hi,” I went to my computer, being excited to try some new coding ideas, while she continued as if I wasn’t even there.
One night, as I was going to town under my covers, assuming Frankie was asleep, she suddenly whispered, “Are you masturbating?”
It’s a good thing the lights were out, because I’m sure my face reddened. I still had a problem even admitting that I like masturbation, let alone that I was doing it then and there. However, I was busted, and had to say so.
“I guess I am.”
“Oh, it’s OK Honey. I want you to feel free to do that as much as you need. As much as you want.”
“Wow. What a friend!”
Still, I couldn’t just throw the covers off. Now, I think I was becoming embarrassed about being embarrassed. I paused for five minutes, then continued rubbing myself under the covers.
In the next couple of weeks, it became ridiculous. I couldn’t masturbate in front of Frankie. Not because of the original reason, but because the hiding of it had become a habit, if you will. Every time I thought about just openly wanking front of her, even though I wanted to more than anything in the world, something about breaking out of my shell frightened me so severely that I just couldn’t do it.
One night, we got to talking about, oh everything. You know, hairstyles, boys, and of course one of our favorite topics, sex and masturbation. Frankie let something slip that just about killed me. She said the whole thing about masturbating in front of me had been done for my benefit. I didn’t understand, so she spelled it out.
The night I was so mad at her and then cried in her arms, she heard how important my masturbation was to me. She had felt terrible about the way she had treated me, and wanted to do what she could to set things right. She realized that if she could make it possible for me to masturbate freely, like I had done at home, that would be a very good thing.
But what to do? She figured that what keeps one from masturbating in front of others is that they’re very afraid of what the others will think. They don’t want to be thought of as oversexed, or weirdos, or something. It’s a stupid and unreal situation our society has inflicted on us.
Frankie said there should be masturbatoriums, public venues in which people can just wank together. People should be able to lift their skirts, or pull down their pants while waiting at a bus stop, and society should be good with that. It made perfect sense to me.
Anyway, Frankie figured if she could be ‘caught’ doing it, and then start masturbating openly in front of me, I’d then get the nerve to do it in front of her, and then our little room would be a comfortable home for me.
I didn’t know what to make of that. On the one hand, I was honored that she wanted to do that for me. But at the same time, I was angry that she had done it as a plot, rather than just saying I could masturbate in the room. Then again, I don’t know how well that would have worked out, I thought with a smile.
We talked more about it, and the conversation drifted to how boys masturbate. Both of us had seen the basics on the Internet, but neither of us had ever seen it in person.
I found out that evening that Frankie had never had a guy. I was what the British call gobsmacked. I had no idea. I figured she was practically a slut. I mean, the loud way she’ll approach anyone and say anything, and her compact, perfect little body. You’d think guys would fall all over her.
She told me she thinks she frightens them all away. She may have a point.
We grabbed my laptop, and found some websites showing guys masturbating. It got us terribly horny. She just started squeezing one of her nipples, and running her fingers up and down her shaved slit right there. That was no longer surprising to me. I was thinking I ought to visit the bathroom. Not because I had to pee, but because I really had to masturbate right then. Oh, I was so horned up.
I knew the time had come. Frankie had been trying to get me to masturbate in the open. Well, why not? I had been wearing my robe, even though it was open, and my little tits were plainly visible to Frankie. We’d been doing that for a while. But I knew what I had to do now. I had to, even though it felt surprisingly scary. Like the first time in driver’s ed, when I had to get on a freeway. But this had to be done for so many reasons.
I took off the robe, laid it over the back of my chair, spread my legs while facing Frankie and looking directly into her eyes, and touched my forefinger to the top of my vagina. So far, so good even though I was terribly self-conscious. I moved my finger around some, wiggling it through my labia and onto my clit. Yes, I was still self-conscious, but I went ahead and ran my finger from just above my ass, through my slit, penetrating an inch in, and then over my clit. I did it several times, and I was starting to get those jittery shocks I knew so well. Soon, I had my first-ever orgasm in front of another person. I have to tell you, it was a doosie!
Frankie was congratulating me, but I barely heard her words. It’s hard to hear when you’re in heaven.
The very next morning, still feeling shy about it, I threw off my covers, and masturbated on top of the bed. Not only was Frankie aware of what I was doing, she was watching from her bed and doing the same thing.
Fast forward a couple of weeks. I was getting in my two or three rubs a day, and under the new circumstances it was even better than when I was at home. However, it became routine, and lost that special charge that comes with doing something new that had formerly been off limits. But still, it’s just amazing to have a friend to share such an experience with.
I happened to notice a couple of things. One was that I started getting an urge to touch Frankie. I didn’t do anything about it, but the feeling was definitely there.
The other thing was right after Frankie started talking about a guy named Brian. They shared a class, and had hit it off, culminating in an official date. They survived that nicely, and started getting serious. He was deeply religious, so although they kissed, they didn’t do anything more. I was rather surprised that a free spirit such as Frankie would go for such a conservative character as Brian, but fall for him she did.
She had brought Brian around to our room a couple of times, but of course didn’t tell him about our nudity and the whole masturbation thing. He seemed likable enough.
During the time they were dating, her masturbation frequency picked up. Whereas she seemed to be satisfied with an orgasm every day or two, now she seemed to need two or three a day, like me.
Her conversation was almost always about Brian, and to tell you the truth, I was getting sick of it. That is, until she started hatching another one of those plans of hers. She had found out that he is OK with masturbation. I guess some people are so screwed up with certain religious beliefs that they try not to masturbate. Isn’t that the craziest thing you have ever heard? It must really mess with their psychology. Fortunately, he wasn’t that religious.
She told me her plan, and wanted my help in working out the details. All she had sorted out so far, is that she could get more and more masturbatory with him. That’s what she called it, “masturbatory.” She wanted to bring him around to the idea that she masturbates, and he masturbates, so why not do it in front of each other? From there, they’d do it to each other, and then see where it takes them. I told her I wasn’t entirely sure how well he’d go along with it.
For perhaps the first time in Frankie’s life, she was unable to converse with someone about something. She was unable to get Brian into a conversation in which she could reveal her plan. She kept asking me how she might approach that, and I didn’t have any good answers for her.
There had been a couple of tall male volleyball players who seemed to have it all. They tried talking me up, but somehow, I just couldn’t get excited about them. But Alan, I dreamed about him, and I masturbated with him in mind.
We hadn’t dated, but we had long walks, and could spend two hours eating a pizza. I think we both knew dating was on the horizon, but didn’t quite get started.
One time, he started getting really close, and he leaned in to kiss me. Instinctively, I backed away, and then instantly regretted it. He acted guilty, as if he shouldn’t have done that. I wished I had the moment back, because hard as I tried, I couldn’t recreate the mood. He actually shook my hand when we parted company that evening. Back in the dorm, while Frankie was watching a movie with her headphones on, I laid on top of my bed, and had a good wank while thinking about what could have happened with Alan.
The next time Alan and I got together, I guess I was hornier than usual, and so brought up my favorite secret topic. I mean, I’d talk about sex and masturbation all day and all night, if it was socially acceptable. Or, I guess I mean if I thought that it was socially acceptable.
On this evening, I did bring it up, probably not in the most elegant way. “Let’s talk about masturbation.”
He was like, “Um, OK.”
“You do do it, right?”
“Of course. And you?”
“Quite possibly too much.”
“How much is that?”
“Oh, two or three times a day.”
“Me too. Well, for me, maybe once or twice a day, but everyday.”
“Do you suppose it is the same for girls as it is for boys?”
“You mean what an orgasm feels like?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I wish I had more experience in the matter.”
Now, here’s where I went off track, and instantly regretted it. “I know quite a bit about girl orgasms.”
“You know Frankie?”
“well, um… Well, she and I masturbate together. Oh, we don’t touch each other or anything, but we do masturbate in our room.”
Fuck, that was definitely going too far. And worse, I ratted out Frankie. What if she didn’t want anyone to know? But then, I figured Alan would be able to keep it secret.
“Oh, retract that. I didn’t say anything about Frankie, OK?”
“My brother and I gave each other blow jobs one time.”
Wow, I didn’t see that coming! I was shocked not only because it was unexpected, but because I pictured it. Then, I pictured my mouth replacing his brother’s. This conversation was going exactly where I wanted it to go. Now, how to bring him one step closer? Ah, I got an idea.
“Have you ever masturbated with anyone?”
“Would you under the right circumstances?”
“Um… I don’t know. Let’s talk about something else.
I was momentarily crushed. My great plan was in ruins and I was embarrassed that I pushed the topic.
A couple of days later, we did kiss, and it was quite nice. I let him know with my body language that I was fully appreciative. He was a good, gentle, kisser, he even put his tongue in my mouth a little bit. It wasn’t gross. In fact, it was kind of nice. I felt a little bit of juice flowing between my legs.
I pressed up against him, and he seemed to like it. With my right arm wrapped around him, I was moving my hand down his back until I found the top of his pants. I slipped my hand in, and pushing the bottom of his T-shirt out of the way, I was touching his lower back, or upper ass. Somehow, that gave me sexual shivers.
He wiggled in such a way that my hand slipped out. I guess he didn’t want it. That was a concern. We broke off the kissing after another minute, and shortly afterward said “Good night” in a way I found unsatisfying. I was starting to imagine getting sexual with Alan, but somehow, he didn’t seem quite on-board with that.
Or, so I thought. A couple days later, in the middle of a conversation about politics, he suddenly asked, “You and Frankie? Really?”
“You two, um… masturbated together?”
“More than once.”
“That’s so hot! I’m trying to picture it in my mind.”
“Would you like to see it for real?”
“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
What the fuck? I would have thought any red-blooded American boy would jump at any such opportunity.
“I… I’m…. Well, I’m not ready.”
“OK, I’d never push you. But why do you think you’re not ready?”
After a pause, he answered, “I just wouldn’t know where to begin. I mean sex. The whole ball of wax just scares me. You, however, are a super-hot chick, and when the day comes, I hope it’s with you.”
It sounded like I was talking to his father, not Alan, and I didn’t like it. The rebel in me was starting to get her hackles up. But I just didn’t know where to go conversationally, so we went back to talking about regular stuff, school and all that.
Days turned into a month, and whereas Alan and I really enjoyed each others company, we weren’t getting past first base. I found it quite frustrating. I was getting ridiculous, like starting tickling wars with him, trying to get him to model some clothes, inviting him to go swimming, any thing to get his pants off. It wasn’t happening.
Out of frustration, I went out with one of the valleyballers one night. He turned out to be the most shallow person I ever met. On top of that, he started groping me. A total jerk. Now I understood what Alan felt like when I tried to feel his ass. The dumb volleyballer tried to kiss me on the mouth at the end of our evening together, and I held him at arms length.
He was like, “Aw, come on, Jen”
I knew I wasn’t going to bother with him again. Alan was the one. Alan was a real sweetheart, but we had to get past this sex thing. We kissed endlessly, graduating to real French kissing, but that’s as far as it went.
Meanwhile, it was business as usual with Frankie. Most mornings and evenings one or both of us would casually masturbate in our room, generally in the presence of the other, sometimes at the same time, and occasionally having simultaneous orgasms. That was fun.
One evening I was fully naked as usual, frigging myself on top of my bed while Frankie was reading a textbook on her bed. She closed the book, and asked me, “What are you going to do about Alan?”
“You mean about him not getting sexual? I’m sure he will eventually. But, I have to confess, it is driving me crazy in the meantime.”
“What would you do with him, if you could?”
“I’d fuck him, of course!”
“How would you build up to it?”
“I’d start by hugging him, like on a bed or something.”
Frankie got up off her bed, and jumped on mine, getting behind me, hugging me like spoons. She had done that before, it was fine. This time, she added a twist. “Show me how you’d hug him.”
Something clicked in me, and I suddenly felt almost sick in my stomach. But it wasn’t sick at all. It was more like an adrenaline charge, and I felt it in my pussy too. I kind of knew what she was thinking, and I was not entirely opposed. Leave it to Frankie to be the bold one! This little, but big-breasted totally naked girl was hugging my back. I could feel her big tits pressing against my shoulder blades, and it felt really, really good.
It wasn’t like the last time she hugged me in my bed. That was innocent. “Come on, show me what you’d do with Alan.”
You’d think I might have resisted, but instead I melted. I turned around, and pressed my head into her breasts. My, that felt nice! I wrapped my arms around her and said, “Oh, Alan!” This little bit of pretending made us both laugh.
“Would you kiss him?”
“You bet I’d kiss him,” and with that I kissed her. I hate to admit this, but Frenching with Frankie was even better than with Alan.
After a long while, she broke it off by moving down and kissing my chin, then my neck, and working her way to my left breast. When she hit my nipple, I received an electric shock. I was irrevocably hooked. No one had ever kissed a nipple, and it felt quite amazing. Interestingly, I felt it more in my crotch than on the nipple itself. She moved to my other nipple, and that was even better. Then she started sucking on my nipples, first one than the other.
“There, do that to him, and he’ll turn into a puppy. Boys like their nipples kissed just like us girls,” she said authoritatively as if she actually knew anything about it. She sat up, and started getting ready to go back on her bed.
“Wait!” I don’t know what made me say that, or what I had in mind, but I knew I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted more.
“Oh, you little horndog!” she exclaimed while returning back to my bed. I was momentarily put off by that comment, but then I realized two things. First, it was totally true. Secondly, it was Frankie, and she always says things without thinking them through. I love her just the same. Yes, I love her. Wow, I said that to myself. I was thinking I love her like a sister. In any case, I wasn’t going to say that to her.
She hugged me again, and I pressed one leg between hers until I felt it contact her magical area, which I discovered was slightly wet. Was it lotion from earlier masturbation? I was pretty sure it was not lotion. We were Frenching again, and this time, I decided it was important to work my way down to her tits. Just like she had done to me, I kissed her chin, her neck, her upper arms, the side of a breast, the front of her breast, and then the nipple.
“Fuck yeah!” she gasped.
Meanwhile, My right hand was headed south. I found her slit, and just ran my middle finger ever so lightly up and down it’s length, the way I’ve enjoyed doing to myself so many times.
Something unexpected started to happen. Frankie, the brave, outspoken, amazing girl, was trembling. I was concerned and asked if she wanted me to stop.
My strokes became longer as she scoonched on the bed so I could have better access. My strokes went from just before her anus to the top of her vagina. She continued to tremble, and she was starting to sweat. Not only that, her puss was so wet it was dripping onto the bed.
I continued my stroking, but became more insistent, pressing between her inner labia partially into her slit, and across her clit at the top of each stroke. I also extended the strokes downward. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I started including her asshole at the start of each stroke.
Frankie gasped, arched her back, and her trembles were joined by giant spasms as she orgasmed from my attention. I stopped, but she told me to keep going, and soon, she had a second, milder orgasm, and I think, a third.
It took her a long while to calm down as she wrapped her arms around me, continued the kiss that had never stopped.
Finally, we broke off the kiss, but I continued to hold her in my arms as she was silently sobbing. I kind of knew how she felt. Not that anyone had ever given me an orgasm, but I knew that strange sort of relief after a strong cum that makes you cry.
“I love you, Jenelle!” she whispered. I knew what she meant. Not in some lesbian way, just as good female friends.
“I love you back!” I said quietly, but enthusiastically.
Approximately a day later, we repeated the process, but in reverse. She did me, and it was indeed remarkable! Now, I knew firsthand what the sexual trembling was about.
Talking about our new-found freedom a couple of days later, she suddenly said a very typical Frankie thing, “This is just too amazing. We have to share it!”
“What do you mean Frankie?”
“I don’t know exactly. Hmmm… Here are the facts: We’ve found something that’s not new, but certainly new to us. It seems to be a kind of freedom. I doubt we’re gay, but we’ve learned it is easy and good to enjoy the company of someone else, another woman, in this way. I think most people are too repressed to let themselves enjoy this freely.”
Typical Frankie. She thought everyone but her is ‘repressed.’ But, I had to agree with her. There was a part of me that wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
Instead, I started with Alan. I wasn’t even reluctant to tell him, just coming right out with it. “Frankie and I masturbated each other, and it was amazing!”
Dead silence. Finally, he said, “Congratulations. I wish I was more, I don’t know what, brave, maybe?”
“You mean that it is your fear of… something, that keeps you from masturbating with friends?”
“So, if you didn’t have that fear, you’d enjoy it.”
“So what do you suppose this fear is?” I asked.
“I think almost everyone has it. That’s why I congratulate you. You were able to break out of the trap.”
“Do you suppose others are in the trap?”
“Hell yes. Practically everyone.”
“Yeah, I was kind of thinking that too. I know this sounds crazy, but I almost want to be an advocate. It seems to me if people could masturbate together, it would be a good first step toward world peace. I mean, what if Donald Trump and Mike Pence got together, along with various family members, and did that? Maybe get Kim Jong-un and his friends to join the party? How could they possibly want to nuke each other after that?
“You know, Jen, I really think you’re onto something.”
“So what would it take to get the average person to jerk off with friends?”
“You might be heading into dangerous territory. There are religious people, and others, who would get it all confused with infidelity, homosexuality, anti-theism, and all sorts of things that are so mixed up in modern society. Not that anyone would want to kill you, but they could cause all sorts of trouble.
“I’ve thought about that, and it does worry me. Perhaps it is part of the fear that we’re talking about. The fear can make people act out. It’s the fear of being ostracized. I think it’s a primal fear. If it’s not on the conscious level, but something built in from prehistoric times, when we absolutely needed to be accepted by the tribe, then it might be hard to deal with.
“I’m starting to think it might become my job. My calling. Oh, I’m still interested in programming, but it could be a hobby. Like some people go bowling or others volunteer at the animal shelter.”
“Interesting. What would you do, exactly?”
“I haven’t got a clue,” and then I laughed. Oddly, during that conversation, I made no attempt to recruit Alan. You’d think he would have been my first prospect, but I felt a reluctance in him, and didn’t think taking him somewhere he didn’t want to go was right.
Later, I had a similar conversation with Frankie. She was totally in agreement with me about everything, even the idea of the fear, and that it is probably a primal thing. People don’t want to be thought of as ‘weird.’ It seemed to me she would be supportive of me if I actually did want to become, whatever you might want to call it, a ‘masturbation advocate’ or something, but I sensed that she wouldn’t be at the forefront of any such movement.
I sensed wrong. Suddenly, she jumped off her bed and bounced up and down on the floor a couple of times with a gleam in her eye. “We’ve got to redecorate.”
“We need to redecorate this room. It’s going to serve a new purpose. It’s going to be the ‘Masturbatorium.”
I understood the implications of what she was saying at once, and it scared me. In theory everything I had been talking about was nice. Whereas to really, actually do it, in front of everyone here on campus. Well, that was just way too off the wall for me. I told her so.
“Jen, what if we start slowly? What if we kind of evolve into it?
“Let’s invite a couple of girls to frig themselves with us. We might even do it in the name of charity or something. Like, I read about the Masturbate-A-Thon in San Francisco, where a hundred people get together once a year and masturbate. It’s like a walk-a-thon, but instead of having sponsors pledge an amount of money per mile, it’s per minute – of wanking. The money goes to some women’s health and social awareness organizations as I understand it.
“That’s too cool!”
“Let’s do that here.”
“You’re scaring me Frankie, but I like it!”
“No, we’ll do it slowly. Just a little bit at first. For instance, I’m thinking we should do some research to start with.
“We need to see some dick. Neither of us know the first thing about boys, really.”
“Strangely true. You scare them off, and mine is a fraidy-cat.”
“Yeah, about that fraidy-cat. Let’s start with him. From what you’ve been telling me, he is on the verge. He’d love to do something with you, but can’t quite bring himself to do, well, whatever.”
“You know, I’d like that, But, I sure don’t know if he would.”
“Let’s trick him. We’ll bring him here, and casually take our clothes off, and let him deal with it. Then, you and I start wanking and invite him to do so along with us. Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
“No, I don’t want to trick anyone, especially Alan.”
“You’re right. OK, let’s do this instead. We’ll invite him over, explain what we’ve been doing…”
“He already knows. I told him, but without any details.”
“Oh… OK, so bring him here, and we’ll show him our tits or something, then ask him to pull down his pants for just a split second. Maybe he could handle that. Then, maybe he could pull them down a little longer. Then, maybe he could just touch himself a little, and so on. We’ll let him know it’s his choice the whole way.”
“Yes, that sounds just about right. If we even get to the first step, that would be… I’d like that, because I really, really want to see his penis.”
So, the next day, late in the afternoon, having explained what we planned to Alan, he was in our room. He thought he might be able to pull down his underwear for a second. I was so excited about that.
He and I were sitting on my bed, and for a moment we were looking at each other, not noticing Frankie on her bed. She removed her T-shirt and bra. I flashed her dagger eyes. Either she didn’t notice, or pretended not to notice, saying, “Alan, your girlfriend and I consider this a clothing optional zone. I hope you don’t mind.”
Alan stared for a brief second at her tits, then quickly looked away. I noticed that his face had turned red. “Um, it’s OK,” he said weakly.
Making matters worse, she then stepped out of her shorts and panties. Leave it to Frankie! I was thinking she must be a bit of an exhibitionist. I can imagine that it was difficult for her to do that. I wondered if she was embarrassed, like maybe she had gone too far.
As I was kind of staring at Frankie, Alan stood up, and said, “Is this what you wanted?” At that moment, he pulled down his pants and underpants, revealing the first real penis I had ever seen in my life. Literally one second later, he pulled his pants back up. I was hoping to see it just a little more. I barely took a mental picture. To me, it seemed all I saw was a bunch of hair with a little something in the middle.
“That was very brave of you, Alan. It takes a lot of balls to overcome some of the stupid traditions society has perpetrated.”
I knew Frankie was on my side about this whole masturbation advocacy thing, and I knew she was a rebel. I was happy to hear her talking that way. I might not have phrased it quite like that, but it was just the thing to say.
“You mean like nudity and masturbation being bad things that should be hidden away?”
‘Yay, Alan!’ I was thinking. For a second there, he sounded like one of us.
“Right. Now if you believe that, why don’t you put your penis where your mouth is?”
As we were laughing, Alan did the bravest thing I have seen in a while. He pulled his pants not only back down, but all the way off, and a moment later his briefs followed.
“Roger, will co,” he quipped.
“Alrighty then,” I added, and took all my clothes off. Now there were two naked girls in our room, and one nearly-naked boy. Alan was still wearing his T-shirt, but only for a moment. He took that off too.
Alan turned to be a great looking guy. I had no idea that under that clothing, lurked such a fit man with a chiseled body. For a thin guy, his upper arm muscles were huge. My eyes worked their way down his body, and I took in his penis and his balls, in all their glory. It was a bit hard to see them clearly, because they were hair-covered.
Frankie took the lead. Like a porn star, she was reclined on her bed with one hand touching a nipple, and the other hand between her wide-spread legs. No doubt about it, she was giving Alan a show. And, it was doing the job. I could see his penis more clearly now. That’s because it was bigger, and rising slowly out of the hair. I felt a strong urge to touch it, but like dealing with a feral cat, I knew I had to proceed carefully.
Alan wasn’t touching himself yet. He was just standing next to the bed, probably trying to figure out what to do. I had caught Frankie’s mood, and was rubbing my vagina. Then I got an idea, and figured it would be OK.
I stood up next to Alan, and kissed him, first on the cheek, then, as he turned to me, I got into a full, proper kiss with him, while putting my arms around his upper body, and drawing him toward me.
His penis brushed against my upper leg, then as we fully embraced, it was pressed firmly between my lower belly and his. I felt an electric shock. That’s the best way I can describe it. Suddenly, instinct took over, and I really wanted that thing inside me.
Just as I was losing my sanity and deciding I’d fuck him right then and there, I felt something like a spasming thing happening in his lower body, felt a wetness on my stomach, and he backed away, again turning red in the face.
I was confused until Frankie exclaimed, “You came?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think that was going to happen.”
I pulled him down on the bed so we were sitting side by side. I watched, totally fascinated, as his penis slowly shrank back down, while telling him, “It’s OK, Alan. Totally OK. Can we do more of that?”
“Oh Jen, guys loose their mood for a while after they ejaculate. I’m so sorry. That’s not the way I wanted it to happen at all.”
“Oh, no worries, Alan. You are so bold, and I’m so proud of you for participating in our experiment in social breaking out.”
Frankie laughed. “‘Social breaking out.’ Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Shortly afterward, Alan went back to his dorm, and Frankie and I recounted the past hour while laying on our own beds and masturbating. We decided that our first bit of research was a grand success.
An hour later, Alan texted that he wanted to do it again, but better, and he proposed tomorrow afternoon. The problem is, Frankie had a class. We texted back and forth, and we decided it would be even better without her.
It was a very long day indeed. As you can imagine, all I could think about was when Alan was going to be here at 4pm. I kept wondering if we could have made it 3pm, because every hour was interminable. Finally, the time arrived, and Alan came in. I was already naked, hiding behind the door as I opened it. I then locked the door.
I was worried that Alan might have to go through some kind of self-doubt or something before he could take his pants off again. To my surprise, and relief, he just pulled off all his clothing as easily as if he was stepping into his own shower. I noticed he had arrived without any underpants. Cool!
But way cooler than that was his super-attractive penis. The minute his pants came off, it was sticking up at a 45-degree angle. Now, seeing a penis is a weird thing. Guys look different than us girls. It’s like they have extra parts on the outside. And the parts don’t seem to quite match the rest of their bodies. I know this is gross, but it’s like they have intestines on the outside. I was thinking that those things of his, his penis and balls were probably about as sensitive as you’d think external organs would be.
“Can I touch it?” I just came right out and asked. I know it’s crazy, but I was that horny.
He sat on the edge of the bed next to me. I got off the bed, and knelt on the floor in front of him. His knees were close together, and he kept them that way for a moment, almost as if he was protecting his ‘equipment.’ Then he spread them wide, saying, “Go ahead.”
I know it wasn’t terribly romantic. My whole life hadn’t been romantic, so no surprise there. But I was very interested indeed in touching him. It was part curiosity, but a major part was horniness, as well.
I reached forward, and touched the tip. He jumped an inch, and I immediately backed away. I barely touched the tip. Surely I didn’t hurt him.
Ah. I rubbed my hands together so they’d be warmer, and decided, knowing what I do about tickling, what with having an older brother and sister, that a firm touch is the way to get past tickling.
I just grabbed his penis, wrapping my hand around it. He leaned back, and said, “Ummm.”
It was one of the most interesting things I’ve ever held in my hand. First, I didn’t expect it to be so warm. Then, the skin was very soft, yet the penis itself was hard, like a bone. I heard that they get hard by filling with blood, but how could it be that hard? It was like a wooden board. It was also pulsating.
You know how doctors take a pulse by pressing fingers on a patient’s wrist? That seems like the hard way. They should just wrap their fingers around a patient’s erection.
“Woah, woah, I’m gonna cum!”
I didn’t understand at first, but I let go right away. He seemed to strain for a moment, then said, “That was close.”
“No don’t be. You have a nice effect on me.”
He then beckoned me to sit on the bed next to him. He hugged and kissed me, his penis still sticking out at a 45-degree angle.
Here’s where it went off-track, but I quickly decided I was OK with everything. He broke the hug, and grabbed his pants off the floor. Fishing around in a pocket, he pulled out a small packet of something. Oh, a condom! He tore it open, then slowly rolled it down over his penis, as I watched, stunned and fascinated.
Alan grabbed me again and resumed the delicious kissing. I don’t know what it is about him, like a subtle taste or something, but I could just kiss him all day and all night. Now, with both of us naked, and pressing our bodies together, it was becoming amazing. I was feeling ‘that’ feeling in my lower stomach, vagina, legs, even the top of my head. He pulled me down on the bed, so the next thing I knew, he was laying on top of me. He was heavier than I expected.
I felt some fiddling between my legs, then a major intrusion, which I welcomed with all my heart. He only pushed in a half-inch or so. You wouldn’t say he was in me at all, and he hesitated.
“Oh, yes, Alan. Do it!”
He put his fingers against my vagina, then somewhat roughly into my vagina, getting some of my girl juice, which he then spread on the condom. Laying back down on top of me, he started pressing again, but in that action, he was very gentle. Oh, I so wanted him inside me. He was taking his sweet time. He could have just pushed right in. I wouldn’t have minded.
He was keeping his upper body slightly off me, supported with his arms on the bed. I felt the full weight of his legs on my legs, and I liked it.
Uuuf. Suddenly, his penis went farther in, and it hurt a bit. I didn’t care. Then, he started pushing way, way into me. I had no idea it would feel that fulfilling. Now I know where the word “fulfilling” comes from. It’s had a secret meaning right out in the open all this time. I wasn’t thinking about vocabulary at the time, however. I was in naughty heaven. On the one hand, I knew we ‘shouldn’t’ be doing this, on the other hand, I wished I had done it years sooner, if only the opportunity had been available.
Now, his whole body was pressing me down onto the bed. He was heavy, but not too heavy. He was kissing me, and I was nearly smothering, but completely overwhelmed with a kind of sexual joy.
He started pushing in and out of me, almost violently. Whatever
that moment of pain was, it had disappeared, and all I wanted was for him to push as far and as hard into me as he could. He grunted, pushed in some sort of involuntary shudders, and then fell still on top of me, his head on my breasts.
After a moment of recovery, he said, “Thank you Jen, that was ten times better than I even imagined, and I’ve been imagining this since the day I met you.”
I was honored and everything else. I hadn’t orgasmed, but that was incidental. I figured I could certainly take care of that later.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Oh, don’t worry about me.”
“Did you have an orgasm?”
“No, not really.”
And with that, he shifted off me, turned around, laying on top of me again, but with his penis and stuff on my neck below my chin, and his face on my vagina. What was he planning?
He started licking my vagina! Woah, that was amazing! He seemed to be having a bit of trouble figuring out where my clit was, or maybe he didn’t realize that’s a pleasure center, but he was having a spectacular effect on me, anyway. I started kind of shuddering, and within moments, I would be having a huge orgasm. I felt it coming on.
Snick, Bang! The lock was turned and the door flew open and hit the desk. Frankie had come home. I was too involved. I couldn’t even deal with that right then, and suddenly, I was in the throes of the strongest orgasm in my whole life. It was so strong it felt like my body was being hit with a hammer. But a good hammer! I felt it in my nipples, and it rang me like a bell from the tip of my head to my toes. And of course my vagina, too.
As I was calming down, I knew that Frankie had witnessed it. Maybe even someone passing in the hall saw it. Perhaps I should have been embarrassed or something, but I was elated. I was actually glad she saw it, and I believe that contributed to the strength of the orgasm.
The three of us went out for pizza, and had a great evening. We talked about many things, especially sex. In recounting to my friends, blow by blow, the whole wonderful experience of being fucked for the first time, I mentioned that brief moment of pain. Frankie thought that was probably the remnant of my hymen being destroyed. When she said that, I felt a horny twinge in my vagina. Right, I’m not a virgin anymore. I was happy and proud.
Life went on. I continued studying software design, but had fleeting moments when I thought about switching my major to psychology so I could become a sex therapist. Alan and I started fucking every day or two. We always had to do it in my dorm, because he said his roommate was too conservative, and wouldn’t understand. That was exactly the kind of person I’d like to educate, but Alan was opposed, thinking it might not work out right.
Sometimes Frankie was here while we did it. Sometimes not. We didn’t care. Correction, I liked it better when she was. Sometimes she’d stop what she was doing and frig herself while we were fucking.
Brian had fallen away, and she hadn’t managed to get a real boyfriend yet, even though there were plenty of guys she talked with casually. I started feeling bad for her. I mean, here we were, Alan and I, fucking right in front of her, and she hadn’t experienced it yet. I talked with Alan about it, and said as long as I was in the room, I wouldn’t mind sharing. He was all for it. Maybe I should have been jealous, but all I could think of was how awesome it would be to see my boyfriend fucking my girlfriend!
The day came. We approached it a bit weirdly, but we got things going, where he was finally fucking her, and I was jilling myself while watching very closely. It was a very horny experience watching them. Better than I had imagined it.
Something came over me where I wanted to participate in some way. I did the first thing that came to mind. I stick my finger in my own pussy, getting it wet, then reached kind of up and under Frankie’s butt, and slowly pushed my finger into her asshole. Weird, I know, but that’s what happened. Suddenly, she orgasmed hugely, screaming not Alan’s name, but mine!
I slowly pulled my finger out and let the two of them recover in a heap.
“That was amazing!” Alan reported. He went on to thank Frankie, then he thanked me for lending him to Frankie, then he said he came too. I hadn’t realized, but my little finger action had triggered a simultaneous orgasm in those two. I was almost jealous of that. With all the fucking Alan and I had done, we hadn’t had a simultaneous orgasm yet. But, the jealousy was a fleeting thing. I was mostly full of joy at the whole situation.
Frankie was taking the ‘masturbatorium’ idea more seriously than I was, and to our surprise, Alan was getting into the whole concept too.
Frankie had come up with some risque posters. They were stills from the 1970s movie “Score.” We watched it on the Internet to see what it was about. We skipped ahead quite a bit, but it seems that two couples get together and have sex, then the girls ‘do’ each other, while the ‘boys’ have their own sex in another room. So, we got these big posters where were suggestively showing the girls playing and the boys playing. The posters in themselves weren’t pornographic, but they were close.
She hung the posters. She got a little table lamp with a red cloth shade, and put a small red light bulb in it. She put up a string of Christmas lights, somehow thinking of those as proper decor for a masturbatorium.
We spent considerable time trying to figure out who to invite, and how to invite them. We also tried to come up with good decisions as to what was to happen in our masturbatorium. We decided that any sort of penetrative sex was out. We didn’t want anyone taking any risks. So, it was to be a true masturbatorium. People could do themselves, or anything to anyone, with permission, so long as it didn’t involve sticking any body part, other than fingers, in another person. So far, so good. But how to kick it off?
I asked Frankie whatever had happened to Brian. I hadn’t seen him around for a while. He seemed like a good first customer for the masturbatorium. She told me he was gay. He had been unclear about it for a while. That’s when they were hanging out. Ah, so that’s what happened.
Thinking of Brian gave me an idea. We could do the masturbate-a-thon thing. We could hold an event right in our room, and make some money to donate to the campus LGBTQ organization. We invented a “touch-yourself” party, and put up posters around the campus, made a Facebook page and so on. I had taken a course in SEO, Search Engine Optimization, which is one way to get people to come to a website, and so I created a whole website about it.
I got a little visit from the TA. She wasn’t so excited about the idea, but eventually relented, as long as she could attend. I tried to supress a smile. It’s surprising with all the posters and so on, that campus authorities didn’t try to shut us down. We never heard a word from any officials. I was slightly concerned that on the day of the event, we’d be raided by police or something. On the other hand, there was nothing illegal about it.
We had about twenty people respond. The problem was that we calculated only ten would fit in the room. We finally gave the room number to twelve people. On the day of the event, only eight showed up. They had gotten a few sponsors, and so we had an event.
It was a little lumpy getting started. We decided the best way to break the ice was for Alan, Frankie and I to be naked as we greeted people. So we did, and although it felt somewhat weird, I opened the door for a Nordic-looking tall guy who was dressed in his Sunday best. I almost laughed, and then almost laughed again at his expression when I opened the door, and he saw me in my birthday suit. I mean, surely he know what he was getting into, but the shock of it set him back a bit. He recovered, and soon enough, he was naked with the rest of us.
Alan opened the door next and let a girl with the total emo-dyke look in, She took one look around, said “Cool” and whipped her clothes off.
Ten minutes later, everyone who ended up showing up was here. We had four naked people in a row setting on the edge of my bed, and four naked people on Frankie’s bed, and three people standing. There were piles of clothes on both beds, and on the floor. I announced the rules, then started a timer on my computer. “OK, everyone, start masturbating.”
Two of the guys were erect the moment their clothes came off. One of them was Alan’s roommate who he had thought was too conservative. Three other guys had a heck of a time getting erect, but duly rubbed themselves for an hour or so, until they were fully in the mood. Alan, with his new-found bravery, was hard right away. The three women who had come were fully into it, and started having orgasms right away. One girl, the emo-goth-dyke one, was just going crazy, spreading her legs wide, putting one finger in her ass, and rubbing her pussy with the other hand, and screaming, and having orgasm after orgasm. I was delighted, and quite turned on by her.
One of the guys who showed up was the volleyballer I had the disastrous date with. I was worried when I saw him standing in the door. I needn’t have worried. He was well-mannered, understood our deal right from the start, and had a great time, ejaculating and leaving early, but not before profusely thanking Frankie, Alan and especially me for setting up the event.
Our winner went almost five hours, before he stood up, yelled, and started squirting cum on the floor.
All-in-all, we collected $297 for the LGBTQ organization. Although it wasn’t much money, we were quite proud of it.
Our volunteers had recruited around 20 sponsors. These sponsors knew what was going on, but didn’t attend. Still, they told people, who told people, and suddenly, Frankie, I, and to a lesser degree, Alan, were like little celebrities on campus.
Everyone was asking us when we planned to do it again. Here’s the funny thing, after we did it once, we just didn’t feel like doing it again. I mean, we had a blast. But we also realized we would be getting in deep. We’d have to find a bigger place than our dorm room. We’d probably have to get all official, making sure the event was insured, there’d be lots of paperwork, and so on. We might end up being responsible for a hundred or more people. I think we all felt like it was time for newer, even crazier experiences.
By the way, an interesting thing came out of it. The Nordic guy, tall and blond, and just about the opposite of Frankie in appearance, turned out to be her soul-mate. They married a year later.
Alan and I are still together. In fact, we have two beautiful children. He works from home as a software consultant, and I’m a housewife, although I have also developed some sex-positive websites that make a few dollars through advertising.