"Wow." She muttered, taking deep breaths.
"Are you okay?" I asked gently, a little worried that I'd overwhelmed her.
"Yesss." She breathed. "That was the most incredible thing I've ever felt. Having you do it is much better than…" She stopped suddenly, realizing what she was saying.
I must say that I was shocked by her words. "Better than what?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Though it was very dim lighting I could tell she was blushing again. "Well," She said, giggling a little. "You know? After our other, uh, sessions, I had to do something to get myself to sleep at night. There's nothing wrong with it you know."
No there was nothing wrong with it. In fact the mental image of Nina laying in her bed and masturbating herself was so powerful and erotic that I nearly came just thinking about it. For some reason I just hadn't considered the possibility that she was doing that, although my first act upon returning home was a quick session with my five best friends.
"I think that's very sexy." I told her.
She giggled again. "Now you know one of my secrets. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"Of course not." I said, laughing. Who would I tell? Her Dad? Her Mom?
"It's just embarrassing." She said, her hand touching my cheek. "But it was nothing like it felt when you did it to me just now. I mean, wow." She shook her head.
"I'm glad I could help." I said, kissing her lips.
"What about you?" She asked. "Do you ever, you know?"
"Masturbate?" I asked teasingly.
"Well, yes." She nodded.
Now had I been a normal teenager I wouldn't have admitted it under torture. I would have claimed that I'd never so much as laid a finger on my penis, not even to pee, not even to wash it. Teenagers have a horror of being discovered masturbating. But I was not an ordinary teenager and I knew that women were as turned on by the thought of a guy jerking off as guys were thinking about women doing it.
"All the time." I told her. "Especially after one of our sessions. Especially then."
"Really?" She asked, her eyes shining with arousal again.
"Really." I nodded. "After we make out I HAVE to. You see, when I'm uh, turned on for a long time without uh, relief, it actually causes pain if I don't."
"You mean blue balls?" She said clinically.
I laughed. "Nina, you never fail to surprise me." I told her. "Yes, that's what I mean."
"So every time you and I have made out you've gone home and…"
"Whacked off." I confirmed.
"Wow." She whispered, licking her lips. "What do you think about when you do it?"
"You." I said. "Making love to you."
She gulped, her eyes drifting down to my dick, which was still protruding through my pants, as erect as it could be. "So you're going to do that tonight when you get home?" She asked.
"First thing." I answered.
She hesitated for a second. "Maybe I could, you know, do it for you?"
"What?" I asked, my dick giving a twitch at the thought.
"You did it for me." She said, sliding her hand over my chest. "The least I could do is return the favor, right?"
I swallowed. "Well." I said. "If you really want to…"
"I do." She whispered, pushing me onto my back. "Just tell me how to do it."
She reached out and grasped me once more, encircling my shaft with her fingers.
"Do I move it up and down?" She asked, doing just that.
"Yeah." I breathed, lost in the sensation of her hand upon me. I directed her to move it upward a little more and to increase her speed and loosen her grip. Eager to learn, she complied. Her hand stroked me softly, finally gaining speed as my hips began to move up and down.
"Involuntary action of voluntary muscles." She said, watching this phenomenon. She speeded up, increasing the pressure.
"How much will come out?" She asked me, just as I started to feel the tingles running up my spine.
"A lot at this point." I groaned, actually humping her hand.
"Yeah?"
"Yeahhhhhh!" I breathed. "I'm gonna…"
She watched intently as orgasm assaulted me and my dick began to spurt jet after jet of pent up semen from the head. I groaned in pleasure, the exquisite feeling of relief, doubled by the fact that it was not my hand that was providing it. It shot straight up and landed on my stomach, my pants, my shirt. It covered Nina's hand, running down the back of it, sticking to her fingers. The blue ball sensation, which had been building in my testicles, was releived in an instant.
When the last bit dribbled out Nina removed her hand and looked at it. "Wow." She said. "That was very sexy Bill. Can we do that again sometime?"
"You bet." I agreed, basking in the afterglow.
It took a few minutes to clean ourselves up. There was a hopeless stain on my dress pants that would require a dry cleaner to remove but Nina had somehow managed to only wrinkle her dress and run her pantyhose in one spot.
It was high on her thigh, probably a result of my hand being in there and her mother would most likely not notice it.
When we were composed we kissed each other one more time and carried the blanket back to my car. From across the river the sound of the kegger continued. I smiled as I thought that I'd just had much more fun than most of them would have and that I wouldn't wake up with a hangover as a result.
We talked of inconsequential things on the drive home, both of us still glowing from the experience we had just shared, both of us realizing that things were moving forward in our relationship. I gave her a long, luxuriant kiss goodnight at her front door, not even caring that her mother was probably watching, and then watched her until she was safely inside.
I drove home to a darkened house, my parents already in bed. I went directly to bed, smiling as I fell asleep.
Chapter 13
Graduation night came at last. We put on our dress clothes and then covered them with gowns. We put stupid looking hats on our heads and filed into the school auditorium where our parents were assembled. We listened to a bunch of boring speeches by the principal, a guest speaker, and the school valedictorian, Carrie Founder, who had an appointment with a good-looking loser and an overdose of anti-depressants in her future. She rattled on and on so long that she began receiving catcalls from her bored peers. At last we filed across the stage where the principal read our names from a little card that we each discreetly slipped to him and he then handed us a fake roll of paper with a ribbon attached to it. Our real diplomas, we were promised, would come in the mail in a week or so. Flashbulbs exploded from the audience like strobe lights.
Nina, Mike, and I hung together through all of this, passing the occasional comment under our breaths, Nina and I holding hands for much of the night. We got our fake diplomas and returned to our seats, watching, catatonic, as the rest of our class marched through one by one. Why are these so-called "great memories" that people go on and on about; graduations, weddings, bar mitzvahs, so damn dull while you're actually sitting through them? Most of the students, myself included, were looking forward to what came AFTER the ceremony.
The school was of course sponsoring a graduation party. It was to be at a local community center and was touted as a fun-filled celebration with dancing, music, and food in a safe, alcohol-free environment. Of course no one but the geekiest planned to be there although many had claimed to their parents that was where they were going. The REAL party was to be at the falls where three kegs were being brought in for the occasion. Marijuana sales had also gone through the roof in the proceeding two days.
When the ceremony was over everyone headed out to the parking lot. Hundreds of students and parents hugged each other, slapped each other on the back, shook hands, posed for the obligatory pictures, and generally congratulated each other on surviving the Spokane Public School System with their lives and sanity intact. Then the parents began to drift to their cars, leaving the students to their own devices. Of course the memory of Lisa Sanchez's untimely death on the previous graduation night was strong among the parents. Admonishments to be careful, and not to drink and drive, and other worried comments echoed through the parking lot followed by the reassurances of those that thought themselves immortal.