I woke early, well before my alarm went off. Cindy was snuggled up against me. Or was I snuggled against her? I was on my right side and she was on her back, smiling lightly and looking the perfect angel. No one would believe the life she had been leading. I still hadn’t had a chance to tell mom all I knew. Why hadn’t Professor Jackson told her everything? Perhaps her father’s position in the company had something to do with that. Oh my god was her home big. Even as a condo it was much larger than our apartment. I mean her bedroom was easily the size of our living room and dining room combined! And I had thought them huge compared to our previous apartments.
I had sneaked a peek in the bathroom and it must have been the size of my room here. It was big enough to hold a dance in it.
And anyone that important in the company had a lot of pull. Professor Jackson must be pretty darned important to be able to pull rank over someone living in a company condo that size, and to make it stick like he had. I knew that Cindy was here for the rest of the school year unless she asked the Professor to move her somewhere else. Although, after last night, I didn’t think she would want to do that. Ohmygod, I could feel myself blushing just to think about it. Did that mean I was a lesbian? I didn’t think so, because, after all, we were experimenting. And the past two days I had certainly gotten as much fun out of the boys fingering me as I had the girls, even though only the girls in my homeroom class had done that.
I stared at the wall behind Cindy for a while and then looked at the clock, about an hour ‘til the alarm.
I thought about last night. She hadn’t asked anything after giving me that stupendous orgasm. I felt my face heat up as I remembered mom knocking on my door. Ohmygod, had I really made so much noise my mother had climbed out of bed to check on me?
The sheets were down at the base of the bed, and after last night no wonder! Cindy really did have such nice breasts, full, but not too big. Big enough to require your entire hand to hold one, but not so big as to fail the pencil test. Just looking at them made me reach over and caress one. A nice soft mound fit my left hand perfectly, with the nipple poking out between my thumb and index finger. A nipple that poked up and became a hard little pencil-eraser-size nub as I watched. I stroked it, marveling at how such a soft piece of tissue could become so hard.
I leaned further over and moved my hand to her other breast, fondling it until it, too, was poking out. And switched back and forth a couple of times, and then, remembering last night, I leaned close and took the tip in my mouth. She sighed and wiggled a bit. I looked up at her face to see if she was awake, but her eyes were still closed and her breathing even.
I went back to sucking one nipple and fondling her other breast. After a few minutes I ran my palm down her stomach to the vee of her legs and gently rubbed the hair there. I’ve never touched another girl there, or a boy, so it was very carefully that I explored there. It felt a bit like my own crotch, but a bit more hair. I had to admit I was jealous of that. Her body was definitely more filled out than mine.
I started stroking deeper between her legs and discovered the long slit nestled between her legs. As I rubbed the top of the slit, she moved her right leg away from me, making it easier for me. I ran my finger along the length of the slit, softly parting it and working my finger inside. It wasn’t until I had almost reached the bottom of that marvelous slit that it started to become slick with wetness. Oooh, I must be doing something right!
I worked my fingers a bit deeper and found the hole inside. In there it was very wet and I found I could slide my finger in as far as I could reach. I couldn’t do that to myself. I was still a virgin and the skin of the hymen was still stretched across inside my vagina. Cindy wasn’t, so I wondered at the sensation of her warm tunnel on my finger. I pulled it out and ran my finger up the slit again, this time along the inside, reaching all the way up to that little hood that hides a woman’s hot button, her clit.
I didn’t realize I had reached it until I felt this tiny stiff bit of skin poke my fingertip. I poked back, then pushed it sideways, and then ran around it with my fingertip.
Suddenly and without any warning Cindy sat up in bed and grabbed my hand, gasping, “I’m awake, I’m awake!” And then crumpled back onto the bed, still gasping. “Good God, Jamie,” she said, “What are you doing?”
“Do you want me to stop,” I asked hesitantly.
“Hell, no, girl, just wake me up next time.”
I giggled, “I thought I just did.” And I squished the little button beneath my fingertip, making her gasp again.
As I slid my finger lower and pushed it inside her again, getting an “oh god” reaction from her, I pondered what I wanted to do next. I could just finger her to an orgasm, but that didn’t appeal to me. I was sure others had done that to her, and probably much better since I had never done it to anybody else before. I wanted to do something daring. I remembered some of the books I had read over the summer and some of the racier passages. I decided to copy one of those racy passages, and to do it immediately, before I chickened out and took the easy way, using my finger.
I slid down the bed and then over her leg and nestled between her thighs. “What’re you doing?” she asked. “Relax, lie down,” I answered, unsteadily, “I’m going to make you feel good.” I hope.
This was a view I had never had of a girl and it was certainly striking. I hesitated; did I really want to do this? I was still running my finger in and out of her tunnel, but I quickly saw that I wouldn’t be able to do that and what I intended without hitting myself in the face. Instead I pulled my finger out and drew it up to her clit, and then I took my right hand and pulled her open. I could now see that tiny little bit of skin that a character in one book had referred to as the little man in the boat. She was looking at me with this expression of puzzlement and fear. Fear? That didn’t seem right.
I leaned forward and ran my tongue from the base of her tunnel right up to the clit. “Oh god,” she said, and I felt her lie back down. It tasted . . . strange. I attacked the little man with my tongue, knocking him from side to side, then up and down, then pressing him flat to the bottom of his boat. I became aware that Cindy was holding my head, running her fingers through my hair. It wasn’t very distracting and I ignored it, concentrating on tormenting that little man in his boat.
I really don’t know how long I did that before Cindy decided to try to squeeze my head off while she suffocated me by pressing my face into her crotch. I don’t know if she screamed, yelled, or moaned, because her thighs completely covered my ears and I couldn’t hear a damn thing. I did the only thing I could; I tongued her clit like crazy until she just as suddenly pushed me away. “Stop, stop, I can’t take it anymore,” she gasped. “My god, no one’s ever done that to me before.”
I was the first? Oh, wow! I grinned up at her. Her entire crotch and part way down her thighs was soaked, the hair matted with dampness. My face was just as wet. I crawled up her body. “Did you like that?” I was surprised to see tears on her face. Hadn’t she liked that?
She didn’t say a word, she just grabbed my face between her hands, and kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before. I swear she had her tongue so far in my mouth she was tickling my tonsils. After the initial shock, I returned the kiss. Wow!
After a while the alarm clock went off. She let go of me with one hand and hit the snooze button on the alarm without even looking at it. We rolled onto our sides and stared at each other. As suddenly as she did most things, she burst into tears again and hugged me fiercely. At first I thought she was upset, but then I heard her whispering, “Thank you,” repeatedly. Which was kind of a strange thing to say, ya know?
I just hugged her back. Jeez, I know it was a great orgasm, but it wasn’t that great. We probably would’ve stayed in bed all morning like that if mom hadn’t knocked on the door. “Come girls,” she called, “don’t oversleep in there, you have to get ready for school.”
I looked at Cindy and she looked back, a second later we were both giggling like mad. Whatever else we were doing, it certainly wasn’t sleeping. It came to me that when mom decided to fix up the other bedroom for Cindy, she wouldn’t be interested in having it.
Mom spoke again, “You’re going to have to hurry, too. I forgot to tell you last night that I have to go to work a bit early for the rest of the week and you’ll have to take the bus.”
The bus? Naked? Ohmygod. We stared at each other in horror. I shrugged. Oh, well, at least with Cindy with me I wouldn’t be alone.
I smiled broadly, “We’re a mess. Race you to the shower.” I bounced out of bed.
“Race?” she exclaimed, “I’m not sure I can even walk.” She scooted over to the edge of the bed and shakily stood.
I laughed and raced out of the room. By the time Cindy slid the shower curtain back and stepped in behind me I was half done. “Here,” I said, handing her the soap, “would you do my back?”
“Love to.”
One of the most divine pleasures, I discovered right then, is having someone wash your back. The feel of her soapy hands running up and down brought goosebumps to my arms and legs. All too soon she finished. I turned around and after rinsing off my back started to wash her front.
“Hey, no fair, I don’t get to do your front,” she complained.
“Ha. Next time get here faster. Besides, if you did that we’d never get out of here on time”
Then she turned around so I could do her back.
Oh. My. God.
I just stared. Starting just above her right hip and going diagonally up to her left shoulder were five parallel scratches. Oops. I vaguely remember rubbing her back while she was busy last night, but I certainly didn’t remember doing that. I must have made a noise, or perhaps I took too long, because she glanced over her shoulder at me, “Well, are you going to do my back or just stand there?”
I hurriedly started soaping her back. Apparently the scratches were just surface marks, as she didn’t complain about the scratches stinging. Drying off afterwards was fun as well, although I was considerably distracted. How was I going to tell her I had scratched her back last night? When should I tell her? She was going to kill me when she found out.
Well, as I discovered, if you put off making a decision long enough you’ll discover that you made a decision. When we entered the dinning room, Cindy in front of me – gosh she has a nice ass – Mom said, “It’s about time. Breakfast is on the table.” I saw three plates, two with eggs, ham, and toast, and the empty one in front of my mom. Mom was seated facing the kitchen. “Cindy,” she continued, “we have orange juice and milk in the refrigerator. Help yourself.” Through the door to the kitchen I could see two glasses on the counter.
As Cindy walked past her, mom took a sip of her coffee. I guess she looked up as Cindy walked past. There was a sudden spray of coffee across the table followed by the crash of her cup on the table as she slammed it down, spilling more coffee, and a storm of coughing. I darted to her and started pounding her back, “Are you okay?”
She managed to choke out hoarsely, “Fine,” gasp, “just swallowed wrong,” gasp, hack, cough.
Cindy was staring at us, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do. “What’s wrong?”
After mom calmed down, she looked at Cindy and then glared at me, “Well, I think I can safely say you and Jamie are going to get along just famously.”
I felt my face heat up and I knew I was blushing. I looked down at the floor and saw that my chest, what little I had, was turning red, too. I never knew you could blush all the way to your nipples. I blushed even more. And, I have to admit, I felt myself get wet. Cindy looked at me, and then at mom, “What? I don’t get it, what’s going on? Why are you blushing?”
Mom stared at me, aghast. “She doesn’t know?”
“Mom,” I said desperately, “I was going to tell her, honest, I just couldn’t think of what to say. And I just saw them a minute ago, anyway.”
Cindy was more confused than ever now. Mom sighed, glared at me, and then stood and took Cindy by the hand. “Come with me.” She pointed her finger at me, “And you, Passion Flower, sit! Eat!”
I took a desultory bite of bread. A moment later there was a loud shriek from mom’s room. Ah, the joys of a full-length mirror. I buried my head in my hands. I was so embarrassed.
Mom followed Cindy back into the dinning room. Cindy looked stunned, mom was grinning, just barely keeping herself from laughing out loud. I tried desperately to think of something to say. “I’m sorry Cindy,” was all I managed, “I don’t know how it happened.”
Mom burst out laughing. “Deary,” she said to me, “You know how it happened.” She stopped smiling. “The question is why?”
“It was an accident, mom!” That got me a disbelieving look from her. “I mean, I didn’t scratch her on purpose, it just happened. We were . . . um,” ohmygod, how was I going to explain this. I just couldn’t talk to her about it.
Cindy interrupted, “She was curious what it felt like to have a girl bring her off. She wanted to know if it was different.”
I stared at her, aghast at her blithe explanation. Ohmygod. That said far more than I wanted explained. I could feel my face getting hotter.
“I suppose that explains the screams last night,” Mom said. “I wasn’t sure if you were having a nightmare about this Naked in School program. Guess not.”
My face was so hot I thought I was going to pass out. Abruptly, Cindy wailed, “I can’t go to school like this, what’ll everyone say? What’ll I tell them?” And she craned her neck around to look at her back, not that she could see anything from that angle.
My mom stepped right in at that point. “Don’t worry what others think. They don’t know what happened. And it’s none of their business.” She paused a moment, thinking. “Get your backpack, Cindy.”
Dazed, Cindy did that.
Mom told her, “Put it on.”
She did.
“Turn around.”
“Ha!” I exclaimed. With her backpack on you could barely see the scratches, only the very start at her hip was visible. Almost the entire rest of the scratches were hidden behind the backpack and its straps, which is what I excitedly told her. She ran out of the dining room to mom’s room to check in the mirror.
“Oh my God,” mom cried, “Look at the time, I gotta go, bye.” And she started for the door. “Cindy,” she called out, “Just remember, it’s none of their business, and if anyone asks say it was an accident, you don’t know exactly how it happened. And you’ve only got about ten minutes to get to the bus.” The front door slammed closed behind her.
It was a quiet breakfast. I kept looking at her, trying to figure out how mad she was. She just stared at her plate and pushed the food around, still wearing the backpack. I watched the clock slowly tick on.
Finally, “Um, Cindy, we gotta go.” She stood, and walked to the door while I scrambled to my room to get my bookbag. “Um, I’m sorry, Cindy, really, really, sorry.” We headed across the parking lot to the bus stop. “Um, you’re not mad at me are you?” God, I hoped not. “You, you, don’t regret what we did last night, do?” I would be so crushed. We walked in silence. I just knew she hated me.
Halfway there one of the kids saw us. Soon everyone was staring. Three school busses stop by each building in the morning. The grade school bus comes the latest, around 8:00, and those kids were not yet here. However the middle school and high school busses arrive only minutes apart, at 7:30. Naturally, the boys came crowding over. We were the only Program Participants out of about thirty students at our bus stop.
The bus stop consisted of several benches underneath a large wooden shingle roof supported by four posts. This being the Baja, people are more concerned about staying in shade to escape the hot sun than with trying to avoid getting wet in rain or snow, or to stay out of cold winds. This early in the morning the roof provided no shade at all to the benches.
The high school boys were surprised they hadn’t seen us the previous two days, but wasted no time in making requests. That was when I discovered what Cindy was thinking. She wasn’t. When the first boy made his request, she leaned her back on one of the posts to face him. That was when I saw her eyes. She had gone away. I felt like crying. I had done that to her.
I just positioned myself beside her and mostly ignored the boys as they groped my tits and butt. I gripped Cindy’s hand tightly. Maybe that would help bring her back. One boy started to slide his hand between my legs, but I asked him to “please don’t do that,” so he just caressed my crotch hair, instead. I frantically tried to think of what I could do to wake her up. The bus pulled up about five minutes later. Again, most of the boys thanked us for allowing their requests.
I’m sure a couple of the middle school kids got in a few feels, which we shouldn’t have let them do, but I was too distracted to care and Cindy wasn’t home. The bus driver was used to the program by now and there was already a naked guy on the bus. I found us an empty seat. I had to prompt Cindy to pull her towel out of the strap where she had tucked it and put it on the seat before sitting. Fortunately there were two girls behind us, so we didn’t have to deal with any requests. I spent that time trying to get Cindy to come back. Cajoling her, saying how sorry I was, begging, even, that she say something to me. I was so upset that if she didn’t say something before we got to school I just knew I would start crying.
– – – – – – – – –
It only took about fifteen minutes to go from our complex to the school, but by the time we got there I had succeeded, to a point. Cindy finally woke enough to say, “What? Of course I don’t hate you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m not mad at you.” And she actually smiled at me. I was so relieved I almost cried. The bus had stopped and the driver was opening the door.
But she still tended to drift a bit, so I asked, “What’s wrong? What are you thinking about?”
“Umm, nothing much, just what I need to do in class today.”
That sounded so weird. “Please, Cindy, don’t do that, it scares me when you do that. You, like, go away.”
She looked at me, puzzled. “Cindy,” I said, “Do you realize I’ve been talking to you for almost fifteen minutes?”
She shook her head, “No you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have!”
She hesitated, “Really?”
“Yes.”
She frowned. By now the bus was almost empty, and we had to get off. Like all the schools I’ve attended the buses always arrive about fifteen to twenty minutes before school starts. There was plenty of time for requests and gropes. I kept a close watch on Cindy and every time I thought she was about to go away, I called to her. Finally, I reached over and took her hand. Even distracted as I was, having a guy gently fondling my titties or even more gently tracing the outlines of my pussy was getting me excited and a bit wet.
I didn’t see James, but with a thousand kids milling around outside that wasn’t a surprise. As worried as I was about Cindy, I thought that having James near would be a big help; he could take some of the pressure off Cindy by making a simple request. And just knowing he was nearby would certainly boost my morale. I couldn’t help thinking how nice he was, and hoped he liked me, too.
About five minutes before the passing bell rang, I managed to catch a glimpse of him over by the car drop-off drive. I yelled and waved, but it took a couple of tries to get his attention. He managed to reach us only a minute or so before the bell rang. “Ah,” he cried, “My true love has arrived. And appears to be enjoying a good fondling.” I wasn’t sure if he approved or not, his expression was . . . ambiguous at best. I was kinda disappointed he didn’t make any requests. I wondered why he didn’t. Didn’t he like me?
The passing bell thinned the crowd around us considerably. A minute later, I let go of my pussy lips – the kid on his knees in front of me had asked me to do that so he could more easily see my vaginal opening, on which he currently had a finger – and straightened up. The three of us headed inside, but there seemed to be an awful lot of hands stroking my butt and sliding across my titties as I walked, all of which made me realize just how close I was to going off. James didn’t say much, but we did make plans to meet at lunch. I couldn’t figure out if he liked me or not. I sure liked him and hoped he liked me.
When we walked into Homeroom, Mr. Farnham motioned us over, and we stopped in front of him by his desk. “Cindy, Jamie, I’d like to do something similar to what we did yesterday, only this time focused lower.” He gestured to our crotches. He wasn’t talking loud, and I had to listen closely or I would miss what he said. “First, Jamie, are you a virgin?”
Oh. My. God. I felt my face heat up in a blush as I hesitantly nodded. Now the whole school knew. He smiled at me and turned to Cindy, repeating the question. She stared at him long enough for it to become uncomfortable, and then replied, slowly, “No. Not for a . . . long time.” He looked at her for almost as long as she had paused, “Cindy, I want you to know that you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, this is strictly voluntary. If you want to say no, you and Jamie can just sit down while I take roll, and I’ll leave you both alone for the rest of the week. If you have any qualms about doing this, tell me. I truly believe doing it will help you in the long run. Now, do you want to do this?”
He waited. Cindy looked at me for a moment, and then turned and looked at our classmates as they settled into their desks. I grabbed her hand in mine and squeezed it. She looked at me again. Mr. Farnham started to say something just as the bell rang. When it stopped, Cindy said, “Yes, I’ll do it.”
Mr. Farnham studied her for a moment, “Are you sure? Once we start, that’ll be no backing out.”
Cindy took a deep breath, which made her breasts bob attractively, “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Okay, hop onto my desk and face the class.” I dropped my book bag on the floor beside his desk, while Cindy kept hers on. We hopped up onto his desk. I gasped at the sudden shock of the cold desktop on my very hot, very wet pussy. I should have put my towel down first. I wiggled a bit, but all that did was emphasize to me just how hot and horny I was.
Everyone in class was looking at us; they were all anticipating a stimulating start to their morning. Jeez, where were the days of sitting in the back of the class being not noticed? Actually, I didn’t miss them at all right now, but being the center of attention was more than a bit intimidating.
“Okay, Class, with the cooperation of Cindy and Jamie, we’re going to do a little more comparing today.” Everyone looked at us on the desk. Mr. Farnham walked to the board and drew a very small circle, put a point below it, and then drew another, slight larger circle below that. On either side of these he drew two curving lines, like giant parentheses. He added a small half circle above the small circle. “Okay, This is the clitoris,” he pointed at the small circle on top. “This is the urethra where urine is expelled,” he pointed at the dot. “This is the actual entrance to the vagina,” he pointed at the larger circle at the bottom. “These are the labia major,” he pointed at the outside pair of lines bracketing the previously named items. “And these are the labia minor,” he pointed at the inner two lines.
“Today, I want you to take a look at the clitorises of these two young women, and see how they are simultaneously the same, yet different.” He waved his hand to indicate us. “Now, the clitoris is extremely sensitive, and touching it when it is dry can actually be painful. Usually, this isn’t a problem as by the time you get around to touching it you have already gotten the girl sexually excited by using foreplay. Foreplay is, of course, kissing, hugging, and fondling. Most girls can get quite excited if you simply play with their breasts.
“It is also a state of mind. If the girl is anxious, upset, angry, scared, or in any other emotional state, your attempts at exciting her will not work. If, after ten or fifteen minutes of kissing and fondling, the girl isn’t sexually excited, stop. Something is wrong and to continue will only frustrate you both. Give up and go do something else together. Maybe next time things will come together for you.”
He stepped to his desk behind and got something out. “Cindy,” he said, “I think you’ll find it more comfortable if you take off your backpack.” I looked over my shoulder at them as she reluctantly removed it and dropped it onto the floor beside his desk. He stared at her back for a second and then he stepped around in front of us. He was holding a small jar of petroleum jelly. “So, to make this work, I’m going to put a little of this on them for lubrication.” He looked at me expectantly.
Oh. I scooted back a little and put my heels on the desk, spreading my pussy open.
He made a spreading motion with his hands. I reached between my legs and pulled myself open. He knelt between my thighs and I heard him murmur, “Well, you really don’t need this, but I’ll do it just in case.” I felt a cool finger touch my hot button. I guess I was more than a little turned on from all the groping outside, because, as he stroked me gently, spreading the slick stuff all around my little man, I felt that glorious blast of heat explode from my crotch all over my body. I gasped and rocked forward, my feet coming off his desk, and leaned against him. This wasn’t nearly as good as some of my other orgasms, but it was pretty good anyway.
“Apparently,” he said over his shoulder to the class, “Jamie’s admirers before school have provided more than sufficient fondling to facilitate an orgasm when I briefly manipulated her clitoris.” There was scattered laughter. He helped me sit straight. I know I was blushing again, but I didn’t care. It had felt good!
He stepped in front of Cindy, who spread her legs, and a moment later our teacher faced the class again. Cindy did not have an orgasm, much to my surprise. Mr. Farnham asked Paul to come up, and then he moved behind us, telling us to hold ourselves open and he would support us. I felt his hand in the middle of my back so I could lean back without falling off the desk. He did the same to Cindy.
Like yesterday, each kid in the class got only about fifteen seconds of rubbing us, but there was hardly any time lost between them. Some kids were soft and hesitant, others pressed harder and with more assurance. Talk about teasing! Mr. Farnham told the class, “Notice how, as the girls get more and more stimulated, the labia minor become engorged with blood and swell out a bit. This indicates arousal, just as a boy’s penis will become engorged with blood and extend into an erection.”
I zoned out into good feelings after about three minutes, but remained with it enough to see the last kid step up and kneel down. Oh, my, was I close again. And when Mr. Farnham told him to move on to Cindy, I wasn’t having it. “Oh, no you don’t,” I stated, and grabbed his hand and put it right back on my clit and started rubbing hard and furious. Just as I reached my orgasm, I pushed my legs off the desk and around his head, and pulled him right against my crotch, trapping our hands. His finger was on my clit, I was holding his hand with mine, and I had his face pulled tight against my hands. Again I leaned forward as my orgasm engulfed me. After a moment I leaned back as it subsided. Somewhere along the line I let go of his hand and mashed his face into my crotch. A moment later I relaxed my legs enough so that he could pull back.
He slowly stood, his face an expression of bemused wonder. He staggered back to his desk, almost tripping as he did so.
As I leaned back, supporting myself with my hands, Mr. Farnham addressed the class. “Jamie has again had an orgasm due to direct stimulation. Cindy has not, even though both have received an equal amount of attention, by the exact same people. There are many reasons for this to happen, including not enough foreplay, that is, fondling of the breasts and kissing, anxiety about the situation putting a damper on the arousal process, or even simply not being in the mood.” That was when the bell rang. Students immediately jumped to their feet and headed for the door, again most of them expressing gratitude to Cindy and me for cooperating with Mr. Farnham.
The kid who had helped me orgasm sort of wandered forward, his mind clearly not on the here and now. He looked at me and I could see a slight bit of moisture on his face. Oops, I must have smeared some of my juices on him when I pulled him close. He looked at me, a big grin on his face, “Wow,” was all he said as he left the room, bouncing off the side of the doorframe with one shoulder.
Mr. Farnham helped us both sit up and then held the straps up for Cindy to put her backpack back on. Without being obvious he made sure none of the students saw her scratches. “I don’t think you’ll be able to keep these secret all day,” he said, “but good luck anyway. And thanks, you have both been a big help.” He grinned. “Every guy has an erection, every girl is wet, and it’s all due to you two. You both should be proud.”
We headed for Algebra class, I managed to avoid any groping between my legs by saying it was sore down there. Cindy didn’t seem to care and didn’t say much either, and I wondered if she was tuning herself out again. But when I looked at her eyes they seemed okay. And she smiled at me
Just like yesterday, I did see a couple of boys staring at Cindy’s titties as we walked. Her titties were more than big enough to bounce and jiggle with her every step, I knew, and with her in front of me I could see boys walk into doors, walls, and other students as they watched her instead of where they were going. It was very funny to see a girl or guy open her or his locker just as a guy who was watching Cindy tried to walk by. Invariably there would be a loud SMACK as the guy plowed face first into the locker door.
I think, when I’m no longer in the program next week, I’ll start looking for girls with really big titties to follow to see just how many guys are too stupid to pay attention to where they walk. Hmm, maybe that’s one way to screen out the guys who are too superficial to be reliable boyfriends.
Unfortunately, it was in Algebra class that we let the cat out of the bag (and where does that expression come from?). Mr. Taylor had me helping him with problems and handing things out for the first half-hour of class. He called Cindy up for the second half-hour, and she had to leave her desk at the back of the room. She started to put on her book bag, but he told her to just leave it.
As she passed each row of students and they saw those incriminating scratches, the talking started. Most of the students I overheard were puzzled, but several girls burst out in giggles while a couple of the boys smothered laughs. One kid called out, “Hey, Cindy, what’d ya do to your back?” Another wise-ass replied, “Ya should be asking her who her girlfriend is.” I noted which kid that one was. He was going to get a little lesson in manners, soon, if I had anything to say about it.
Happily, Mr. Taylor quickly quelled the students and nothing more was said, although he did stare at her back for a few moments when she turned to face the class, a smile on his face. At the end of her half-hour of torture, she asked if she could go to the bathroom for a five-minute break.
It must have been the power of suggestion, because less than a minute later I was dieing to go myself. Mr. Taylor frowned when I asked, but let me go without fussing. I practically ran to the boys’ restroom. As I stepped in I heard someone talking, a guy. “Look, you bitch, I heard about the blow job you gave that kid Billy yesterday and I want some of that.”
I carefully closed the door so it wouldn’t make any noise and cautiously started into the bathroom. I peered around the partition that shielded the restroom from the door. No one was in sight. “Come on, I don’t have all day here, open up.” I heard him say. I headed down the stalls. In the third one I saw his back. I warily stepped closer. He had his pants pushed down to his knees and I could see Cindy’s knees poking out between his. He was leaning his hips towards her, apparently aiming his erection at her mouth; at least, I assumed he had an erection. All I could see was his butt.
“That’s it, bitch, lick it first, then start sucking.”
He was forcing her. He wasn’t kidding. Abruptly, I was furious, almost as mad as I had been in the lunchroom on Monday. After all that Cindy has been through with her brother and his friends, now this asshole was trying to force her to suck him off. I crouched down to look between his legs, to see what Cindy was doing. I couldn’t see anything, of course, except his dangling balls. I wanted to kick him, but if I did that he would fall on her. The same if I hit him. But, by god, I wasn’t going to just do nothing or run away, like I had on Monday. She deserved better than that.
If I ran for help, he would be gone before I got back, especially if I took the time to sneak out without making noise. Similarly, screaming would just send him running.
Ooooh, I wanted to yank his balls off. And that thought provided the answer. I moved closer, reached my hand out, and grabbed those dangling little toys and squeezed them.
“AHHHHHH!” he yelled as he doubled over. I heard a loud clack. I realized he had hit his chin on Cindy’s head, snapping his teeth together. I hoped he had bitten his tongue. Almost immediately he screamed in a slightly higher register than before. Oooh. If Cindy had his dick in her mouth, slamming his chin into her head had probably made her bite him. I hoped she bit him hard.
“All right, fuckhead,” I snarled, “back up slowly, or you’re going to be singing soprano.”
I heard him groan, and he straightened up and slowly shuffled backwards. As we exited the stall, I squeezed a little tighter. His balls didn’t compress well and I felt them sliding around in my hand. He groaned again and bent a bit more. “Don’t even think of it,” I said, “or I’ll be taking these puppies home in a jar tonight.
He made a strangled noise that might have been agreement. I looked around him at Cindy. She was staring at me in astonishment, rubbing her head where he had hit his chin. “Come on out,” I ordered her. When we reached the middle of the bathroom I stopped and knelt. Bent over like that while walking was painful.
All right, now what? I almost laughed when I came up with the answer. “Cindy, get his shirt off.” Puzzled, she did as I told her the third time. “Now, help him out of his pants.” Again, she did it, but she still didn’t understand. Finally, wearing only his shocks and shoes I made him lie on the floor with his hands behind his back. I had Cindy take off one of his shoes and then the sock and had her tie his ankles together. It wasn’t a great knot, but it would slow him down.
I told Cindy to gather his clothes and go into the hall. “Alright, dickless, what’s your name?” I had to apply a little pressure to get an answer, but I learned his name, John Perdichi. I told him he could pick up his clothes at the Principal’s office at the end of the day. As Cindy opened the bathroom door, I let go of his balls and ran.
Outside, in the hall, I told Cindy, “Okay, now we take these to the principal’s office.” She smiled, and then she laughed. I had just inaugurated a student into The Program. Even if he lied about his name, it would come out because we had his clothes and student ID. Less than a minute later we were explaining to Professor Jackson what had happened.
He sent one of the office secretaries to check in the bathroom to see if John was still there. In the meantime he took the clothes from us and dropped them into a basket by his desk. After a few questions about why I didn’t call for help, and my answers explaining my reasoning, Professor Jackson got a funny look on his face, almost like he was trying to hide a smile.
He wrote us a note to Mr. Taylor excusing our tardiness in returning to his classroom and sent us on our way. As I opened his door he called us back, “Cindy, how did you get those scratches? It wasn’t John Perdichi was it?”
Cindy looked at him blankly for a moment. I thought she wasn’t going to say anything or maybe blather some nonsense about an accident.
“No. I got these scratches last night.” She paused briefly, “It was . . . an accident,” and she glanced at me. My face was heated, again. I knew I was blushing.
Professor Jackson’s face seemed to go through several expression very fast, surprise, consternation, understanding, and that strangled look of a hidden smile. He knew exactly who was responsible for those scratches, and probably knew just how someone gets scratches like that. “Ah,” he said quietly. “You may go.”
Only as we were leaving his office for the main office area did I see a couple of students seated there. Oh, well, soon the whole school would know about our bathroom adventure, and Cindy’s explanation for her scratches.
We were almost back at the class before I remembered I still had to go to the bathroom. It was only slightly later that we made it to class.
It was a relief to get back to just standing naked in front of twenty-five kids and doing problems on the blackboard. Before I knew it, the passing bell rang. If only all my classes went by that fast.
There were a few requests before we were able to get out of class, but that meant we could avoid most of the requests in the halls as we went to the cafeteria. And just like yesterday, there was a group of Program Participants in the middle set of tables, with numerous regular students among them. James, I saw, had reserved two chairs for us, what a thoughtful, wonderful guy. As soon as we were close enough to talk, he said, “Well here’s my Hellcat Angel and her sidekick, the gorgeous Cindy.”
I gave him a startled look, Hellcat Angel? Was he mad at me?
He smiled at my confusion. “Word has arrived that you have inducted yet another miscreant into The Program. You are cutting quite a swath through Valle Agua Azul High School.” He paused a moment, “By the way, have you decided yet?”
“Decided?”
“Ouch, I’m wounded to the quick! How soon they forget!” He grinned, pushed his chair back, and dropped to one knee. “Remember, wilt thou marry me, oh naked lady?”
“Oh shut up,” I said, putting my tray on the table and sitting down. He grinned again, and then resumed his seat. I tried to pretend that the sudden butterflies in my stomach were not because he had asked me that question again. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it was making my breasts bounce. He seemed to be a nice guy, and I really enjoyed his company. He made me laugh. But he couldn’t be serious about that proposal, could he? Or was he just kidding? Oh, God, what if he was serious? The thought made my knees shake and my pussy wetter than ever.
I had dreamed of having a boyfriend, someone who thought I was special and didn’t mind my flaws. Most girls worried that their boyfriends would be disappointed if they knew the real size of their breasts. Most girls relied on their clothes to conceal their puffy stomachs, or fat thighs, or scars, or anything else they felt would drive off a boyfriend. I didn’t have that advantage. James could see me, the real me. My small tits, my tummy that stuck out too far, my too skinny legs, were all out for him to see.
In fact, with The Program, he could get as close a look as he wanted. He could even feel my vagina and explore it with his fingers. Guys, from what I had read in books, couldn’t wait to get to that point with a girlfriend. They dreamed about feeling up a girl and getting to “third base,” as several books I had read had put it. Just thinking about him having his fingers in my vagina made me squirm in my seat. Thank god I had my towel there or the next person would sit in a big puddle!
Why hadn’t he looked? Why hadn’t he asked to touch? Didn’t he like me? I had seen him and Cindy yesterday; he had certainly taken advantage of The Program with her. He had played with her titties for a long time and I had seen him rubbing her vagina, and she had clearly enjoyed him doing it. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe he liked her and not me. Maybe he was just joking with me, acting the class clown to get me to laugh, not because he really liked me a lot, but because he was just a nice guy. I sighed, suddenly and unexpectedly unhappy.
I glanced at Cindy and was taken aback at her expression. She was looking back and forth between him and me, grinning. She clearly didn’t think he was joking. I darted another look a James. Was he serious? How could he be? He didn’t know me, not really, and he hadn’t even once asked me to show him something or request I let him touch me. He couldn’t be serious. I was so confused.
Lunch passed quickly and somehow I ended up telling him that my mother wouldn’t pick us up until 4:15 and that Cindy was going to be talking to a counselor for half-an-hour every day after school. As we were getting up to let the next section sit, he leaned in front of me to speak to Cindy. “Um, Cindy?” She paused and looked at him. “You might as well take your backpack off. Everyone knows about those scratches, and wearing the backpack all the time just draws attention to what you’re trying to hide.” She gave him a long level stare, and then slowly nodded. But she didn’t take it off.
Outside, there was already a crowd gathered and several requests were called out almost as soon as we left the building. We moved out of the way of the doors and a boy came up to me and asked if he could feel my titties. I bent over, put my bookbag on the ground beside me, and stood with arms behind my head. I noticed that Cindy did the same. As she turned back to face the boy in front of her, he stopped her and turned her to see her back. I didn’t hear what he said, but she blushed prettily.
Soon I had two guys fondling me, one between my spread legs, the other fondling my titties. I looked over at Cindy and was surprised to see a girl; she looked to be either a Junior or Senior and was dressed in a punk leather outfit. The girl had one hand on Cindy’s breast and the other rubbing between Cindy’s legs. Cindy did not look upset at her attentions. In fact she looked rather blissful, much more relaxed than when guys were feeling her up.
The section bell rang a second time just as I went off for the third time today. Just as I was straightening back up, I heard a noise to my left and watched as a girl, not the same one as before, brought Cindy off as well. In fact, now that I was looking I noticed that there were four girls grouped around Cindy. And they were standing much closer than the waiting boys did around me. One appeared to be looking at and running her hand on Cindy’s back as Cindy leaned against the girl who had just helped her finish. All four girls were dressed in punk-style, baggy dark pants that had lots of zippers and chains, with oversized black t-shirts as tops. The punk style hid their body shapes quite well.
I also saw that James had stepped closer to me as the other boy pulled his hand from my crotch. After the guy thanked me and walked away, Jamie stepped in front of me, but he was facing away towards the crowd. He was trying to shield me a bit, to give me time to collect myself. I really appreciated it. I wondered why he didn’t ask for a look or feel. I really wished he would. Were my titties too small?
I glanced again at Cindy and the punk girls, who were laughing among themselves. Cindy had an uncertain look on her face, as if she wasn’t sure what the joke was. Concerned that they might be trying to intimidate Cindy into doing something she didn’t want to do, I grabbed my book bag and staggered the two steps to Cindy. I put my hand on her shoulder to help steady myself, and her. She turned her head and looked at me. “Are you all right?” I asked. She frowned slightly, as if she didn’t quite understand the question, and then she gave me a wan, tired smile. “I’m fine.”
I searched her face carefully. Her eyes were clear and steady, and even looked as if maybe her pupils were ever so slightly dilated; in fact they got bigger as I watched. She was also relaxed; I couldn’t feel any tension in her shoulder muscles under my hand. In truth, she looked almost as comfortable as she had been this morning just after I had . . . well just thinking about what I had done this morning with her was making my face grow warm again. My vagina couldn’t get any wetter than it was.
The punk girls had fallen silent when I touched Cindy, and were now giving me faintly hostile looks. I studied them. The girl on the other side of Cindy had dark hair streaked with orange, was about as tall as Cindy (five-foot-seven?), and was average looking, but had heavy dark mascara on that I felt detracted from her looks. She was wearing a black t-shirt with a cat-like creature in punk clothing; not a cute cat either. This cat featured a mouthful of sharp wedge-shaped teeth that cut across its face and large eyes that took up the rest of the face, a menacing little creature, unsettling in appearance. In its left hand it held an ax, the kind you use for chopping down trees. Underneath this bizarre creature was the caption, in red lettering, “Really, I’m a nice person. Come closer.” The ax blade had a tinge of red on it.
The second girl was shorter than the first one, about as tall as me, and had black hair. Actually, they all had black hair, just with different tinges of color. Hers was green, lime green. She had a faintly Hispanic look about her, with dark brown eyes. Her t-shirt had the same cat creature, but this time it merely held a purse. The red caption underneath read “Please hold my purse while I beat up your boy friend.”
The next girl was tall, much taller than the other five of us. Her hair was tinged blue, and color coordinated beautifully with her blue eyes. She had a Nordic look to her and I had the impression that her hair was normally blonde. Her t-shirt, while also black, had no graphic on it but did have a large four-inch by six-inch button with horizontal stripes in rainbow colors with text on it that said, “Come out, Come out, Wherever you are!”
The final girl was a beautiful black girl with wide lips. She was the only one of the group without dark mascara. Her t-shirt read, “Don’t be afraid, I don’t bite. Too Hard.” She was only a little taller than I was, and her hair was streaked with both green and blue.
They had been studying me as well. The tall girl had been glancing back and forth between Cindy and I. She smirked. “Hello, Passion Flower,” she said in a seductive tone.
Appalled, I stared at Cindy. She had been looking at me while I checked out the punks and now she returned my appalled look, “I didn’t tell them who it was! They wanted to know who scratched me and all I said was ‘Passion Flower.’” I felt my face grow hot, very hot. Before I could say anything, one of the girls said, “Holy shit, look at that, she’s blushing all the way to her nipples!”
The tall girl laughed lightly, “Honey, you didn’t have to say who, the way you two were looking at each other just now.” She paused a moment to let that sink in, “If you don’t want to come out yet, you’re going to have be a bit more careful, or wear gloves in private and sunglasses in public.”
“Uh, excuse me,” a boy’s voice sounded behind and to my right. The tall girl scowled at him, “She’s busy, beat it.”
“But . . . ”
Somehow her face became harder, the planes flatter, the edges sharper, “I said, she’s busy.”
“Uh, okay.” And he walked off. I watched as the edginess slipped from her face.
The not-blonde stepped between Cindy and me and draped her arms over both our shoulders. “Sorry kids, gotta keep up appearances so the vultures will remain at bay,” she said in tone low enough that only Cindy and I could hear her. She dropped her hands to our tits and let her finger dangle over our nipples. She didn’t do anything, but to a casual observer it looked like she was. I looked at Cindy to see her reaction, and when she seemed unconcerned at the situation I relaxed a bit.
“I’m Arminda Bewley, Mindy to most people and Min to my friends.” The tall girl said. “That’s Karen Pendle, we call her Kay,” she lifted her chin in the direction of the girl with orange tinge. “That’s Dawn Galambos, we call her Dee,” she indicated the Hispanic girl, “and that’s Kelly Bergan, or Kell,” she indicated the black girl.
“I’m Cindy Bradsky,” my roommate told them, “And that’s Jamie Tietjan.” She pointed at me.
The punk girls looked at me with a great deal of interest, all traces of hostility gone. Mindy nodded once, “I missed you flattening Sam Thoresen on Monday.” She sighed and shook her head. “I woulda bought tickets to see that.”
Kell laughed, “Shit girl, you woulda fucked a boy to get a chance to see football jock get knocked on his ass by a girl.”
“Naw,” Mindy said, and then paused for a second, thinking about it. “Well, yeah, I guess I would’ve.”
“Next time don’t bolt from the cafeteria so fast.”
“Well,” Mindy continued, looking at Cindy, “I was gonna say that if you needed any help, just look us up, but if you’re hooked up with Passion Flower here . . .”
“Don’t call me that,” I interrupted, shifting under her arm, “Or I’ll have to hurt you.” Oh. My. God. Had I just mouthed off to an upperclassman girl who probably could beat me to a pulp without even breaking a sweat? I suddenly wanted a hole to hide in. I saw James out of the corner of my eye and held my hand out to him. He was almost close enough for me to grab his shirt
Mindy was staring at me in astonishment, as were the other three girls. Cindy looked surprised. Before any of them could say anything though, James stepped toward me and took my hand.
The girls noticed the movement and shifted to look at him. I saw more than a bit of hostility appear. Mindy saw that I was holding his hand. She glared at me. “Is this your boyfriend?” Clearly she was not happy to see me holding his hand.
I frowned back at her, not even looking at James. “I don’t know, I only met him on Monday. But he has proposed to me twice now.” I wasn’t gonna let this stranger know that he was just joking when he said that. He might not really be my boyfriend, but he was smart enough and nice enough to play along when I needed help. I hoped.
“Well,” said Mindy to James, “Aren’t you going to make a request?” She shifted her weight forward, “Or have you already seen everything there is to see,” she continued nastily.
James merely looked at her. “Nope,” he said, “haven’t requested anything. Don’t intend to either, unless,” he looked at me, almost shyly, “ unless she asks me to. Otherwise, I’ll wait until we’re married to do any inspecting. Although, I hope it will be a mutual affair.”
The stunned looks on their faces were a joy to behold. I think he had just shattered a cherished belief of theirs. They looked at me. I nodded, “That’s right, he hasn’t made any requests at all, except that I marry him.” Ha! Let them chew on that for a while, even if hearing him say that and knowing it was just a joke was tearing a hole in my heart.
Mindy was still staring at him hostilely, “Oh, sure, like you haven’t got a hard–on and can’t wait to fuck her! And then you’ll drop her faster than a rotten tomato.”
James stared back at her, his jaw clenched slightly. “Yeah, like you aren’t so wet right now you wouldn’t jump her bones if she tripped in front of you, and walk off bragging about it to your friends later.”
I felt Mindy stiffen. Oh, that had hit home. I pulled slightly away from her, I didn’t want to be in the middle of a fight, and one was surely brewing.
Kell put her hand over her mouth, unsuccessfully smothering a laugh. Mindy glared at her. Kell dropped her hand, smiling broadly, “Damn, Min, you know he’s got you there!”
Mindy frowned fiercely, and opened her mouth to say something, but James spoke first. “I can be just as nasty as you,” he paused a second, “or as nice. Your call.”
I saw Cindy also edging out from under Mindy’s arm. Her hands were no longer dangling over our tits but were now on our shoulders. I think it finally occurred to Mindy that we had moved because she suddenly and quickly looked at Cindy, then me, and then at my hand holding James’. I felt her arm tighten on my shoulder. She looked down, a myriad of expressions slid across her face all too fast to decipher. She sighed softly, shook her head, and looked back up at James, “Right. Truce?”
He shook his head, “Peace, not truce.”
She frowned, “Truce until I know you’re not a shithead manipulative bastard, and then maybe peace.”
He nodded, “Okay, truce until I know you’re not a self-centered egotistical man-hating bitch, and then maybe peace.”
They glared at each other. Then, simultaneously, she said “Bastard!” as he said “Bitch!”
The rest of us started laughing. After a moment, so did they.
“Well,” Mindy said to me, “since he’s such a stuck-up moral bastard, aren’t you going to ask him to start doing his part in keeping the vultures away?” I stared at her dumbly. She sighed again, and smiled softly. “Tell him to start playing with your tits, you twat!”
I turned and looked intently at James. His expression was now totally inscrutable. Did he want me to or didn’t he? He had said he wouldn’t if I didn’t ask, but that didn’t explain why. I wanted him to touch me, if only to pretend for a moment that he liked me and really was my boyfriend. I wondered what his hands would feel like. Would he be gentle, or, like most of the guys, would he maul my titties? Would he like touching my titties? Would he think they were way too small? He had played with Cindy’s titties yesterday, which are much bigger than mine, but I hadn’t thought to ask her if she liked his touch or if he had said anything to her about her breasts. He probably only liked girls with big titties.
I looked at Cindy, next. What would she think if I asked a guy to touch me, especially after last night and this morning? Did she like James? Would I screw up our friendship if I asked him? She merely looked curious, and when she saw me looking at her she smiled and tilted her head towards James in a quick nod. Oh. Okay, that’s not a problem.
I took a deep breath. This was awful. What if he said no? No, wait, he said he would if I asked. Did he want me to? Asking a guy to touch me was different than responding to a request. I couldn’t be passive and just let it flow on. I had to be involved. Only bad girls let boys touch their naked breasts. You weren’t a bad girl if you were in the program, though, because you couldn’t say no. Asking a boy wasn’t the same as being unable to say no to a request. James stood there impassively, just looking at me.
“Um, James, would you like to, ya know, um, I mean, um, would you, um . . .” I stammered into silence. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Mindy interrupted, “James, you know what’s she’s trying to ask, so just do it!”
James stared at me; I know I was blushing. I looked down and saw I was blushing. This was even more embarrassing than anything I had done so far. He asked, “Do you want me to?”
“Um.” I blushed even more, my face felt hot enough to fry an egg. I nodded slightly, afraid to appear too eager, worried he would think I didn’t want him to do it. I could feel tears gathering at the edges of my eyes. He was going to refuse; I just knew it. He didn’t like me; he had just been saying those things because he was a nice guy helping someone who needed it. I wasn’t important to him.
I closed my eyes; I didn’t want to see his face when he refused. “Are you sure,” he asked, so close I almost flinched back, but Mindy was still holding me and I couldn’t move. I opened my eyes slowly. He was standing only a foot away, staring intently into my face. I swallowed, and managed to force out a hesitant “Yes, but only if you want to do it, too.”
I watched, motionless, barely breathing as he raised his right hand and gently stroked his index finger down the side of my left tit. I shuddered as I took a ragged breath, but whether it was in fear or lust, I couldn’t tell. It was such a soft touch. I stared into his eyes as he stared into mine while stroking me again. After a minute he ran his hand just as gently down the side of my tittie and underneath to cup it. That felt almost as good as it had last night with Cindy. I gave her a quick frightened look, was she upset? No, she still looked only curious. The other girls looked on with expressions varying from amusement to vague boredom.
I don’t know when Mindy moved her hand, but the feather-light touch of his left hand on my other tittie was a shock. I looked down at his hands, which were pressing his palms over my very erect, very hard nipples. I realized I was getting really turned on. I had been merely wet before, now it felt so wet I knew I must have been dripping. It was so embarrassing, but I didn’t want him to stop, oh no.
He stepped closer and I looked back into his eyes. Such lovely eyes, framed with lovely lashes. I took another ragged breath, pressing my titties into his hands. God, I wished he were my boyfriend. Well, at least I could pretend for a few minutes.
Oh. My. God. Who was this guy and why was I reacting so strongly? Was this love? I could feel my pussy getting hotter. If he kept this up, just stroking my titties, if he didn’t stop, I would go off again. Oh, wow! I whimpered.
I closed my eyes and just basked in the feelings of his hands stroking me. I heard myself whimper, again, when he lightly squeezed my nipples and then rubbed his palms over them. I was so aware of myself I could feel the light breeze blowing around the edge of the building and the, oh, so sensuous sensation as it drifted between my legs. I certainly didn’t remember this from yesterday! I truly don’t know how long we stood there before I felt that blast of heat from between my legs surge up through my body and down my arms and legs. I heard someone screaming and at first I thought it was Cindy, but then I realized it was me. I think I would have collapsed if Mindy hadn’t grabbed me under the arms – she was still standing beside me – at the same time that James grabbed me around the waist.
I leaned forward onto James and he held me up while I gasped like a fish out of water. Holy Hannah, what an experience! I’ve never heard of someone going off simply by having her titties stroked. I rested my head on his right shoulder and tried to regain my composure, or at least start breathing normally.
Last night, cuddling with Cindy in the afterglow of an orgasm, I had told her I loved her. I still did, but this was different. Leaning against James I realized that I loved him, too. Her I wanted and loved as a companion, as a sister to share experiences with and to make happy when I could. Him I wanted to do the same, only more so. Him I could imagine spending my life with, and having kids with. I wondered what they would look like, and if he wanted boys or girls. And how many? Two would nice nice, I thought, Being an only child was boring.
“Jesus,” I think it might have been Mindy, or maybe Kell, I heard say, awed, “Passion Flower, indeed!”
I mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” between my gasps, but I think only James could hear me.
“Um, Cindy?” Ah, that was Mindy. “Would you mind sharing? Please?”
I heard James snort, and whisper, “But what if I don’t want to share?” But only I heard him. Why would he care? Wait, there was a thought there. Someone would only say something like that if they liked the person they were talking about. Could he really like me?
“Mmmph,” I managed to get out, “Don’t I get a say?”
He laughed quietly, and whispered into my ear, “Whatever you want, love, whatever you want.”
I am in love. How could I be in love? I’ve only known this guy for three days, what’ll mom say? But, oh, boy, does he get my blood going! He’s cute, he’s smart, he makes me laugh, and, most important, he says he loves me.
Er, wait a minute, could he be joking again? But why would he say something like that when only I could hear him? Although many guys will lie like that to a girl to get her naked. But I was naked already.
On the other hand, there are plenty of other much prettier girls to choose from in The Program. Why would he be interested in small tittied, scrawny me? Oh, God, I really hope he loves me.
Well, at least I don’t have to be afraid he won’t like my body when he sees me naked, like in a normal relationship. Would he still like me when I was dressed, when he wouldn’t be able to see my bare titties and pussy? Or when he wouldn’t be able to stare at my open vagina whenever he got the notion. Not that he had yet, of course. Why hadn’t he? Was it ugly? Oh, God, I was confused.
But it sure did feel good to have him hugging me. I wasn’t gasping anymore, but I was humming. Humming?
Mindy was no longer holding me and I looked over at Cindy. She was half facing me and Mindy had her left arm close around Cindy’s shoulders, her left hand fondling Cindy’s left breast while her other hand fondled Cindy’s other breast. And they were kissing! Kay was kneeling between them, her right hand between Cindy’s legs and her left between Mindy’s.
I just stared at them. Wow. I noticed there was quite a group of guys and gals around us watching them as well. I even saw a couple of the teachers watching with what can only be described as lust – eyes slightly glazed, mouth open a little, and the tongue held lightly between the lips. Oh, Wow.
I think Cindy might have been close when the passing bell interrupted. All of us jumped. It was really weird to see everyone in view give a startled jerk all at the same time; like a film had skipped a frame or two.
I straightened and James started to step back, but I grabbed his hand and pulled it around my back so he had to sidle right up against me. I held his hand there for a moment to make sure he got the message. I picked up my book bag with my other hand, and we started towards the classroom buildings. It took some coordination to walk with our hips jammed together, but I wasn’t about to let him get away. He didn’t try to, anyway. “Come on, Cindy,” I called over my shoulder.
Looking back, and almost falling down in the process, I heard Cindy give a frustrated, “Oh, damn,” as she picked up her backpack and staggered after us. Min and Kay bracketed her, one with an arm around her shoulders, the other with her arm around her waist, both were each fondling one of Cindy’s titties with the other hand. Kell and Dee were on either side of them, apparently vastly amused at the spectacle the rest of us were making.
There quite a few other students who were also amused at our antics as well, many of them were Program Participants themselves. Looking around, I mean really looking at the other Program Participants, I saw that most of them were grouped with friends or “significant others.” The student “requestors,” or vultures as Mindy called them, were reluctantly heading for their classes as well. I realized that the lunchtime grope-fest had satisfied all but the hardcore curious and most of the Program Participants were being left alone.
We were almost at class when we caught up with another Program Participant, a guy with a really stiff erection. I just knew he was going to ask for relief when he got to his next class. Cindy’s punk friends had already split by that time, and only James was still with us. Cindy got this strange expression when she saw him and abruptly stepped up beside him. “Want some relief?” I heard her ask. “Oh, god, yes,” he replied. His penis was thick and dark purple and it looked like he was about to explode from frustration. The girls must have been very mad at him to refuse to let him finish.
Cindy didn’t seem to care, “Good,” she said, “so do I.”
He was shorter than Cindy by a couple of inches and she took advantage of that. She dragged him over to the lockers and put her back to the lockers. She pulled him by his penis until it was touching her, went up on her toes as she pushed him down a little, and then slumped down as she pulled him inside. Oh. My. God. She was gonna fuck him right here in the hall! There were a dozen or so students still in the hall, but watching her brought everyone to a halt.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and started humping against him. After the initial shock wore off, he started pumping into her. Cindy had her head beside his ear and was whispering something. I don’t know what she said but he started shoving into her hard enough to make the lockers rattle behind her. Her titties were bouncing around, his butt was going back and forth, the lockers were banging,; it was actually very funny looking and I found myself suppressing a laugh. But it was also really hot. My vagina seemed to have become a faucet sometime during lunch and I could feel something wet sliding down my leg.
After a dozen seconds a teacher looked out of her class to see what the noise was. Her eyes popped open and her jaw dropped.
Cindy and the guy must have been very close at the start because only seconds later she started groaning and saying, “I’m cumming!” over and over. That must been the final trigger for the guy because he pushed himself tight against her crotch, going right up on his toes, and started going, “Uh, uh, uh.”
After a moment they both relaxed and Cindy put her legs down. They both groaned as he pulled himself out. His penis was all red and covered in white streaks. “Thanks, I really needed that,” he told her. She smirked, “So did I.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Better hurry or you’ll be late to class.” And then she playfully slapped him on the ass as he started off.
Cindy turned to James and me and smiled contentedly. I couldn’t help but stare at her red-suffused crotch, which also had streaks of white in her pussy hair. As I watched a dollop of white slid started sliding down her leg. She ignored it as she sighed and started down the hall. James and I followed in stunned silence. Cindy and I barely made it into English class on time; I know James had to be late. I think his explanation would surprise the teacher enough to keep him out of trouble.
Our first book assignment was The Great Gatsby. Ms. Carmichael had Cindy and me pass out the books. Several of the guys, as they always did, took the opportunity to touch our breasts or run their hands along our thighs as we went by. By this time they all knew the drill, a whispered “I hope you don’t mind,” followed by whatever grope they were interested in trying. I think the guy that felt Cindy’s crotch got a very wet surprise as I heard a giggle from her and a “holy shit” from him, followed by him pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his hand. I wasn’t close enough to hear what she said to him, but the girl behind him said, “eww,” and then burst out laughing.
The rest of the class time was quiet for Cindy and me. I got to concentrate on the class and I actually forget that I was naked.
The passing bell rang at 3:20 and Cindy and I took our time leaving the room. Several boys came over with requests, which helped delay our leaving. By now I was almost used to having someone fondle my breasts. It wasn’t overtly sexual it was almost clinical. And it wasn’t embarrassing anymore. But I still ended up with a wet vagina.
He, it was practically always a guy, would cautiously touch my titties with his fingers, stroking down the sides. Then he would cup them in his hands, hefting them to see what it felt like to hold a girl’s titty. He would rub my nipples with either a thumb or a finger, and then lightly pinch them to see what that felt like. Clinical or not, some of the guys were quite good at it, or were just lucky, because after just a few minutes of this my nipples would be hard little nubbins. I noticed that almost as many boys fondled my titties as Cindy’s. Maybe being small wasn’t so terrible a fate.
Some boys started immediately with my crotch. Such a boy would drop to his knees and look intently at everything he could see. After a minute or so to screw up his courage, he would touch my slit. Sometimes he would ask me to pull myself open, or spread my legs farther apart. In any event, the nicer boys took a minute before they started exploring my vagina. The more experienced boys, or the smarter ones who had looked up the information before hand, hunted up my clitoris and wanted to play with it. Unless I had been already turned on, though, I told them to stop because it was so dry it hurt when they did that.
Today, one boy came prepared. He asked me to lean back on my desk while spreading myself. Then he pulled a small jar of petroleum jelly out and carefully applied a dab of it to his finger before exploring my vulva. Even then I had to tell him to be easy as I was sore down there. When he poked a finger inside me, it didn’t hurt at all and I was starting to get turned on by the attention another boy was giving to my breasts. But when he started to use two fingers I had to tell him to stop. I was a virgin and I wanted to stay that way.
The boy fondling my breasts was leaning a bit too close and I got the impression he was about to put his mouth on my titty. That was a bit farther than I wanted things to go, so I called it quits and told them I had to get to the Principal’s Office. They assumed I meant for my clothes and immediately, but reluctantly, left off. But not before thanking me.
Cindy was similarly occupied, but she had several boys examining her crotch, exclaiming over the dried whitish streaks of sperm on her legs and matted into her crotch hair. While one boy was reluctant to touch her there, another was eager to pull her open to see if any sperm was still inside. It was, and they all watched, fascinated, as a fresh glob of white slowly oozed out of her tunnel. It was funny to watch, as virtually none of them even spared a moment’s look at her luscious titties, crowned by erect and stiff nipples. Well, she clearly liked something about the situation. Still, they quit exploring when I called over to her that we had to go.
One boy followed us out and asked if he rub our butt cheeks as we walked. It seemed reasonable, so with him between us we headed down the hall. He and Cindy were wearing their backpacks while I had my book bag slung over my shoulder. It felt kind of weird to have a boy fondling on my butt as I walked, but it was also kind of fun and I wanted to pretend it was James doing it. Unfortunately, knowing he was doing the same thing to Cindy sort of spoiled the moment.
Unusually, he also talked to us. I mean he actually conversed. Most boys who fondled us did it in complete silence, like they were concentrating on the doing, and ignored us as persons. This guy asked questions.
“Is it embarrassing to have all these guys gawking at you?”
“Well, at first it was,” I answered, “Now I kind of expect it. I mean, a week ago the idea of a dozen guys staring at me, not just looking in my direction, but staring, would of sent me scurrying into a bathroom to hide. I can’t do that now. It’s hard to explain, but I know everyone is going to stare, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to check my clothes to see if I have a big stain, or if a button has popped, or a zipper slipped, or I have something caught on me. I know they are looking at me because I am here and naked. Uh, I would kind of be worried if nobody was looking, ya know?”
“I think I get it. But how about when some guy asks to look at your, you know, down there.”
“You mean like you just did in class?” He turned red and nodded hastily.
“Well, it’s weird. I don’t understand why they want to look. I don’t think it’s interesting at all, I think it’s gross down there. I mean that’s where I pee. How could that be interesting? Why did you want to look?”
He turned even redder, “Um, because it’s so different from what a guy looks like, that’s why.” He thought a moment, “It’s where you have sex, and it’s always hidden, it’s forbidden to look and now it’s not.”
I thought about that a second or two. Yeah that did kind of make sense. Girls have always been told to never let boys see them down there, and boys have always been punished when they’re caught looking there. Being forbidden and then suddenly allowed would be a bit like a kid kept out of a candy store suddenly being allowed to eat as much as he wants. He eats until he’s had too much.
“That would also explain why all the boys want to touch our breasts wouldn’t it?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to touch a girl’s butt as she walked.”
I looked at him and he colored up again. “Well?” I arched my eyebrow in query.
“Um,” he hesitated, “its kinda nice, your skin is soft and smooth, and the way your muscle’s move under my hand is really, um, interesting.”
I made a point of leaning forward a bit and staring at his crotch. It was difficult to tell, so I just reached over and grabbed him in the crotch. Yep, he had an erection. He yelped and stopped, but quickly stepped back beside us as we kept walking. “Interesting,” I said, “don’t you mean turned on?”
He was still red-faced, “Yeah,” he muttered.
Oh. My. God. I turned red as I realized what I had just done. I had groped a boy! Just like they had groped me, only I hadn’t asked. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I shouldn’t have done that; grabbed you, I mean.”
He stared at me, “Oh.” He paused a second, “That’s okay, you just surprised me. I guess turnabout is fair play, I was doing that to you in the classroom.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “but you asked and I didn’t.”
He grinned, “Aw, that’s okay, you can grab me any time you like, it felt good.”
We stopped in front of the Principal’s office. “Goodbye,” I said. He looked at me, puzzled. “We have an appointment with the counselors,” I explained, “We won’t be going home for another forty-five minutes.”
He looked disappointed at leaving us so soon as he walked off; apparently he had been hoping to walk us all the way to the busses.
– – – – – – – – –
Cindy and I went on into the office and Cindy gave her name to the secretary, who told her to wait a minute. I sat down on one of the chairs, as Cindy was lead into one of the inner offices. I had barely settled down when in came James.
“James,” I said, excited, as I grabbed him in a hug. He had remembered! And not only remembered, but actually came to the office. I was so happy!
My arms were over his, so he didn’t exactly have a lot of room to maneuver, but he did put his hands on my back and began rubbing them up and down. It was such a nice feeling that goosebumps broke out all over my body and I shivered.
Feeling me shiver, he asked, “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“No,” I whispered as I rested my head on his shoulder, “Everything’s just fine. It’s just that I’m so happy to see you.” I paused, hesitated, and then barely believing I was asking, “Aren’t you glad to see me?” My heart pounded, the thuds of it shaking my body.
“Can’t you tell?” he asked lightly.
Not the answer I was expecting. I leaned back and looked at him, frowning. Then I smirked. I let go with my right hand and reached between us. A quick fumble and I had my hand wrapped across his erection. The back of my hand brushed against my crotch hair. “Oh, I guess you are.”
His eyes widened and he gasped. Then he swallowed, “Right.”
I giggled. And hugged him again. This time he hugged me back, pressing his thighs to mine. Oh, now I could feel him. And I knew it wasn’t a banana in his pocket. He did like me. After a moment, or maybe several, he asked, “When will Cindy be done?”
I looked at the office clock. “About thirty minutes.”
“Shall we go for a walk?”
“Okay.”
We wandered down the hall for a while, hips touching, arms across each other’s waist. I basked in the feeling of having a boyfriend. I had dreamed of doing something like this for several years now, I just hadn’t expected to be naked in school while doing it. Had he been serious at lunch? Did he really mean he wouldn’t make any requests unless I asked first? Was that because he liked me? Or because I wasn’t pretty enough? I knew my breasts were small, and down there certainly wasn’t what I would call beautiful. I had to ask. We had walked the length of the hall and were downstairs before I finally screwed up my courage enough to ask, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“At lunch . . . you said . . . I had to ask. Why?”
“Because I love you. And I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of The Program just to do things you might not want me to do as your boyfriend.”
That sounded so romantic. My heart pounded and I felt faint. “Really?” My voice squeaked. I hate it when that happens.
“Uh huh.”
Wait, if I were dressed and The Program didn’t exist, that would be romantic. Instead, I was naked. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry could see everything I had. By refusing to look he was giving someone else the opportunity he didn’t take. How could he love me if he let someone else take his place? It had to be an act. You don’t ignore the person you love.
I stopped and faced him, suddenly furious. “God damn it! You pretentious pompous ass.” I pushed him away, violently, and glared at him.
“What?” he asked, bewildered. “What did I say? I thought you’d be pleased. What did I do wrong?”
“If you don’t know I’m not going to tell you,” I yelled, and stalked off. That bastard didn’t even try to chase me. I ran.
I hid in the girls’ bathroom, and cried for a while. Eventually I realized I should go return to the office and meet up with Cindy. I didn’t know how long I had been crying, so I ran again. I got there just as the door to the counselor’s office opened and Cindy came out.
Cindy was white as a sheet and didn’t even look at me as she headed for the hall. I grabbed my bag and stormed off after her. Neither of us said a word as we headed outside. I was in a blue funk. It would have been perfect if it had been raining, but the sun was bright against a cloudless blue sky. I got mad that the weather didn’t mirror my feelings and by the time we reached pickup lane I was furious again. Timing is everything, and mom pulled up less than a minute later. We piled in, me with my arms crossed, fuming, Cindy with a blank stare. Wisely, mom just drove us home.
– – – – – – – – –
Wednesday Evening
Dinner was quiet. Mom knew something was up, but I think she thought Cindy and I had had a fight. She kept looking from one of us to the other. Several times she started to say something, but she always thought better of it. I finished eating and just stared at my plate, numb. First I had a boyfriend, and then I didn’t have a boyfriend. He said he loved me, but he didn’t act like it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst into tears again and ran to my room.
A little bit later mom came into my room. “What’s wrong, honey? Did you and Cindy have a fight? Is something wrong at school?” I just wailed and cried more as she cuddled me. Eventually I calmed down enough to tell her about James. I told how nice he was, how he made me laugh, how I looked forward to seeing him, and how he had asked me to marry him. Then I told her how he ignored me, how he let other guys touch me instead of doing it himself, how he never seemed interested in my body, and how it must be because I was ugly. Then I cried some more.
Gradually, I realized Cindy was cuddling me too. “I’m sorry, Jamie,” she said. “I was so wrapped up in what the counselor said I didn’t even see you were hurting.”
I looked back at her and mom. Oh my god. I had been so wrapped up in my problems I hadn’t even noticed Cindy’s problems. She had been literally white when I saw her in the office and I hadn’t even asked her if she wanted to talk. I was horrible! How could I do that to her, after all she’s been through. Just thinking about what I knew made me realize my problem with James was a joke by comparison. I hugged Cindy fiercely and started crying again. I just couldn’t seem to stop. I apologized over and over, until she started to cry, too.
After a while I saw that mom was crying as well. Jeeze, this must be contagious. I don’t know when we finally stopped, but mom just got up after a while and covered Cindy and me with the sheet from the bed. It was dark when I woke again, arms wrapped around Cindy. She was a dear friend, now, and I kissed her cheek. A true friend stands with you and Cindy certainly did that. She might be a bit odd, but with her background I expected that. Somehow I knew she would never leave me. I kissed her again, this time on the lips. She sighed softly.
I shifted. I kissed her cheek, her neck, the little hollow at the base of her neck, and gradually worked my way to her nipple, the left one I think. It didn’t matter. I played with it until it was hard, then switched to the other. I slowly worked my way down her tummy. By the time I reached her slit, it was already wet. I smiled to myself; she must be having quite a nice dream right about now. This time I barely touched her clit and she gasped and woke up.
“God, Jamie,” she mumbled, not fully awake, “You’re gonna give me heart failure if you keep doing that while I’m asleep.” I laughed and kept on doing what I was doing. It wasn’t too long before she was thrashing around in the bed in the midst of another series of orgasms.
After she stopped, she dragged me up beside her. “Come here, Passion Flower,” she growled. We kissed again, deeply, for several minutes, and then she started playing with me. I woke up mom, again, I know I did, but this time she didn’t come to our room. And I didn’t care that I woke her up. Who needed James when I could have Cindy?