The First Encounter
The sound of Billy Joel filled the air as I nervously ran my hand to my panties for the first time in two weeks. By the first "We didn't start the fire," I'd only managed to barely graze the bud nestled neatly behind my pink lips. Usually I loved to masturbate, but this time I felt... dirty.
I couldn't explain how, or why, but I knew I was being watched. I'd talked to everyone who would listen, I begged others to believe me. In the end I was told I needed to "get some". So there I was, trying to self medicate my anxiety. Maybe everyone was right, I was just stressed and needed the release.
Eventually I found my rhythm. My index finger firmly pressed my bud, making small circles, causing juices to start slowly running down my cheeks. I moved my fingers lower letting my thumb take over while my middle finger found its way instinctively into me. I worked my fingers in and out of myself, forcefully nudging myself to the blinding bliss that I desired.
"Pinch your nipple," I heard a voice say somewhere in the very depths of my mind.
I responded with a moan, taking my left nipple between my index finger and thumb. I squeezed just enough to send a wonderful chill through my body.
"Harder, give it a bit of a twist."
I pinched harder, twisting my nipple, rolling it between my fingers. The feeling was amazing. I picked up pace with my other hand, excitement overflowing as I felt my orgasm coming on.