I have no trouble to analyse myself and so I know why I do get turned on by masturbation, particularly masturbation by girls. I started masturbation even before puberty myself, and despite that I have very open parents there always was this feeling of guilt which accompanied the wonderful feelings in my lower stomach. In those days, I didn't know what I was doing, it didn't have a name, it was just a naughty secret which made me feel both ashamed and aroused.
Luckily for me, books can teach a child a lot so, by the time was twelve I knew more about this so called secret, and I knew that I wasn't the only one doing it, far from it. But still the roots for my fascination, maybe even my obsession with masturbation where founded then and there. When I grew up further, and things between me and my friends got bolder and more open, I even got to know for certain what I till then had only read in book: people masturbated. They tended to like it, just as much as I, those details where not as freely shared as details of "common sex."
Especially girls weren't as open and free as I would like. Most of my female friends were very discreet about their solo-sex, and even after a very open talk few only admitted that they did it once in a while...and so my obsession only grew....
Statistics only told me about 60 % of the teenage girls did it...so 3 of 5 of the girls closest to me indulged in this private pleasure. The question was...which one?
My mind's eye was filled with confessions of them, where they told very detailed about how, when, what and where...and those fantasies sent me the most thrilling orgasms I even experienced. So to feed those fantasies, I became quite in expert in hearing girls out. Buy you...you always proved to be the most challenging one. When we met it was great, and even now, when we both just celebrated our 19th birthday, my obession with you and your solo sexlife only grew.
I was always attracted to you. You have a great sense of humour, you are nice and kind to everyone, and I found you very, very sexy. Maybe you aren't quite the looker that some models are, but something about your physical appearance made me really crave for you. Yeah, I know you are a shorty and always claim you are a bit curvy, but it only makes yu more appealing to me, just as your long black hair. It glowed with the blueish glow that you often see on Asian people, yet you are very pale, without looking unhealthy. Your eyes are dark too, and I could feel myself drown in them if I looked into them too long. Your breasts are not very big, but because she aren't very tall it appeared so. She herself aren't too thrilled with those ("Guys don't talk to me...they talk to my boobs," I can hear you say), and I don't really care about boob-size, but with you I had the idea that their seize is just perfect. I would love to do a whole lot of things to you, and have done so in my imagination, but nothing would turn me one more then to hear you confess to the very thing that I was doing when I thought you.
But fate wasn't kind on me. You always were a bit shy, and though you love to talk about various subjects, including sex, I could not discover whether you ever masturbated or not. I tried every trick I knew. I asked you straightforward, and you denied. I wasn't surprised by that, more girls did so, and later changed that. So I tried more and more. But even after I had confessed that I did it, where I loved to do it, since when I did it, how often I did it, you kept her own private affairs...well, private, even though you admitted that you didn't object to hearing my stories. You never told me they turned you on either. You did make some vague hints that you might not have told me the truth to the very question, and even later you told me that the things I told you made her so curious that you tried something yourself, but you never gave me details, you just looked at me and said: "Nah, I'm only kidding..." or something like that. Maybe you knew all along what you were doing to me. It would explain why you invited me over to watch the movie Sliver together, along with some other movies.
Of course, Sharon Stone masturbation scene had turned me on like hell, as well as several of the other voyeuristic scenes in the movie. It was the last movie we had to watch, and I decided to try and hear you out once more. Maybe you ware a bit excited herself, because you seemed more open then usual. You told me that you really had appreciated my honesty in such private matters, and I told her I was more then happy to do be so for you...if it could help you come to terms with urges and feelings of guilt that you might have. You just laughed and told me you had nothing to feel guilty about. That didn't help me much though, and it frustrated me as much as I got turned on by there very suggestion of you masturbating, but I just sat there and admired her. That's what I did when I awas with you and have nothing to say. You are looking very good today. You wore a black t-shirt, which was very tight, and a short skirt also black. Normally you didn't dress that way, but more descent. I guess you wer in a wild mood. I tried not to look at your breasts, but I thought I saw your nipples were hard. But again, I could not look very long because I still have some decency despite my own fixations. But somehow I think you saw the lust and adoration in my eyes, because she said: "I think I am gonna take a shower."
Now here I stand....you are going to be in the shower soon. Was it my imagination, or did I saw you started to pull out your shirt when I looked through the crack of the door? And If you did, was that a vague hint or a suggestion? Was there something I had to do now? Knowing whether you masturbated or nor was number one priority to me...but seeing you naked a not so distant second.
I got up as quiet as I could manage, and looked around the door. I saw your shirt, on the ground, and your skirt was not very far away, so my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. I didn't see you though, unless you count the last flash of your left foot and ankle, disappearing behind the door of the bathroom. I didn't see a bra or panties, so I had no way of knowing for sure whether you had worn them to begin with. My mind was telling me that that is the kind of crap your read about in pornmagazines, something that didn't happen in real life. But I did seem to remember that your nipples had looked very outlined in your shirt...or was it my imagination playing tricks on me? There was no way of telling, but it must be said that it was strange of you to undress in the hallway, leave all your clothes there and then walk into the bathroom. I did imagine how you would look now. Naked as the day you were born, yet more exciting of course, with your breasts hanging loose and her nipples hard from our early conversation. Maybe not wearing panties either. If you didn't wear them in the first place I know that you were trying to turn me on...and you must have known that you succeeded, and now left me in the room to saviour your victory over me. I thought of you...your often pale skin now a bit red in a sexual blush, as pale woman mostly have when the urges get hold of them. Your mouth slightly opened, and breathing a bit faster then normal, which made your perfect breasts go up and down, as if they tried to hypnotise me. If you truly did this all as one big tease, what had been your purpose. Did she just love to tease me and make me a willing victim. You must have guessed my obsessions with masturbation by now, and had you decided, for the sheer fun of having power over me that she would give me a good tease. Or had that been the original plan, and did you find yourself in the same ecstatic spheres as I found myself in, because the game started to play the players? And if that was so...what were you doing all alone there in the shower? Could it be..?
I just stand there in the hall, as I hear how you put on the shower. My mind's eye immediately reacts to the sounds that I hear, when I slowly walk through the door. I wanna hear the water when the drops touch you. In my mind, I see a visual of how I think it will look. Your hair hangs down, glistering and heavy with water. The hot water makes your pale skin turn red...a bit more red then it already was perhaps? Tell me it's so...Do you wash yourself in there Laura? Do you soap yourself all over, and do you use your hands Do your hands glide over your body, just they way I think (want) them to do. So terribly erotic? Do your hands caress your nipples the same way I think they do? Is that a soft moan I hear, or is my mind playing tricks on me and does it let me hear what I want to hear? I hear the sound of slippery feet on the shower floor, are you opening your legs so you have a better access to yourself? Do your hands travel down, under those beautiful breasts, across your belly button, and over your hips? I have to know...
There is only one way to find out. I knew her bathroom once had an old fashioned lock, which was replaced by a bolt some time a go. I heard her lock the door, but the old keyhole could be big enough to look through. I might just now miss out on her softly touching her boobs or even rubs softly between her legs, as I am standing here, and no way in Hell I was going to let that happen. I just had to see. I approached the door and kneeled before it. My own hand was also rubbing there, but you often told me that you are not as I am, considering this aspect of life....was that a lie? Or, even more exciting to me, wasn't it, and are you now experiencing the evry thing that I do just about every day?
I my mind, you are indeed already touching your venus mound, so nice and wet...but nice and wet of the water or nice and wet because of something else?
