Camilles Mom

Harold swore me to secrecy, but I just have to tell someone. So listen closely and don't tell anyone else, ok?

Yeah, he's embarrassed about it. of course he is. And you would be too. But it's worth it to him in order to be dating one of the sweetest, most innocent girls on campus.

Last fall, when we decided to room together after ending up at the same State University, we compared notes each evening about all the hot girls all around us, all day, every day. And we realized we couldn't get any real studying done until we had 'relieved' some of the day's pressure, if you know what I mean.

We're not gay at all; it was just a way of coping with all this newfound sexuality bombarding us, yet with no dating outlets in the early stages. And we didn't touch each other of course, and in fact, didn't even watch the other. We just turned the lights out as we talked for a while in our bunks, and, well, you know. And then caught a nap before getting up for nightly studying. Ok? Nothing abnormal.

So one evening at the dining hall, he pointed out a particular girl he sat behind in Writing Class. And he was busting at the seams, to tell me about her. In fact, so much so that he hurried me through dinner so he could get me back to the room, and, well, you know, right? Even in our high school years, I had not seen Harold so goofy-eyed over the girls we talked about back then. But this one had him going ga-ga. So we jogged back to the dorm and up the staircase rather than the elevator. And, yeah, prepared ourselves for 'storytime', so to speak.

So he starts telling me about her. The professor had called on her by name that day. Camille. And had her stand up to answer his question, as is his practice. So then she was, standing directly in front of Harold apparently, in her college-look pleated skirt, with thin white blouse. All he could see of course, was her backside as she blotted out his entire vision as she stood. And standing there, he was noticing every detail of her skirt, her blouse, and even tracing his eyes over her obvious small bra with discernable connectors in the back. And thin straps going up over her delicate shoulders, and no doubt continued down into territory he could only dream of. Completely mesmerized, he was. Dang, I could almost envision what that must have been like. Even across the dining hall I couldn't help but be taken by her long, very straight, blond hair. And from a distance, almost no bust-line could be noted. Petite breasts, apparently. I was hard as a rock and stroking my dick as he continued. All Harold was seeing and relating to me was this nubile young lady standing right there fully consuming his view, as she hemmed and hawed, trying to give the prof some kind of answer. She leaned first one way, then the other, somewhat twisting around a bit. Harold could see she lifted her hair and was nervously twisting it in her hand, then biting it in her mouth. She clearly didn't know the answer to the professor's question, and he was torturing her, prolonging her embarrassment in front of the lecture hall filled with guys who were all-eyes, ogling her. And girls who were keeping their heads down, for fear of being called on to recite next. And Harold had the best view of all. Even a little extra view, as she nervously lifted a knee, pressing it against her other thigh.

Bare knee, pressing into her bare thigh.

That's all it took. He couldn't continue talking. And didn't need to. We both went off about the same time. Dang. Awesome story, Harold! I nearly hit my chin.

And quickly fell asleep for a while, both of us dreaming about Harold's girl.

The one that didn't even know he was alive.

***

The next morning, I coached him. "Harold, you have to talk to her. And memorize every word of her responses so you can tell me, bro. Tell her how terrible it was that he had tortured her like that. And that you'd like to study with her to prevent that ever happening again. Ok? You can bring her up here to our lounge, even. I'd help her too, if you like. Two helpers for the price of one. You *must* talk to this girl, Harold. You must! Ok?"

So he did exactly that.

And as a young Freshman girl, she didn't have anyone who had shown her such care and willingness to help. So she agreed to meet us later that night in the lounge, you know, after our 'nap'. (We didn't tell her that part, though. Of course. Who knows what she'd have thought, if we had!)

Needless to say, we both got off super quickly that evening. In fact, sleep eluded us until we rehearsed the day's story a second time. Sploosh, all over again. Dang!

***

But as the evening wore on while we waited and waited, we realized she would never show. And we got next to no studying done ourselves, embarrassed at our horniness and commitment to this girl that cared so little about our feelings. I mean, about Harold's feelings.

***

Next day, she apparently apologized to Harold. Turns out her mother had forbidden her to go out that evening, and certainly not to the guys' dorm lounge.

Sucks to be living at home, she had said, while "you guys get to do whatever you please -- you do, don't you Harold? You two do whatever it is you please, right? I so wish I could live like that at the girl's dorm, and do whatever I pleased with my roomie like you two do!"

And that was enough of Harold's story to land an explosion on my chest. Dunno about his.

And I crashed, til study-time.

***

Next morning, I again went into coaching mode: "You have to ask Camille out for a study date, say, at the Library. Surely her mom will allow for that, right?"

Harold nervously agreed, and swore himself to the task.

***

He was beaming from ear to ear at the Dining Hall as he blurted out, "She accepted! Tonight!".

"But I don't have time to go back to our room, bro. I have to swing by her place to meet her mother, first. Her mother insisted that no college guy was going to take advantage of her sweet little Camille. So you go on without me, and I'll tell you about our Library date later, ok? In fact, 'hold out', Harold, til I get back to the room, Ok? I don't want you, you know, envisioning her while you, you know, when really she's my girl after all, right?"

I didn't know if I could hold out or not. Dang. I certainly couldn't nap. That was for sure.

Nor could I get any real studying done while I waited up for Harold to get home.

***

"I don't want to talk about it," Harold announced as he walked back into the room and immediately climbed up into his bunk. "So please just don't ask. Go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow when I figure out how to tell you."

And no matter how I tried, he fiercely refused to discuss it. And pretty clearly, he was in a foul mood. And didn't do any 'relieving' of the pressure, so to speak, or I'd have known from the usual creaking. All this took a toll on my expectations as well. And finally I drifted off to sleep, still wondering what the f___ had happened.

***

Next morning, Harold's mood had not improved. He had tossed and turned on his bunk all night, and awoke, quickly showered and rushed out without even a hint as to what had gone so terribly wrong. Had she ditched him at the Library and instead ran off with one of the campus jocks? Her mother couldn't have rejected him, or he wouldn't have been so long getting home. Whatever it was, it sure took the wind out of his little sails, so to speak.

He'll tell me in due time. I'm sure. He always has. Like even that time in high school after a girl had kneed him when he got fresh with her under the bleachers. Even that, he eventually admitted to me one night when he stayed over at my house for the weekend.

Even sheepishly admitted the next night, it had been MY girl who had done that. Dang! You son of a bitch! So you got what you deserved, bro.

The thought of that still made me mad. So I could feel little empathy for him now, whatever this Camille girl had done to him. In fact, I kind of hoped she HAD kneed him in his little weeboos. Serves him right, what, going to 'study' with her at the Library without me. And she STILL doesn't know I'm even alive. Fuck him, the bastard. I hope she wiggles her little college skirt in front of his horny ass today in class. Or maybe she'll MAKE him tell me what happened last night.

When we connected for dinner as usual, I picked right up where we left off. "Well, Harold? Spill it. Why so pissy last night and this morning? You know I'm going to find out sooner or later. In fact, you know you're going to tell me yourself sooner or later. So you might as well save yourself the torture, and tell me right now. Did she knee you in the Library stacks? Really hard? Or what? Cough it up, bro. Or I might do it myself. Now tell."

"She slapped me. And yes, really hard. In front of the Librarian, even. It was embarrassing. She said I got outta line with my hands. It wasn't true, but the Librarian filled out a Report anyway. And we had to go see the Dean of Women today."

"Did you get University demerits?"

"Just 1. But there's something else I need to tell you. Her mom started all this."

"What???? Camille's mom?"

"Yes. When I went to pick Camille up for our walk to the Library, her mom sent her back up to her room and took me aside into the kitchen for a get-this-straight-Mister' kind of talk. And I was glad to go, too. You should have seen her, man, she was hot! Definitely milf material. A tall sexy version of Camille, but like right out of the gym -- same long straight blond hair but filled out in all the right places, definitely more than skinny Camille. I couldn't help myself -- I was fixated on this fine creature's every move, her curves, and the face of a Camille-like angel. But when I started to give my real nice-boy kind of speech, she immediately slapped me really hard. And she said: "That's what we call '1st Base' around here. And if you hope to get to my little girl's 1st Base, that's what you'll get. Understand, Mister?"

"Btw, I saw you ogling me, and I'm guessing you like what you see, don't you Harold? Something of a vision of what your skinny girlfriend will look like when she blossoms. If you play your cards right and get to marry her someday, that is. Would you like that, Harold? Would you like to be married to me? Be careful how you answer, little Harold."

"So of course I had to admit I would die to marry someone like her. Good answer, she told me."

"Dang, bro. Pretty protective of her little girl huh? And you tried to get to 1st Base with Camille in the Library stacks?"

"No. And that's not all her mom did. But do we have to talk about it right here in the dining hall? It's too embarrassing."

"Don't try to hold out on me, bro. If we go back to the room and you still hold out on me, I'll slap your little face myself, Peckerhead! You held out on me last night, even after I had gone all evening with my dick in hand trying hard not to jack off, just like you asked me too. And then you fucked me over, not telling me about your date. I got no relief and I'm horny and pissed. And you're GOING to tell me, or else. Don't make me do something you'll regret, bro."

And so it was. We left and I more or less marched him back to our room, slapping him on the back of the head a few times to hurry the pace. And finally shoved him into the room and onto my bunk as I stood over him, arms crossed, and waiting. "So spill it, Peckerhead. What did her mom do that has you so buffaloed?"

"Promise you won't tell anyone? Camille doesn't even know."

"It'll just be our little secret, just between you and me. Now tell me before I start slapping you myself.".

And I grabbed his shirt collar, preparing to do exactly that, when he stopped me.

"Ok, ok. Listen. She told me to take down my pants. Right there in the kitchen. I was petrified. So of course I did as she asked. Then she handed me a plastic gadget and told me to put it on. Else no date with her daughter. Said she demanded it for any guy even thinking of dating Camille. Protection, she called it. And she stood right there and watched as I fumbled around with it."

"With what, Harold? What the fuck are you pissing and moaning about that could be so bad?"

"It's a chastity cage. Just like the one our coach used to threaten us with. Remember?"

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, that. Only this one is pink."

"No shit!"

"What else could I do, man? I had already admitted how sexy I found her. And she had my pants down. With her daughter in the other room, whom I desperately wanted to date. So I caved. And locked it on. She held out her hand then, and I turned over the key, without a whimper."

"My daughter is still a virgin, and I intend to help her stay so until she marries her Prince Charming someday. And you, Sir, will also be helping her stay virginal, won't you Harold?"

"I of course confirmed that I would."

"Good boy. And if I learn of even the slightest indiscretion, Harold, I will take you across my knee. In front of Camille. It would do her good to learn about bending men over 2nd-Base, if you get my drift. Do you plan to go over my 2nd-Base, Harold?"

"No ma'am."

"I didn't think so. But wanted to be clear - you will treat my little Camille like the precious gem she is. Now, shall we even mention 3rd-Base, or do you get the drift yet? You would definitely not want to ever find yourself there, hands tied high over your head, say, to a beam in our stables, out of earshot of anyone who might hear your screams for mercy? Get the picture, Boy? So don't disappoint my Camille. I would hate to ever hear that you touched any intimate parts of her girly body. Understand?"

"Clearly, Ma'am."

"Good. Then you shall wear your little device as long as you keep my Camille happy. And you can hope to keep her satisfied in every way. Do anything she asks. Got it?"

"And every Saturday afternoon, you will come here early so I can clean your little penis and re-cage it for an evening at the Library with my Camille. Got it, Mister?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

LOLLLLL. "Harold, I can't believe all this. You gotta show me this thing. I wanna see. Pull your pants down. Right now, or I'm gonna call all the guys on this floor to come make you take em down. Now!"

So of course, he complied. And it was just as he said: A pink plastic little chastity locked onto his small penis. I couldn't *not* touch it, and hold his locked-up balls in my hand. It was the first time I had ever touched another man's junk, but this was worth the exception. LOL. I rubbed his nuts in my hand like Captain Quigg and the steel balls.

"Man, you are so fucked."

"I know. But Camille is worth it. I just dare not cross her mom. Besides, I don't really think Camille would rat me out to her anyway. So I think this is going to work out."

"Oh yeah? You think so, do you? You just haven't thought through the ramifications yet. Wait til it all suddenly occurs to you -- say in about 5 minutes when I turn the light out and start enjoying myself..."

(lights out and my pants come down)

"Shit!"

"Told ya. So either learn to live without cumming. Or learn to live with your only alternative."

"What alternative? You'd better not be suggesting what I think you're suggesting. I would never be able to live without my nuts."

"No, of course not. I just meant milking your sperm out, you know, by someone massaging your prostate to release your cum so it doesn't build up in your balls and explode in a day or two."

"What???? How do I do that?"

"You can't. Somebody else has to milk it out. Like, Camille's mom."

"No way! I could never do that. Help me, dude. Ya gotta help me. I'm already going crazy. You know I have to jack off every evening, and you're the only one that knows me that well. Help me, man. I need you to help me. Please. I beg you."

"Oh geez, Harold. Are you sure you can't face Camille's mom doing that for you?"

"I'm positive. Please, man. You're the only one I would trust. Please. At least this once. I'm already about to explode in this cage." And he climbed down from his bunk and bent over my bunk as he pulled his jeans down. "Please be gentle."

I could not believe what I was about to do to my best friend. But here goes. I spit on my hand and applied it to his naked bottom. Then moistened my fingers by sticking them in my mouth, and, well, you can guess. I inserted them into my friend. First my index finger, then also ring-man. And pushed on in despite Harold's protestations to slow down. I paused a moment to let him catch his breath.

"Ok, you can go ahead now. Work it out of me. Please. I can take it. Go ahead."

So I did. Massaging his prostate as he gasped from time to time. But I kept it up until a small stream of white goo dripped onto my sheets. Then worked it harder til he screamed to please stop. And withdrew my hand, wiping it off on his lips.

"There, you faggot. Did I get enough of it out to suit you? Now you gotta do something for me. With your mouth. That's right. And right now. So, go on, Harold. Get started. And don't let up. I'll be quick."

"Yes sir."

***