This story is purely fiction -- straight from my imagination. None of the characters are real or even based on real people. But I've always had a thing for Velma, and (thanks to the interwebs) I've been pleasantly surprised to learn I'm not the only one. There's plenty of great fiction about Velma, herself, on here, but I thought a slowly building story with a big payoff about nerdy twenty-somethings who allow themselves to geek-out a bit might make for a fun fantasy. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed ideating and writing it.
Some time in the middle of the night, I awoke to a slight shaking in my bunk. The Amsterdam hostel dormatory was tiny -- only six beds. Brandon and I had two of the bottom bunks, and Priya and Meghan had claimed the ones above. I say, "claimed," because Priya was with Brandon in his bunk, now. He had hung a bedsheet, creating a pod for privacy, and I could now hear the rhythmic sound of their sleeping.
But Meghan was awake. And horny. I realized I was horny, too.
Meghan had surprised me at bedtime with an unexpected display. She'd come into the room wearing nothing but a shirt and panties -- the former barely covering the latter. Previous nights, she'd worn much more conservative pajamas. But... well, this was the first hostel we'd stayed at where we had the whole room to ourselves.
Meghan was about 5'4", curvy, and quite busty. She had a round face, short brown hair, and very square glasses that all made her look quite a lot like Velma Dinkley, but without the orange aesthetic. I had a thing for Velma -- that'll be explored later -- and Meghan checked off a lot of boxes in that department. It wasn't just me noticing, either. Early in our European tour, Brandon had not-so-subtly asked me if I were more of a Velma or Daphne guy.
The shirt she wore to bed was the same black blouse from our day's excursion, no longer obscured by her grey woven hoodie. I had thought -- foolishly -- her hoodie did little to hide the shape of her ample breasts or the curves of her hips. But seeing her in just the shirt made me realize just how wrong I'd been.
What's more, as I had laid in the lower bunk, she lifted some items onto her own and her shirt had lifted as well, flashing her panties. Tweety Bird panties. I thought I could make out a dark patch of pubic hair through the thin fabric, and her prominent venus mound made the panties plunge between her thighs in a suggestive and exciting way. I'd quickly averted my eyes -- I didn't want to oggle her -- but the image was seered into my mind.
For my part, I was about 5'10" with a fairly athletic frame. Brandon, who was also my roommate back home in the U.S., was similar. We were actually quite similar in a lot of ways. He was Black and I, white, but if not for skin color we could've been brothers. We were both interested in chess, Star Trek, vintage video games, etc. We both had the same sense of humor... We even had a remarkably similar laugh, providing Priya with no end of amusement (laughter "in stereo," as she so eloquently put it).
Priya had been his girlfriend for about six months. She was an inch or so taller than Meghan. She was petite with firm breasts that she liked to press against Brandon at every opportunity. Not that he complained. She had long black hair stretching down the length of her back, even when braided (which it usually was). She was extraordinarily sensual, and it felt as though every word, every movement was calculated -- unarguably the smartest of our group -- and she had a biting laconic wit. Brandon worshipped the ground she walked on. And why wouldn't he?
I didn't know Meghan as well. We'd all worked at the same restaurant for about a year, but she'd been waitstaff and the rest of us had been in the back. I'd spent more time with her in the last two weeks than I had in the rest of the year combined. I'd always found her alluring, though, and her sweet demeanor and almost-bashful looks in our time together had done a number on me. Now, with the slight shaking of the bed, and after the evening's earlier reveal, my mind was fixated.
She was there, not three feet above me, masturbating. Tweety Bird. Yeah. Such thoughts. Quietly, not wanting to shake the bed, myself, my hand found its way to my gym shorts.
I wondered if she'd listened to Brandon and Priya's earlier lovemaking and it had awoken an itch that she needed to scratch. I'd anticipated their activities when I'd seen the size of the room. Back home, Priya would come over to our place a couple of times a week to knock boots with Brandon and spend the night, and this was a long time to go without that kind of contact. When I'd made this observation to Meghan, she had said she had episodes of Star Trek on her phone (nice; didn't know that about her) that she could make use of... but maybe she hadn't made use of them? Idk.
Whatever the reason for her wakefulness, her own self-pleasuring was now awakening something in me. As she proceeded, I thought about her in her cute little outfit, from the day, and how it embraced every curve on her body -- how it seemed to love her shape and proclaim, "nothing can hide this bosom, these hips." But when she had come into the room that evening... Tweety Bird. Oh, those hips were ideal for holding during love-making. I began stroking through my shorts.
Pale hips. And thicc. Her shirt was just long enough to cover the essentials. But barely. If she hadn't been wearing anything underneath, the shirt would barely not have given away that fact. But then lifting her arms, revealing her panties... Tweety Bird? It wouldn't have occurred to me that pattern could have done that to me in the right context...
And I had been so close. I'd observed the bulge of her mons pubis. So close. Not close enough to lean forward and kiss, but I now thought about kissing her there, though I had never done so to a woman before, even through panties.
I released my erect penis from my shorts and continued stroking. The movement above me continued. Ah, kissing her right there. Maybe she'd make a little noise indicating she enjoyed it. A nice, little, "ah." Kiss her again. Make her shiver. Her flash had stirred up my imagination, and I was on a roll.
So was she. There was a quiet vocalization above me, as Meghan momentarily lost control. THAT noise. That was the noise she would make if I kissed her down there. I imagined her grabbing the back of my head and pulling me into her, pressing my face against her sex.
"Ohh," a hushed but almost desperate voice said above me.
Tight, Tweety Bird panties filled my mind. Panties that hugged her anatomy, teasing the shape of things that lay beneath. Tight panties that pulled tighter as she reached. I thought about slowly running my hand up the inside of her thigh. Thicc thighs. My stroking became vigorous, though I was doing my best to remain still.
All at once, a few muffled words descended from above, as the intensity of the shaking increased. What was that? Was there a "Nikolai" in there? Couldn't be. Could it? Wishful thinking, surely. There was no way she'd said my name while she touched herself?
Was she thinking about me? Was it possible she'd deliberately flashed me her panties? Had she intentionally selected panties to tease -- to present? What imagined scenario was driving her? I briefly entertained the (optimistic) possibility that she shared my ideations: The parts that she now stimulated with her fingers might, in her mind, be attended to by my lips. Did she dip a finger inside in lieu of my tongue? What did she taste like? Did she imagine me on top of her, making love to her?
It was all too much, and I silently ejaculated onto my stomach.
Quietly, I looked around, trying to think what I could use to clean myself. Meghan kept going. Hmmm... box of tissues over on the desk. Stealthily, I stretched towards it, and heard Meghan vocalize again. "Ah." She was losing control. I reached a little further. A melodic, "hummmm."
Got it. I was dangling out of bed with one hand on a tissue and one hand holding myself off the floor. But I managed to retrieve it and slip my way back into the bunk. As I lay back, I clumsily bumped my head on a bar and shook the bed. Meghan's movements stopped. Thinking fast, I turned in my bed and let out a sigh, like I was shifting in my sleep.
After a minute, she resumed and I cleaned myself off, holding onto the incriminating evidence until I could dispose of it in the morning. She said something in a quiet voice, but I couldn't quite make it out. Again, it almost sounded like my name was in it. Then a muffled, "Uh. Ooh... Ah... Mmph. Hohh." She was covering her mouth as she came. She finished her work with a shudder, and became silent. I was astounded and tried to ground myself in reality. How wishful was this wishful thinking, really? Was she actually thinking about me as she played with herself?
There was some additional shaking indicating she was slipping back into her panties. That she had removed them, in the first place, opened new dimensions in my mind. But I was exhausted and apparently so was she. Presently, we were both asleep, again.
In the morning, the bunk shook me awake as Meghan shifted off the top. I saw a pair of bare legs dangling in front of me, and I was offered another quick look at those Tweety Bird panties. She dropped the rest of the way, and our eyes met.
We smiled at each other and I tried to be casual. "Good morning," I said. She smiled at me, an almost devious smile. Did she know that I had masturbated while she had? Couldn't be.
"Good morning," she replied. She turned around and the shirt hadn't fully fallen on the back and I was treated to a look at her bottom -- a heart-shaped bottom in those tight panties. It jiggled as she walked. Intoxicating. Was she trying to get me to look? I was happy to accommodate, of course, but I didn't want to be too obvious in case I was mistaken. I was attracted to her, but I wanted to make sure it was mutual before I started leering, lest I make her uncomfortable. I arose and discretely disposed of the tissue.
