Becoming Obvious Ch 02

Here's the thing: Susan was just a couple of years older than me, but she seemed so much wiser, so much more together than I was, that it was hard for me not to want to impress her, and to be horrified when something went wrong and she found out about it. I didn't want her to think badly about me, or think I was helpless. So, yeah, catching me masturbating was a little awkward.

But having her catch me masturbating, then getting my vibrator stuck in my vag, and needing her help to try and pull it out? That's embarrassing.

And that I had actually lost control and come while she was trying to wriggle it free? And that I'd ejaculated, for the first time, all over her? I was soaked, shaking, wondering where I'd put my pants, and about to burst into tears.

Susan had just tossed me a towel and said "Sorry to barge in. I just came back for a book, and... well, that was kind of amazing. But I'll, uh... just..."

And then she took her book and left.

Later that night, when she got back, I felt anxious again. I was pretty sure she wouldn't think less of me, but I was still ashamed. You're not really supposed to masturbate at, or on, your roommate. I wanted to apologize in case I'd made her uncomfortable, but I didn't want to bring it up. I decided it was best to pretend it hadn't happened.

I didn't mention it, she didn't mention it. I hid the vibrator at the bottom of my bedside drawer and didn't pull it out again. OK, once or twice. But only when I knew Susan was gone. And I locked the door. I wasn't quite able to make myself ejaculate again, which I felt was a mixed blessing: It had been kind of cool, but it also seemed incredibly messy, and I didn't want to spend a half-hour drying off the carpet. I wondered if that was what boys felt like, and recalled all the jokes about dirty socks.

Ew.

Anyway: Susan and I spent the next week pretending nothing had happened. Which seemed to be a pretty good idea.

And then, at dinner, she said "Hey, can you do me a favor? You can say no if you want."

I was expecting to hear "quit fucking yourself in the middle of the bedroom," I guess, but eager to make it up to her for putting her in an awkward spot, I agreed.

"For certification we need to perform a certain number of massages on different volunteers, and I was wondering if I could work on you."

I began to laugh. "Wait, you want to rub MY back, and count it as a favor TO you?"

"Well, deep tissue massage can be uncomfortable at times, and it can unleash emotions. I know that sounds hokey, but the other day in workshop one of the girls just burst into tears when I started working on her trapezius. I thought I'd hurt her, but apparently it just triggered some sort of submerged sadness."

"Are you kidding?."

"No!"

"Well, I'm willing to take that risk."

"You're on!"

She asked me to pretend to be a patient, so we did a whole first-visit procedure: I filled out a form (my shoulders and lower back get sore, I'm not on any medications, I'm not pregnant) and then she left the room while I undressed and lay on her fold-up massage table. She'd said I could leave my underwear on if I wanted, but given that she'd already seen me totally buck naked once, I figured it wouldn't make a difference.

At first, it was amazingly relaxing. Then, she kneaded deep into my thigh and back muscles, uncomfortably and almost painfully, and I groaned a bit. She also did some stretching exercises with me, pulling my leg forward toward my chest, and out to the side. I worried a little that she'd see my crotch again, but then I reminded myself she'd already seen it. And besides, she's a massage therapist. That's what they do: work on people's bodies. Sure, I was under a sheet for modesty, but you know they have to pull it aside to work on different parts of you, right? So, she was leaning in towards my uncovered vulva. Whatever. We're professionals here, right?

Then she came around to my head, and worked her fists under my shoulders. I wondered if I would get sad and cry like the other girl in her class. I didn't think so. I mean, that's hippie stuff.

And sure enough, I didn't cry. What I did get was wet. Incredibly, amazingly, all over again. Like when I'd been in the store too ashamed to describe the way I masturbated. Like when I had switched the toy on for the first time, rubbed it against my pussy, getting wetter and wetter until I was ready to put it inside me. I felt myself blushing and hoped Susan couldn't tell.

I groaned again. She said "Does that hurt?"

"No...."

"OK, let me know if it does."

Well, at least she couldn't tell. I let her keep going. Every time she pushed against my neck or rubbed at the muscles under my shoulder blades it was like pulling on a tendon attached directly to my crotch. I gritted my teeth and just hoped I wouldn't soak through the sheet, or start grinding away at the table.

I was concentrating on not moving when she came back to the foot of the table, and lifted my leg, and said "I knew it turned you on! I knew it!"

I tried to sit up, but with my leg in that position, on a wobbly table, naked, I just couldn't move.

"What? No! I... "

"Yeah you are. Don't lie. I knew from the minute your face and chest flushed, and I definitely can tell by much your pussy is swelled up. It's like when I caught you fucking yourself."

I clamped my legs together.

"Don't hide it."

She pulled one leg off to the side, touching me gently, tugging my labia apart.

"That's amazing. You're swelled up like a boy with a hard-on, it's so obvious. Does that feel good?"

I was swollen. And it did feel good.

"I love how wet you get, god. That's beautiful. Here, hold your legs a bit further apart..."

I moaned again, bucking my hips up toward her.

"You know, that's the same expression you had in the store. You're desperate for it."

"No, I..."

She touched me. I moaned again.

"Tell me. Tell me how much you want it."

"Oh god. I need it."

She put a finger inside me. Two.

"Just like when I left you alone the other day on your day off. You're so obvious, all nervous to be alone and rubbing your hips against the counters like you can't wait to fuck something. Anything. I knew what you'd be doing when I came back, although I didn't expect to find you on the floor like that. That was quite a show."

Her fingers rubbed against my g-spot and she leaned closer. I could feel her breath. This was definitely not a massage, and I was pretty sure I didn't care. She flicked my clit with her tongue.

She didn't need to ask me to hold my legs apart anymore. The flicking became an enveloping pressure, as though she were trying to lick through my clit to get to her fingers inside me. The pressure began to build inside me and I squealed and moaned.

She stopped licking. "Are you sure you want this?" Her fingers still inside me, pulsing gently. Or was it me pulsing against her fingers? I couldn't tell anymore. I just knew I had to come. Now. I reached for my clit with my own fingers and she slapped me away with her free hand.

I tried to speak, but couldn't.

"Say Please!"

"Please!" I could feel my chest inflamed. How had I become so helpless? How had I let myself become humiliated? Did I like this? Was I putting myself in these situations deliberately?

"Please what?"

"Oh god. Oh god."

"Say 'please let me come.'"

"Oh god."

She flicked a finger across my labia again, just barely avoiding my swollen center.

"Please, let me come."

"Will you do what I say?"

I couldn't object. I couldn't even understand what she was asking. I just knew I needed it.

"Will you do what I ask? Do you need it?"

"YES! Yes, anything!"

She put her face back to me and sucked and licked and licked and yes and yes and yes.

I'd never experienced anything like it. I guess because I'd never really had an expert partner. I'd fooled around, but... not with someone who knew what he was doing. She. Oh god.

And now Susan was helping me off the table. Where was my brain? I was in some sort of fog of massage and orgasm and sexual confusion.

I sat on the couch and she sat beside me, patting my leg. Why was I still naked and shivering? Why was she still dressed? I felt like I was dreaming, immobile and terrified but also, still, somehow, wet.

Her hand reached up my thigh back towards my cunt, and I tried to stop her.

"Susan, look, I'm not... "

"Not what?"

"Um. Gay."

"Please. You've been staring at me since you moved in. I've watched you humping the kitchen counters. I definitely saw how hot you got in the toy store, and don't tell me you didn't mean to get caught jerking off in the middle of the bedroom."

She pushed my legs open, stroked my pubic hair some more.

"You're so obvious."

That hurt.

"I'm not!"

"You're just the last to know." Her fingers parted my lips. "You're still hot, aren't you?"

I guess I was.

She began to stroke me again, and I began to moan and buck again like some kind of sick marionette. And when she stopped and pulled away, I knew what was coming.

At least, I thought I knew what was coming.

She got up, and left, and ran quickly into our bedroom, returning with my vibrator. I thought I'd hidden it. "How'd you...?"

"First place I looked: Right under your underwear drawer. Keeping it in the bedside table would be too obvious."

She walked up to me swaying slightly, then reached toward my cunt with the smaller end of the toy, rubbing it against my labia. I moaned, yet again, noticing as I moved that the couch was getting wet beneath me. I arched toward her, waiting for her to slide it into me, but she didn't.

"Put it inside you. I want to see you fuck yourself with it."

I grabbed at it hungrily and pushed it inside me, closing my eyes.

"Keep your eyes open!" She slapped gently at my breasts, startling me, as the curve of the toy passed my opening and slid deeper inside, the upper half nestling against my clit.

I stared up at her. She slid her skirt off, quickly took off her shirt, stood before me totally naked.

"Turn it on."

I turned it on, and it buzzed inside me, pushing me towards orgasm. Susan put one leg up on the couch next to me, and I could see her labia, much smaller than mine, but glistening with moisture, peeking out from her bush. I could smell her arousal, different from mine, slightly muskier. She ran a finger along her clit, staring, licking her lips as I jerked off in front of her.

As I got closer to coming, I slid down the couch, and Susan moved out of my way as I wound up with my ass hanging off the couch before I came again.

By the second orgasm, I was lying flat on my back on the floor and Susan was standing over me, still slowly rubbing herself.

After I came a third time, she knelt over my face, pressing herself against my mouth. I wasn't going to be any good at that, I'd never done it before, and, well, I was too focused on my own constantly rolling lust. I don't think she much cared though, because after getting my face completely wet, she plunged two fingers inside herself and just wanked right in front of my face.