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Hoboken Erotic Story
The scene continued playing on the video behind me as I lifted my face off Justine's tummy and began to wipe away my tears. I looked down at her and she looked up at me and I recognized the embarrassment that began to gush through her, having experienced it so many times myself. I wanted to comfort her and hug her and shush it all away but I was still in some shock over everything that just happened.
"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," said dumb Dot on the TV, like she just experienced Creation itself and the angelic harps were still playing, or something way too melodramatic like that. I got distracted, wondering why porn was either too romantic, unrealistic, fairy tale-like, pieces of crap - or the total opposite, completely devoid of any feeling whatsoever, like gynecological, Discovery channel, propagation pull-outs.
Dot blathered on in her naively incessant, valley girl voice, "I love you Jen. That was awesome. Really, really, awesome. It was like totally the most amazing thing in the universe, you know?"
"I gotta turn that off," I said to Justine. But when I started to stand up, her hand reached out to my shoulder to stop me from trying to stop the video again.
"Wait," she said.
Then she pulled her hand back and wiped the tears away from her face and sat up, swinging her feet onto the floor, and doing up her pants, in one quick maneuver. "Not yet, o.k.? I wanna watch a little more," and she gave me a hint-like look, like she was asking me a question about something, but I didn't know what she was talking about.
So I said, "What?"
And she said, "Well?" and she did that hinting thing again.
And I said, "What?" again, but with more insistence this time on telling me what she was trying to get at.
So Justine said, "Are you actually gonna make me say it?"
But right then, just like in a bad sit-com, the voice of Jen on the TV blurts out, "I want to help you warm up now Dot."
Justine and I both looked at the TV and then back at each other and laughed. I felt like an idiot for not knowing what Justine was getting at but I tried to cover myself by making her think I was just trying to get her to actually say it. I don't think it worked. And now there was an uncomfortable silence going on. One of those awkward "how the hell am I gonna get myself out of this one?" moments. I hated them, and hardly ever figured out what to do. And on the rare occasion I could actually choose something and act on it, it was totally the wrong thing to do.
"My dad's gonna be home soon," I said.
But Justine knew better than that and even made a point of looking at her watch and back at me saying, "It's only 8:15. He doesn't get off until 10:00 and he doesn't get home until like, 10:30 at least."
I was stuck. Too many options happening in my head again like that damn gambling wheel spinning and spinning, and all the little pegs, with stupid things to do underneath them, clicking past faster than I could even see them this time, and if I thought about trying to stop the wheel somehow, all the words just went flying off on their own making a complete mess in my mind.
Luckily Justine started grilling me instead. She deliberately used a line from the porn movie, knowing that I knew it, like she was trying to be Jen, pretending to try and seduce me or something.
"Can I ask you a..." and she pauses like a pro, so the dig goes in as deep as it can possibly go, "really personal question?" But the way she said it was nothing like Jen said it in the movie. She sounded more like Dan Aykroyd at the beginning of the Twilight Zone movie asking if I wanted to see something "REALLY scary" before biting my face off.
So I blast back at her like the total dufus I am for trying to play this stupid game of one-upmanship with her. "I'm not an idiot."
And she comes back with, "I'll touch my nipples," as though she's offering a bribe to a little kid by reaching for her boobs like cherries on two scoops of chocolate ice cream. Then she says, "I did go first already, and look," pointing to the TV, "cute little Dotty is doing it." And sure enough, that dumb-ass Dot starts to put her hand down into her lap and Jen is even helping her spread her legs open.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And I'm stuck with what to say again. "I'm kinda shy." Fuck that. "Tell her you can't cum." Fuck that. "Just tell her to go home." Fuck that. "I've never done it when someone else was around." Maybe? No, Fuck that too. The gambling wheel just kept spinning but the pegs weren't going clickity-clack they were going fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Now I'm waiting for Justine to say something but she's watching the movie again and looking over at me with this infuriating "Well?" face, that's just unbefuckinglievably irritating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Finally, Justine gives me a break from the wheel, quoting the video again but in the world's snarkiest voice, "Look, if you want me to shut up, I will." And then after another perfect pause, "I mean we don't have to, or nothing, right? But.....you know what the hiking book said."
And then I blast at her in a way I've never blasted at her in my whole life (even if she says I've done it a thousand times, and worse). But I felt so incredibly stuck and ashamed and scared and angry and in desperate need of justifying myself and defending how hard this was for me to handle (no there isn't any fucking pun intended.) (Sorry.) More than anything though, I think I was ticked off at her for taking all those lines from my favourite little fantasy porn video scene and turning them into, what I thought was, an attempt to ridicule me into masturbating, especially when I could never make myself have a goddamn orgasm.
I stood up, walked to the VCR, pressed eject, waited for fucking ever, grabbed the tape, walked back to Justine, handed the tape to her, and said, "Here.....you wanna watch, then watch. I've had enough. I'm tired of this, and for your information, my dad just happens to be coming home early tonight, and I don't feel like explaining it to you, and I don't care if you don't believe me, and if you feel like I cheated you, because I didn't do what you did, then, then," then I ran out of the living room, and up the stairs, and locked myself in my bedroom, and threw myself onto my bed as hard as I could, and bawled my fucking eyes out.
And of course I knew Justine would come after me, knocking on my door, and a lot more quietly than she did earlier, and try to apologize until I finally gave in and decided to forgive her. But I didn't. I always did. But I didn't this time which is probably why she kept going on forever. She even threatened to sit out there until my dad came home. So I cried myself to sleep.
When I woke up I didn't know if she was still there or not. She could have fallen asleep too for all I knew so I laid in my bed for some chunk of time trying to decide whether to check and see if she had left or not. The last thing I was gonna do was open my door and let her win. So I just stayed in bed.
When my dad got home he knocked on my door and talked about something or other but the only thing I said was, "Sleeping!" like I hated him too. I thought about killing myself, or running away to some hippie commune, or hanging around outside a bar trying to get some horny drunk guy to rape my problems into submission, or torching every single building and house in this lousy fucked up trap of a town so I could finally be free, or beating the shit out of my mom for giving birth to everything I hated, or digging into my grandfather's grave so I could give him that one, last, goddamn hug I always wanted, or all the other usual shit I kept thinking about doing, but knew I never would, because I was just way too fucking useless to do anything at all.
And somehow, despite all that despair and frustration, my right hand found it's way inside the front of my jeans and I began soothing myself.
I wasn't think about anything. But somewhere within me, so far inside it had been lost for years, there was a feeling my flesh remembered, from way back when I was just a little girl. I remembered those days before I knew about sex. I would comfort myself this same way.
Sometimes I'd slide my hands between my thighs and squeeze my legs together while I watched cartoons. Or I'd notice the sensations of warmth and water in the bathtub and explore my lips with my finger or a plastic tugboat toy. Or I'd press my whole vulva against the hot sand at the beach and enjoy the grainy warmth welling up inside me. Or there were the times when I bounced on my grandfather's knee like I was riding a horsie and felt my nubbin rubbing on the seam of my jeans and how much I wanted to climb back on every time I got bucked off. Or those times I rode my bike home from school and through the park and I'd deliberately steer toward little dips and valleys along the trail so I could feel that gushing and mushing feeling against the seat. I even remembered wrestling with my brother and having our legs and arms intertwined and interlocked, pulling and grabbing and tickling each other, feeling muscles aching for release.
None of it was sexual. It just felt good. Natural. Normal. Nice. I needed that now.
I started loving myself, nurturing myself with soft caresses. I simply slid my fingers up and down on my lips. Slowly.
It was kinda like petting a cat, a cat who was sleeping all content on my lap, and I didn't want to wake it, I just wanted to pet it for my own enjoyment, because I loved it, feeling my hand on it's warm fur, and even though it's sleeping, it starts purring while it dreams of nice things.
And my fingers press into my folds, stroking deeper, rubbing, easing me. My breathing slows and I feel a sigh relax me. I yawn and a finger slips inside toward my opening. My eyes close on their own and my legs stretch open, accommodating my hand exploring inside my panties.
I can feel my fingertip creating energy at the entrance of my vagina. It feels good. It feels like healing. And even though I feel the urge to push my finger inside, I just keep touching the outside of my hole and the tendon-like muscles around it, rubbing them as though they were aching and being helped by a massage.
Then I bring my fingers upward along the inside of my vulva, feeling them part open wetly on my knuckles, and I felt the urge to squeeze and push upward to meet them but again I let the desire go. I drew the edge of my finger along the uppermost part of my lips knowingly avoiding my growing clitoris in the middle and going back down the other side. I started pressing all my fingers and the palm of my hand on me, cupping me, holding everything and squeezing inward like a handshake.
And now I could hear myself. I could hear a soft squishing and the liquid noise of my wetness and my lips and my fingers interacting. And at the same time, as if to calm or console myself, I could hear me thinking for the first time since I began, saying, "It's o.k...... It's o.k...... It's o.k."
I could feel my clitoris, all swollen and protruding, pushing against the heel of my hand as my fingers slid toward the opening of my vagina again, easing me open, and wanting to continue the gradual push of pleasure I was building inside. My finger went in. I entered up to my first knuckle and rubbed around the edges of my vagina. It felt so good to just feel myself, to really experience the sensations it gave me, and to allow those strong urges to build up without doing anything about them.
Then a thought popped into my head. It was Justine. I had an image of her lying on my couch earlier that night doing exactly what I was doing now. And like being in a dream, the image changed, and I was lying on the couch like she had been, and I became Justine now, with my hand inside my own panties on the couch.
It was like we had suddenly switched positions or something. I was Justine masturbating and fantasizing about how I was touching myself now. It was an incredible turn on for me. My hand inside my panties touching my pussy but it wasn't me anymore, I was picturing myself on that couch, watching that video scene of Dot and Jen getting off, and I started feeling things I'd never felt before.
I kept being amazed at myself about what was happening but at the same time I kept shrugging that amazement off knowing it was getting in the way of what I was doing.
I would think about my hand inside Justine's panties and I was exploring her wet opening but I could feel my own hot, wet blood rising in my pussy. Then I'd imagine it was her hand touching me and getting a rush from being able to make someone else feel good. Everything between Justine and I kept interchanging but the whole time I kept feeling something building and building in me. And I'd shrug that feeling off so it could keep growing.
I felt like I needed to stretch or yawn or do something to relieve all this tension and yearning and urging. I remembered how Justine was all wound up on the couch and then I saw her watching me lying on the couch instead. She was watching me being frustrated and feeling that restlessness and seeing me needing to cum. Then she was touching me through my shirt, grabbing a handful of my breast just like I had done to her earlier.
The sensations were driving me mad. The images were all mixed up. I just couldn't take anymore of my finger playing inside my vagina any longer. But in that weird way, I didn't take my finger out of there, Justine did. She moved her finger out of my vagina and put it right next to my clit.
My clit was huge. I'd never felt it this big before. It felt like something wrong was happening to it because it was this big but again I shrugged off those thoughts knowing they were getting in the way.
I went back to Justine's finger being on my clit. She knew what to do. She'd done this before. She was so good for me right now.
Instead of rubbing directly on my clit like I always did, Justine had her finger stroking the side of it, and rubbing around the base, then moving to the other side. I could feel the edge of my hood at the top of my clit and Justine rubbed there for awhile too. But she stayed away from touching right on the very top of my clit.
And everything started making sense to me all of a sudden. I thought about my clit being like a guys penis and how they never rubbed right on the top of their head. They always stroked the shaft up and down just like Justine was doing to my clit right now.
But then, just as I seemed to understand it all, it was my finger on Justine's clit and she was on the couch again. My finger rubbed the side of her clit and felt around it and above it. I could even hear her moaning like I was doing it just right for her and she was getting close. And I quickened my pace like I could finally see the finish line at the end of a long race. We were going to cum. We were finally going to make ourselves cum.
I'd never felt this much sexual excitement in me before but somehow I recognized it, I knew it, it just started making so much sense. It was like being on a rollercoaster that I knew was going to go sailing off a broken end of the rails and I wanted to see how far we could fly.
The image of Justine, with her hand inside her little white panties, gyrating her hips, clenching and pushing her pelvis up into her grinding fingers, her nipples hard and visible through her shirt, and the voice of Jen on the video crying out she was cumming, brought me to the very edge of the unknown.
But it was my own voice crying out, "Ohhhh.....ohhhh.....ohhhh," just like Justine's, and my head going from side to side like I was saying, "No..... Noooo.....Noooooooo!", that opened me completely up inside, bringing me to that absolute apex.
And finally, after all those years of trying so hard to make it happen, I came.
I thrashed and bucked just like Justine and Jen before me, my body going rigid but stretching out everywhere at the same time. My legs contracting back toward me and kicking out like some kind of rowing machine.
The last image in my mind was of Justine's hand inside my panties, her fingers deep inside me, begging me over and over to cum, and finally I did it, finally I did it, with her helping me. She was just so fucking hot.
But if I knew at the time, she was watching me from outside my bedroom window, I would have killed her. It would have been death by nipple pull.
I didn't find out she spied on me until weeks later. And by then, it didn't much matter. She'd seen pretty much everything there was to see about me anyway. Besides, I figure I'm getting her back by writing these stories, even if she does like them.
But she better guard those nipples of hers just in case.
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