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True Masterbation story
True Masterbation story
When I was in 8th grade there were only 2 things that I wanted . . . my Spanish teacher, Mrs. Hanson and my neighbor, Denise.
It was early in the summer, and school was almost done for the year. Next year, high school! I would never see Mrs. Hanson again, and Denise was a year younger than me so while I would still see her around the neighborhood it would only be in passing. These thoughts were going through my mind one afternoon in Spanish class as Mrs. Billups was in front of the class lecturing. She was in her early 40's with dark black hair and a very nice body. Very shaply, with rather large breasts at which I would steal peeks at from time to time due to her love for low-cut tank tops. Denise sat next to me in this class, I was in the last row in the corner. Although we were neighbors, we were not terribly close. She was short with bright red hair and a very petite body.
Mrs. Billups finished with her lecture, and it was time for a quick quiz before we were to watch a filmstrip. When I finished my quiz, I went up to Mrs. Billups desk to turn it in and stumbled to think of some question to ask her in hopes of catching a glimpse down her shirt. To say it was my lucky day is an understatement, as I caught a glimpse of both of her very well rounded breasts pressed together nicely as well as one of her nipples which was peeking ever so innocently out of her black lace bra.
Walking back to my desk was an event, as I suddenly found myself trying to hide one of my many embarassing teenage hard-ons. I managed to make it back to my desk without anyone noticing, but I could not get the wonderful image of Mrs. Billups out of my mind. Suddenly, the lights were turned off and down came the projector screen . . time for our filmstrip. Five minutes or so into the film I realized that I was not going to get Mrs. Billups image out of my head without relieving my desires, and going to the bathroom during a film was forbidden, so I boldly unzipped my pants and reached my hand down and started flat-palming my hard shaft. The only person I was worried about catching me was Denise, but I was willing to take that risk . . . I was desparate.
Just before I ejaculated I managed to pull my t-shirt up enough to avoid having it get stained (and surprisingly was able to keep fairly quiet). After a quick half-assed clean-up job with a piece of notebook paper I once again appeared like a "normal" boy.
The rest of my school day went without incident, and then came the bus ride home. I took my usual seat towards the back, but this time I had a surprise seat-mate: Denise!
She sat down, and bluntly told me that she saw what I did in Spanish class and asked me if I was crazy. I played it off as long as I could, but it was evident that she did in fact catch me, so I confessed. I told her about my thing for Mrs. Billups and the peek I stole and how it drove me crazy. After the bus dropped us off at the stop we started walking towards our houses. When we got closer to her house she asked me if I could help her fix her bike chain quick. I agreed, and back to her familys shed we went. We got inside and she closed the door, then she told me that my story made her curious. Then she took off her shirt and bra to expose her rather small, creamy white breasts and bright-red, pointy little nipples. I had to adjust my stance once again to protect the erection that was starting to occur. Denise could tell what was happening and asked me if I would show it to her, that she was curious. So I did, and her eyes widened at the sight of my stiff cock pointing up to the sky. She asked me what it felt like, and I told her it was very sensitive and tingly and that it felt good. She then put her hand around it and started to stroke it for me. Her tiny warm hand sent me to extacy, and before long I was spraying my hot cum all over her petite chest. She rubbed it in a little, and told me how warm and sticky it was and how good it felt. We both hurridly dressed and went to our respective houses, and unfortunately never did anything like that again.
I didn't think much about it at the time, but now that I am older I realize how 'special' that day was, and how I am unlikely to have another day like it again.