In case you were worried. I've just been unable to come to the computer to tell everyone about all the excitement this weekend. Where to begin?
Okay, well, for starters, I solved my problem with being in the basement waiting are really desperately needing to give myself a little tickle. I locked the door.
No, only kidding. If I locked the door they'd definitely think something was up, and since I don't think that door has a lock, it's a moot point anyway. I just tried to be a little more careful, in case another random visitor showed up while I was in flagrante with myself.
My first random visitor, though, was a little trickier. I'm sure I probably should have just left it alone, assumed that he would just be too embarrassed to mention it, or something like that. Nine times out of ten, if you just leave things alone, they go away. But I get worried and don't leave them alone.
So I asked him if I could talk with him. He seemed pretty nervous about it, but I just asked him politely, and he finally I guess couldn't stand it either and said okay. I'll give him a name, so I can stop talking about him like a potted plant. His name, for the purposes of this discussion, will be James.
We went down to the basement (I figured it was the best place to avoid people, since I didn't really want people eavesdropping on the conversation, as gossip spreads like mad in the incestuous world of regional theatre), and I sat him down and just asked him point blank if he was planning on telling anyone about what he'd seen. He hemmed and hawed and I kicked myself inwardly because in all likelihood he was more embarrassed about it than I was and would no more tell anyone about it than tell them he wanted to join me. But I guess he might have let it blurt out sometime.
He finally said no, not in so many words. So I said that was good, and that I appreciated his confidence. James is a good kid, not a braggart or a jerk, and even if he's a little shy, so what? Would you really want to tell anyone if you'd walked in on someone masturbating on the job? Okay, don't answer that; I would too. But James is a good kid. So I just sat down too and we tried to make small talk. He was really uncomfortable though, so finally I just said thanks again and he got up and left. To tell you the truth, I was expecting a little more.
The first night I stayed good, didn't do anything but read my book and occasionally scratch my ass a little more firmly than maybe was necessary. I sat facing the door so I'd know if anyone was coming. The next night, though, I had been wound up to a fever pitch. See, there's a gal in the play I was doing who is drop-dead. She's older, has two kids, must be almost forty, but she doesn't look it at all. She is stone cold sexy, thin, tanned, dirty blonde hair, can't weigh more than 100 pounds dripping wet. And in the play she spends most of her time dressed in almost nothing. And I'd never seen the play, being downstairs most of the time. But that night she was roaming around in her costume before the show, and damn did it get me ready to go.
So I couldn't stop myself. I found an out-of-the-way corner in the basement and I sat there with my pants and panties down around my ankles and I played with myself. I'm such a fucking nympho, I swear.
And then I heard it: soft footsteps coming down the stairs. I pulled myself mostly back together and looked around my hiding place, and there was James peeking his head around the corner. I guess adolescent males can overcome just about any amount of nerves in order to see a hot girl play with herself. Never having been an adolescent male, I don't know for sure.
He saw me, and I saw him, and it was really awkward for a minute. He just froze there. Meanwhile, I'm dying. I just want him to go away so I have a chance of finishing before my cue. I'm just wishing him away with my eyes. He must have known exactly what was going on, because why else would I be hiding? He stammered something, it wasn't really coherent, then he looked ready to bolt if I did anything.
"You wanted to get another show," I said, not questioning.
He stuttered, didn't want to admit it. He was beet red.
"Well, if you ask nicely," I said frankly, because frankly, I just wanted to get off. That dropped his jaw. "I haven't got too much time between now and my cue, and you've got things to do too I'm sure, so why beat around the bush? I'm fine with it as long as it stays our little secret."
He wasn't moving, so I just ducked my head back around my hiding place and sat and waited for movement. Eventually he showed up; he seemed like he was scared to get too close to me. Silly kid. I gave him a smile and then slipped my pants back down my legs. It certainly wasn't the first time I've undressed in front of someone, nor the first time I'm played with myself for an audience. By the time the panties dropped his eyes were glued on my pubis.
As I'd said, truthfully, I didn't have a whole lot of time, and besides, I was already mostly there. I gave him a little show though, just to make him squirm, and fixed his eyes with mine and then started to diddle. Having people watch does turn me on, I won't deny, and I was definitely dripping by the time I exploded (as quietly as I could, but with a few moans). He had a nice bulge in his shorts when I finally looked up.
"Well, it's about time for me to do my other thing," I grinned, then licked my fingers clean (he gasped at that) and pulled my pants back up. He didn't move until I stood up and shooed him back upstairs; I think it was shock.
After intermission, when there was another long stretch of nothing to do, I just sat and waited and he appeared and nervously asked if I was going to do it again. I tell you, give a guy a show and he's hooked for life. He was already bulging, and he tried to hide it in that nervous teenage boy way. I started walking over to him and I think he was about ready to jump out of his skin. "Why don't you come over here and sit with me?" I asked him when I got close enough to touch him. I swear, I wasn't setting out to seduce him, but once it gets to that point the instincts kick in.
He shied away from me at first, but pretty soon he let me kiss him. He had no idea what was going on, and I didn't try to push it, just kissing him firmly but gently. I let him run his hands through my hair, down my back, just petting me like I was a dog. I kept my hands still so as not to startle him. We kissed like that for a minute or so, and eventually he opened his mouth to mine and our tongues touched.
There was definitely no time for anything fancy; I had some time to kill but a youngster like that needs more that just time to kill. I let him move his hands around to my breasts and feel them gingerly. I don't know if he was a virgin or if he'd just never been with anyone who actually had breasts, because mine aren't big but he seemed to enjoy them like they were massive. He tried to be controlling and I let him, let him ask me to pull my shirt up, let him pull my bra down and stare in awe at my nipple revealed. There's something extremely pleasurable about being with someone who thinks you're the most fascinating thing on the planet, even if he's inexperienced and only seems to care about your breasts. The girls and I felt very flattered.
He got my bra off easily, which was surprising since I thought all teenaged boys thought that taking off a bra from the front was a nightmare. Maybe he'd been practicing. Maybe my bra is just easy to get out of. He pulled both my bra and shirt over my head and then spent a long time staring at my bare chest before he could work up the courage to touch them. His hands were cold and I flinched and he gasped and looked really worried until I smiled and put my hands on top of his (to warm them up, actually, but I didn't say that). I showed up how to pet me, how to massage my breasts until the nipples stood like tiny thumbtacks pressing up into his now-warm palms.
He wanted to take my pants off too, to see me naked, but I told him gently that we didn't have time. I did let him slip a hand into my pants and feel me up nervously, and then I caught a line from the play above us and realized that there were only a few more minutes to go. So I had to gently push him away, put a finger to his lips to stop him from complaining, and put my shirt back on. My bra I folded up and stuck in my pocket.
He wanted to stay, to touch me more, the eagerness of youth taking over the shyness, but I told him he had to go for now. We kissed again in the doorway and I almost had to frogwalk him upstairs before my cue, or I think he might have stayed. Ah, young people.
I hear movement in the house; maybe Dad's up. I have to go check, and this post is getting pretty long anyway. I'll continue soon.
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