Chapter 9

FEEL ME UP....

Jean sat as close to Carl as she dared, considering his behavior of the previous hour or so.

After he had picked her up they had gone out to dinner, and then he had suggested an outdoor theater. This hadn't surprised her too much; he had trouble making conversation, and with the movie going he wouldn't have to say much.

A young couple in the car next to theirs was necking up a storm, and she had seen Carl's eyes drift that way several times.

He had been extrememly courteous, opening doors for her, flattering her with his eyes, but his shyness was still predominant. At dinner she had led the conversation around to his work, and things had gone along much smoother.

She had taken extra care with her grooming. And since the frock she had worn that afternoon had obviously pleased him, she had worn another almost like it. The bodice came lower, though, and the skirt was a trifle shorter.

Enough indirect light came into the front seat of his car to display the thrust of her breasts in the frilly decolletage, and also the drawn-back hem of her frock at her knees.

A warm glow was building inside her. His aura of maleness caused all kinds of responses within; she ached to have him touch her, but so far they hadn't even held hands! He sat rather rigidly at the wheel. She was sure she appealed to him, strongly-but how could she break this barrier of his innate bashfulness?

It was thrilling to have a real date, have a man pay her the kind of attentions she had been denied in her earlier years. At the same time she didn't know whether it would be safe to 'fall' for him. If her past ever caught up with her she'd be dead.

A man like Carl was looking for a wife. Could she 'settle down' with one man? Could she act shy and lady-like, as he would expect? She had done a fairly good job, so far. And she didn't want to hurt him, either.

Donna Anderson had beeen quite upset about breaking their date. Jean had promised to see her the next day. The girl-fun had been different, new and sparkly, even if it hadn't been completely satisfying.

Jean decided she would have to risk being more forward. Carl was tense, on edge. He was a little too serious about things. They needed a lighter touch, something to break the ice.

She slid a little closer to Carl and rested her head on his broad shoulder. Her skirt slid back a bit further. She felt him tremble. Although he pretended to be watching the movie, a romantic western, he obviously wasn't.

She sighed and took a deep breath. The expansion of her chest made her bodice draw more tightly about her breasts.

"Why don't you put your arm around me, Carl?" she whispered.

He started. "Sure!" he exclaimed.

His right hand left the steering wheel. She felt a tingle of excitement as his strong arm circled her shoulders. She allowed herself to snuggle nearer, and permitted her thighs to drift a-part. The motion drew her skirt back even further.

"Those kids in the next car are having quite a time, aren't they?" she murmured, giggling.

His head turned, and his arm tightened. Oh, he was so strong! Her thighs were burning already. She hadn't worn nylons. She had noticed that the local girls scorned them during the summer months. Her panties and bra were her lightest and sheerest.

His mouth brushed against her hair. She wanted a kiss in the worst possible way. She had been thinking about him ever since they had met; she had imagined his capable hands on her thighs, under her skirt, on her breasts, and she was shivery with anticipation.

Impulsively, she turned her head and offered him her lips. This was kid stuff, but maybe it would lead to the goal she needed.

"You sweet thing!" he gasped, and then his mouth was on hers, at last.

She softened and slid her arms boldly around his neck. Flutters of desire made her quake. She pressed herself closer, feeling her thigh tingle where it touched his leg. He kissed her hard, but there wasn't much action. His tongue didn't come out. She writhed her lips under his and flicked her tongue-tip forward.

He shuddered. Why didn't he cup her breasts? They ached to be fondled!

His mouth lifted, much too soon.

"Jean-you're wonderful!" he gasped. How trite, and old-fashioned! Even the TV actors didn't use that any more.

"I like you very much, Carl," she answered, squeezing his shoulders with her fingers. She touched the nape of his neck. Couldn't he tell she was dying for his hands on her thighs, sliding higher and higher?

She wanted to reach down and shape the bulge in his trousers-because he was obvious-ly aroused. But she didn't know how he'd react to that.

"Jean-will you go out with meagain?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion.

"Of course," she answered, bringing her lips nearer, breathing into his mouth. How corny!

He kissed her lingeringly. His body shuddered, and he jerked away from her mouth, fighting the emotion that gripped him.

Let go, she wanted to shout. Feel me up, make me hot!

But no, he was going to be a gentleman. Not even a touch on her breasts!

He walked her to the door of her apartment, and she melted against him. She was burning; she couldn't recall when she had been so aroused His arms went around her waist and he kissed her again. She was afraid to demonstrate the depth of her feeling. It was going to take time, evidently, to bring him around.

"Like to come in for a minute?" she whispered, hopefully.

He held her almost reverently. "Jean, you know I want to!" he said, his voice choked. "Are you ... sure about this?"

She felt a tug of anger. How ridiculous could it get? He acted like it was the biggest thing since atomic power. Affection and adoration were great, but only to a point. He was a man-he was dying for-but he was trying to put her on a pedestal.

"No, I guess I'm not sure," she said, cruelly. He backed away, his arms dropping. "Jean ... please!"

Her rage mounted. "When you grow up, come around, Carl! I'm a woman, not a marble statue."

She turned and ran. She opened the apartment door and went in. She slammed it after her-hard.

She heard his retreating-footfalls, then finally the sound of his car starting.

I hurt him, and he probably won't be around again, she thought. How stupid can a man be?

She sank into a chair, spreading her thighs. She was still furiously aroused; even her anger hadn't driven the aching need away.

I guess I'm a slut, after all, she thought, blackly.

She slid her hand under her skirt. She weaved her bottom, squirming with desire.

I wanted him in there, big and hard-the fool!

She realized she was being unjust. Every man acted differently. Perhaps she had grown too used to hired studs, quick action. Lots of girls never got screwed on their first date. He was being considerate....

She had chosen a way of life that might be impossible to overcome. How could she afford to 'fall in love?' The whole thing was ridiculous! She was still Hips Sampson, and nothing would change it.

She caressed her thighs, shivering. The idea of calling Donna crossed her mind, but she didn't want to wait. She was itchy for it, right now. Carl had really worked her up, and he hadn't even so much as touched her breasts!

She cupped her girl-mound and spread her legs wide. The delicious twinges of mounting desire fanned out through her body. Nice thin, silk-y panties, and he hadn't even fondled her! He was stupid!

She left the chair, went to her bedroom, adjusted the lights, and quickly undressed. Naked, she opened the bottom drawer of her vanity and found the object that could give her some measure of satisfaction.

Quickly she sprawled on the bed. She drew two pillows under her head so she could watch. Her left hand went to her jutting breasts, and she moved the other hand down between her legs. She wasn't quite ready for the object. It lay handily nearby, on the counterpane.

She began teasing her fingers across her swollen nipples, caressing the silky inner planes of her thighs where the sweet burning already was making her hips lift.

Stings of sensuous delight raced from one nipple to the other. An itchy flame burned in her loins. Her clitoris was erect, very sensitive.

She didn't even want to imagine that Carl was fondling her. She was still angry with him. Joe had been pretty good; maybe he would do for a sex-image while she had her fun. But the memory of him was rather faded, already.

I'll just do it for myself, she thought, shivering.

Her nipples were very sharp and tender. Quirts of pleasure rippled through her being. She teased her vee, tossing her hips, making the bed squeak. Already she was breathing swiftly.

Her hands quieted and she lay for a moment without moving, enjoying the anticipation. Her titties were so large! They were firmed into white peaks, with red strawberries at the crests. And oh, how sweet....

Slowly, carefully, she toyed again with her hands, building her passion, roatating her hips now as the little waves of delight came closer together. Her breasts throbbed.

At last she seized the object, aimed it and pushed it inward. She gasped. She remembered how Donna had used hers and the vision seemed to make Jean's pleasure even keener.

Ohhhh-slowly-in and out, in and out, deep and hard-then playfully out again....

She bucked her hips, panting. It was going to be real good. She held, floating in her thrall of rising want. The flame in her loins burned brighter. She felt the coiling of her innermost shaft of delight.

Now it was starting, the honeyed shivers wrenching her pelvis. Her nipples were fiery points.

Fun, fun, fun-wait-fun, fun, fun-wait-fun, fun-fun fun ohhhhhh-Fun, FUN ... OHHHHHH ... deep and hard, fast, faster....

The jerky spasms convulsed her body. The bed vibrated. She felt the exquisite pulsing of her climax, and she shouted, fiercely. "Ohhh ... OHHHHHH ... OH ... OH ... OHHH I'm Going!"

And right at the top of her joy, right at the heavenly peak of sensation, she couldn't keep the thought of Carl out of her mind, and suddenly he seemed to be buried in her, his hugh penis gouging out its freight of ecstasy!

The heavings, deep inside, had a wild intensity she hadn't known for months and months . .

At last the thrills diminished, and she went lax, breathing fast, drinking in the honey of her relief, the balm of aftermath.

But, as she stopped shaking, she was aware of her act, for the first time, as something a little depraved and unnatural. Why should it be any different than any other time?

Somehow, being with Carl had enriched her emotions, deepened her need. There was no other way to explain it. And why should she feeel shame, when she had rid herself of that notion years before? She felt empty and, somehow, lonely.

Feminine masturbation had been going on for centuries. She remembered the story she had heard about one method the Japanses girls employed.

A kind of tube containing metal balls was inserted in the vagina. The girl sat in a swing, and as the motion of her body caused the balls to roll back and forth in the tube, she adjusted the tempo of the swinging to suit her need for either a fast or slow rise to orgasm.

She had even considered trying it-but she hadn't been able to purchase the right equipment.

Now, why should going out with a shy, stupid man, make her resent having to release herself?

She tossed the object away from her. She turned over and pressed her face to the pillow. Tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn't explain it. She was so sure that she was completely modern, completely hip....

Well, he won't spoil my fun the next time, she vowed. I'll keep my date with Donna! The hell with him!