Message-ID: <2791eli$9708100050@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: mikeydee@iname.com (Mikey Dee) Subject: MARISSA Chapter 2 (f/mast) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <5sj8ra$27q@dfw-ixnews10.ix.netcom.com> MARISSA Chapter 2 When Marissa entered the shower room six days ago, she thought she was alone. Removing her robe, she was about to step into the shower when she heard the curtain being pulled open on the stall next to hers. It was Bob, the pathetically shy boy from her psych class. Although outgoing on the surface, Marissa was still a little shy around guys. But not with Bob. His obvious shyness bolstered her own confidence. "Hi, Bob," she said, smiling at him, "how goes it?" Because of the relaxed attitude about nudity in the shower room, and because they were alone, Marissa didn't bother to cover herself. "Hi Mari," was the best he could manage. She sensed his nervousness, his inner excitement. As they continued their stilted conversation, Bob couldn't keep himself from glancing repeatedly at Mari's body. The realization that this friend he knew so well from class, this bright, innocent girl who excited him so--whom he would pass quickly in the hall, bringing his face close to her hair, just to get a whiff of her-- whom he fantasized about constantly, was standing naked before him, her breasts only mere inches from his chest, proved too much for him. Without warning, the reptile that lived in the base of his brain, that nameless thing that cared only about its own satisfaction, woke up. Slowly it crawled into his cerebellum, where it scratched around a little, causing his breathing to quicken and his heart to race. Then, mercilessly, it found his pleasure center, and began to slowly massage it, sending a tingle all the way back down his spinal cord, causing his scrotum to tighten. As the tingle spread through his buttocks, he glanced down and saw, with horror, that his dick had begun to swell up, doing a little dance as it did. None of this was lost on Marissa, whose own little reptile had awakened. It was as though Bob's growing excitement was flowing from the tip of his penis directly between her legs. "I'm beginning to work on my paper," she offered as casually as she could, hoping he didn't detect the hoarse excitement in her voice. "Yeah, well, me too. I'm kinda...," Bob was mortified. His erection was now past the halfway point, and, he realized, past the point of no return. If he kept up this ridiculous line of conversation, she'd think he was a fool, or worse, insane. As his penis reached its full size and rigidity, the blue-veined shaft thick and throbing, the pulsating purple head pointing directly at the light fixture above them, Bob covered himself with his towel. Looking her straight in the eyes, he said, "I'm sorry, Mari. I didn't mean...I mean I tried to keep it down, it's just that you're so beautiful...please...please don't be mad...I just can't control it." "It's OK Bob," she whispered. She glanced down. His towel looked like a hastily erected scout tent. "I'll take it as a compliment. Still friends?" "You bet. Now let me get out of here before someone comes in." He paused a few feet from her and stopped. Turning his head, he said with difficulty, "Maybe we could work on our papers together...you know, exchange ideas..." "I'd like that. Now I really have to take my shower." Marissa stepped into the stall, closing the curtain. As she washed, her right hand repeatedly rubbed between her legs, teasing her clitoris, in stages, into a state of frenzy. Then, checking to make sure nobody was around, she turned toward the back of the stall, bending her knees in an approximation of a suma wrestler's stance, and began to masturbate, rubbing the right side of her clitoris with the first two fingers of her right hand. Marissa tried to stop herself. It was too dangerous; she could get caught. And she hated giving in to the habit. With great effort, she managed to slow down. Then she stopped. But that reptilian thing that fed off her excitement would have none of it. Now fully awake, and moving, it knew exactly what to do. Reaching that sweet part of her brain, that part that seemed to be directly connected to her clitoris, it began massaging, teasing, telling her it was all right to do it just this time. Marissa's urge to masturbate became overpowering. She knew she couldn't stop herself. With a sigh of resignation, her right hand went back between her legs. Her fingers expertly located her clitoris, and she began rubbing it again, this time knowing exactly where she was going. Looking over her right shoulder to make sure the curtain was still closed, she continued on, faster and faster, rubbing and rubbing. Dipping her middle finger into her vagina up to the first knuckle, she flicked it between the lips, driving herself into another world, a place where the only reality was the relief she was methodically bringing herself to. In her new place, she saw with razor-sharp clarity how Bob, excited beyond reason by her naked body, was doing the exact same thing in his room, standing precisely in the same position, the glistening head of his penis blinking on and off like a purple beacon as his fist pumped wildly up and down. Back to her clitoris, rubbing and rubbing, now on the side, now on the tip, now back to the side, her practiced fingers knowing just what to do, she began to feel herself getting close. "This is going to be a big come," was all she could think. When she started getting the feeling, she could barely keep her balance. She splayed her feet, pushed her pelvis out, and bent her knees still further. As the brain-burning, pre-contraction ecstasy hit her clitoris, she shut her eyes tight, bit her bottom lip and slowed her stroking, hoping to make the best feeling in the world last as long as possible. Too soon, the first contraction hit. Marissa then went back to stroking the right side of her clit at three strokes per second. That, she had found, produced the strongest orgasms. "Ohh...ohh...ohh...," she moaned, over and over, through ten gut-wrenching contractions. Her long, final grunt brought her back to reality. "God, what a come," was all she could think. When she got back to her room, she was disgusted with herself. "Why do I always give in?" she though. She'd been a compulsive masturbator since she was thirteen, and she'd been trying to quit ever since. She'd tell herself she'd never do it again, but by the second day she'd be back at it, promising herself that this would definitely be the last time. She knew that just about all of her girfriends back home did it, but they all seemed to have it under control. Most of them said they did it about once a week, or less. She told them the same thing, "Yeah, me too, maybe once a week," but she knew that wasn't the truth. The real truth was, she had to do it just about every day. Sometimes twice. She just couldn't stop herself, no matter how hard she tried. The longest she had ever been able to last was five days, during a trip to Florida for honor students, sponsored by the Optimist Club. "Well, this time is going to be different," she said to herself as she sat on her bed. It was a blow to her ego, that she could do just about anything she put her mind to, except stop masturbating. "I make myself this promise," she said to herself solemnly. "I will not masturbate for a two week period, starting now." She was full of post-orgasmic resolve. The next day went well. Sure, she got that familiar urge once or twice, but she made it through fine. The second day was harder, but concentrating on her studies, she managed to resist. Today, however, laying here in the sun, she had made a costly error. "Why did I let myself think of Bob in the shower?" she thought. Hoping that naming the cause would somehow lessen its influence, she let it out. "I thought about it because I'm so horny." "Are you coming to class, Mari?" It was her roommate, Vicki, yelling from the roof's doorway. Getting up from the chaise lounge, Marissa wondered how she would make it through the day. 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