Unknown - Masturbating Little Girls

It was so good to shed it at last. The spasms rose to their heights and subsided.

She toppled to the throw rug on the floor, all imaginary cocks having since returned to their realms of unreality.

She was left, a satisfied young girl.

She looked at the clock. It was nearly twelve thirty. She wondered if she was going to masturbate her life away, alone. Well, at least for the remaining three weeks. And that seemed like a lifetime.

She went to the restroom and found an empty shower. She bathed the sweat and cunt juice of many orgasms away, and the prick juice of her rendezvous with Manny. It felt so good, the warm, soapy water flooding over her body.

She dug the handle of her hairbrush up her, letting it give her maximum pleasure.

Then she towel dried herself and returned to her room. She thought she'd try to borrow Susie's vibrator. She needed a lot of variety in her three weeks of forced sexual solitude, aside from her meetings with Manny.

Mrs. Goody, who had founded and named the school which Jody and Susie attended, lived, retired, in a little house on the edge of the campus, a stone's throw from the woodshed.

Jody had never paid too much attention to it before. She and Manny passed it on their way to their frequent screwing sessions in the woodshed, where Jody had learned so much about the human anatomy.

On this particular occasion, she was passing alone to meet Manny and she saw a car pull up to the little house at the edge of the wooded area.

Mrs. Goody got out with a bag of groceries and motioned the driver away.

There was something about the way Mrs. Goody moved, even at this distance, that roused Jody's attention. It was the brisk way she moved her stiff figure, that caused Jody to feel that maybe she could learn something from the retired, former headmistress.

She looked ahead, on this Saturday afternoon, to see if Manny had beat her as usual. He hadn't. She walked the few yards further to the woodshed and poked her face at the cobwebbed window.

It was dark inside. There was no trace of movement, no trace of Manny.

Jody decided to while away some of her spare time, while she waited for Manny, in spying on Mrs. Goody.

She had to be careful, though. She didn't want Mrs. Goody to get the wrong idea. She was there merely to pick up a little harmless information, an innocuous enough goal.

But of course, it was, in a sense, trespassing. She tiptoed quietly along the path, and as she neared the house, snuck along from tree to tree. A meager amount of snow had fallen and covered the path and the ground alongside it. Finally she was at the last tree before sneaking to the window through which she thought sure she could get a good look at Mrs. Goody. She pressed close to the side of the house, letting only her nose and eyes pass beyond the edge of the window.

It happened to be the kitchen she was looking into. She pulled back, just as she saw Mrs. Goody pull her head out of the refrigerator. She had put all her groceries away, except for a package of celery stalks sitting on the kitchen table.

Jody's curiosity was at once sparked. Could it be that Mrs. Goody was making a celery stew? Or could it be something else she was making, namely herself.

Mrs. Goody picked up the bag of celery and headed through the door into the next room.

Jody had to slide along to the next window to keep up with her. The next window let in on the livingroom.

But Mrs. Goody didn't remain long here either. She merely passed through it on the way to the next room.

This time, Jody had to circle one quarter of the house, to find the next window, the window that let in on Mrs. Goody's bedroom. And just as she came up to it, the draw drape snapped shut in front of her nose.

Luckily, Jody found a hole where the drape didn't quite meet the edge of the window. It was through this crack that she peeped and witnessed the most interesting actions which, if known to the student body in general, would provide them all with gossip enough to last several weeks.

Mrs. Goody had sat down and spread-eagled on her bed. It was a large and comfortable double bed, with a chenille bedspread on top.

Jody's eyes bugged out of her head. Mrs. Goody was pushing up her skirt and latching on to her long johns, those flannel panties that extended nearly the length of her slip.

There must have been a slit in them, like in men's long johns, because she saw Mrs. Goody's whole fist disappear up it. The bag of celery lay alongside her on the bed.

At the same time, the other of Mrs. Goody's expert hands, that must have many times been used to smack children's hands that had caressed wrong parts of their anatomy, now went up to caress parts of her own.

Jody saw her pull her cardigan sweater open, button by button, and expose her whole chest. It was covered by the top part of a cotton slip and, beneath that was a pink bra.

Off came the skirt, and then the bra, too, was loosened. It didn't come off, but merely was pulled up above her tits.

Those tits! Jody had seen nothing like them. They were huge and loose.

They fell, as the breasts of old women are wont to do, clear down to her waistline.

And Jody saw her take first one, and then the other tit in her hand and massage it. She saw Mrs. Goody's old, aged head go back against the pillow her whole body was propped against, against the headboard.

Her face, in ecstasy, looked ten years. younger. Jody judged her actual age to be around seventy. So even old people do it! She was amazed, Jody was. There was so much to learn in her life.

Jody wanted to learn everything. If she spied enough, she probably would, it looked like.

Meanwhile, she would learn all she could from Mrs. Goody, who was giving a free lesson in human masturbation before her eyes.

Jody had to congratulate herself on her astuteness. She had fingered a book on body language in the bookstore and she picked up enough information to be of use to her. She had picked up enough vibrations from Mrs. Goody's bouncy walk to know that she, Mrs. Goody, was up to some hanky-panky.

She watched the old, lined hands grasp at her hanging tits and massage the nipples. Her face had the look of an angel on it. Her eyes, cracked around with lines; were half closed.

First one huge tit was palmed. Jody saw the fingers, bent with arthritis, touch the nipples, still healthy looking and brown. Then, Jody saw the amazing.

Mrs. Goody's tit was so large, that she managed to cup it and bring it halfway up to her mouth.

Then her face went down, and she was actually able to suck her own tit.

It was awkward, however, and she could not do it for long. Then she stuck her red tongue out of her mouth as far as she could, and licked all over first one nipple, and then the other.

Jody's eyes were bugging out. She wished she could reach through the glass storm windows and move the curtain back further, so she could see better.

As it was, she was forced to squint, one eye at a time, through the curtains.

But she got to see lots as it was.

The best was yet to come.

Jody watched as her hand went down between her legs and pulled her skirt all the way up now, and pushed her long johns way down to her loins.

Over the elastic of the waistband, Jody could glimpse a great gray bush, or rather the upper extremes of it.

It was the beginnings of the large expanse of her forest of pubic hair.

Mrs. Goody was looking down her long johns now and chuckling, obviously enjoying the sight and feel of what lurked beneath it.

Her hands and arthritic fingers set up a rubbing motion deep in her panties. Jody longed to see. She wished Mrs. Goody would pull her long johns down the rest of the way.

But it was probably cold in her bedroom. At her age, she wouldn't want to catch cold. It could be the end.