Banged

Bri waited until her parents had gone down the driveway and drove out of sight before running back upstairs. They were going to Vermont for their anniversary, and she had the house to herself for the weekend. She was eager for time alone so she could experiment without getting interrupted.

At fourteen, Bri was just discovering masturbation. She had had no idea it existed until reading about it on a sex site. Bri’s mom was too uptight and prudeish to talk to her daughter about the birds and the bees, so finally she had taken sex education into her own hands. So far, Bri mused, she had learned that you called your vagina a pussy, and the little feel good button at the top was called a clit.

Once in her room she hastily undressed and layed down on her bed. Buster, her bulldog, looked up at her from his spot on the rug. He wuffed softly. Bri ignored him and spread her legs wide. She stuck her finger in her mouth, wanting to get it wet. This, she had learned, was called lubrication. Once ready she started to gently rub the tiny nubbin of flesh. She jerked at the wet friction and moaned a little at the pleasure.