Over the months I couldn't tell you what was happening to me. I was slowly, but quite surely, falling in love with my best friend. I would find myself with a vibrator shoved half inside of me and my mind wandering to him. For a while I felt very strange, but eventually, I let it consume me. By the time summer came, I had let go of my hesitance. I wanted him. I wasn't sure if I wanted all of him just yet. But I wanted to feel his fingers on my skin. I wanted to feel him teasing me and taunting me with playful fingers slowly building me up to orgasm. I was done wondering about these new feelings. That summer I was leaving to go to Germany for a month. We took every oportunity we could to make out. I was shy to tell him how badly I craved his touch on my naked skin. I was sure that I would leave the counrty without the orgasm I so badly wanted. By some miracle, the night before my departure, we found ourselves left alone in my house. Before I knew what would happen, I had gotten. And I knew why Bobby was spending so much time in the bathroom and in his bedroom in the afternoons. I knew what was going on. I did the same thing when I was his age.Because his mother worked days and I had afternoons off I was usually home when Bobby returned from school. He almost always went straight to his bedroom and closed the door. It turned me on to think that my stepson was in there playing with himself. It really turned me on.One afternoon I was home alone. Bobby was at baseball practice and his mother, of course, was at work. I knew I was doing the wrong thing, and I felt guilty for it, but I ventured into Bobby’s bedroom. It smelled like an eighteen year old boy’s room: dank, like it needed a deep cleaning, but it also smelled of sex. I looked around and, surprisingly, did not find anything very incriminating. No lube bottles, no porn of any kind. That was a surprise.But then I found it. It was a T-shirt his mother and I had bought him in Carbondale, Illinois with the.
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