Annoyed at myself for helping her, I walked her to my car, into the passenger seat, and even drove her to her house, and walked her to her door. She held herself close, her head resting on my shoulder as her right hand scrunched my shirt inside her fist, holding onto me tight as she shuddered, her breathe shaking as she fought herself from crying. Wriggling her feet around as she let pour tear after tear onto me, using my shirt to dry her eyes. I had seen her lover at the start of the party, seen his eyes fill with puzzle and uncertainty every time he went to talk to her. She seemed so happy and bouncy before he took her aside and let go with what was on his chest. Leaving her to drink and laugh off what had been said. She was nice and offered to pour me a drink while she was at her 5th for the night, beginning a conversation without me even talking. A nod and a smile and suddenly she could confide in me, and rely on me to keep her company for the night. She clenched her teeth and. I stayed up late recounting all that I had witnessed that day. And yes, I finger fucked myself in bed several times as I ran the scenes through my mind over and over. All of a sudden, touching myself was no big deal, I decided defiantly. It was important: even essential. I thought about what I might do tomorrow and in the future. I couldn't close my eyes for the night until I vowed that I would be up in that loft tomorrow after school.Chapter TwoI woke up the next morning drenched between my legs. Just the thought of yesterday's events had my head spinning. I rushed off to the shower seeking relief. The warm water soothed me, but I was far from calm. I was surprised to notice that my just budding breasts were hard as a rock, and my nipples stood out proudly. I soaped my small mounds up and my fingertips lingered on them enough that I felt the familiar tingling in my "no touch" zone my mother seemed so obsessed about. The bar of soap slid down my body until it came in.
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