Chapter 12

I woke up late Sunday morning. It wasn’t even morning anymore. Thankfully, my mother had let me sleep. Sometimes she was considerate. Last night, after leaving the Russo’s apartment downstairs, it was late when I entered my house. I hadn’t realized how much time I had spent with them until I walked into a silent, dark house. The Russos must have known because they gave me more money than the last time I babysat. My mother had left lights on at the front door for me, both the outside porch and inside foyer. As I said, she was considerate at times.

Lying in bed on my back, I stretched my arms over my head with my fingers interlaced and cracked my knuckles. Last night was amazing. Not only had the orgasms been great, but I got to see a cock, a hard one, and people having sex. Which I now knew meant more than fucking. But I saw that too. I even saw sperm, that magical stuff that made babies. And I learned about K-Y jelly and how much better it felt to masturbate using it. I learned the word for rubbing myself—masturbating. I learned a lot last night. It had been an amazing night in my young life. An eye opener to say the least. In many ways. I had also learned I wasn’t unique. Others enjoyed sex, too. For the first time since I began rubbing myself, I didn’t feel ashamed for doing it.

To my disappointment, Mrs. Russo had informed me that a prescription was required for the K-Y jelly. But she had said that I could stop by anytime I wanted to use it. I didn’t know if going to their apartment to masturbate was a great idea. Imagine her answering the door and me asking, “Hi, Wanda, mind if I use your bed and your K-Y to masturbate?” Shit, after last night she’d probably smile and say, “Sure, come on in and have fun.” That would be too weird. But how weird had last night been? Mr. and Mrs. Russo were not like other people I knew or even heard about. Were they one of a kind or were there others like them, acting differently behind closed doors than in public? Maybe I wasn’t so unusual for having sexual thoughts and wanting to masturbate all the time.

Thinking about last night, my hand went inside my pajama bottoms and panties. I rubbed that special spot, but yanked my hand out. It was sore. After masturbating furiously in the Russo’s bedroom and then later at home in my own bed before falling asleep, I had rubbed it raw. Even spittle didn’t help. I sure could have used that K-Y jelly.

I washed up, dressed, and went downstairs for lunch. I had missed breakfast. My mother didn’t even scold me for that. She was all smiles.

“Everything go okay babysitting?” she asked, putting a tuna sandwich with carrots on the side and a glass of milk in front of me.

Boy did everything go okay. Better than okay. But I wasn’t thinking about babysitting.

“It was fine,” I said before taking a bite of the sandwich.

“Late night, though.”

I nodded as I chewed.

“They warned me,” my mother said. “Glad everything went well. Maybe it’ll be a regular thing.”

Wow! Would they want to do it again or was last night a one-time thing?

“I hope so.” And I meant it.

“By the way, your punishment is over,” my mother said. “You are showing responsibility. You can see your friends.”

“Can I date?”

As soon as I saw my mother’s scowl, I knew I shouldn’t have asked that. “I’ll let you know when you can,” she said. “You have to earn our trust again.”

I gulped and thought, Shit, I sure hope she never finds out about last night. I’d never be allowed outside the house.

After lunch, I walked around the corner to Debbie’s house. Her mother sent me up to her bedroom where Debbie told me Gina had gone to a family thing. But Debbie wasn’t alone. Her older sister was in her bedroom, sitting on the chair with her feet up on the desk like she was a queen. Being older and more experienced, she assumed that status to be her right. We didn’t really get along. She was always ragging on me, probably because I was an easy target. There’s a little bully in everyone, but a lot when it is directed at a younger sister and her sister’s friends. Not that I was that shy little girl anymore. It’s just that no one knew it yet. Not even me. Debbie’s older sister had always been our source for information about boys and sex so I had put up with her ragging. That’s how I had learned the dirty words I knew. Although Mrs. Russo had taught me a few more yesterday. I wondered if Debbie’s sister knew all of those.

“Go on any dates lately?” Debbie’s sister asked me with a smirk. “Bet you haven’t even been kissed by a boy yet.”

“I’ve been kissed.”

“I mean a real kiss.” Her fake smile was disgusting.

The anger boiled inside me and I knew from Debbie that her sister hadn’t been getting dates lately. “When’s the last time you were kissed? I don’t see boys knocking down your door.”

Debbie’s sister’s jaw dropped and her feet fell to the floor. Her face turned red. “Go fuck yourself!”

Debbie’s hand slapped over her mouth and her eyes got really big. I was sure that was the reaction her older sister expected from me. But Mrs. Russo’s joke about that expression filled my mind and I burst out laughing. I tried to speak, but every time I did, I would laugh harder until I doubled over and laughed so hard I could hardly breathe.

Debbie’s sister glared at me and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Holy shit!” Debbie said.

I was bent over with my hands on my knees, laughing so hard tears flowed down my cheeks. I looked up at Debbie, but when I saw her expression I exploded into more laughter. I finally plopped down on the floor until the laughing subsided.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I looked up at Debbie who was gawking at me.

“You spoke back to her,” Debbie said. “Holy shit, you spoke back to my sister.”

“I was mad.”

“Yeah, but— Hey, what was so funny?” Debbie asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought it was funny when she told me to go fuck myself.”

Debbie cringed and her eyes darted to the closed door. “Shh, my mom will hear you curse.”

“Your sister uses those words.”

“She’s older and gets away with more than me. And since when do you say words like that?”

I shrugged. “They’re just words.”

“Well, your laughing worked. I never saw her so pissed. What have you been doing locked up in your house?”

I was always amazed at how effortlessly Debbie changed subjects.

“I got to babysit Friday and Saturday nights.”

“You didn’t! How was it? Was it hard? What did you do?”

Of course I couldn’t tell my best friend what really happened. “It was boring. I did my homework.”

“What about the baby? What did you have to do with her?”

“She slept the whole time.”

“Wow, babysitting sounds easy. You get paid for doing your homework. You’re so lucky.”

I was lucky. Not only because I made some money, but I had learned a lot about sex from Mrs. Russo. She was a better source than Debbie’s sister. And I never would have thought watching people have sex would turn me on so much. Once I got over the embarrassment, that is. The orgasms were great.

Debbie and I chatted until I had to go home for dinner. I had missed my friend and was glad the punishment was over. That part of the punishment was worse than not being able to date.

The next day, everything was back to normal. Debbie, Gina, and I walked to school with non-stop talking. Gina seemed to have forgotten that she was mad at me, or maybe simply forgave me. Damned if I could remember why she had been mad.

I guess not everything was back to normal. As I rushed to my Band class, juggling my clarinet case and the books that kept slipping, I had to pass the senior lockers. I dreaded that. Debbie’s sister was a senior and I often saw her there. When she would spot me, she would say something to embarrass me. And it always did. But today when our eyes met and I cringed knowing some humiliating comment was coming my way that would cause her friends to laugh at my expense, she instead quickly turned her back to me and spoke to her friends as if she hadn’t seen me. I was stunned at first, but then I thought back to what had happened in Debbie’s bedroom and that she must have been afraid that I would give as good as I got and embarrass her in front of her friends. A senior could never take that from a sophomore so she had avoided the encounter.

In Band class, I was beaming. I felt older having stood up to Debbie’s sister. My confidence was building. But I was also horny. I hadn’t awoken early enough that morning, so when my mother barged into my bedroom to wake me up for school my hand was still inside my panties rubbing myself. Thankfully, I was covered by the blanket. Checking my clock, I had known I wouldn’t have time to finish so I came to school without having my morning orgasm. And at this stage in my life, I was hooked on my orgasms. Skipping one was like skipping a meal. You would survive, but you’d be hungry. And hungry I was as I swooned over my Band teacher. Mr. Roman looked more desirable every day, especially after watching Mr. Russo fuck his wife. They weren’t that much older than me.

At one point during class, Mr. Roman stood right in front of me, coaching me on something with my clarinet. My eyes were level with his waist and dropped to his crotch. I wondered if his cock looked like Mr. Russo’s. And when he told me to put my clarinet in my mouth and blow, all I could think of was Mrs. Russo putting her husband’s cock inside her mouth. The sound that came out of my clarinet was way offkey as a little jolt tingled my loins.

Mr. Roman wasn’t happy about that—the offkey note, not the tingle—and made me stand up, face my classmates, and do it again. With my back to him and not looking at his crotch, I did it perfectly. His pat on my shoulder sent another shiver through my body. I wanted him to rip my clothes off right there and fuck me like Mr. Russo had fucked his wife. That’s all I could think about, masturbating and fucking, not that I knew what fucking felt like. But after having seen a cock sliding in and out of a pussy, I now did that with my finger while masturbating. I liked the rubbing better, but the fingering added additional excitement. And it provided lubrication for the rubbing.

Now I had two men who I dreamed about having sex with. Mr. Russo and Mr. Roman. Elvis Presley was long forgotten.

When I got home after school, I chatted with Debbie and Gina at the bottom of my cement steps, but I told them I had to pee and rushed into my house. I wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and masturbate while thinking about Mr. Roman. As soon as I whipped the front door closed behind me, with too much of a slam, I bolted up the stairs. I got a third of the way when my mother stopped me.

“Julie, where are you going?” my mother shouted.

“Homework.”

“Come here.”

“But I have to do homework.”

“Put your books in your room and come back down. Right away. No dillydallying.”

Now what? Why couldn’t I just do what I wanted to do? But I did as my mother asked, or rather told. I tossed my books and clarinet case on my bed and flew down the stairs and into the kitchen. The sooner I got it over with the sooner I would have my hand inside my panties. Whatever it was.