Chapter 9

I got into a routine.

I’d masturbate every day when I got home from school prior to doing my homework, usually before changing out of my skirt, and again when I was in bed in my pajamas ready to go to sleep. And if I awoke early enough, I’d do it in the morning before my mother came into my bedroom to wake me. Those times were scary because she could barge in while I was masturbating, but the thrill of that seemed to add to the excitement. I was always underneath the blanket, but if I had been in the throes of an orgasm when she came in ... Well, thankfully that had never happened. On my bath nights, I did it in the bathtub. I made sure to keep the water level low so that not much spilled over the top. And I paid attention to swabbing up the water that did.

In the bathtub, I touched my pussy directly. I liked that. No layer of panties separating my finger from that special place. It simply felt better. More intense. One night before doing my homework, I was lying in bed with my skirt bunched around my waist and my hand rubbing my pussy over my panties. I wasn’t in the bathwater, but maybe that wasn’t necessary to touch myself directly. So I slipped my hand inside my panties and found that fleshy place I liked to touch. I rubbed it. It didn’t have the same feeling as it did in the bathwater. In fact, it was a little uncomfortable, irritating.

I took my hand out and was about to rub it over the panties when I had an idea. I went down the hall into the bathroom and shut and locked the door. The toilet was next to the sink so I turned the faucet on to a trickle, tucked my skirt under my chin, pulled my panties down to my knees, and sat on the toilet. The sink was to the left of me so I twisted a little, still holding my skirt up with my chin, until I could get my finger underneath the flow of water. Then I brought my wet finger to that fleshy area and rubbed. It felt great until my finger dried so I reached over for more water. I kept doing that until I didn’t need more water. It seemed that area wasn’t drying anymore so I kept rubbing until I doubled over and snapped my knees together, letting out a little squeal of pleasure.

It was nice touching myself directly, but it seemed like too much work. Unless I was taking a bath, I’d rub myself over my panties.

When Friday arrived, I got home from school later than usual. Mr. Roman was working on a piece that my class was going to perform during a Wednesday assembly and was not happy with our skills. He kept us until he was satisfied. I rushed home and was about to run up the stairs when my mother stopped me.

“Why are you late?” my mother asked.

“Mr. Roman kept us late.”

About to run up the stairs to masturbate, I stopped when she said, “Well, dinner is about ready. Help me set the table.”

“I have to do my homework.”

“It’s Friday. You have all weekend. And you’re babysitting tonight. You can do it there.”

Shit! I forgot about the babysitting. I really needed to rub myself. I had been waiting all day.

“But, Mommy...” I said with a whine.

“But nothing. It will wait. Now help me set the table.”

There was nothing I could do about it. My mother had made up her mind. Living in my house was not a democracy. The Queen had spoken.

I was sullen during dinner. My father was oblivious to it, but not my mother. But she thought it was because I was scared of my first babysitting job. If she only knew why I was uneasy she would have sent me to that convent I feared more than anything.

After we finished eating dinner and the kitchen was cleaned up, it was time to babysit. No time for anything else, if you know what I mean. As I had said, there was no direct staircase from our living quarters to the Russo’s apartment even though it was one house, so I went out the front door, climbed down the cement steps, walked down the sloped driveway toward our garage, and rang the doorbell to the Russo’s place.

Mr. Russo answered the door. “Come in. Wanda’s just about ready. She’s always running late, putting on last minute makeup or fixing her hair or something. But you’re a girl so you know that.”

But I didn’t know that. I had only been on one date and wasn’t allowed to wear much makeup. I returned his smile anyway as we went into their apartment. Mr. Russo led me down the hall toward the rear where the kitchen and living room were. But as we passed the master bedroom, Mrs. Russo ran out and snatched my hand.

As she dragged me to the baby’s room, she whispered almost out of breath, “Suzy is sleeping. Just got her down. Don’t worry, she should sleep through the night.”

I enjoyed looking at the cute baby lying on her back in the crib. There was a mobile with different colored fish hanging from it. But Mrs. Russo grabbed my arm and yanked me out of Suzy’s room and back to where her husband was sitting on the couch in the living room.

“We’re late,” Mrs. Russo said, again sounding out of breath. “Don’t worry, Suzy will sleep through the night. I left a phone number on the kitchen counter of where we’ll be if you need us. And your mother is right upstairs.”

She turned to her husband. “For God’s sake, Don, don’t just sit there. Let’s go.”

She dragged her husband out of the house. I guessed she dragged everyone around when she was in a hurry. I had always seen the much more relaxed version. I liked the relaxed one better.

After they left, I placed the schoolbooks I had brought on the living room coffee table and looked at my assignments I had written in my notebook. What to do first? I looked up from my books. Other than that one time Mr. Russo gave me a quick tour, I had never been in their apartment. Sure, Mrs. Russo had dragged me into the baby’s room for an instant, but that’s all. So I did what any teenager would do.

I snooped.

I walked around the small kitchen, opening cabinets to see what their dishes looked like and what brand cereal they ate. The apartment was small so there wasn’t much to see and soon I was in the master bedroom. I stared at the large bed and remembered the baby in the crib and the other one growing inside Mrs. Russo’s belly. I knew how babies were made. I had found out from my friends. Mr. Russo put his thing inside Mrs. Russo’s pussy. How different would that feel than rubbing it? Would it hurt? It had hurt when Joey stuck his finger inside my pussy at Canarsie Pier. I never had thoughts about my parents having sex, but staring at the bed Mr. and Mrs. Russo had sex on sent a shiver up my spine and a tingle between my legs. I hadn’t masturbated since the morning, and that had been a quickie because of the fear of my mother catching me. So I was, to say the least, on edge.

There were end tables on both sides of the headboard, each with a matching lamp on it. I walked to the one on my left, the one on the right side of the bed, and opened the drawer. The first thing I saw was a box of condoms. But Mrs. Russo was pregnant. Debbie’s sister had told Debbie that rubbers were used to keep the girl from getting pregnant. Did the condom not work? And why need it now? Mrs. Russo couldn’t get pregnant. She already was. Sex was confusing. But as I held the box of condoms, I shivered thinking the last time Mr. Russo had touched the box was to get a condom to put on his dick.

There wasn’t anything else of interest in the drawer so I went to the other side of the bed and opened that one. My jaw dropped. There were plastic dicks in different sizes and colors. What were they for? Why did Mrs. Russo have them? I slammed the drawer closed so hard the lamp rattled.

About to return to the living room to do my homework, I stopped and plopped down on the side of the bed with my feet on the floor. The itch between my legs was stronger than ever. Why did Mr. Roman have to keep us late? Why hadn’t my mother let me go to my bedroom where I could have masturbated? I was so worked up I knew it wouldn’t take long to get the relief I craved.

I sat on the side of the bed with my head hung. Life wasn’t fair. Without thinking, I parted my knees and my hand disappeared underneath my skirt. I hadn’t changed after school. The touch was just what I needed. I spread my legs farther apart and rubbed harder. I kept doing that until I pulled my hand out and bounced on my butt to the middle of the bed and turned the long way. Why not do it the way I did it in my bed? I didn’t even have to worry about my mother barging in. I didn’t have to worry about anything. I could really let go.

I yanked my skirt up to my chest, pulling it out from under my butt, so that there was nothing covering my panties. I was still wearing my shoes and knee-high socks, but I didn’t care. My mother wasn’t around to yell at me. I lifted my knees and placed a hand between my legs onto the front of my panties. I could do it slowly. I didn’t have to worry about my parents catching me. I used two fingertips on the place I liked to touch and rubbed side to side and up and down. I closed my eyes in order to see Mr. Roman more clearly. I thought about him putting a condom on his dick.

I was aroused. The fear of not being caught made me more relaxed. Freer to do whatever I wanted. With one hand, I yanked the front of my panties down so that I could slide my other hand inside them. I used my finger on that fleshy area I loved to rub. It wasn’t comfortable. Maybe I should do it in the bathroom using sink water. No, I liked lying on the bed Mr. and Mrs. Russo had sex on. That added to the pleasure.