Story 12
First time, Masturbation
Blurb:
Cassandra Miller was a serious junior in college – focusing on her studies and her athletic scholarship in gymnastics.
She was anxious that her bodily changes would take her off the varsity team and render her without funding for the remaining three semesters of college.
To top it all off, she had been experiencing too many unfamiliar sensations in her body of late.
She tried so hard to adapt to her practices not to lose her place.
When her mom failed to catch her plane and travel for a convention near where Cassandra was studying, she had to ask Cassandra to deliver some papers to her boss. This would change Cassandra’s forever.
~~
“Please, Cassandra,” Becky Miller implored her daughter. “My boss will be livid if he doesn’t get his reports on time. I could lose my job and we still have one more year of college to go.”
“But, Mommy, it’s not my fault you missed your flight! I’m going to miss practice!” Cassandra lamented.
Cassandra Miller was enrolled on a partial gymnastics’ scholarship.
This entailed bi-weekly sessions after school.
She had been a consummate athlete since middle school and poured all her time into gymnastics and dance.
There was so much to do that she didn’t have time for friends, much less boyfriends.
Any disruption in her routine had always upset her.
“MOMMY!” Cassandra yelled through the phone. “I will really be cutting it close. You know I might not be kept on the team because my body changed! I need to be keen on making sure I perform well. And I – we, can’t afford to lose the subsidy the scholarship gives.”
“Nor can we afford to live if I don’t have a job,” her mom yelled back.
Cassandra sighed in resignation. Her mom had a point. Before she could say anything more, she heard her mom’s anxious voice through the speaker.
“Cassie! Get it together! You can always manage your time. Be more flexible, okay?”
her mom reasoned. “Now print the reports – you’ll find money in your ATM card for the expenses and bring them over to his hotel. I’ll text you the complete details. I have to hit the road and start driving so I can make it there before the presentation tomorrow evening! Bye!”
Cassandra knew what a hassle this errand would be.
She would have to skip the first-period economics class so she could run and have the files printed out.
If she was lucky, she could catch the rest of all her classes that day, make it back to her apartment, and then change into her gymnastics attire before going out to deliver the papers.
After that, she could head for the practice.
The day went pretty much as she predicted – economics class skipped; the papers printed.
the rest of the day went smoothly then the mad dash to change.
She hadn’t expected that the papers that her mom had printed was a lot of envelopes.
This made Cassandra reconsider bringing a change of clothes to the gym, as she normally did to change after.
“Might as well wear something over my practice attire so I needn’t bring a bag,” she thought as she pondered what to wear. “I’m just going to hand over the stuff to mom’s boss then leave, anyway.”
While Cassandra excelled in academics and sports, she had the dilemma of being a late bloomer physically.
Something kicked in her hormones when she was 19.
She was a slim and trim athletic-built girl who had gymnastic and dance promise.
Then her chest and booty started to expand.
While this is a boon to most girls, to the now 20-year-old Cassandra, it posed a huge problem.
If not for the gymnastics scholarship providing additional stipends to augment her college expenses, Cassandra would have quit college.
Her bodily changes made things complicated as it was already becoming more and more inconvenient and uncomfortable to bind her breasts.
They were growing too large that she feared it would disqualify her from the team and forfeit her scholarship.
This didn’t go unnoticed when her coach had already gently advised her to lose some weight since she was getting heavy in the front and rear.
So far, with her chest binding, Cassandra was able to still wear her leotards and look reasonably proportioned for the sport. She had taken to occasionally wearing unitards that were a size lower. It took some time for her to get used doing her moves in them but she had no choice but to adapt.
With only an hour to spare, Cassandra decided to get into her leotard and pair it with jeans then throw on a trendy trench coat.
She struggled to get into it, pulling and tugging at the seams in an effort to stretch the fabric comfortably over her skin.
By the same she successfully got into her leotard sleeves, the crotch was digging into her pussy lips.
“Oh no,” Cassandra lamented.
It had given her a wedgie-like feeling that made her want to rub herself DOWN THERE.
When this situation first happened, she didn’t know what to do.
She felt hot and kept on pushing and pressing her crotch against the textbook she was studying.
She kept doing this until the feeling ascended, prompting her to push faster.
Then she would reach a point of relief. It felt good and all to be rid of the feeling but she just wasn’t sure about the heart-pounding, belly lurching feeling that happened at the end.
This had been happening lately and Cassandra had never wanted to touch pussy, finding it a bit awkward.
The concept that the vagina was reserved for sex and reproduction had always been ingrained in her disciplined mind and body that she hadn’t explored her sexuality yet, much less have a boyfriend to awaken her.
She frequently pushed aside that these incidents were anything sexual but simply considered them like itches that needed to be scratched for relief.
Casandra had already discovered ways to alleviate this urge. She had tried something long like the handle of her toothbrush, her hairbrush or a pen, gliding it over the afflicted area until she was relief burst out.
At this moment, she looked at the clock, conscious that she was running out of time.
She quickly shimmed out of the ill-fitting leotard and put on a pair of cotton panties.
A quick run to the kitchen yielded one of her favorites to ease her discomfort - a spoon.
This was the best implement to relieve her.
She went back to her room and sat at the edge of the bed.
She spread her legs open and started scratching her pussy slit with the head of the spoon, stroking it over THAT SPOT across the thin fabric of her cotton panties.
She rubbed the tip back and forth until she could feel that little electric part protruding from her lips.
“Ooooh, here it comes, “she panted, running the spoon over and over the sensitive area until the feeling escalated in her.
The itch started to feel a bit better and she could now feel wetness forming beneath her button as the cotton of her underwear absorbed it.
On and on, she scratched but it somehow refused to explode and go away.
Cassandra then pulled the waistband of her panties open, reversed the spoon so she that held it by the head and slipped the handle into her slit.
The cold metal was tingled twice as much now as it slid between her folds.
She had never done this before but instinct told her that if she wanted to hurry, she had to do this.
Desperate times called for desperate measure.
If she didn’t relieve the itch, it could plague her the whole night - well into gymnastics practice and perhaps make her unbalanced and fall. That was not an option.
“Ohhhh,” Cassandra’s spine shivered when the cold metal crushed repeatedly between her mons.
She pushed the handle deeper and it entered the top of her crease.
“God, that feels good,” she intoned, closing her eyes.
She pushed the spoon lower and pressed harder until it hit that small delicious bump that was the solution to all this.
“Oooffff,” she sighed then backed the spoon handle up on it.
There it was again. That lightning sensation that spread all over her body made her want to continue and cringe at the same time.
Each time she touched it; her body lurched a little in short-lived pleasure.
She did this several times until her strokes became longer.
The metal handle soon became coated with her juices and it glided easier over the electric nub.
Cassandra noticed her breathing become heavier and her hand plunging faster.
“Mmmmmmmmm… mmmmmmmm,” she winced knowing that relief was approaching.
As her hand sped up as her mouth dropped open.
Cassandra’s back hunched and her legs opened wider and the pace of her hand quickened with the easier access.
Up and down her slit the spoon handle flew, unknowingly dipping a little into the wet hole underneath.
She thrust the spoon up and down with undeniable urgency.
Then, all of a sudden, her pace broke as her belly clenched hard.
“There…. There… thereeee,” she moaned as she clamped her legs tight, trapping her along with the soaked metal handle of the spoon between her thighs and in the folds of her sex as she shuddered in relief.
“Uhhh..” she cried as she pushed her legs together then rubbed her thighs forcefully to make sure that she squeezed all the shudders out.
Her chest pumped forward involuntarily with each burst of sensation until a feeling of satisfaction wafted over her.
The pulsing in her pussy gradually died down. Then finally, it was over.
Cassandra sat still for a few moments and she felt her panties become wetter. When she felt the dripping slow down, she quickly pulled herself together. Taking a deep breath, she patted her still sensitive pussy dry then discarded the wet cotton panties.
Looking at the forlorn leotard, Cassandra knew - there was no other choice at this point but to wear her black unitard.
It was easier to get into since she had just bought it recently.
She put it on and checked herself out in the mirror.
It looked like she was wearing a catsuit.
She didn’t think it was that ideal for gymnastic movement but it will have to do for the moment as she didn’t have any clean spare leotards.
Anyway, it was just practice, she thought.