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“I want you to touch me,” she practically begged. “I want to know what it’s like. Do you have any idea what it’s like not being touched?”
I couldn’t imagine being her age and… untouched?
“You’ve never been touched?” I asked, repeating her words.
“You haven’t ever been with a guy?” Hardin asked. “Even to make out?”
She shook her head, and she slumped down, sitting on her heels. “No one wanted to get near me at Harvard. I mean, I was too young and only a few creeps even looked my way. Medical school was different and I kissed a few guys, but none of them made me feel anything and I ended it there. I’ve read about sex being mind-blowing. Heard about it from classmates, how hot it was, how they lost their head with a certain guy. I never felt even an attraction, so I thought maybe I was broken or something.”
Hardin huffed out a laugh. “Look at you. How the fuck could you be broken? Do you know how gorgeous you are?”
She smiled then. “But you won’t touch me.”
We shook our heads. “Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I promised.
“Fine, but that’s so far away. If you won’t do it, I’ll touch myself,” she huffed, then flopped back in the casual, relaxed way of a drunk. Her body bounced, and she set her feet on the bed, her knees bent. I, of course, watched her tits sway, hoping–begging—for one to slip from a satin cup. It didn’t, her hand slid down her belly and beneath the drawstring of her scrubs and I forgot all about nipples.
“I’m really wet for you guys,” she said, her arm moving in a way that we knew she was playing with her pussy and rubbing her clit even if we couldn’t see it.
I looked to Hardin. “Do we stop this?” I didn’t want her to stop. Fuck no. This was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and we were all clothed.
He didn’t look my way. “She’s doing it herself,” he said to me. “Don’t need to stop that.” Then, “Show us how wet your pussy is.”
We watched as her arm stilled, then lifted. The arousal on her fingers caught the light. Fuck, I wanted to grab her hand, lick that sweet juice right off.
But no.
“Do you touch yourself, sweetheart? Make yourself come?” I asked, my voice sounding rough and ragged.
Her hand went back inside her scrubs, and she worked herself with a little more enthusiasm. “Yes.”
“When you get in bed at night?” Hardin asked.
Nodding, she bit her lip as she lifted her hips. She knew what her body liked and got herself there quickly. Clearly the liquor had lowered her inhibitions, but I wondered if it had ramped her arousal or if she was always quick to climax.
“Yes!” she said, her eyes falling shut.
“Oh no, sweetheart. You want us to watch, then you keep your eyes on us as you work that clit.”
Her eyes flew open, and a gasp escaped. Her other hand joined the first in her pants, and she went to fucking town. I imagined one set of fingers fucking her pussy, the other working circles over her clit. We couldn’t see, but we could imagine and just watching her… fuck.
I pressed my hand to my cock, tried to ease the ache.
She looked to Hardin, then me, then came.
Her back arched. Her hips thrust up. Her tits shifted with every deep breath.
She was gorgeous, completely lost to her pleasure, but she was looking straight at us. She knew we watched and was getting off on it.
She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t tame. Not one fucking bit. She was like Clark Kent, hiding her real identity behind a pair of glasses.
Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, but when it finally wound down, she caught her breath.
“Good girl,” Hardin told her. “Letting your men see you come so beautifully.”
