KD - Chapter 11

You feel so bad for her. Looking at her is like looking at a sad puppy all alone out in the rain.

“Oh,” you say, giving her a sympathetic look. “OK, Sweetie.” You take her hand and lead her to the bed, where you sit her down and get on your knees. “Shh,” you tell her as she struggles to find words.

You lift her t-shirt, revealing her erection. It’s long and thin, with an obvious bend upward and to the right. It wobbles and twitches. She embarrassedly tries to close her legs, but you firmly stop her.

More tenderly, you put your hand around her shaft and gently, but not teasingly, begin to stroke it. You have never met anyone except maybe Riley who needs a handjob as badly as Roonie. With Tia, you had mixed feelings about what you were doing, but with Roonie if you don’t help her out right now, you are a monster. You won’t be able to live with yourself.

Even though she’s just sitting there and you’re the one doing the work, within seconds Roonie is out of breath and panting. She’s covering her face with the shirt, but you see her pale, flat tummy flexing each time you pull her foreskin up over the cute little head.

The second you start to speed it up it’s too much for her. She stiffens up all over and grabs the covers, hissing, and a moment later, shiny white ropes spurt out onto her stomach. You keep pulling and get four of them out of her. The fifth one just dribbles over your fingers.

Roonie gasps. She is one of a kind. For all her shyness, her body really came alive when you touched her. Now she looks like she fell out of an airplane. She gasps and wheezes. She’s going to need another clean shirt now. And she needs to get out of your cabin. Tiffany will be coming back anytime. She’s not working right now, so you aren’t sure where she is.

You give Roonie a few moments to recover, then shake her out of her daze. You smile patiently as she focuses on you. Her face cannot get any redder. You straighten her glasses for her and offer her a clean shirt.

“Sweetie, you should get back,” you say.

For a second she’s frozen, and you wonder if she literally passed out, or just lost herself in the feeling so much that she forgot where she was and what she was doing.

She snatches the shirt away and dashes out of the cottage so fast that you can’t even wave goodbye. You aren’t sure about what she’s doing. Like, the idea was that she would put the clean shirt on before she went anywhere, but that’s none of your business.

You stand up, planning to close the door, but Tiffany appears. She has the look on her face.

“Oh, come on,” you say. “You were watching?” She must have come back and peeked through the window.

“Roonie, huh?”

“It’s not what you think. I was trying to help her out.”

“I’d say that you did,” she says, closing the door.

“They stole our clothes.” You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You should be happy. I thought that was what you wanted.”

“She’s not my type. And I didn’t come here to be the handy queen,” you add, annoyed. You put your hand on your hip and return Tiffany’s gaze. “You know? When do I get some loving?”

“I know that feeling.” Tiffany bends and picks up your massager, tossing it to you.

You catch it with a snort. “My turn now.”

“God,” Tiffany says, trying not to smile as she walks past you.

You both clean up and get ready for bed.

“You smell like the lake,” she complains while you’re brushing your teeth and she’s in the shower.

“I’ll wash if you’d hurry up,” you shoot back.

“I’m not hurrying. I just popped a steamer.” You can smell it. It smells like rosewater.

“Then make room.” You finish brushing, strip and climb in with her. She grudgingly moves aside and shares the water. “I’m getting a lot of this tonight,” you say as your slippery body moves against hers as you reach for your sponge. “Did you go to the pond too?”

“I had to clean Annette’s office,” Tiffany complains. “Lisa didn’t come in today.”

A few minutes later you both emerge and towel off. You’re going to run out of t-shirts at this rate. Roonie has two of them. You only brought a couple. But you put a clean one on and slip into your bed, eagerly picking up your massager and opening the box.

“Seriously?” Tiffany says, sitting naked on her own bed to blow dry her hair.

“You don’t get to talk,” you say. “Oh, no. It doesn’t come with batteries.”

Tiffany laughs, then leans over and gets some out of her backpack. She throws them to you.

“My hero,” you say.

“You did give me a show.”

“Is that what you like? Watching girls like Roonie cream themselves?”

“I liked watching your sister.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight.” You turn off your lamp and get under the covers with your massager. You didn’t bother with underwear because this was your plan. You just pull up the hem of your t-shirt, turn on the massager, and go to town.

Dear diary,

It’s your girl. I had to give a little emergency relief to Roonie. I don’t know if she’s weird or cute, but I’m getting pretty confident in my hands-on technique. And Tiffany doesn’t have a penis, but it’s even kind of fun being in a shower with her. I’m going to laugh if this place turns me gay. Anyway I’ve just been the selfless helper, giving merciful relief to Tia and Roonie. Helping out Rita with work, too. What about me, though? People will let you down, but your personal massager will never fail you as long as you have batteries. I never thought it would feel this normal to lie in the dark and use a vibe while listening to a girl I barely know do the same thing, but what can I say? It works.

It wasn’t for nothing. This place is fun.