A Virgin Wants to Learn to Write

While she was wondering, debating with herself, she heard someone in the corridor. She got up and locked her door. Still undecided, she returned to her chair and scrolled back up the page, noticing a title she had overseen before: "How to Pleasure a Lady - & Yourself," subtitled: Advice from a Teenage Sex Connoisseur, by Teenage Venus.

Could a teenage girl consider herself a "sex connoisseur?" Not where she grew up! If they could, they were sluts or worse, or got pregnant before they knew enough not to. Despite the blatant title, Betty-Jo clicked on it, excusing herself with thought that the article couldn't really be that bad.

She was wrong, terribly, arousingly wrong, as she immediately discovered. Her uncrossed thighs immediately clutched together when she read the second paragraph: "cunnilingus," "fellatio," "masturbation!" She blushed at the words, but read on. At least, the next part was "only" about female masturbation, something she knew about, but nothing like all Teenage Venus did.

It wasn't her thighs squeezing her pussy, first through her skirt, and then - after a glance to assure herself that the door was locked - her hand was under her skirt. Damp cotton panties. She had never done it with her panties on, only in bed with her hands inside her pajama bottom, or one holding her bare breast. Her other hand held one through her blouse and bra.

When she had to scroll down, she was careful to move the last line to the top of the screen. When her hand returned to her breast, it unbuttoned her blouse and slid over her bra. As she read further, it slipped under it, and then pushed its strap of her shoulder and held it again. Only for a few moments was her stiff nipple in her palm, then in her fingers. Those of her other hand wanted to feel her slippery pussy and crept inside the hem, as she read on.

Not good enough! That hand slid up to the elastic of her panties and inside, over her pubic hair, her fingers parting them and finding bare skin and the swelling of the hood over her firm little bump - her "clitoris," another new word.

With a soft moan, she read further, her fingers moving unconsciously from long experience. After scrolling again, and then again, she recognized that her skirt was all bunched up at her waist. If she was going to - and she was - better not to have her skirt all wrinkled. Blushing at her acceptance that she was really going to pleasure herself - no "lady," and in broad daylight! - she removed her hands and stood up, smoothing her skirt down. As she loosened the waistband, she stepped to the door and checked that it was really locked. What was she doing?!

She stepped out of her skirt and laid it on her bed. Her blouse, too? May as well, Bra, too? No reason to keep it on now, and one of her breasts was already exposed. Its nipple tightened again, when she looked down at and reached back to unhook her bra. Both nipples sticking out.

She liked her little pink nipples, especially when they stood out. Also her panties? No reason to keep them on; just be in the way when her hand was back there. All naked! She had never been naked except when washing or when changing clothes, and then only as briefly as necessary. Well, once or twice when she had looked at her growing breasts and pubic hair in the big mirror in her parents' room, blushing at her daring to do so, and blushing now. No, she couldn't just sit there completely naked and continue to read. She put on her bathrobe and sat down again, no longer aroused. Maybe she wouldn't do anything more, just read.

But as her eyes skimmed down over a couple of paragraphs she had read before, her thighs pressed together, and her nipples popped out again. She found where she had stopped reading and continued. She was hardly aware that her hands returned to where they had been, now in her open bathrobe. People really did that?! And that?! Girls wanted him to, "he" wanted to?! And "she" wanted to, to him?!! Deep throat! No question what that meant! Her hips had slid to the edge of her chair, and her thighs were spread, twitching occasionally.

She had scrolled to the end of the page; two more pages! What else could Teenage Venus tell?! She clicked on the second page.

Oh my God! This time she didn't weaken her mental expletive. She scrolled down, not reading, just seeing that the whole page seemed to be more details about how to suck a cock - more blushing at thinking the words. Was that "how to pleasure a lady?" She got pleasure from his letting her do that?! Maybe Teenage Venus was a connoisseur. For sure, as a woman - was she really a teenager? - she knew a lot about doing that.

"Oh my God!" This time she mouthed the words as she read:

"This Part is For The Men: Licking and Pussy Eating."

Her knees clapped together, her thighs squeezing the hand that was on her pussy. Too late to stop now! She glanced at the door, disturbed to hear the muffled sound of two girls talking in the corridor. If they knew what she was doing?! Did they? Were they girls who already knew all about it? They couldn't know everything that she was reading, what she wasn't reading. She squeezed her breast and released it to scroll down again, scrolling the new heading to the top of the screen. Her hand returned to her breast, and she started to read again.

This was really about "pleasuring a lady," if ladies let a man do it to them. Did they want him to - even if they weren't ladies? Teenage Venus obviously did.

Betty-Jo stopped wondering about that as she read on, now only aroused by the explanations of what he should do, where and how, and appreciating the description of her pussy. What she was reading seemed like it was about her own pussy, and her fingers were trying to do what he could do with his tongue.

Another page, no, two more. She clicked further, more of the same. She scrolled down, down the whole page. It was all about his doing it! The title had been right, all about pleasuring a woman, just starting with how she could pleasure him. Nothing about having intercourse; maybe on page four. She scrolled back to the top and started reading.

What was an orgasm? Could she give herself one? Her wet pussy wanted more of something. Could her fingers give her one - whatever it was like. G-spot, could she find hers? Two fingers, they were already in her. Clit, too. Her other hand found it. She moaned, and kept moaning as she read on.

Oh, it was all happening to her, like she was reading! Had she found it?! It was feeling a lot better than anything she had ever felt before! Oh, shit! She felt like she had to pee! She did, couldn't help it! Her hand full of piss, overflowing on her bathrobe! It was all wrong! But it had been so arousing, felt so much better than ever before, her whole body jerking, like she had just read that it should. A real orgasm?!

Too late to worry about now. Did that happen to other girls? She caught her breath and wiped her hand on her thigh and reached down and pulled up her bathrobe and wiped her pussy and thigh, and continued to read.

She had assumed that she wouldn't be aroused by reading more about cunnilingus, but her pussy and fingers didn't agree, especially when she read that a woman could have multiple orgasms. Her other hand was holding her breast again. Could she have another one? But like that again? Even if it had been so good, she didn't want to pee all over the place; it had spurted in her hand as though it could have squirted a couple of feet. Was that normal, abnormal? It seemed like the article should mention that, maybe on the fourth page. Wasn't there going to be anything about "f..."? She knew the word but only thought the first letter. Whatever, it was feeling good again, good enough to risk that happening again to discover if she could have a second orgasm.

Maybe on the fourth page, more about the G-spot. Mmmmm! That must be it! She was hardly reading, as her fingers proved that it was, her eyes just discovering "vaginal fluid." Not pee, and it happen to other women! Okay!

Her second orgasm was even better, also because this time she wanted to "ejaculate," another word she had learned. She did, her body spasming. What a wet mess! But so good! And she had read that she should be able to do it again. She could!

"Vaginal fluid," and that could happen when he was down there with his mouth? It wasn't pee and must be all over his face, tasting it?! He must not mind, if he liked to do it, knowing what would happen if he did it that good.

This time she licked her wet palm. Hmm! Didn't taste bad at all. Maybe he would like it. She wiped her hand on her bathrobe and then wiped her pussy again. She finished reading the short page, only snickering to herself with a satisfied hum when she read the F-word, that he also could do that to her with his penis, a word she had already known - from where? - but never used.

She relaxed, her eyes perusing the last page. It was almost arousing enough to start over again; her hand was back resting on her pussy, but she didn't. She gave a questioning hum about what she had done, recalling that she had started by wanting to read about writing, but admitting to herself that she must have wanted to learn about sex. She had, and didn't regret it, despite her recognition that it was a big - wickedly big - break from her upbringing.

Three orgasms, she thought, pleased with herself and the confirmation that she was just normal, as normal as the libertarian girls in the dorm, even if she still hadn't done anything with a boy. When would she? Would he want to do anything, everything she had read about. Would she?! Should she go back and read articles about writing to unwind, to justify her having clicked on Literotica?

She didn't, not that day, and when she later did, pleased to find useful information, she rewarded herself by finding an article or story that was arousing, sometimes - usually - continuing in bed with her own fantasies. They were bad for her course in writing fiction, her characters wanting to do things they shouldn't, but the articles about using the language were a great help.

When, however, the young male instructor asked how she learned to write dialogue so well, she started to blush. She was about to say: "From a site on internet," but realized that would only elicit another question.

I'll leave her blushing, her eyes downcast, looking at his crotch, reason for her deeper blush. Did she see something move? I'd like to think so, but this little story is about her learning to use Literotica's articles to write better. I hope others also do.

And again: my compliments and thanks to those provided those articles and, of course, special thanks to those named in the introduction, whose articles I very much enjoyed.