A Very Spunky Lady

"Oh no! Wait! Wait!" Michael exclaimed in shock and concern, but not because of any buckle poking. He was suddenly hit with that feeling of inevitability and if he did not immediately stop he would go over the edge. Marilyn was either not hearing him or not listening to him, as she wouldn't let go. There wasn't even a pause to the humping and grinding of her soft, wet cunt against Mike's dick, feeling herself getting so terribly close, too close to call it off now, her only concern being whether she would embarrass herself with her orgasm, would act in a manner that would be shameful and humiliating or, perhaps even worse, leave a wet stain on the front of her skirt, as she could feel that she was indeed terribly, terribly wet.

However, that was not going to be a problem, or at least not entirely the same problem.

Michael tried to pull away, but she was holding onto him so tightly, like a dog with its legs wrapped around one's thigh, not letting go as it frantically humped. Michael felt himself go over the edge, his dick suddenly jerking and spurting its load. "Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh Marilyn," he softly gasped as the orgasm swept over his mind and body in waves of blissful release.

For a moment everything was so wonderful; everything was as good as it could be. Time seemed to stop. He never felt so incredible, so blissfully at peace, so entranced and euphoric, his dick squirting and spitting globs and wads of warm, wet, thick cum. The first time Marilyn had in fact made him do that, at least with her present in the room.

Marilyn felt the sudden change in Mike's behavior. His thrusting and grinding had stopped, his eyes closed, a blissful expression swept across his face, his lips softly moaning her name.

And then she felt the wetness against her body.

She quickly unwrapped her legs from around his body and pushed him back to see the last few spurts squirt from his swollen, jerking knob, splatting its stuff onto her favorite spring dress.

"Michael!" Marilyn exclaimed in surprise, shock, and a bit of horror. "Oh my goodness, look what you did!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I couldn't help it, really! I'm so sorry!" Michael apologized, over and over, albeit still gripped in the throws of his orgasm. He did though immediately cover his dick with his hands, as if he could hide the source for her cum splattered skirt.

"What do you mean you couldn't help it! You can't control that thing? It just happens?!" She pushed him away, sat up on the couch, and stared with appalled horror at the mess her boyfriend had made. Goodness, gracious, aren't boys supposed to control themselves! Is this what they do? They just squirt their stuff all over you?! What the heck was he thinking? Clearly he wasn't thinking at all. He just let himself spew his gunky crud all over her!

"This is my favorite skirt! It's ruined!" It was a considerable mess, and perhaps could quite possibly leave a stain. Does boy cum leave a stain? At the moment she felt he might as well have spilled grape juice on it. Actually, this was perhaps much worse than some juice stain. She certainly couldn't ask her mother how to get this out. And she loved this skirt so much.

"Really, I'm so sorry." Michael did feel really bad. He quickly shoved his cock back into his boxers and pulled his slacks back up. What had for a moment been so wonderful had now become so terrible. How do you make up for something like this? "Here," he suggested, "it's not so bad, let me get a wet rag."

"Not so bad?! Look at it!" But she in fact turned her skirt away from his sight. The embarrassment over what he would be seeing was even worse than having him see for himself. He would be looking at his cum splatted and soaked all over the front of her skirt, and especially in the most embarrassing of locations. She really didn't want him looking at it, let alone letting him use a wash cloth on it.

"No, no, don't do that," she exclaimed, changing her mind. "You should just go now." She shifted a pillow over to hide her embarrassment, although being careful not to let it touch any of the wetness. She figured she needed to get her skirt quickly into some cold water. It would need a good soaking if she was to avoid any staining.

Michael felt so terrible. It was like he had wet himself on her. How bad would it be to do that, and perhaps this was even worse, spewing his stuff all over her. Any boy would probably want his girlfriend to want him to shoot his load on her, at least on her bottom, breasts, or cunnie, if not on her face. But, few guys expect that a girl will let him do that, and even fewer would ever take the chance of simply surprising her with it, especially the first time. Yes, Michael had made a mistake, and a very big and bad mistake. "Really, let me at least pay for the cleaning. I'll be happy to do that."

"Are you crazy? I'm not taking this to a dry cleaner! What would they think? Now, hurry up and go. I've got to soak this before my parents get home."

"Yes, okay, alright," Michael meekly replied. He resigned himself to his fate, and submissively retreated from the girl's presence, albeit saying as he departed, "I'll call you later."

"Yeah, alright," Marilyn quietly agreed, although without any enthusiasm and avoiding eye contact.

She wasn't really so angry with him that she wouldn't want to ever see him again. She just needed some time alone, some time to recover, to think things over, as well to clean her skirt.

As soon as Mike left the house Marilyn made a dash for the bathroom, stripping off the skirt as she ran.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dr. Lowenstein did not understand. There was nothing in this story that suggested any desire for, let alone obsession with, male sperm. On the contrary, Marilyn appeared to be repulsed by rather than attracted to it. She expressed her confusion to the patient.

"But, I wasn't finished with my story yet," Marilyn replied.

"Oh, sorry." Dr. Lowenstein took a deep breath of annoyance, with herself. If she had just kept her mouth shut the patient would have eventually made her point. It was taking her a considerable amount of time getting there, but the therapeutic journey proceeds at a pace set by the patient, and it had not been without its own pleasure. Dr. Lowenstein had in fact by now crossed her legs, providing her own cunnie with a little squeeze.

Marilyn continued her story. "Once I got to the bathroom, and I was holding the skirt over the sink I got such a strong whiff of the aroma, you know, of the...you know...the cum."

"The aroma?"

"Oh yes, yes! It's really quite wonderful, so fresh, and fruity. I had expected it to be kind of stinky, you know, given where it comes from, and everything. I mean, of course, I didn't think it would smell like pee, but something like that, you know. But, it was so different, so wonderful, so sweet and refreshing. It was like, well, intoxicating. Really, it was. Have you ever smelled it before, doctor?"

It's not unusual for patients to ask their therapists personal questions, particularly when they are trying to normalize their own behavior. Any true analyst though would maintain a blank screen, declining to provide any information. This was not, of course, a true analysis, as Dr. Lowenstein used a variety of more modern and effective therapeutic techniques. Plus, this wasn't even therapy. It was just a diagnostic assessment. But, she did feel it was best for the patient in this particular instance not to offer her professional, or even personal, opinion (she did though enjoy its scent, and very much so). She simply just made the observation, "You enjoyed his scent."

"Oh yes! In fact, well..." She hesitated in telling her any more of the story. The rest of the details were not that important, were they? Well, they probably were. "Um, well, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Please, dear, you should never feel embarrassed to tell me anything."

Marilyn knew that was true and, after all, Dr. Lowenstein was a sex therapist. She must have heard of things a lot worse than this. Still, it was awkward, to say the least, to admit out loud, but she proceeded nevertheless. "Well, I, um, well, I kind of postponed the soaking."

"You did?"

"Yes, yes. I, well, I in fact took the skirt with me up to my bedroom and I, well..."

Dr. Lowenstein helped the young lady finish her sentence. She said with evident empathy and support, "You masturbated with it, didn't you."

"Oh yes, yes!" Marilyn confessed, feeling rather shameful. What kind of girl would do such a thing? Maybe Coach Fischer was right! Maybe she really did need to be in treatment.

"Now, Marilyn," Dr. Lowenstein reassured her, "masturbation is a very natural and healthy behavior." Basic information concerning human sexuality was often very helpful to provide.

"While you have your skirt draped over your face because it's all soaked with boy cum?"

"Yes, absolutely," the doctor confidently replied. Heck, she had once masturbated with a boy's jockey briefs pulled down over her face. Of course, that was a long time ago. She wouldn't do that again, although the memory of having done so was still rather pleasant.

Marilyn felt so terribly reassured. If anyone was the best judge of what is normal it would be a doctor. And it had been so wonderful to diddle her clit, to finish what Michael had started, with her face enshrouded within her cum soaked skirt, taking in deeply its scent with every breath she took. Marilyn continued her story, and now enthusiastically so.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marilyn met Michael as he was leaving his art history class with Professor Flanders. He really hated that class. He had figured art history would be so easy, but Professor Flanders was really tough. Still, though, there were a lot of cheerleaders in the class and they provided a nice distraction from all of the boring lectures (however, they didn't seem to be coming to class anymore). He was surprised to see Marilyn waiting for him as he exited the classroom.

"Marilyn, wow, it's really good to see you." He wondered if he should say anything about his cumming all over her skirt. Perhaps it would be best to just let the subject drop. Bringing it up might just get her upset again. Let sleeping dogs and cum stained skirts lie. Last night he had even thought of sending her some flowers, but that would probably be too much, and her parents would wonder what the special occasion was. On the other hand, it is probably best to apologize too much than not enough. "Listen, I'm really sorry, about last night."

"Oh no, no!" Marilyn quickly cut him off. "I'm the one who should apologize." She took his hand as they walked from the building onto the commons.

"You?" "Yes, yes, I really over-reacted. I mean, well, you know..." Her voice quieted to a whisper. "Guys do that sort of thing, you know." She giggled as she thought about it.

"Yes, yes, um, they, well, we...do."

"I mean, we were both really getting kind of carried away."

'Nuts,' he thought. ;Here it comes. She's going to say that they need to slow things up, be more careful and reserved in the future. Well, at least she was no longer mad about it. That was a big relief.' "Yes, I guess we did," he agreed, but only half-heartedly.

"I mean, well, I really should have expected that you might do something like...I mean, well, eventually. It's kind of like, well, you know, only natural."

"Yes, yes." He didn't really know what more to say. It was a rather awkward conversation. Still, Michael could feel himself swelling within his briefs. Just talking about sex with a girlfriend was arousing, particularly when they were now just starting to have sex, at least almost starting.

"Like, well, we'll just have to be more careful, next time. Like, well, be ready for it..." Her voice again quieted, "for when it happens."

Michael could feel his dick swelling further. For when it happens, the next time? That was good news, real good news! "Sure, sure," he agreed, feeling the need though to adjust his dick in his briefs. It was swelling into a rather awkward position.

"And, I am really sorry for chasing you away like that. Turned out there wasn't even a stain or anything." That was indeed true, even though she had delayed the soaking for quite some time.

"Wow, well, that's good to hear." He would though now always look fondly upon that skirt.

"I even thought of wearing the skirt again today, but I couldn't, of course, not on campus" (given the Templeton uniform requirement, see "Mr. Peters teaches Sara a lesson").

"You do look very pretty in that skirt."

"Shut-up!" Marilyn replied, wacking him on the arm. But, she was smiling. She did like the compliment. She would though always smile fondly whenever she again wore the skirt. "Well, I am glad you're not mad at me."

"Me? Mad at you? Why would I be mad?"

"Because I was so hysterical, and mean, and everything."

"Really, no, you had a good reason to be upset. I really should have stopped, or at least warned you." He had in fact tried to do both, but he didn't remind her of that.

"Well, I want to make it up to you, for treating you so badly."

"Oh? Really? Um, no, no, honestly, you don't have to do anything."

"Come here," she said, and led him by the hand to a secluded corner beside the Natural Science building.

Michael did not know what Marilyn had in mind, but he was certainly intrigued. Once they reached a spot behind a large bush, the sidewalk just on the other side, Marilyn looked carefully around to be certain that they could not be seen, and then stepped up close to Mike to whisper in his ear, "Take it out."

"What?!"

"Shhhhh," Marilyn admonished him. "We don't want anyone to hear us, silly. C'mon, hurry up."

Marilyn had not been planning on providing right away this compensation to Mike for being so traumatizing the other night. Their next date was the most likely time, but once she got it into her head she decided that she really didn't want to wait. She would only just be thinking about it for the rest of the day. It was best to just do it now, and the sooner the better.

Michael though was not at all certain that this was a good idea. It seemed a little risky.

However, before he could raise an objection, Marilyn literally took matters in her own hands. She put down her purse and reached out to undo his belt.

"Wait, wait," Michael protested. He certainly didn't want his entire pants undone. If someone did come along it wouldn't be good to have them at his ankles. "You don't have to do all that." He unzipped his slacks and reached inside.

"Let me, let me," Marilyn urged. She wanted to get it out herself, which was certainly fine with Michael.

Michael smiled at Marilyn's enthusiasm. Apparently he would no longer have to try to provide not so subtle hints. She went after it like a kitten attacking a new toy.

Marilyn, however, was not terribly experienced at extracting hard dicks from boys' pants. Actually, she didn't have any experience at all, and that became immediately evident as her hand fumbled around inside, searching for the flap.

Of course, she was also distracted by the feel of his hardness through his briefs, and she spent a bit of time just contemplating, pondering, and feeling it, her heart racing at the recognition that her hand was touching its first erect penis. She became quiet as she considered its stiffness, its length.

It was a moment Michael had long been waiting for, for the feel of Marilyn's soft little feminine fingers exploring his cock. Her fingers felt so, so nice. He was struck so hard by the fact that the fingers of a girl felt so much better on his cock than his own, and his own had felt pretty darned good.

Marilyn was on a mission and she could not dally for long. She withdrew her hand from the shaft to find the opening of his briefs. Which side would it be on? It was a little embarrassing to be so inexperienced at this.

Michael was squirming a bit with the forceful fumbling of Marilyn's hand in his pants. He cursed himself for deciding to wear briefs but, then again, how could he have known, or expected, that Marilyn would be wanting to reach within his slacks to pull out his cock? "A bit more to the right," he suggested.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I got it," Marilyn replied, and slipped her hand through the flap to grasp hold of Mike's naked stiff dick.

She paused again at the first touch of skin on skin. His erection felt so smooth, so thick, and so long! "Mikey," she whispered, as she let her fingers and thumb explore its length. She became particularly curious by the crown, with the big lip and the soft knob.

Michael gasped when the girl's fingers caressed the underside of his crown. He was so sensitive there.

"Goodness," Marilyn exclaimed, "I didn't hurt it, did I?"

"No, no," Michael reassured her, his voice a bit breathless. "It's nice. It's real nice."

Marilyn giggled at his evident pleasure with her touch. It was really cool having this much of an effect on a boy. She just had to get a better look at it though, and she started to pull on it. She struggled again as she tried to pull it back out through the flap. It would make it a lot easier if she could bend it, or if he wasn't so big, but it was of course pretty cool to have a boyfriend with a really big hard one.

Michael was hurting a bit as she wrenched his stiff dick back through the narrow slit of his briefs. He couldn't help grimacing but fortunately Marilyn's eyes were glued to the prize.

She smiled broadly, her eyes widening with delight, when it finally popped out. "Goodness, Mike, you really do have a big penis!"

"Shhh." It was Michael's turn to remind her to be quiet, but he was naturally very proud and pleased. What boy wouldn't be pleased when his girl is impressed by the sight and size of his cock. "Thanks," though was all that he could muster in response. He glanced around, just to double-check that they were indeed out of sight of anyone else, and that nobody had apparently heard her impulsive exclamation at the sight of his big dick.

Marilyn began to stroke her boyfriend's cock, although not entirely sure whether she was doing it correctly. "Ooooh," she cooed admiringly, "I like how the skin slides on and off the tip. Does that feel good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Michael gasped, "it feels real, real good."

"Is this how you play with your penis?" It was a natural question, as she did want to do a good job, and he probably had a favorite way of doing it. But, as soon as she asked she regretted having done so. You probably aren't supposed to ask guys how they masturbated.

It wasn't in fact how he did it. Marilyn had her entire hand wrapped around the shaft and for the most part was sliding her fist up and down the trunk. Michael would normally hold it with just the tips of his fingers and thumb, and would grip it just hard enough that his fingers didn't actually slide along the skin, sliding the skin instead. But, he didn't really want to explain that to her, as if he was being critical and unhappy about it. What she was doing was really plenty darned fantastic! "What you're doing is great, Marilyn, really."

"I'm glad," she replied softly, and then leaned in tighter against him, pressing her breast into his arm.

They were both quiet for awhile, the only noise being the quiet sound of Michael's foreskin sliding on and off the very swollen, purple knob, along with the chirping of some birds, and occasional voices and footsteps along the sidewalk on the other side of the bush. Michael wrapped an arm around Marilyn's shoulder, pulling her, and her breast, more tightly against him as he leaned back against the side of the building, closing his eyes and basking in the wonder of the moment. He was actually being jerked off by a girl, and by Marilyn no less. Sometimes life is so, so good.