Masturbaby Pt. 01

"It's not cheating if we don't touch each other." He said it to her hypothetically, as if they were discussing metaphysics.

So, she considered, hypothetically, whether he could really do it without touching her, without losing control and tearing open the seams of her little summer dress. She also wondered, hypothetically, whether or not his long-distance girlfriend would agree to his definition of fidelity. Not that it mattered, she assured herself. Clearly, obviously, without a doubt, he was just speaking hypothetically.

"I think that in person, sitting side by side, is different than just by yourself, or over the phone." She said this hypothetically too, but she felt heat bloom on her cheeks and prickle on the tips of her ears. The more she willed it to stop, the pinker she got.

"Alice, you're blushing"

"No, I just burned my mouth on the pizza."

"Have you tried it before?"

"The pizza?"

"Mutual masturbation."

This playful banter had started when they made margarita pizzas, something the two apartment-mates had done countless times during Covid. They sat in bean bag chairs, the only furniture in the living room of their cheap three-bedroom flat. The slices cooled on a scroll of paper towels laid out on the carpet in front of them. They had just been talking about a girl they had met over a year ago in an acting class, a girl they had gone out with for beers and for hikes in the Hollywood hills, but who was now doing porn.

A laptop was open between the two of them.

"Are you sure it's her?" He asked.

Alice was already typing into the Pornhub search bar. Three videos appeared with images of their friend's unmistakable bee-stung lips.

"She has a lot of make-up but if you watch it, you'll see it's her. No question."

"Ohhhh, so you watched it before?"

"Just to see if it was really her."

He reached over and clicked play. Suddenly that same classmate they'd seen do Shakespeare was plunging a dildo as thick as a spaghetti squash into her ass. They watched with blank expressions as she moaned, grunted, and squealed.

"She's still not a very good actress," he said.

Neither one admitted that they had already watched this video, watched it late at night in their beds on their phones with earbuds. Neither gave any hint that watching the video again, like this, sitting close together, was making their hearts pound and their skin crawl.

But, of course, he had a girlfriend, Alice reminded herself, so there could be absolutely nothing sexual about their feelings for each other. They were friends. Just friends watching porn.

"I've done it a few times. Mutual...touching. But, just with other girls, so it was different."

"Were you dating someone else at the time?"

"Yes, but it's different. We weren't like...there was no temptation to actually do something together. You know? They were straight, so that was off the table."

"So you masturbated to orgasm with another girl but that wasn't cheating?"

"No. It was like parallel play, not playing together. I can't explain it."

"I got drunk and jerked off with another guy once. Just to porn. No touching"

"While you were dating Ruby?" Alice's mouth was suddenly dry and she couldn't decide where to put her hands. She licked her chapped lips and tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

He just shrugged, like it was nothing.

"So you guys were like mastur-buddies?" Alice could say clever things like that in a deadpan way that usually made boys lose their cool.

He just smiled and kept his cool. His smile was so painfully cute she turned back to the laptop screen because it was less embarrassing to look at their mutual friend kneel down and suck some faceless man's cock.

"That guy kind of looks like you," she said, just to prove to him how not-awkward things were getting.

"Yeah, right. I wish." His skin was too dark to blush.

"I just mean the body type. He's an ectomorph."

"The fuck? You read too much."

"The word means, lean, wiry. It's a good thing."

Alice herself looked nothing like the girl on screen. The porn star was a pin-up. She was a pixie. The pornstar had ample melons. She had puffy pears. The porn star's long raven locks curled over dark olive skin. Her copper bangs framed freckles and cream. The pornstar was naked. Alice was wearing a flimsy, green dress, without a bra, because it wasn't like she wasn't going out anywhere so why bother?

And, if Alice also hadn't bothered to wear underwear, it was only because her bras and panties were all currently in the wash. It was a coincidence. Not some kind of ploy or tease, and it wasn't like anyone, him in particular, could tell she wasn't wearing any underwear, for God's sake, and unlike the porn star, whose vulva was waxed smooth as marble, Alice was a good enough actress not to let on, even for a moment, just how self-conscious she was about wearing nothing, nothing but an ultra-sheer, babydoll dress that barely hid her rising, pointing, swelling nipples and barely hung low enough to cover her little patch of stubble, because who besides a porn star bothers with wax during Covid? Her mind raced and raced.

"I wonder how much money she made for this?" He asked as if they were just discussing a sitcom - as if his jeans weren't getting uncomfortably tight. She could see it plainly, the bulge, not that she was staring directly at it.

"I'll bet a lot. That guy she's working with is famous." Alice took a tiny bite of the hot, oily pizza. She bit down nimbly as if she really was afraid to burn the roof of her mouth. The gooey texture felt lurid in her tongue as they watched the mutual friend deep throat the monster-cock, but she kept her composure. As spunk dribbled down the pornstar's chin, Alice calmly took a paper towel and wiped cheese from her own chin like it was nothing. Nothing at all out of the ordinary going on.

They kept watching like this several minutes as they ate, not speaking as the faceless man took their mutual friend from behind, her artificial boobs lolling and dangling to the slap-whap-whap rhythm of the bodies clapping together.

"This is making me..." she stopped herself, narrowly avoiding the Freudian slip. "...thirsty." She swallowed dryly. Again, she licked her chapped lips. "The pizza is. I mean. It's salty and making me really, really thirsty." Again she felt heat bloom on her cheeks and prickle on the tips of her ears.

"Yeah, it's making me thirsty too." He smiled again, and he gripped his crotch through his jeans like a handlebar.

She stared at him, stunned. "So we're doing this?"

"Seems like it."

Before she could stop herself, she put her own hand under her dress. As dry as her mouth was, her vulva was wet. It felt like cupping a raw oyster - her hand like a half shell. She couldn't remember ever feeling this horny.

He slid closer to her, staring between her legs, her dress hiked up to her hips.

"Wait. You can't touch me."

"I'm not touching you," he said but his lips were only centimeters away from her own lips. "But, I'm going to take it out, okay?"

"Okay. Just don't get anything...on me, okay?" She giggled at herself.

So, he snatched up a paper towel, unbuttoned his jeans, and just like that it was out. His cock wasn't especially long, she thought, but it was handsome and thick, with a head like a plum.

"You're not watching the video."

"What video?" Watching him, she had two fingers curled up inside her now and the heel of her palm pressed against her clit. She was sure that if she pressed any harder she would cum. She just rolled her hips gently against her hand, watching him jerk his silly, adorable dong.

"Unbutton your dress. I want to see all of you."

With her other hand, she undid three buttons and out popped the pears. He gazed at them, delighted at the way they quivered as she touched herself.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "So we're masturbuddies, now?"

"I'm your masturbaby," she whispered back and as her fingertips clocked circles round her clit she moaned - not theatrically like their friend - but softly. Just little gasps and exhales. "Oh...oh...oh...oh...oh...oh"

Hearing her, his breath got deeper, lower, huffing like a bull. His lips were a centimeter from her cheek. Hands a hair from her thigh. Bodies so close that the rise and fall of their breathing almost brushed them together. She taunted him by running the tip of her tongue a millimeter from the line of his perfectly formed chin.

"I'm not touching you either," she teased, aching badly to be touched. She watched as his torso bucked and his hips thrust his handsome cock in and out of the pouch of his curled fingers. It was finally too much for her.

So she came, crying out like a bird, high and urgent. The sound made him come too, squirting like a fountain into the paper towel. The whole absurd and intense encounter had lasted about ninety seconds.

For a long time, they just sat there like rag dolls. Then abruptly he hopped to his feet and went to the kitchen. All alone, she felt a little cheap - balled up like a paper towel and tossed in the trash. She hated feeling like this. It wasn't like her. She could hear the kitchen faucet run as he washed his hands and somehow that made her sad.

Then she thought about his girlfriend, remembering that he was in love with her. That in truth, he would probably tell her all about this. Share it like a joke. Like it was nothing. "Just a masturbaby," she muttered.

"What?" He called back, opening the fridge.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." For the first time that night, her cool indifference wasn't an act.

But then, he returned from the kitchen to his bean bag chair, handing her a can Diet Cherry Coke - red like a valentine. How sweet he remembered she was thirsty! The fizz washed down her throat like a potion. Bubbly gratitude filled up her belly.

"Thank you." She said, smiling.

And he smiled back at her, calm and ultra-bright. She realized she was happy because they really were the best of friends, sharing something secret together.

"Anytime," he said.

(to be continued...)