I Am Superman Ch. 02byJoe Wordsworth©
The phone rang all night. ALL night. I knew it was Paula and the cheerleaders. I knew it. Or my friends, calling to ask me ridiculous questions and poke fun at me. Or the rest of the school, who probably would know all about it by Monday. I was going to be mortified. I'd have to transfer schools. I'd have to... well, maybe not. But that'd mean I'd have to kill a lot of people and while I'm not sure I couldn't do it, it would take a lot of time. So, I did what any self-respecting potentially slandered pervert would have done. I faked sick, skipped school Friday, and hoped and prayed it would all blow over by the next week.
Things don't always go as planned, though.
I'd have been content to have rode out the weekend on my own, worrying and trying to find a convenient way of getting drunk while not leaving the house (for fear of being seen). That was the plan. But, around eight o'clock in the evening on Friday, while stroking off to memories of sweet ass, in my room... there was a knock at the window.
Now, anyone whose ever jacked it can tell you, there's something called the "Point of no return". This is the part of the process where it takes more work and discomfort to stop the coming climax than its worth--despite whoever could be interrupting. I had, by the knock, hit that point. So, I tried to open my eyes and take a peek at the window, figuring the blinds were closed so whoever it was could wait while I let Mr. Winky get it out of his system. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I saw the blue and white, the red hair... and as I turned and locked eyes with my prudish (and recently told-off) girlfriend on the other side of my window, I came hard. I shot one massive load of cum all over the floor and my pants. It would have been hot, had I not been just a bit more embarassed.
Seeing as how this was the second time in as many days that Paula had interrupted me during my "Social Agenda", I started feeling less embarrassed and much more annoyed. I did what I thought was the best way of asserting my comfort and dominance over the situation. I stood up and out of my jeans (which were crumpled around my feet at the time), and walked over with a tired, but semi-hard cock dangling in front of me, to my window. Paula hadn't moved an inch since the wad-blowing and just stared at my cock and then up at me, back and forth, as I stood right in front of her... a pane of glass between us, on the second story of my house.
Now, I make this known, because its necessary to the understanding of this story. I never loved Paula. I barely liked Paula. We were both eighteen and I had no plans on being with her "forever and ever". When she wasn't gossiping about some nonsense or giggling over some ridiculous joke, she was prim and proper and--despite being the tall and lithe and cute redhead that she was... well, she was a bit of a stuck-up bitch. But, standing there, with my dick still thick and firm in front of this gorgeous redhead sitting on the other side of a broad window at night, was one of the more erotic things I'd ever seen. Her cheerleading outfit was perfect, the sky blue with a broad white shoulder stripe--the mid-riff that just barely peeked tanned skin. It was perfection. And my dick started getting hard again.
That's when Paula started laughing.
Well, I say laughing, but what I mean to say is "giggling". She put her hand to her mouth and shook a little while smiling on the other side of the glass. She was giggling. I was a little embarassed. The whole fantasy of this beautiful girl and I sharing a sexual moment was cracking, making way for the reality of my girlfriend being a tease and a bitch and entirely not worth the hassle. I hate reality. Reality just makes you look at more porn.
My face was probably turning all kinds of red, and my dick started shrinking. Poor guy. A workout and then right into the show, only to be heckled by redheads on the other side of windows. I'll make it up to you, pal. You and me. We'll go find a prostitute that doesn't know how to laugh--and, hey, its on me.
So, my cock drooped and the most remarkable thing happened.
Paula stopped giggling.
She looked at my crotch like there was something serious she wanted to say, then looked at me--right in my eyes--and made the sexiest hand signal I'd ever seen in my life. She looked down at my cock, looked back up at me, and with a quizzical look on her face--with her cute brow scrunched up in confusion--she held her hand up like a fist and started making jacking motions. Not exaggeratedly, not at all, but very subtely. Like she was afraid of hurting the imaginary penis in her clenched hand.
Now, there were two ways to take this. Either she wanted me to unclog her toilet, politely, or stroke my cock for her... show her what I was doing yesterday. Show her what I was doing tonite. Give her a show.
As I didn't have a plunger handy, and I felt like--truly--I had nothing to lose, especially after yesterday afternoon, I put my hand around my dick and started pumping my fist around it. Squeezing. Letting it get hard, watching her every reaction while I did it. And boy, was she ever having them. I mean, for Pete's sake, she's on my ledge, where anyone paying close enough attention could see from the street. But, it was like the rest of the world wasn't even there. She watched me squeeze my prick and she started breathing heavier. She had that lightly panicked, lightly pained, and lightly aroused look on her pretty face that so many women have--but usually, they're about to cum when they look like that. Her hands were on the window sill, her eyes were on my cock.
So, I did what you'd expect any guy to do... I put on the best show I could!
Now, when a man jacks it, he's got a method. A rhythm. He's got a way of going about it that rarely changes, and works. Watching a man get off, for real, is pretty formulaic. And, in my opinion, not very interesting. Me? I go with the three-finger clench method and focus entirely on the end. It gets me where I've got to be. But tonite? Oh, ho! Tonite I was pulling out all the stops.
She was aroused, hot, and maybe a bit confused on the other side of the glass. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to do. I bet she never thought she'd see the day where she'd be watching a guy (boyfriend or not) jacking his cock off while starting at her. For some women, this might seem offensive, for many--its empowering. She was rapt with attention, and so was I. Her breathing was labored and I was praying she'd start touching herself. Paula wasn't the biggest rack on the team, but she had firm and noticeable breasts that fit perfectly with her athletic form. They were always straining against her tops. Now, with her breathing getting heavier as she watched me fist my dick, it seemed like they would burst clean out of that cheerleading outfit.
I snaked my left hand down, and started cupping and stroking my balls. Something that has no erotic element for me at all, but her reaction was through the roof. Her eyes got really wide and she almost lingered at her breasts when she put her hand to her neck to brush her red hair back. Once my cock was good and hard, gleaming from just cumming a moment ago, and painfully ready for some action, I started pumping it back and forth. Toward her, then away, then toward, then away. I could tell she was enjoying herself, every once in a while she'd shift her legs and her eyes would glaze over a bit--she was grinding herself. She was trying to cum.
Oh... the tables have turned, you horrible teasing ho!
I slowed down and took my hands off my dick. Her brow furrowed a bit as she looked at me. She had that "Why?" look on her beautiful face. I decided that if I was going to recover my manhood, and my pride, I was going to have to make myself the one in charge. It was risky. I didn't want her to be offended, and I didn't want her to go, but I decided it was the best idea I had... I motioned for her take her top off.
Now, I'd never seen my girlfriend's breasts. I'd never even really seen her outside of her clothes. I was desperate. Horny. Angry. And desperate men have nothing to lose. Desperate men have no tomorrow...
She looked at me, obviously not wanting to. Then she looked at my cock. Her hands went to her sides smoothly, and she slid her cheerleading top off, up and over her head. Seeing her, sitting there behind glass, on a ledge, in a skirt and nothing else, was almost enough for me to blow my load. Her breasts were perfect, encased in the most polite looking sports bra. They looked so much larger than I thought they would, just sitting there on her lithe form. Tanned, pert, and gorgeous. She smiled a bit, as she noticed my reaction--then motioned for me to continue.
I grabbed my dick and started jacking off as hard and fast as I could. She got wild-eyed for a bit and her mouth dropped open. I was so close. Her nipples were hard, poking through the otherwise tautly pulled fabric and I could tell she was enjoying this. I nodded at her, through a clenched jaw, letting her know that I was about to cum. She moved to her knees, her little pleated skirt riding high on her thighs. She moved to the window and slid her hands down her body, down her skirt, to the hem. She lifted the bottom.
Her panties were white, smooth, and feminine. They were, honestly, what one would expect a good girl to wear. I could make out the tuft of red hair under the fabric and the line of her hips. Most of all, though, was the wet spot over her pussy. Her way of telling me, that she was as horny as I was. She hesitated a bit, and looked at me... her brow furrowed again, in frustration, as she let me know she wasn't sure how or what to do. I motioned for her to just lightly rub herself over the fabric of her panties.
Still a little nervous, she put a hand to her crotch and began rubbing herself, her mouth dropped open in passion and she put her right hand to the glass, catching herself as she fell forward a bit.
I put my left hand to the glass over hers and started beating off like it was the last time I'd ever get to. Our eyes were locked. Her face screwed up in concentration, mine red...
I started going a bit faster, stroking and squeezing and feeling the orgasm coming. I nodded to Paula, and through the glass she understood. She moved her hand quicker, her legs shaking a bit and her face clenched in pleasure.
My girlfriend, in a skirt and sports bra, masturbating for me... that was it. I came.
I shot torrent after torrent of cum all over the window, making an audible sound as it hit. She looked down and watched what she'd made happen. She watched me stroke off all over the window sill. And with her own hand vigorously rubbing her clit, she peeked at me once before her eyes closed, her brow relaxed, and her mouth dropped open. The first sound I'd heard, from my side of the glass, all night... was a faint "Ohh-hhhhh myy-y Goo-ddd".
She then passed out, fell off her knees onto the ledge... rolled off... and toppled side-ways off the roof..
I had my own cock in my hand, just got through experiencing the most erotic thing in the whole world. And now I had to put on pants, run downstairs, avoid my parents, and hope my girflriend wasn't dead, after passing out from her first real orgasm and falling off of a second story roof after watching her pervert of a boyfriend jack off all over his bedroom window. This was NOT how I intended our sex life to start.