She wouldn’t tell him her worries. She would talk with him but not about anything really important or about her. She still laughed with him, but her...laugh was different, it didn’t have the same life, the same spark. She didn’t want to tell him her struggles anymore. She didn’t want him to worry about her, didn’t want him to know just how far her self-hatred really went. How deeply rooted in her mind it really was. How every time anyone got just a little glimpse of it, they would tell her that. There were still a few people wandering around with drinks in their hands. There were also a few partially opened doorways, where she could see people in different states of sexual fun. She was getting wetter from every scene she saw. She stopped at one door and watched what was happening inside. There was a large crowd stuffed into the room, with two girls and a guy on the bed. The girls were in a 69 position with the guy behind the one on top, sliding in and out of her as everyone cheered him. A couple of gentle tugs on my now very erect nipples was all I could take, and my body demanded more. Almost unconsciously my hands slipped down, across my damp belly and between my thighs. I was desperate suddenly, my hips bucking up to meet my questing fingers. Ignoring the slow build up I usually needed, I spread my labia with one hand, while the other hand sought out the hard little nub that was so eager for contact. Masturbation for me has always been more an exercise of the mind than the. "Would you like another of those?" I inquired, pointing to her now almost whiskyless glass."That would be nice, but make it a highball this time. I don't usually drink it straight." She laughed coyly, "You wouldn't want to get me drunk, would you?"I gave her a sideward glance at this last question. God, first Amanda and now Cindy acting like I might be trying to put the moves on my sister's best friend. But there was nothing there - no indication that Cindy was flirting with me. Her inquiry had.
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