Show Me Yours

Show Me Yours

Show Me Yours_...._

An open mind leaves a chance for someone to drop a worthwhile thought in it.....Mark Twain

Prologue

“Orla, how many times do I have to tell you not to touch yourself...down there...like that?” her mother scolded from across the kitchen.

“But...but Mummy...it feels so...good,” the six–year–old responded as she always did while standing in the doorway with her right hand between her legs and two fingers moving absentmindedly back and forth over the smooth mound and tight pussy slit covered by worn frayed cotton panties.

“I don't care, that's not something good little girls should ever do,” her mother continued harshly before returning to preparing dinner, “especially not in front of someone else.”

Orla made a pouting face but removed her hand as her mother demanded, letting her school uniform skirt fall back over her thighs. She turned and walked toward her bedroom, wondering if she was allowed to touch herself...down there...if no one else was watching.

“Hey, golden princess, how was school today?” she heard her grandfather call out, using the Irish origin of her name as he was wont to do when she walked by the door to the patio.

Orla and her mother moved in with her Poppy Anton a few months before, after her father left them for another woman. Orla wasn't really clear on all the details but knew she liked spending time with her grandfather. He had lots of funny stories and didn't always keep telling her to not do things she liked, including touching herself.

“Hi, Poppy, it was OK,” she answered, walking out on the patio to join her grandfather. “I'll be glad when it's over in a couple of weeks.”

Poppy Anton sat in a lounge chair wearing just an old pair of shorts in the late spring sun. The sweat still gleaming on his hairy arms and chest indicated he had done some yard work around the house. As usual, he had an open beer in one hand when he reached around her shoulders and pulled her close for a warm hug with his other arm. Then he squirmed over a little to give her room to sit next to him and unashamedly placed his now free hand back on the bulge in his shorts.

For the next few minutes, he coolly asked about her day in the first grade and what new she learned that day. As she spoke, he made no effort at all to conceal from her the way he continued obliviously squeezing and massaging the hard lump between his legs. When the conversation began to wane, Orla noticed his hand.

“Does that feel good, Poppy?” she finally asked him.

“What's that, honey?” he replied.

“Touching yourself like that...down there,” Orla continued, not really knowing the differences between males and females but recognizing the area of the body about which her mother repeatedly scolded her. “Mommy says I shouldn't put my hand down there between my legs and touch myself, that it's a...um...nasty habit.”

“Oh she did, did she?” the sixty–six–year–old man chuckled and continued squeezing the hump in his shorts. “Do you like the way it feels when you touch yourself down there, the way that makes your Mommy mad?”

Orla nodded her head tentatively but affirmatively. Her grandfather simply smiled even brighter, finished his beer and pulled another from the cooler near his seat.

“Can you keep a secret, one you can never ever tell anyone, especially your Mommy?” he whispered conspiratorially, looking back toward the house.

Orla nodded her head more emphatically. Like most little girls, she loved secrets, especially grown–up ones. She thought she was especially good at keeping them from anyone Poppy Anton didn't want them to know.

“Everybody likes to touch themselves down there and feel good, even your Mommy,” he chuckled and dramatically squeezed his hump again in an exaggerated way. “Grammy used to tell your Mommy not to do the same thing, touching her crotch and pussy, when she was a little girl like you. She kept doing it anyway.”

“Really?” Orla gasped, her eyes widened like saucers as she tried to understand what her grandfather was telling her. “Did you tell her to stop too?”

“Me...oh no, I would never do that,” Anton laughed heartily. “I know how good it feels for me and I guess it's the same for you and her and everyone else.”

“Then why does she tell me to stop touching myself?” the confused six–year–old asked.

“That gets pretty complicated but it has to do with grown–ups worrying about what kids might be doing and the Church having some wacky ideas about sex,” the old man explained obtusely as he squeezed the hump in his shorts even harder for the little girl to see. “Show me what were you doing when she yelled at you today.”

Orla didn't hesitate to sit back on the lounge chair, spread her legs and pull her skirt up around her waist. She unabashedly began rubbing her pronounced smooth pussy mound and the tight slit splitting it in half through the cotton panties imprinted with lions and tigers and bears.

Anton was enthralled by the sight. His six–year–old granddaughter clearly didn't have any idea how to properly masturbate since she didn't even push the worn fabric of her panties aside or into her tight slit. Nevertheless, just watching her rub her hand back and forth across her covered mound was plenty arousing and held a lot of promise.

“Let's go to your room and I'll show you some ways to make yourself feel even better every time you touch yourself,” he managed to murmur in a raspy voice when he noticed a tiny wet spot develop in his shorts, “but you can never, ever tell your Mommy.”

•••••

Orla opened her eyes when she finally stopped quivering all over even though she knew her thighs and insides would keep trembling for another minute or so. The wispy patch of hair above her pussy slit, as well as the three fingers of her right hand that still rested partially inside the hole in the warm moist gash between her legs, were soaked with the musky pussy juices that recently seemed to increase each time she climaxed.

“I miss you, Poppy...so, so much,” she muttered to herself, a barely audible incantation that had become as much a part of her masturbation routine as the fingers circling her clit or plunging into the tight entry to her cunt canal until at least one orgasm rippled through her body.

Poppy Anton had a heart attack and died, instantly the doctor insisted, a few weeks before her twelfth birthday six months before. Fortunately, Orla was at school when it happened and he was taken to the hospital before she got home. Of course, her mother was a weeping, sobbing mess and so was Orla when she found out the details.

Orla didn't cry as much thinking about her grandfather as she had with the passing of time but the sting of his loss still lingered. Perhaps more than anything else, she missed the way he encouraged her to lose herself in whatever she did, including the pleasure she so craved when she masturbated as he looked on approvingly stroking his own uncut cock.

He never touched her down there in all the years since he first gave her permission to touch herself and masturbate despite her mother's exhortations. He did carefully and simply explain to her how to go about making herself feel good in much better ways than she discovered by herself. He also encouraged her to watch him stroke his hard cock until spurt after spurt of his creamy sperm shot onto his chest and belly.

As a result, at an earlier age than most, she knew the difference between the ways boys and girls gratified themselves. So while she didn't miss, or even experience to that point, the physical contact with another in even the most trivial ways, there was still something missing every time she climaxed on her own fingers now. She had grown used to being watched as she masturbated, with the thrill of her own orgasm greatly increased by the obvious excitement of her grandfather looking on, cheerfully stroking himself while unselfconsciously and happily announcing when his cum was about to erupt.

She loved watching spurt after spurt of his creamy sperm splatter on his belly and chest. After a few tries and her grandfather's enthusiastic encouragement, she grew to like the sticky consistency of that jism on her fingers when she scooped some up as well as the slightly salty taste in her mouth when she licked her fingers clean

After her grandfather's death, her mother became even stricter about what Orla was permitted to do. She was only reluctantly allowed to participate in sports or other after–school activities. Of course, having another kid her age, be it a boy or girl, visit the house when her mother was at work was completely forbidden. On top of that, permission to attend sleepovers with other girls stopped completely when Orla's nipples first began to bloom just before she entered the seventh grade in junior high school.

So, despite playing with her pussy and bringing on as many orgasms as she could in the ways her grandfather taught her as often as possible, Orla was increasingly frustrated by her lack of an audience when she climaxed regardless of the frequency or intensity of her self–induced gratification.

•••••

Then one evening she happened upon a partial solution.

As she walked into her darkened bedroom, she noticed the well–lit room of the house next door. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the room other than their new neighbor lying on his bed with a laptop beside him watching something Orla instantly realized was probably porn as he frantically jerked himself off. Now that was something new and different.

Orla walked closer to her window without turning on the light in her own bedroom. With the windows of both houses closed, she couldn't hear any noise he was making or any dialogue if there was any from the laptop.

She didn't need any sound.

She rushed back to close and lock her bedroom door then returned to stand off to the side of her window in the off chance he could see her watching him. Without a thought, she slipped her hand under the waistband of her panties and into her increasingly warm wet pussy slit.

The familiar tingling of growing pleasure instantly coursed up through her chest and face and down through her thighs. When she realized he was not quite ready to cum, she took a few seconds to strip off her blouse and training bra, skirt and panties, to stand naked next to the window pumping two fingers of her left hand in and out of her dripping cunt and circling her throbbing clit with the middle finger off her right.

“Jerry...er...Gerard...no...Gerald...that's it...his name is Gerald,” she muttered to herself, remembering him introducing himself at the mailboxes one day soon after he and his infirm mother moved into that house a month or so before.

He looked to be around her own mother's age, not a whole lot taller than her and on the pudgy side. He was lying on a bed in such a way Orla could see all of his body except the area around his knees blocked by the back of the laptop. That hardly mattered to Orla as her eyes focused on the hard cut cock he was vigorously stroking.

Orla knew the signs of a guy's impending orgasm having watched her grandfather jerk off from just a few feet away many times over the years. When Gerald bent his left knee and arched his back, she knew he was right on the verge of cumming. She rubbed her clit and pumped her fingers in and out of her cunt as hard and fast as she could but he was too far ahead of her. His eyes rolled back in his head and four strong spurts of creamy white cum erupted on his chest and belly. A final little spasm deposited the last few drops in his dark brown pubic hair.

He was slumped back still breathing raggedly basking in the afterglow of his climax when Orla's orgasm rippled through her body, the strongest and wettest in quite some time. When she looked down after finishing, she was standing in a small puddle of her own orgasmic juices with a few drops still dripping from her throbbing pussy.

Next door, Gerald wiped up his spent cum with some tissues and closed the laptop. When he got off the bed, he slipped into a robe and walked out the bedroom door. Orla only had a brief glimpse of his dangling dick before he left but it was enough for her to flop on her bed and finger herself to another not quite so intense orgasm.

•••••

After that first night, Orla made a point of not immediately turning on the light when she entered her bedroom after dark. Apparently, Gerald was not as sexually needy as her since she didn't catch him jerking off again until four or five days later.

As soon as she noticed him when she stepped into her bedroom, she locked the door behind her and stripped naked while walking to the window. This time, he placed the laptop in such a way she could just barely see the screen...a young woman with humongous tits furiously fingering her smoothly shaved pussy mound and glistening slit.

Orla's knees started to buckle even before she rammed two fingers into her cunt while standing directly in front of her window. Besides watching herself masturbate in front of a mirror on occasion, she had never seen another woman fingering her pussy. Now she stood transfixed with a steady stream of juices oozing down the insides of her thighs watching Gerald jerk off while the woman on the screen writhed and thrashed.

She realized Gerald was close to cumming when he moved the laptop on top of his thighs and stroked himself faster and faster. After only a few more seconds, he directed spurt after spurt of his cum to splatter on the laptop screen to dribble down across the masturbating woman's unnaturally large tits and the fingers mauling her dripping pussy.

Orla climaxed so hard she almost fainted.

So it went over the next few weeks. While Orla waited in the dark every night, Gerald would only lay on the bed and jerk off every fourth or fifth evening. Sometimes, she could see the porn he watched but most often she couldn't because of the way he positioned the laptop. She did watch him strip naked before going to sleep or return nude from the shower but seemingly, he didn't feel the need to cum anywhere near as much as she did.

Orla was lying in her bed enthusiastically touching herself one evening with Gerald's room dark when it suddenly dawned on her how to take the next step she so desperately needed.

“Turn on your light before he comes to his room, dummy,” she silently admonished herself, “and maybe he'll see you the way you saw him the first time.”

Her pussy throbbed the entire time she made a few adjustments to the soft warm light at her bed stand and the full–length mirror that would allow her to see him without looking directly at the window. When she was satisfied, she put a pillow under her head, bent her knees, spread her legs as wide as she could and began lightly touching her moist sensitive pussy slit pointed directly at his window

She hadn't counted on how long it would be until Gerald came to his room or how excited she was by the idea of him seeing her playing with her pussy. As a result, she had a body–quaking climax before he entered and turned on the light without even looking in her direction.

As she watched him undress, Orla continued touching her overly sensitive pussy slit. She figured she would cum at least once more before getting up to turn off the light in her room. When Gerald turned off his light, she bent her knees again and quickly fingered herself to another climax. It was only when she finished and turned out her light that she saw him in the dimly reflected streetlight standing close to his window looking right at her as he stroked his rock–hard cock.

Over the next few weeks, they fell into an unspoken rhythm. If Ola came into her bedroom and his was dark, she locked her door, stretched out and played with herself through a couple of climaxes assuming he was watching. If his light was on, she stripped in the dark and watched him jerk off, masturbating right along with him. She even took to standing directly in front of her window, turned on even more by the idea he might indistinctly be able to see her in the reflected light.

Then one night as her climax was about to crest, Orla glimpsed him raising his window to give her an even better view as he jerked off watching her. She wasn't entirely sure but thought she saw his creamy white cum shooting out through the open window in the dim light to splatter on the ground between their houses just before she closed her eyes to enjoy the pleasure flooding through her body.

The next evening, she retired to her room early. Gerald's room was dark and she could only guess he wasn't there yet. She opened her window as far as it would go, stripped off her clothes and stood as close as she could get in the dark. After only a few minutes, Gerald entered his room, flipped on the light and opened his own window.

Orla's pussy clenched and tingled, wondering if he could see her in the darkened room. Gerald stretched and then slowly removed his clothes, carelessly throwing them behind him while continuing to stand at the window. As soon as he was completely naked, he wrapped his right hand around his quickly swelling cock and started jerking off.

They now both stood completely nude while masturbating less than twenty feet apart.

While she continued to be an indistinct shadow to him, Orla could clearly see the way his ball sac flopped back and forth, the thick vein throbbed beneath his fingers and the first drops of precum that sprayed in all directions with each of his strokes. With both windows open, she could also hear his ragged breathing and the slap of his balls against his thighs.

Realizing he could probably hear the squishy sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her dripping cunt was enough for her to lowly moan her climax. A few seconds later, five spurts of his creamy white cum shot out directly at her but dove to the ground after only going a foot or so from the tip of his dick. When he finished, Gerald simply turned, put on his robe and left the room, presumably to go to the bathroom and shower.

Orla waited until he was gone to climb in her bed with her mind racing. She knew what she had to do next and could hardly wait.

The following night, Orla went to her room much later than usual and turned on the bed stand light. She smiled to herself seeing his window already open when she slid hers up as far as it could go, knowing full well he was waiting and had to know what she just did. Then she leisurely stripped off her clothes, stopping to fondle her tits and even dramatically sniff the crotch of her damp panties as she caught some indistinct movement in Gerald's room in the dim light.

Orla pulled a chair over to the window and sat down with her heels on the sill and her thighs spread wide. She remembered Poppy always telling her to take her time, that the doing was always more important and arousing than the ending. So she fondled her tits, making the nipples so hard they ached before slowly sliding a hand down between her legs. She used her fingers to spread her glistening pussy lips apart until her hard little clit popped out from its fleshy hood. Rather than rub that nub, she pinched it between her right thumb and forefinger and moved her hand like she was jerking off a tiny cock.

A low moan told her Gerald was indeed there and watching intently. That confirmation was enough to cause her pussy juices to seep from her entry hole and drip down over her puckered asshole. A sudden flash of light from his skin told her he moved. A second later, most of his five–and–a–half–inch–long dick, stroked by his quickly moving right hand, poked out of the window.

A stream of her pussy juices erupted from between her legs to splash on the window sill. A moment later, five spurts of his creamy cum seemed to almost strike the outside of her house right below her window when they shot from the head of his shaft.

Gerald's cock quickly deflated in his hand and he stepped back into the darkness of his room. A few seconds later, there was a brief flash of light as he opened the door and rushed into the hallway clearly heading for the bathroom.

For the next few weeks, they alternated whose room remained lit as if by an unspoken agreement. With the weather warming in late spring, they also kept their windows open, clearly both stimulated by the sounds, as much as the sight, of each other masturbating to body–quivering climaxes.

By their unofficial and unstated pact, it was Orla's turn to be in the lit room on a particularly hot stuffy summer night. She positioned herself as usual on the chair with her heels on the window sill, her puffy moist pussy gaping wide between her spread thighs. She was casually pumping a finger in and out of her throbbing cunt when Gerald's light flashed on.

He was naked and smiling devilishly, with his rock–hard five–and–a–half–inch cock standing straight out, by the time he walked from the light switch to the window. When his knees bumped against the wall beneath the window, he stopped and looked directly at her. He started humping his hips back and forth as he stroked his stiff dick that barely protruded past his pronounced belly.

At the first sight of him when the light flashed on, Orla gasped in surprise. The closer he got, the more he reminded her of Poppy Anton and all the times she and her grandfather masturbated together. With a weak smile, she began furiously rubbing her clit with two fingers of her right hand and pumped three from her left in and out of her cunt as hard and fast as she could.

Soon they matched each other's pace with their low moans adding to the visual stimulation. When she saw the first drops of precum spraying all around as he stroked himself faster, Orla shoved two more fingers into her cunt. Her climax erupted just seconds before his cum shot directly at her before falling to the ground as usual.

After that night, neither concealed anything from the other. They saw each other dress and undress and go about normal everyday activities. They masturbated watching each other almost every evening and occasionally walked in on one or the other giving themselves an extra orgasm.

Gerald showed her the porn he liked with his laptop on the window sill watching her finger herself as he jerked off. She licked her pussy juices coating fingers for him and he scooped his spent cum up with his fingers and sucked them clean for her. They both tried different positions they gleaned from the porn videos while getting themselves off.

Epilogue

From that day they first openly watched each other until he moved away after his mother died a year or so later, they both smiled and gave each other a secretive thumbs up whenever they passed in the front yard or at the mailboxes. In all that time, they never exchanged as much as a single word with each other.

When he moved away, Orla's biggest regret was needing to find a new performing playmate and audience. Two weeks later, a new family rented the house. Their blonde fourteen–year–old twin boys shared the same bedroom Gerald used. It didn't take them very long at all to look before turning on the light when entering their bedroom after dark or to realize how excited she got watching them jerk themselves and each other off.

••••••••••

(I do welcome any comments and will respond to all at aadirtyoldmaninphx1@proton.me. Please remember that NIFTY needs your support. If you want the stories to continue, it's up to you to donate.)