My wet cunt was slowly starting to soak through my black and burgundy lace panties again. I had been rubbing myself all morning, waiting for this mome...t. I began making his coffee. I had to be quick if I was going to get enough time to treat myself. I finally pushed the button and hot water began to fill the mug. My hand, almost naturally brushing up my skirt and against my stalkings, began rubbing my pulsing cunt. The feeling was overbearing but I had to stay quiet. With my other hand, I began. I was noticing, too, how girls looked at me. It was different, knowing that they could be as horny as I was.It's not that I quit looking at boys -- after all, I had been looking at only boys for the four most important years of my sexual development. But horny sixteen-year-old boys have a tendency to pansexualism anyway, as in "fuck anything that moves".Lisa Jones wasn't one of the aggressive girls at school. She was almost the opposite. A freshman. Quiet, a little shy. But she had seemed. More

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