Christina moaned as she pulled down the familiar street of her parent's house. After two years, she had hoped that the four hour drive from college would get easier, but it never did. Instead, she spent hours staring at the landscape of Nebraska while driving as fast as she could without risking a ticket.

She managed to distract herself for almost half the trip by dwelling on old boyfriends. The thoughts started with just dating and dancing but quickly focused on the intimate moments, with fumbling fingers and cock driving into her. The miles passed quickly, but somewhere near Omaha, her plan backfired when she realized there was no way she could relieve herself. She needed an orgasm, desperately, and a dirty rest stop bathroom didn't seem like the place. Instead, she suffered the last hour of her trip with soaked panties and an itch that desperately needed some “quality” time with the vibrator still hidden in her own room.

As she pulled onto the cracked concrete drive of her parent's house, she squeezed her thighs together. The muted, wet squelch brought a shiver of pleasure coursing up her spine and her lips parted at the sensations. She thumbed both garage door buttons, if only to see if her parents were home.

By the time she stopped in her customary spot, the guest spot now, the doors opened to reveal two empty stalls.


She threw the car into park, yanked the keys out of the ignition, and sprinted into the garage while ignoring her bags. She would come back later, after she relieved herself. Her tennis shoes scuffed the step as she entered the kitchen through the back and tapped buttons to close the garage doors.

Familiar smells and memories came welling up. Two years didn't change her parents house much, but it still felt like home to her. A pang of homesickness tugged at her, reminding her that it wasn't home anymore, just a place filled with memories.

And then the shiver of need. She dropped her keys on the counter and ran up the stairs. The familiar creaks of the house followed her as she took the steps two at a time. She didn't even need to look around to get to her room. Four steps forward and turn to the right. Inside, the room smelled of old perfume and dust.

Christina closed the door behind her and tugged at her jeans. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the button before she managed to yank it down to her ankles. She tried to step out, but her shoes caught on the legs. With a frustrated moan, she sat down on the corner of her bed and extricated her feet. With every movement, she could feel the air tickling against her thighs and aching clit.

As the denim slid off her legs, she looked down at her bare thighs and feet. Working out twice a week had kept her high school shape, with legs that were a bit too thick for her own tastes but greatly appreciated by the last few boyfriends. Her pubic hair, a slightly darker brown than the hair on her head, peeked out from the gap below the bottom button of her green embroidered blouse. The hairs were damp and clung to the curve of her sex.

Breathing in, she smelled the comforting smell of her own excitement: musky and sweet. She closed her eyes as she pushed one hand between her legs, curling up against her slick lips. Her inner muscle clenched as she worked one finger along her slit, parting it to rub the hard nub of her clit.

Christina remembered that she was in her room for a reason. Stumbling to stand up, she padded across the room to her closet. On the top shelf, in a box labeled “Urban Girls”, she grabbed the small vibrator she bought on a dare almost six years ago. She giggled at the sight of the tiny red device. She remembered how her friends stared at with wonder, none of them willing to take the first step to actually use it.

She brought it back to her bed. It was hers from the first day, though she never told anyone that it kept her company for the long nights of her teenage years. When she crawled on her bed, she heard the air conditioner began to rumble. In a few second seconds, cool air blew out of the vent, adding to the orchestra of little sensations.

Rolling on her back, she spread her legs and twisted the vibrator on. It shook in her palm and she felt the heat gathering in her sex. The wet slickness seemed to boil inside her and memories of the last few hours washed across her mind.

She brought it down to her clit and let out a louder moan. Her toes curled as she dragged it through the curls of her pubic hair and along the sensitive folds of her sex.

The smell of her excitement surrounded her, blending in with the perfume of her room and the dust from the blanket. It was a heady mixture and she pushed her fingers around the vibrator to find her opening. With two fingers, she fingered herself with hard, short strokes.

With vibrations shaking her and fingers plunging, she brought back the memories of her boyfriends: the cocks and fingers pressing against her sex, the fumbling with her jeans in the back of the gymnasium, and even the steamy kisses to heat up before braving the winter cold. There were a thousand little memories that turned her on and she only needed one good flash to set off the orgasm boiling inside her.

But, hours of dwelling on her memories had dulled them and sapped the excitement. She felt the heat growing inside her, and the sounds of her wet fingers echoed against the walls to prove it, but nothing pushed her over the crest of an orgasm. Whimpering, she added a third finger to her pussy, pumping fast enough to feel her juices dribbling between the gaps of her palm and her aching sex.

She found a memory that wasn't worn smooth. As she strove to remember the feel of her boyfriend, an ex-boyfriend now, and his cock against her ass, the warmth of an orgasm began to spread along her limbs. She felt her muscles tensing with anticipation and the wet slurping increasing until her thighs were soaked with her juices.

Christina panted and whimpered. She pulled her head off the bed as she drove into herself, pumping with hard, desperate strokes.

And then the garage door squealed open.

“Fuck!” She tensed as she felt the orgasm slipping away. With a whimper, she tried to focus on the memories. Her wrist hurt from trying to push herself to a crest. It felt good, as did the vibrator, but the moment had passed.

Slumping back, Christina sighed. “Damn it, Daddy, why did you have to come early?”

She fought frustration and the knife edge of pleasure still inside her. She needed an orgasm, badly, but there was no way she could do it with her father coming through the door.

Dressing quickly, she hid the vibrator underneath her mattress for that night and, hopefully, a powerful orgasm with her screaming into a pillow. She went into the bathroom to wash her hands. It wouldn't be good for her to smell like sex.

She started to leave the bathroom, but then pressed the lever to flush the toilet. And then remembered she had to wash her hands again to continue the ruse. With a blush on her cheeks, she took a cursory pass with the soap before finishing up.


Christina wiped her hands dry and headed into the hall as her father came up the stairs. “Daddy!”

“Welcome home!” He pulled her into a tight hug. He wasn't anything to brag to her friends, balding and somewhat fat, but there was no question that he always smiled when she came into the room.

Together, they went downstairs and Christina lost herself in the idle conversations of school, home, and everything between. Though, nothing could stop her from feeling the edge of hunger between her thighs and a desperate need to have an orgasm.