“Come on, spill it.”“Fine,” I sighed, pushing up my glasses. “Philippa came out and—”“I don't remember Philippa even being there,” B...thany interrupted. “I invited her,” Lola said, her hand clenching her new wife's hand. “But I didn't think she'd show up. She's so quiet, and she's always practicing ballet.”“Yeah, I didn't think she did anything else,” said Rebecca, her flaming hair dancing around her face.“Oh, she does,” I said, my face burning. My clit-dick throbbed in my panties, growing hard. Beating off got to be a chore, too, even. For one thing, it made my cock sore. For another, there were only so many times in a day I could do it.The alternative, I hated to admit, was worse. It was that I had no idea what to do if I wasn't watching and waiting for some girl to take her clothes off. Pathetic? Ya think? Why, yes. I made a promise to myself that when I told this story I wasn't going to varnish the stupid parts or, I admit it, the pathetic parts, so I won't. It took me a long time. More

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