There was a rush of business at the end of the game, and then I closed up, got on my bike, and rode home. It was almost ten, which is pretty late for Paris, and nobody was around. But I wasn't worried. The only crime we ever got was an occasional drunk fighting with his or her spouse, and some kids vandalizing things.

I still lived with my mom, who I loved but God help me, can't get along very well with. Fortunately, she worked the day shift at the truck stop on Route 87. She'd be in bed by the time I got home, and gone by the time I got up. We'd never gotten along better!

We lived in a farmhouse my grandad had built long ago, which was now just on the edge of town, or maybe just slightly outside of town. My mom had the big master bedroom in the front, and instead of taking one of the smaller rooms in the back I lived in the attic.

The thing about the attic was that it had had a floor, and that was that. It was good for storage, so long as you didn't mind stuff freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. The insulation was under the floor, not up under the ceiling.

But it was a nice, big room with a high peaked ceiling. So I'd managed to buy insulation, that pink stuff that you stuffed up between the rafters, and then me and Sara and Jamie and Paul and Dennis and a few others had, over the space of some time, boarded that in. Then we'd stripped and sanded, and stained the floor.

The floor gleamed! I loved it! And it was a long, wide room, extending the length of the house!

Wide, though, means the floor was wide. The ceiling, though, was sharply peaked and came right down to the floor on two sides. That considerably narrowed the living space available if you weren't a midget. And I was five and a half feet tall.

There were two windows on the west side, with a fireplace between them, and one long window on the east. The north and south were, of course, the ceiling. I had my little "living room" I guess yo could call it, on the west side, around the fireplace. My bed was on the east side so I got the sunrise.

In between I had a desk and table, some shelves which were like room dividers, and a couple of wardrobes to hang my clothes in. It was all real cozy, as far as I was concerned. The only issue was it still got pretty hot in summer, but I had a window air conditioner I could put in for that.

What I didn't have was a bathroom. None of us were really up to plumbing, but that was okay. Years ago, before he died, dad had built a bathroom into the master suite by removing what used to be the fourth bedroom. So mom used that and I used the main bathroom.

I didn't normally shower before bed. My hair looked best when it was newly washed, and it got messed up while sleeping. But working around hot, bubbling oil all night mean I would smell like french fries and burgers all night if I didn't wash off.

I usually did it real quick, though, because I was still going to have to wash my hair in the morning in order to brush it out properly.

Only tonight... tonight things were... different.

I felt strangely invigorated as I tossed my uniform into the hamper, slipped off my underthings, pulled on a robe, and headed downstairs. I was usually kind of tired by now but I felt like I had a lot of energy. I closed the bathroom door, hung up my robe on the hook and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

I really was beautiful, I thought, and sexy, and had a great body.

I reached up and behind me, pulling the tie out of my hair so it would fall free. I could feel the skin tightening across my breasts as I did, and liked the sensation. I kind of arched my back, pushing my breasts out at the mirror, as if showing off to someone... maybe to Travis.

Yes, imagine if Travis was seeing this! He'd be so excited! He thought he knew what I looked like naked! Ha! If he could see me like this he'd go crazy!

I let my arms drop, but even with them at my sides my breasts were firm and full, and I could see how stiff the nipples were even as my hands rose up and cupped and squeezed them. I started to feel a hot little thrill of excitement deep in my belly, and imagined Travis was feeling my breasts like this, imagined it was his hands cupping and kneading my soft, swelling flesh.

What a strange boy he was! But he was definitely cute, and he looked well-built, too. I wondered what his body looked like naked and what his hair would feel like against my skin. Would it feel as soft as mine?

I reached up and back, sliding my fingers through my hair, and swung my head around so that it swept around in front of me to half hide my face. My fingers combed through it, and I let my other hand slide down my body, plucking and rolling my nipple between my thumb and forefinger as my chest tightened.

I was getting more and more aroused, and it never even occurred to me to wonder why.

I wasn't generally given to bouts of narcissism, of thinking how pretty or sexy I was, but I was thinking it now, and getting very hot from the thoughts, and from my hands running slowly up and down my body. I loved how soft my skin felt against my fingers!

Then with one hand up in my hair, I let the other slowly skim down my body, again imagining it was Travis, feeling my breath going ragged as I watched 'his' hand sliding down my abdomen, watched 'his' fingers find my sex and trace up and down against the narrow opening.

I moaned softly as my fingers brushed over my clitoris, feeling my heat rise even hotter.

I didn't have an awful lot of experience with sex stuff. I mean, I was a virgin, basically. It wasn't that I wasn't... curious... but Paris is a small town and a lot of boys have had me in their cross-hairs for a lot of years, wanting to be be able to brag about it to everyone. I was determined they wouldn't get that chance.

As for touching myself, well, I can confess to having done it from time to time, but never with the kind of heat that was gripping me now! So many weird things were going through my mind! One was that I imagined Travis was there watching me, as though I was being, like, a kind of stripper in front of him!

The idea was exhilarating! And the more I thought about it the more I felt it, pretending that the image of me in the mirror was what he was staring at , and posing and preening for it as he admired me! I turned and bent over a little, rolling my hips at the mirror, then turned around again, sliding my hands slowly up and down my body.

And I imagined they were his hands, that while he was looking at me, his hands were sliding over my body, and I kind of tried to make it feel as if they were strangers hands on me. And I had never felt such a great a great imagination! It was almost like I was able to divorce myself from my own hands, as if it was Travis himself caressing my body, sliding up to tweak my nipples, skimming back and forth over the soft, round curves of my breasts!

My nipples were so freaking hard they ached! And while I'd never really played with my nipples before, well, for some reason, they really caught my attention tonight! I gripped them between my thumbs and forefingers, rolling and plucking them, then squeezing harder. Then I dug my nails into them, pinching them until they hurt!

That was surely not something I'd ever done! It came to me, for some reason, that what they felt when I pinched them hard, was heat, and wasn't heat what I felt when I was all excited? It was just another kind of heat, and they could almost be made to be the same...

I moaned as I pinched my nipples hard, gasping in pain as I stretched them out in front of me! They hurt! And I wanted to stop... kind of! But my fingers kept pinching and pulling and stretching them as I shuddered and gulped in air and my nipples burned hotter and hotter!

I finally let them go, and moaned in relief as they throbbed hotly. My hands moved down my body and in between my legs, and I began to stroke my clit with the fingers of one hand as the fingers of the other traced the line of my sex, then pushed slowly up inside me.

I didn't, as a rule, penetrate myself much when I masturbated, but I wanted to now. I wanted to feel how tight I was against my fingers. I wanted to feel how soft and slick and warm I was inside. I moaned and pumped them in and out, sliding deeper and deeper, as if searching for something? I was, in fact, looking for my cherry, and I felt strangely puzzled at not finding it.

Then it came to my mind how I'd popped my cherry myself with the handle of my hairbrush. I felt angry at that, for some reason, indignant. How could I do something that stupid!?

But it didn't matter to my arousal, except that my fingers could slide up deeper, and feel the lips of my sex squeezing down tight around them.

A kind of fever heat was taking over my mind like nothing I'd ever felt before! I writhed in front of the mirror, staring at myself with slitted eyes, gasping for breath as I plunged my fingers up and down inside myself hard enough to hurt, or to ache anyway.

Well, if I hadn't been such a slut with my hairbrush I'd still have a cherry, wouldn't I? Then I wouldn't be doing this and it wouldn't hurt. Right? So if it hurt it was my own fault.

That was a kind of a weird thought to have but all of this was weird! But again, I was so aroused I didn't care!

I moaned helplessly, gasping for breath as I leaned over the counter, my fingers pumping inside myself. I stared down, momentarily startled to see I was thrusting four fingers up into my tight pussy now! No wonder it ached! I'd never used more than two! But the sight of them transfixed me and I felt another hot surge of excitement at the sight!

God, I felt so tight and hot inside!