How Diana Overcame Her Shyness – Chap 3 – by zenmackie
Diana’s story continiues. , CHAPTER THREE
Diana held out for as long as she could – which turned out to be not very long. Even as she hurried back to her room that night her footsteps unconsciously slowed as her mind returned, over and over, to what had just happened. She would shake it off and pick up the pace again, only to find herself drifting like a sleepwalker once more, her hand having crept under her shirt to touch the still sticky semen James had left on her abdomen.
Ohhh…his cock in her hand, in her mouth!
She came to a dead halt on the sidewalk, her breath heavy in her mouth. It was late and the campus was mostly deserted. She looked around and then stepped behind a nearby hedge. Remembering, she whispered, “Take off your clothes.”
She stripped in the moonlight, remembering his eyes on her, and knelt, completely naked, on the grass. She whispered to the imaginary James, “Please fuck my mouth again,” before shoving two, then three fingers between her lips, rubbing her clit furiously with her free hand as the scenario played out in her imagination. Oh, the little slave-girl on her knees in front of him, his cock thrusting in and out of her mouth! The taste of him, the sudden hot spurting against the back of her throat!
Her orgasm came quickly and was so intense that she doubled over, her glasses tumbling off and her face nearly touching the ground as she gasped for breath. Oh! What was happening to her? A few days ago she had hardly ever touched herself, even in the privacy of her own bed, and now here she was, naked and masturbating right out on the campus lawn like a little slut! What if someone had seen her?
Deeply ashamed, Diana wiped her wet, sticky hands on the grass and dressed hurriedly. She forced herself to walk back to her dorm at a normal pace even though what she wanted to do was run: to reach her room, dive under the covers of her bed and maybe have a little cry before going to sleep.
Her natural fastidiousness won out, however. She smelled of sweat and sex and she knew it. So when she reached her room she fumbled around in the dark for the oversize t-shirt she wore as her nightgown, being careful not to wake her roommate, and ducked into the communal shower room down the hall. She took a quick shower, looking down a little wistfully at her torso as James’ semen was washed away, then dried herself, put on her big t-shirt and padded barefoot back to her room, stuffing her clothing deep into her laundry bag before finally slipping under the covers.
Her dreams were full of anxiety: walking into a classroom and everyone turning to stare at her as she made her way to her seat, their accusing eyes full of the knowledge of what she had done. Standing in front of them, trying to explain, “But it’s not my fault! I had to, I’m his slave!”, but unable to force the words past her lips. Realizing, with horror, that she was dressed only in her t-shirt; that she was holding it up and that everyone could see that her other hand was between her legs.
Diana woke with a start and discovered that it was true: her shirt was rucked up around her hips and her hand was, in fact, between her legs. Thank god she was still under the covers, particularly as her roommate, still in bed herself, was leaning on one elbow and looking at her.
“Nightmare?” she asked. “You were mumbling and moaning in your sleep.”
Diana whipped her hand from between her legs and tried to look puzzled. “Was I? I don’t remember. But maybe you’re right. Did I wake you? I’m so sorry.”
Get a grip, Diana, she told herself, and the phrase became her mantra all through the next several days. James had offered to teach her some things about sex, and he had, and now it was over.
Diana did her best to return to her previous life, repeating her mantra whenever memories and fantasies threatened to overrun her imagination. The hardest part was at night, alone in her bed. There she had much less control over her thoughts and even though she would bunch her hands into fists at her sides and literally clench her teeth as she repeated, Get a grip, Diana, over and over, she was unable to stop the cascade of images. She resolutely refused to touch herself, no matter how great the temptation, but more than once she woke up in the morning with her t-shirt up around her hips and a large wet spot on the sheet, and her roommate complaining about the moans and mutterings coming from Diana in the night.
But after a while things did begin to settle down again, and although the memories and fantasies would still appear in her mind at odd times – she had to give up eating bananas and ice cream for a while – they seemed to have less potency and she was usually able to simply observe them dispassionately. It helped that James almost never showed up at the dining hall and always took his food to go when he did. On the few occasions when Diana had spotted him she had simply averted her eyes and focussed her attention elsewhere – though she did mutter, Get a grip, Diana, to herself each time.
Diana found herself thinking instead about one of the last things James had said to her: “You are a gift, Diana.” It was true that since her time with James she had felt more self-confident: she had been with a man; she had pleased him and he had appreciated her and made her feel good about herself.
She began trying to take his words to heart. She joined in conversations at meals, offering her own thoughts and opinions and sometimes even making little jokes, which to her surprise were generally well received. She hung out or walked with people sometimes instead of scuttling back to her room or to the library after classes. Eventually she even plucked up the courage to ask a stylish woman friend to help her shop for some new, more flattering clothing and teach her a little bit about make-up. If she’d been able to afford it, Diana would have gotten contact lenses but had to settle for removing her glasses when not in class.
She even…went out on a date. Then another. These were very casual affairs, certainly more friendly than romantic, but still. However, the semester was winding down and James wasn’t the only one with papers to write and exams to prepare for. Diana was an excellent student and her parents always expected her to achieve top grades, so she hunkered down and focussed, giving little thought to anything else.
Thoroughly prepared as always, she sailed through her exams and her violin performance evaluation and then semester was over for her, though other students had later exams over the next few days. She could have left immediately, as she had done the previous year, but all that was waiting for her at home, other than her parents, was a mindless summer job answering the phone and logging orders for her father’s office supply company. Besides, she had actually been invited to an end-of-school-year party and was, to her own surprise, looking forward, somewhat nervously, to attending.
She fretted over what to wear, of course. She wanted to look nice but didn’t want to be overdressed either. She finally settled on a pair of black pants – a recent acquisition that showed off her slim figure – and a silky, bright-colored top – basically a fancy t-shirt – accessorized with a thin gold necklace and small gold earrings. She paid extra attention to her make-up as well, still not completely confident in her skill. But finally she was satisfied.