Then we rushed away towards the bus, almost running. But still, she managed to talk a bit about the “panties inside” experience, how it was her new favorite thing, and how weird then to put them on, and walking through the city with panties inside herself feels even more naughty than “walking with other objects I’ve tried.”
“What objects?”
“Oh, no time today, I’ll tell you later… Or maybe I’ll show you.”
Everything has happened in the same rushed manner for the next week and a half. She brought panties inside herself every time now, and said, “Panties are inside!” instead of “Hello”. After a few days, just “Red thong this time,” or “Some sports pair, it was hard to put them in fully, but they feel wonderful.” Also, when there was an opportunity, she did quick yet sensual shows for me, of pulling them out, sniffing, even licking sometimes; the red thong she put entirely in her mouth before putting them on. One day, when she took off her pants, her panties were half-sticking out already, and she said it was a funny experience, too; the outside part was pressed to her clitoris with her pants while she walked towards the spring. She hesitated for a second and then said she had a small yet pleasant orgasm when we hugged hello (we were hugging now… sometimes).
Between visits to the changing room, while diving and drying off under the now warm sun, she played with her swimsuit. With her body completely shaven and skin color making it hard to distinguish where her private parts began, she sometimes moved her swimsuit bottoms lower and lower till I’ve been saying in mock panic: “A few more millimeters, and you’ll be showing your clit!”–and, if there were no people in the line of sight, she might for a second, move them below the start of her cleft: “So what?”
Sometimes, she would sit on a bench beside the pool, and squirm a bit, cross and uncross her legs so that the swimsuit bottoms would move to one side–and exactly the moment one puffy outer lip sprung free, she’d cross her legs, stand up and go to to change. Some especially early morning, with nobody close around, she pretended to “fix” her panties during her descent into the pool–I would watch her uncovering her pussy before touching the water with it.
The closer to the diploma final day, the more nervous she got. But also, more playful–she openly said it helped her shift focus from her nervousness; every time we rushed to the bus, we laughed and chatted energetically about her new ideas. One time, she sat to dress, as usual, and took white lacy panties from inside herself… and then, with a sly face, pushed her fingers deep inside herself again and took one more pair of panties–a red thong this time, the same she once put into her mouth. Even though I was aroused, I couldn’t keep from laughing–and she happily laughed with me. And then she put white lacy panties on, dressed up, and gave me the red thong.
“You can keep them,” she said with an expression that was hard to decipher–it was playful but also a bit sad. “Something to remember me by when I go away after the diploma.”
So, I thought sadly, the farewell was coming–she didn’t plan to stay in my city after graduation.
Next time, she took panties out of herself, then made the same sly face and put her fingers inside again. Is she just repeating herself? I wondered. But she wasn’t. With a casual gesture, she pulled out of her vagina a bottle of deodorant. Then, still sitting completely naked and with her legs spread–I could see her wet and still open vagina–she unscrewed a bottlecap, applied deodorant to her underarms and under breasts, screwed the cap back. She cast a glance, smiled, shrugged, and put the bottle back inside herself in one smooth move as if it was the most usual thing to do! And then she continued to dress.
“You are going to university with it inside?” I asked.
“Yup! A hidden naughty secret makes me much more relaxed about all this diploma stuff.”
“But doesn’t the feeling distract you?”
“On the contrary! I found a weird state where I am the most focused and clear-headed. I think I’ll invent something for the actual exam: I’ll need all the clear-headedness and calm I can manage.”
The diploma day was the next Wednesday. The evening before, I wrote to her wishing all the luck I could, and she said she’d like to go to the spring before the actual event–and if I’d keep her company, it would be awesome. But we needed to do it early in the morning, maybe 5 am? Of course, I agreed.
This time, she was wearing a new pantsuit, a light one. And even if I was honestly focused on her big day and her nervousness, I couldn’t help but notice the slightly visible lines of her underwear.
She was nervous almost to the point of tears, and I made my best effort to reassure her she’d be a star. I didn’t know much about her diploma, but I did know about the value of reassurance and the weight of somebody saying, “I believe in you.” But even then, I couldn’t keep up from commenting: “I see your panties are on, have you changed your mind about ‘inventing something’?”
She giggled: “I didn’t! Thanks for reminding me; I’ve planned it for a long time and almost forgot at the last moment.”
We changed into our swimsuits, quickly dived, and changed back. She was silent, serious, and not very playful–though when she changed to a swimsuit, she wasn’t shy either and as there wasn’t a living soul around at this early hour, she even stood closer to me than usual.
But while changing back, she started to put her “plan” in motion. She quickly took off her bottoms, sat on a bench, moved her ass to the wall, then raised her feet to stand on a bench beside her on both sides, leaving her legs widely spread, and started to masturbate. Without any rush, but with a pointed urgency, she stroked her clit with one hand, and touched her opening with three fingers of the other, then started to move them inside. She moved both hands for some time and even started to insert her small finger into her anus, but then stopped abruptly.
She took her wet swimsuit bottoms, made a tight ball of them, and pressed them to her vagina. At first, it seemed that the ball would just stay outside, but she continued to push it, stroking her clit, and slowly, it went inside her completely. She smiled brightly–I did it! Then she undid her swimsuit top and repeated the show with it. Long ropes of the top stayed outside, and she made them into a tight knot and put on her panties, demonstrating to me she left the knot pressed to her clit.
Then she fully dressed, and we went to the bus stop. She probably was right about her games affecting her mood: she was calm and collected now. I hugged her good luck, and she hugged me back tightly.
“You’ll make it.”
“I know now.”
A few hours later, the short text came: “Top ball! Thank you for your help :)”
I exhaled with relief, and only at that moment I understood that I was genuinely worried for her and had a large part of my mind occupied with wishing for her success.
This worry was well rewarded in the evening, with a stream of happy blabbering and two photos.
One was just a girl in a long fitting evening dress–apparently, there was a celebration of the achievement. She stood in front of the mirror, shiny beauty, with her shaven head, soft naked shoulders, and wide grin, and looked prettier than ever. It was a kind of photo one can safely send to friends and family.
The second one was not. Even for me, it felt like “too much” for a moment, but then I loved it; of course, I did.
In the photo, she was still in the same dress. But the dress was around her waist now, and she was fully naked below.
She knelt on all fours with her ass to the mirror, photographing herself from underneath her shoulder. In her pussy there was a wine bottle–bottom first, the same way she once told me she masturbated in a bath. The bottle was uncorked, and she held it so that wine would pour into a wineglass standing on the floor behind her. The pouring was not accurate; there was a small puddle of the wine on the floor around it, but I appreciated the effort. I also appreciated a candle that was stuck in the girl’s ass – and she had even managed to light it!
It was crazily obscene, certainly. But also, thrilling and arousing as hell. She told me she orgasmed just a couple of minutes after taking the photo, without doing anything more to herself, just from being overwhelmed with the sight and the feelings and the thought that I saw it all.
To be concluded.