For my birthday, my friends and I rented a cabin by a lake. There was plenty of space to throw our sleeping bags. It was warm enough, even, to sleep on the deck. Heather wanted to sleep in the bedroom. She was the shy girl of the group. When we sat beside the fireplace, drinking whisky and beer, the talk of course turned to sex. She blushed the whole time.
We stayed up way too late, and by the time we finished talking about all things sexual, the fire was down to embers. We said our good nights and bedded down in our sleeping bags. John and Amber when outside to "look at the stars" and were going to sleep on the deck. (We all knew what that meant.) A couple of the girls had claimed the loft. The rest of us took the living room. Heather had gone to bed and locked her door.
Maybe she was too tired, or maybe she didn't realize, but her bedroom connected to the bathroom. When I got up to pee, I saw her bedroom light still on. I heard a rustling of covers and what sounded like a low murmur, maybe a sob, like she was crying. I hoped we hadn't made her feel bad. I crept forward and peeked through the crack of the door. The door wasn't latched and swung open an inch. My heart jumped. But she hadn't noticed. She was on the bed, the blanket kicked off.
I couldn't believe it! She wasn't getting embarrassed by our sex talk, she was getting hot and bothered. She was now getting those pent up feelings out with her hand. Funny. The shy girls are never that shy in bed. Just the opposite.
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