Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. ï>¿Thia And The Unsuitable Chair by Thiagawr Thia tries her hand at DIY. This picture of Thia [I sent our friends a picture of Thia, working at the table in my student bedroom] has a little tale connected with it that I'm sure you'd like to hear. Thia (as ever) doesn't mind at all and thinks it's quite funny. It's around 8.00pm, and Thia is in my room to do some study work, preparing charts and graphs of something or other by the look of it. While she is working, we are talking about sex - which we both know will be coming along in some form once the work is finished. As I am watching Thia's fingers manipulating papers and writing utensils, a thought occurs to me. I interrupt her work: "Do you give yourself orgasms, in between the ones you have with me?" Thia looks at me as if I've asked her if she fancies painting cheese purple for a living. She answers in an incredulous tone of voice that suggests it's actually some sort of trick question. "Masturbate? No. Why would I want to do that?" While I'm trying to come to terms with the unexpected shock of hearing quiet little Thia say "masturbate", and attempting to come up with a suitable answer, she continues... "It wouldn't be the same doing it myself; I'm not even sure that I could." My opening gambit now accepted, I press further: "You mean, you're not sure you could make yourself come, or you couldn't even bring yourself to try?" "I just wouldn't really want to. I don't see the point and I'd rather YOU did it. Knowing that you are doing that to me is a big part of why it feels so good and makes me come." "So have you EVER masturbated, or done anything at all like that?" I ask, though she's starting to look a bit uncomfortable and has blushed. "Why?" she asks, with a quizzical look. "I don't know; it's not something I think about." After further minutes of gentle steering, Thia somewhat reluctantly and sheepishly reveals that she has sometimes touched herself (when using the toilet or in the bath), but never in a manner that has amounted to anything; more exploratory than stimulatory. I push her a little more on the subject. Does she think she could actually give herself an orgasm? "I don't know. I haven't tried so I've no idea. Probably. I should think so. I don't know." Shrug. Then, noticing my expression, "What...? Why are you looking at me like that? No! I don't want to: it wouldn't feel right. No. What...? WHAT? No, I am not going to do that!" "Okay," I say, "I just wondered what it would be like to see you doing it." Thia pretends to go back to the work she's doing, but asks a moment later, "Do YOU do it?" Moi? :-) As Thia is suddenly now interested in the topic, further discussion ensues, during which it emerges that she would like to see me do it, "...just because it would be interesting to see." Eventually we decide that, as we would both like to see each other do it - as much out of interest in watching the technique used as for the sexual excitement of it - we will do it. Somehow it's agreed that Thia will go first; "somehow" being deliberate psychological manipulation by me, obviously. I have a feeling that after witnessing what she's about to do (with a bit of self-conscious embarrassment on her part), my turn is going to be a piece of cake! Thia turns the orange, plastic chair on which she is sitting to face directly towards me; I am perched on the side of the bed, right in front of her. She stands up and takes off her dark green, clumpy Kickers shoes and then her trousers and pants. Typically of Thia, she has not the tiniest notion of what a profound and sexually arousing thing she has already done - it's all very businesslike. She folds everything neatly and puts it all (while innocently pointing her naked bum towards me) on my room's other chair -- a much more comfortable one, as it happens. She keeps on her white, knee-length socks and her comfy, pale blue sweatshirt with its sleeves rolled up almost to her elbows. I can feel my eyes widening at the sight of her and the thought of what she is about to do -- this innocent, comfily (half-) dressed young girl, naked from the waist down apart from school-type socks. Gulp. Noticing my expression, Thia grins and, momentarily, laughs. As has always been the case, the more urgent my sexual attraction to her, the funnier she finds the whole thing, the whole idea. She sits down onto the hard plastic chair, with her legs together. After a moment, she pulls a face. "I don't think I can do it. Not in front of you." "Well just at least touch yourself and see what you think." She opens her legs and flops them over the sides of the seat, swivels her hips forwards (which brings the field of operation into my view), and pokes a finger at herself. She wrinkles her lips in an expression of unease, dissatisfaction and awkwardness. "No, properly," I plead. With a sigh, she rolls her eyes, grimaces a bit and then probes gently with her right middle finger until it finds her clitoris. She pauses, looks at me briefly and then closes her eyes. Her finger begins to move around a little and soon settles into a slow, soft, gentle rhythm. Her facial expression gradually changes from exaggerated irritation to coy, awkward embarrassment and then calm focus. Over the next few minutes, the change in her appearance continues further; concentration eventually giving way to obvious, increasing sexual bliss, as her world shrinks right down to that one, hypersensitive, little organ. Minutes pass, as the fingertip softly strokes her special little place very slowly and gently. Then she brings her left hand into play to part her swelling labia, and she shuffles her bum down even further into the seat, losing herself to the intense feelings between her legs. Her initial slight blush of embarrassment becomes a deepening red flush. A thought crosses my mind: why there? Why on a chair, and the plastic chair at that? (Later we both realise it's because she has only ever touched herself when sitting - on the toilet seat, for example - so it just felt to Thia the "normal" sort of place that this sort of thing happens. She simply didn't think of doing it somewhere more comfortable or appropriate.) For the next few minutes, Thia's finger circulates on and around the tip of her clitoris, while she alternately looks at me, looks at what she's doing and slowly closes and reopens her eyes. Calmness gradually and seamlessly gives way to intensity; the regular, circular rhythm increasingly interrupted by flurries of side to side movements that are a blur. After a few minutes, I can tell she's forgotten all about being embarrassed and her breathing has become deeper but more and more uncoordinated and erratic. She leans back in the chair and raises her crotch even higher. The motion of her finger now varies between circling her clitoris quite slowly and then speeding up to that blur. From time to time she changes to a very small and intense up and down movement instead. It's a tiny, precise little movement; I think it might even be involving her fingernail, like she's scratching an infuriating little clitoral itch. She's still very gentle with it and seems in no hurry, sometimes slowing again, almost to a standstill, and just letting the sensations flood over her. If I was expecting a quick demonstration then this is turning out to be anything but: it's obvious she is thoroughly appreciating and savouring every touch and movement. I could be out of a job here... A loosely-related thought enters my head, but I am a bit too preoccupied to consider it properly. Thia's face slowly becomes redder and redder, and her breathing gets more and more irregular as her legs start to have little jolts of movement; sometimes she actually extends them right out and apart, into the air, either side of the chair. Then the noises start. Little squeaks and moans, and rapid, irregular breaths bordering on panting. All the while, the finger gently works away. Sometimes it gets faster, sometimes slower. Now and then it dips into her vagina for lubrication. I'm starting to feel a strong urge to get directly involved, but I suppress and resist it because this is so incredible to see and I don't want to spoil it. When she looks at me now, there is no embarrassment whatsoever in her eyes, nor amusement. Instead they have THAT look; Thia's "Okay, this is serious!" look. It is such an amazing thing to be watching, such a huge turn-on for me: sweet, innocent, unworldly, little Thia is pleasuring herself in front of me, increasingly helpless to the sexual sensations of her own making. Unconsciously, I shake my head slowly from side to side, almost in disbelief. Noticing this, she smiles and gives a little laugh. To me it is desperately arousing, but to her the effect it's having on me is quite funny. This breaking of the spell is fleeting - immediately afterwards, she closes her eyes, tilts her head slightly backwards and inhales a long breath while pushing her groin forwards again, towards her industrious fingertip. The journey to ecstacy continues. Occasionally, she pauses very briefly to readjust, her left hand re-parting her labia, before starting up again. At times, she does that "tip of her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth" thing. I don't know if that's for me, or if it's genuinely because of the innocent concentration required. Whatever the truth, it's a surreally incongruous image. Her expression looks like that of a child doing colouring by numbers -- it fits the white socks and the comfy, tomboy sweatshirt, but it doesn't match what's going on between them! Eventually, after I would guess about ten or fifteen minutes, it's obvious that she is soon going to come. Her eyes open wide, then they narrow and give me a steely stare, next they close gently as her legs and body start to twitch and jolt continuously. The thought which tried to form in my head earlier now does so: that is not a suitable position in which for Thia to have an orgasm. Maybe she knows it's going to be some sort of low-key one, but at the very least surely her legs are going to shoot out forwards and go rigid (a Thia hallmark)? Maybe they're not? What if they do? In fact, what if it's a perfectly normal Thia-style (i.e. monumental) orgasm -- she can't possibly have that on a chair!...Can she? There's no time to wonder any further about it, as her lips open but her teeth clench and her now rapid breathing suddenly stops. There's a loud hiss as she draws in a huge, deep breath, while her finger continues to work busily away between her legs. And, yes, her legs themselves then shoot out forwards, locked in a muscular spasm and trembling in the air. Despite the position of her legs, she somehow arches her back from the chair and gasps in a further lungful of air before releasing it with an "Ohhhhh!" It's loud! [No wonder I sometimes have people banging angrily on my door as Thia orgasms when they are trying to study. I nearly lost my accommodation place over it on a later occasion! Material for another story, there.] Her touch-paper thus lit and fizzing, moments later she is hit by one of her familiar big, convulsing orgasms; her whole body locking into the rigid, arched-back, defibrillation-style spasm that heralds uncontrolled, explosive threshing around as if from repeated electrocution or demonic possession. Right on cue, the whole-body spasm arrives, the pinnacle of the sexual tension, announcing her orgasm's onset. Then along comes the initial, vagina-clenching, pulsing contraction or two of the orgasm itself, her head rocking in time with them, but the well-earned release is cut cruelly short just as the metaphorical dam bursts. As she cries out the first gasps of orgasmic intensity and screws up her face, she suddenly topples over backwards, taking the chair with her. Her head narrowly misses the door of the wardrobe behind her as she falls. Somehow she manages to get one or both hands down beside her to somewhat cushion the fall, but it still gives her - and me - quite a fright. I don't know how she avoids smashing her head on the floor, but somehow she does, and immediately starts to cry - either from the fright or the snatching of the climax from her grasp; perhaps both. It's hard to say which of us is more disappointed. Disappointed is really not the right word. Cheated is better: this was going to be spectacularly memorable. It still is, but not entirely for the right reasons. Nevertheless, I think Thia has successfully proven that she definitely CAN do it. :-) Despite greater success in future attempts, a subsequent letter she wrote to me (while I was at home during the summer break) revealed that she was sometimes less selective than she ought to be about choosing appropriate circumstances in which to do it... But that's another story.