	Abundance of Happiness
        ======================


"Many of you might wonder why, since masturbation is so 
obviously good practice, that I don't encourage it more."

Penny yawned. The headmaster was always preaching to 
his pupils what they should do to improve their lives, and 
this was no exception. She wriggled uncomfortably in her 
seat while Mr Finnegan addressed the school assembly, 
surrounded by senior teachers, and accompanied by swotty 
Amanda who'd just read that inspirational text by Henry 
Miller.

"I know many people subscribe to the view that frequent 
and regular masturbation ensures an abundance of 
happiness. That it is how we can assuage our incessant 
sexual desire. That it is an entirely harmless way to provide 
personal satisfaction," continued the headmaster, pushing 
his wire-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and 
scanning the mixed assembly of boys and girls. "I have no 
problem with views like that. Indeed, I am of the firm 
opinion that masturbation should be encouraged as a matter 
of course. I have no hesitation in telling you, or any of your 
parents or guardians, that I am a frequent masturbator. I set 
aside at least half an hour in each working day for self-
stimulation. And my wife and I occupy many hours 
together in mutual onanism. It is only natural. And, like 
most headteachers, I provide facilities, separate ones for 
girls and boys, so that they may masturbate freely during 
lunch-times or morning and afternoon breaks. It is only to 
be expected that, as you pupils grow up, you should feel 
the need for auto-eroticism. And I am happy to report the 
immense popularity of the masturbation lounges. 
Although," and here the headmaster permitted himself a 
chuckle, "I do get complaints from the cleaning staff from 
time to time."

Mr Finnegan paused for effect, so everyone, including 
Penny, could appreciate just how liberal and forward-
thinking he was. Penny glanced at her watch. She'd much 
rather be studying English or History than listen to the 
headmaster drone on like this.

"So," he continued, "you can imagine that I took very 
seriously the suggestion made by several pupils, and 
supported by very strong arguments from some of my staff, 
that we should teach masturbation in the classroom. Of 
course, the theory of masturbation has been taught for 
many years in Sex Ed. We've all seen the videos that 
explain the many benefits of masturbation, both before and 
after marriage. In fact, my wife and I have both had the 
privilege of appearing in such videos. But I'm afraid I have 
to draw the line somewhere.

"And the reason why I have decided not to institute 
practical masturbation classes on a formal basis is not only 
that you pupils are able to attend extracurricular classes in 
the discipline in your own free time, but because I have a 
very real concern about the sensibilities of pupils who 
might, with good reason, feel intimidated in a class of 
mixed ability masturbators. Not every pupil is as adept at 
the art of genital stimulation as each other. Some pupils are 
late developers. Some may not wish to display their genitals 
in an engorged state in front of their peers. Some may not 
perform to the best of their abilities in the company of 
others who are less bashful.

"So, it is for that reason I have decided, despite the pleas 
from Angela Warden in 5C, Daniel Jones from the Lower 
Sixth and, most persuasively, Mrs Patel the Games 
Mistress, not to institute such classes."

Penny could almost hear the groans that greeted the 
announcement, though the pupils were too polite to express 
their disappointment vocally. Penny, however, was actually 
quite pleased that Mr Finnegan had decided against the new 
classes. She'd been dreading a more positive response. 

As the day went on, the lunchtime break approaching, eyes 
glazed over with boredom and her mind wandering during 
her Geography class, where Mrs Ferguson was really 
getting rather too animated about Norwegian fjords, Penny 
contemplated the benefits of a spell in the girls' 
masturbation lounge. She had such a strange dream last 
night, the details of which she'd completely forgotten, but 
she knew it included an element of sex. And when she was 
awoken by the alarm clock, reinforced a few minutes later 
by her mother knocking on her bedroom door, she was left 
with a fantasy interruptus that demanded resolution.

So, as soon as the class bell rang, Penny deliberately 
dodged past Dorothy and Selena, her classmates, and 
dashed down the corridor, books grasped to her chest and 
shoulder-length hair billowing behind her, to get to the 
lounge. She knew that if she tarried then not only might the 
best couches be taken, but she might even have to stand in 
a queue and wait for one to become available. But as she 
could see, when she pushed open the door, she really 
needn't have been so anxious. There weren't that many girls 
already there. Maybe on such a pleasant spring day, fewer 
girls felt the need to divert themselves indoors. 

Penny could hear the grunts and snorts coming from the 
boys' masturbation lounge next door. Boys were such show 
offs! She was glad she didn't attend one of those very 
liberal schools where girls and boys were encouraged to 
masturbate together. She was sure there was truth in the 
opinion held by many forward-thinking people that the best 
environment in which boys and girls should masturbate was 
within sight of each other, but Penny would rather not see 
Brian's semen spurt all over the carpet. It was bad enough 
that she could hear him shouting "Fuck! Oh Yeah! Fuck! 
Fuck!" through the closed door.

"Hi there, Pen!" Amanda greeted her as she strode past and 
sat down in the couch opposite. "Feeling the itch?"

Penny groaned inwardly, but remained as polite as she 
could. Amanda was always in the masturbation lounge. Top 
at Maths. Top at Chemistry. Good at games. And top 
masturbator as well. Penny hated her. Well, not actually 
hated her, in the sense that she wished her ill, but Amanda 
always made Penny feel inadequate.

"You here again?"

"Three times a day!" Amanda boasted. She had removed 
her knickers and skirt, and placed them neatly folded on the 
floor on top of her satchel. Her blouse was cut short above 
the navel and her tie had been loosened. She'd kept on her 
wire-frame glasses, but pinned back her straight brown hair 
with a hair-grip. But Amanda's vagina was the most 
prominent sight: neatly shaven with only a small vertical 
stripe above the clitoris, and her labia engorged, along with 
her clitoris, from the results of her stroking.

"I'm aiming for just fifteen minutes," Amanda said. "Ten 
minutes slow and sensuous and then five minutes fast and 
furious. I've got badminton at half twelve. I don't want to 
miss that."

"So, you're keeping it below your usual hour-long session?" 
Penny asked, restraining a sneer. It was only masturbation. 
You didn't have to time it. Penny had never quite learnt the 
knack of controlling her auto-erotic responses to anything 
like Amanda's exactitude. In fact, she never knew whether 
she'd even be able to bring herself off. In truth, she usually 
didn't. And when she did climax, a squirt of female 
ejaculate on her hand or wrist, it usually took her totally by 
surprise. 

"I'll make up for it after school," said Amanda, a long finger 
idly probing the outer lip, while the forefinger and thumb of 
her other hand gently tweaked her swollen clitoris. 
"Masturbation is good for you. And I intend to keep my 
quim as creamy as I can. For as often as I can."

Jesus! It was a good thing there were no examinations in 
masturbation. Then Penny would again be shown up by 
Amanda. Was there nothing she didn't excel in?

Penny sighed, pulled her knickers down to her ankles and 
let it fall (plop!) on to the floor. She bundled her skirt up to 
her waist and, with one hand holding up her skirt, lowered 
the other onto the labia majora, threading her fingers 
through the bush of untamed pubic hair, her long middle 
finger probing inside the inner and outer lips and its tip 
pressing on her slightly smaller than average clitoris. 

And then Penny tried to excite herself, imagining sexy 
scenarios, while her middle and, increasingly, her fore 
finger, stroked, probed and wiggled in the folds and 
contours of her vulva, relishing the texture of coarse pubic 
hair on her palm, and occasionally permitting a finger to 
sidle into her vagina, the walls of which gradually 
moistened from her ministrations. It usually took more than 
fifteen minutes of this kind of exertion for her to achieve 
orgasm. Penny wasn't like Amanda, who could pace herself, 
take longer about it or achieve orgasm within only five 
minutes. She'd seen Amanda in action, just as she was able 
to observe her now, using creative circular and rhythmic 
motions with her fingers and the palm of her hands, 
bringing herself up to false climaxes, relaxing, and then 
building up again. Penny was lucky if she even managed to 
achieve orgasm at all before she lost interest. She would 
sense herself dry up just as did her repertoire of sexy 
thoughts.

Today, Penny was imagining herself naked in the open air. 
It was a favourite fantasy of hers, and the one most reliable 
in stimulating her sexual desires. She squeezed her eyes 
tight and tilted her head back on the couch's headrest. She 
imagined the touch of a warm breeze over her naked flesh 
as she strode over the hills, wearing only shoes, as she 
ascended the rocky outcrops, eagles soaring above her and 
white-topped mountains in the distance. Or perhaps no 
shoes at all. Grass through the gaps between her toes, as 
she walked casually, with no care for clothing at all, her 
hair free of hair-grips or hair-spray, her nipples hardening 
on a cool breeze, but her thighs contrastingly hot from the 
warmth of the sun, her freckled face burning in the glare of 
the midsummer sky, and below a burning heat between her 
legs that was growing and growing and growing inexorably 
towards its ultimate and inevitable...

"Uuuhhh! Aaaaahhhh! Oooohhh!" Penny suddenly heard 
breaking into her reverie. And no, it wasn't Penny's own 
voice excited by her fantasy of public nudity, but Amanda's, 
noisy and passionate as ever, her fingers pushing and 
thrusting with fury, damp with congested female ejaculate 
and vaginal fluid. And then louder and more urgent, 
returning Penny's mind back to the masturbation lounge, as 
true to her word, Amanda achieved her several minutes of 
orgasm, vocal and urgent, while the clamour of her passion 
denied Penny any chance she ever had of achieving the 
same herself.

Penny was still a little peeved when she left school at the 
end of the day. She should be concentrating her thoughts 
on the essay she was supposed to be writing for Eng Lit 
about Iago's treachery of Othello. Instead, she was still 
smarting from her earlier disappointment. After Amanda 
had strode off, skirt and knickers neatly restoring her 
modesty, a badminton racket in one hand and a satchel 
slung over her shoulder, Penny tried and tried, but she 
couldn't recapture the feeling of sexual warmth that had so 
nearly brought her to, if not orgasm, then something fairly 
gratifying. When all her finger could do was irritate a 
vagina now hardly moist at all, she let her skirt drop, 
tugged her knickers back over her mussed pubic hair and 
resigned herself to the realisation that she had yet again 
failed to bring herself off.

"Are Dad and Simon watching telly?" Penny asked her 
mother, when her dinner had been assembled on her plate 
and the plate placed on a tray.

"Yes, dear," Penny's mother replied. "It's some kind of 
porno. Don't ask me what it is. It doesn't look very nice to 
me. But you might enjoy it."

Penny sighed. That meant her father and brother would be 
masturbating again. She much preferred to watch a film 
with her mother, even though the soft-focus sex movies her 
mother preferred, with their shaven-chested hunks and air-
brushed heroines didn't appeal to Penny at all, even when 
they proceeded to fuck each other, which they somehow 
did with almost the same degree of perfect politeness as 
they did everything else.

She entered the living room, plumped down in the chair she 
always sat in, briefly acknowledged her father's nod and 
chewed through her pizza and pesto salad, occasionally 
sipping from a glass of elderberry juice, while she watched 
the action on the video that the men of the family had put 
on.

It was a typical man's movie, with the inevitable three- or 
foursomes, a lot of swearing, some totally gratuitous 
violence, and sex that always involved prolonged fellatio. 
Penny fancied she recognised an actress from some other 
porno she'd seen. Typical porn model: all pumped-up 
silicone breasts, a slightly sneery expression on the bright 
red lips and a little stripe of pubic hair, just like Amanda's. 
And while watching the male actors (mostly reduced to just 
a pumping penis and a forest of pubes binding it to their 
otherwise almost redundant bodies) she averted her eyes as 
much as was polite from the equally erect penises sported 
by her Dad and Simon. Dad's was the larger and had the 
longer staying power, but it was Simon who would 
inevitably produce the most, and certainly messiest 
explosion of, semen.

When she was younger, Penny wasn't bothered by her 
father masturbating in front of the television. Although 
when he did so together with her mother it was sometimes 
embarrassing when the two of them got so aroused they 
would have to dash out of the living room up to the 
bedroom where they could release their mutual passion. 
Nowadays, especially now Simon had become so 
enthusiastic, it was more difficult for Penny to relax in the 
sight of a penis being massaged to full erection and, so 
quickly, men being frighteningly efficient and reliable in that 
regard, to ejaculation, the result of which sometimes arched 
right over the carpet, despite all attempts to hold it back. 
On one memorable occasion, which Penny remembered 
with a shudder, it caught her squarely on the cheek.

Penny didn't care whether she got to see the end of the 
movie. Anyway, she knew what would happen: the usual 
orgy when her father would at last let loose the ejaculation 
he'd stored up, a restraint Simon was not yet capable of. 
She left the empty plate with her mother, who was in the 
kitchen reading a glossy magazine full of pictures of naked 
men and desultorily stroking her crotch with a hand inside 
her unbuttoned slacks. Although Penny sometimes 
masturbated when only her mother was around, she much 
preferred to do so in the privacy of her own bedroom. 

But somehow, even after she had torn off all her clothes 
and buried her nose in the pillow, a finger in her vagina and 
her buttocks raised high, it wasn't really right. That warm 
feeling with which she'd woken up in the morning was 
totally dissipated. She rolled off the mattress, slipped on 
some jeans and a tee-shirt, and dashed out of the house to 
visit her best friend, Isabel, who lived only a few streets 
away.

When she arrived at her friend's, where she hoped to sit in 
front of the dressing table, chatter over various cosmetic 
agents and sing along to recently purchased CDs, she was 
disappointed to find Isabel sitting on her bed totally naked. 
Isabel's mother had smiled at Penny in that simpering way 
that implied that her daughter was otherwise engaged and 
that Penny should have chosen a better time to visit. But 
Penny ignored her unspoken advice. Or, if not exactly 
ignore it, pretend not to notice it. She was sick and tired of 
other people's need for masturbation interfering with her 
own perfectly legitimate needs.

"What's up, Izzy?" Penny asked, knowing exactly what the 
answer would be.

Isabel smiled foolishly. She wasn't really the sort of girl 
who enjoyed being seen masturbating, unlike Amanda. She 
shared with Penny a similar disdain for those who paraded 
their skill at auto-eroticism so blatantly. But it was obvious 
that masturbation was exactly what Isabel had been 
engaged in, and not merely because she wore no clothes, 
not even socks, but from the ruffled state of the bedsheets 
and the slightly damp mark on the pillow where she'd 
buried her nose. Her hair was slightly disarrayed and there 
was still a flush on her cheeks and forehead.

"I'm sorry, Pen," Isabel said, leaning forward on the edge of 
her bed, her hands clasped in front of her. "It's this new 
routine I'm on. It's all in this book. I've got a chart and 
everything."

"Routine?"

"The Auto-erotic Happiness Routine," Isabel explained. "I 
read about it in a magazine. It's a way toward more 
satisfying masturbation. A way to attain better orgasms. It's 
supposed to make everything better. The book says that 
once you know how to rise to an orgasm every time, then 
you feel more satisfied and your life becomes much happier. 
You can see the chart on the wall."

Isabel pointed at a huge calendar that fit between posters of 
a black all-girl group and the pouting face of a male Latino 
singer. Penny leaned forward to peer at it. For each day, 
there was a sequence of time slots against which were 
peculiar symbols and a series of numbers.

"It's my masturbation chart," Isabel continued. "It's where I 
record when I masturbate and how long. And there's a key 
to describe how good it is. You know, whether I actually 
climaxed. How intense the orgasm. That sort of thing."

Penny sighed. She was getting a bit fed up how everywhere 
she went there was someone better at masturbation than 
her. She could see at a glance that Isabel had got into a 
fairly regular and, by all accounts, satisfying masturbatory 
routine. 

"So, your last time was this morning, before getting up, for 
fifteen minutes and it ranks as a '7'. But you didn't actually 
have an orgasm. Is that right?"

"Yeah," smiled Isabel, standing naked beside Penny in front 
of the chart. "That's seven out of ten, so it wasn't that good 
really."

"So what about just now? You know, just before I came in. 
How did you score then?"

"Well, the schedule says thirty minutes. But thirty minutes 
frigging is really tiring. And I'm supposed to try and get an 
orgasm after fifteen minutes, a multiple orgasm after 
twenty-five, and a small one at the end. But you know, and 
don't tell anyone, will you, Pen, I only got a double orgasm, 
and that was more like after twenty minutes. I mean, it was 
a good orgasm. Probably an eight or a nine if it was meant 
to be just the one, but it's not like a multiple one. I've only 
ever once had a triple orgasm. And that was before I 
started this routine. I don't think I've got the technique right 
at all!"

"Don't worry, about it, Izzy, " said Penny, putting a 
comforting arm around her friend's bare shoulder, letting 
her forehead and short hair rest against her cheek. "We 
can't all be super-masturbators. And I don't think it's just 
how well you frig. I mean, loads of girls are supposed to 
not be able to orgasm at all. We can't all be like Amanda."

"Amanda!" sighed Isabel. "I think she was masturbating as 
soon as she emerged from the womb."

"I was with her in the frig room at lunch. I hate her! But 
credit to the girl. She got her orgasm. And Jesus! Wouldn't 
you know it! She doesn't come quietly."

"Is there nothing the girl can't do well?"

"Well, she's better than me," confided Penny. "I don't think 
I'd ever get more than a three or a four on your chart."

Isabel laughed tremulously. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. I'm crap. I really am! I just can't do it right. And I 
thought today I'd be perfect. I even woke up this morning 
feeling really hot. I thought I'd be able to... that I could... 
well, I thought I could have a multiple orgasm. You know, 
I've never even had a double one!"

"Oh! You poor thing!" laughed Isabel sympathetically.

The two girls studied the chart, on the margins of which 
was an equal number of pictures of boys and girls, of all 
ages, all in some pose of sexual ecstasy and in every case 
without the assistance of anyone else. Penny put a finger 
over a picture of a boy with an unfeasibly large erection 
from which was spurting a fountain of semen.

"Boys are lucky! They can come real quickly. And they can 
do it every time!"

"I know! I know!" agreed Isabel, raising her head off 
Penny's shoulder and putting an arm around Penny's waist. 
"My brother, Michael, he wanks three or four times every 
evening. And he wanks in bed as well. Mum says she has to 
change his sheets every other day. All he's got to do is 
watch a porno, and he's pumping it up. And before you 
know it, he's splattering his sperm everywhere. Mum's 
really proud of him, though she insists he try and catch as 
much as he can in a tissue. Triple ply, I think."

"Triple ply! Let's hope he doesn't blow his nose with the 
same tissue. That'd look really weird. You know. All the 
stuff on his face!"

The girls laughed and then sank onto the bed, Isabel's arm 
still around Penny's waist and Penny's arm around Isabel's 
naked shoulders. This time, Penny slumped her head onto 
Isabel's shoulder.

"I was thinking about buying a vibrator or dildo or 
something," Penny admitted. "Perhaps if I had a bit of 
artificial assistance, I could do it, you know, more reliably."

"The book I've got doesn't recommend it."

"Why not? What's wrong with things like that?"

"The book says it's not natural. Also it says that once you 
get used to doing it with vibrators and so on, you forget 
how to do it with your fingers and everything. You get to 
expect a sort of whirring, whizzing kind of thing every 
time."

"You don't need a vibrator for that though," giggled Penny.

"What d'you mean?"

"All you need is a mobile phone. You know, one with a 
vibrating setting. I can see you can guess what I'm gonna 
say..."

Isabel's face was broken into a confiding grin. "Yes, I've 
done that. It's fun! Didn't get me to orgasm exactly. But it 
was fun!"

"So, you did the same? Put the mobile up your crack and 
phone yourself on the landline?"

"Yeah! Though you've got to remember to turn the sound 
down. It's really weird when you've got music coming out 
of your twat!"

The girls laughed. And laughed. And fell on top of each 
other, giggling and chuckling, rolling about on the bed, 
Isabel's naked body and Penny's fully clothed one, the heat 
of Isabel's body burning against Penny as they further 
ruffled the duvet and sheets, the smell of Penny's perfume 
intermingled with Isabel's body sweat and the springs of the 
mattress complaining at the motion. 

They then sat up, still with their arms around each other.

"So, you still haven't had the perfect orgasm, Pen?" Isabel 
asked.

"No. Have you?"

"Sometimes it's been pretty good. But it's never been like 
they say in the books. And nothing like Amanda's."

"I don't think I've even had one as good as yours," Penny 
confessed sadly.

"No?" 

"I don't think so. I just don't think I've got what it takes."

"Oh."

The two girls sat silently at the edge of the bed.

"Perhaps if I tried frigging you, maybe that would help."

"You think so, Izzy?"

"It's worth a try."

"Okay! It won't sort of muck up your masturbation 
schedule?"

"How could it do that? It's your pussy not mine."

"Okay. I guess you're right."

With that, Penny pulled down her jeans and knickers, neatly 
folded them and placed them on a chair. And then, wearing 
only her socks and a plain green tee-shirt, she lay down on 
her back on Isabel's bed, while her naked friend knelt down 
between Penny's open legs. 

Isabel's hand hovered momentarily over Penny's pubic 
region, perhaps uncertain where to land amongst the 
tangled forest of hair that covered the hills and mounts, 
valleys and gorges, of Penny's vulva. And then two fingers 
settled on her clitoris, tweaking and stroking it, while an 
open palm stroked Penny's thigh, hip and belly. Isabel's eyes 
focused downwards, never looking up, only concentrating 
on Penny's crotch, while the lucky recipient closed her eyes 
and leaned her head back, just as she imagined she might do 
if she were having a massage in a beauty salon.

It was certainly a very different sensation to frigging 
oneself, Penny reflected. She didn't know at all where Isabel 
was going to place her fingers and what she would do next. 
And Isabel knew better than she did how to build up the 
sexual tension, slowly and sensuously, bit by bit, the fingers 
just circling and teasing, and then gradually working up to a 
faster and a faster rhythm, fingers vigorously rubbing the 
clitoris back and forth.

And then, a different sensation. At first soft and warm, and 
around the clitoris, and then, when Penny was at last able to 
identify this new agent as being Isabel's lips (what else 
could it be?) a moist, salivary sensation as she felt the 
tongue, a third thing, making a trio of sensation: two 
probing and one licking. At that Penny bucked up her hips. 
And that came from somewhere inside her. Not something 
that she willed. Something that spasmed within her.

And then there was a confusion of sensations, orchestrated 
and arranged by Isabel, not one part of her crutch immune 
as those fingers delved deep deep inside her vagina, two, 
maybe three fingers, at once. The tongue gliding around, 
teeth nibbling her clitoris, fingers probing her labia, both 
inner and outer lips, and all the while Penny's body jerked 
up and down from a passion she'd never felt before.

And then she could restrain herself no longer. The strain of 
each additional orgasm, piling one on top of the other, an 
internal seizure gripping her, releasing itself momentarily, to 
be followed by another. And then another. It was too 
much! She jerked forward, pushing Isabel upward, clasping 
her friend's naked body to herself, tears streaming down her 
face, her stomach somehow clenched inside her, while a 
startled Isabel disengaged her fingers, Penny's arms around 
her shoulders.

And even now, the spasms continued. Penny's eyes were 
wild. Sweat dampened her hair, brow and chest. A strong 
scent emanated from her engorged vulva. She gasped and 
panted, unable to articulate herself.

"Are you all right, Pen?" Isabel wondered, gazing into her 
friend's eyes.

Penny nodded frantically.

"I thought you said you'd never had a multiple orgasm 
before, Pen. I've never had an orgasm like that!"

Penny nodded again, breathing heavily, her chest rising and 
falling, her tee-shirt lifting with the heave of her breasts.

"Shall we do it again, Pen?"

Penny nodded. She breathed in. Held her breath for a 
moment.

"My turn!" she at last announced, pulling off her tee-shirt 
and eyeing Isabel's crotch. "My turn to do you. It's only 
fair!" 






