Three thirty-four in the morning. Velma had peeked over the cracking vinyl seat of the Mystery Machine. The rest of the gang had all curled up for bed about three hours ago. She looked down to see Daphne perfectly snuggled up into Fred, her apricot hair draped gracefully across his broad chest. Rolling her eyes at the display, Velma went back to her spot behind the front seat in the corner. She looked to Shaggy, passed out, beyond the point of no return and Scooby snoozing beside him. The girl shivered. Not often did the gang actually sleep in the Mystery Machine, but the gas gauge no longer worked in the aging van and Fred had not measured the distance to the next town properly. They ran out of gas around eleven o'clock. Too tired to walk to the closest gas station, the five of them opted to just stay in the van and wait until morning to find a gas station.
It was not necessarily a cold night, but sitting by yourself in a corner... You were bound to be a little chilly. Velma pulled her over-sized sweater past her knees and down to her ankles and crossed her arms inside. She could feel against her arms that her nipples were hard. Her eyes darted over to Scooby and Shaggy, making sure that they were completely asleep. Shaggy was snoring quietly as Scooby's body slowly rose and lowered itself from his breathing. When enough time had passed and she was assured that the two of them were not going to wake up any time soon, Velma slipped her hands underneath her bra. Brushing against her nipples sent a small pang to her nerves down below, causing her to close her eyes tight. It felt nice. The girl lifted her bra up, letting her 40C's fall out and hang there. Velma's dark nipples were practically marbles at this point. She moved her hands in small circles on top of them trying to warm herself in any way possible at this point.
Checking again to make sure the boys across from her were asleep, Velma tweaked herself quickly, making her back arch unintentionally. Very rarely had the girl ever touched herself in this manner, but something about doing it in the Mystery Machine with the highly probable chance of being caught excited her a little. She didn't feel as if she cared. Lots of upsetting things had been going on in her life recently. Things she couldn't control. Even lately she hadn't been very fond of hanging out with the gang. Everyone had their own problems she found hard to relate to. Even Daphne, who, at this point, was really her only real friend. At this time, Velma didn't care if any of them woke up and saw her like this and kicked her out, leaving her behind to walk home. She almost wanted it to happen. She felt utterly self-destructive.
Though Velma thought all these things, of course, deep down, she didn't really want to get caught. The girl would never be able to show her face in public again. Quietly, she pulled her sweater up from over her legs, high enough to reveal her sizable bust. The skin around her dark nipples tightened from the bitter air. Velma's skin glimmered from the moon light slipping in through the dingy van windows. She liked how pale she was; like an alabaster figurine. Finally unhooking the three clasps on her bra, Velma gently placed it down beside her. She checked on Scooby and Shaggy once more; still asleep. Taking her breasts into her hands, Velma turned them up towards her face slightly in order to see them. Caramel latte colored pebbles looked back at her. Looking back at Scooby and Shaggy just once more, Velma looked down to her breasts again and quickly took one nipple into her mouth. She dare not suck it. To make a noise in this compromising position would be far too embarrassing, no matter how self-destructive she felt. Gently, Velma nibbled on her left teat. The same pang she felt before between her legs had resurfaced and she clenched her muscles to enhance it.
Slowly, so as not to disturb the boys across from her, Velma eased herself on to her back. Her left hand took her nipple from her mouth and moved it to her fingers. She gave herself a light little pinch, which sent a stream of emotions down to her clenched lower regions. Her hips rose a few inches. It amazed Velma how her body seemed to have a life of its own. When she gained control of her torso again, the girl lowered them back to the floor of the van. Putting her free hand onto her soft stomach caused Velma to get the chills. Goosebumps raised themselves all over her body. The girl moved her hand down her stomach at a snail's pace, teasing herself with the anticipation. She slowly moved along the curves of her body, traced her bellybutton with her index finger once, then twice, before finally meeting her pubic hair line.
Suddenly the shame set in. Velma had never exactly been pleased with her body. Especially down there. She didn't like the way she looked-Different. Women these days wax, shave, and according to Daphne's gossip, bejewel themselves. But here was simple Velma who had never even considered shaving her vagina before. She had never liked the idea. The look had always seemed alien-like to her. Velma honestly preferred her hair. But in turn, she felt like a hopeless outcast, sentenced to life without lust because of her own preference of herself. But just with that one thought, the shame seemed to drift away. What does it matter what other women look like? What does it matter that they think they need to torture themselves by ripping out their crotch hair in order to be accepted by a man? If Velma didn't think she had to, then she shouldn't. And with that, Velma's fingers plowed themselves through her mound and dove directly into her.
It was shocking to her just how wet she had already become from some simple foreplay with herself. Her floral patterned panties had become a mess, and were sticking to her hand and black legging she wore under her rusty colored tweed skirt. She was a sheltered and good mannered girl. Sometimes it didn't take a lot for her to be over-whelmed with emotion and have to excuse herself to the bathroom to tidy up a bit. This interaction with herself in the Mystery Machine was unlike anything she had ever done before, so it was not unreasonable for her to be flooded with excitement. But the sheer volume was still mind-blowing. Velma ever so slowly moved her index and middle-finger around her pleasure pearl, sending a million messages throughout her nerves. Her feet went cold, hot, and then freezing again. Biting her lip, Velma tried to keep the exclamations she wanted to let loose from herself, silent. Her body gushed more as she pinched her left nipple again, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head. She was trying to last, moving her fingers almost idly, in order to tease herself and build up the anticipation even more. She eased off of her pearl and gently started scratching the outer most lips of her lotus. The contrast felt magnificent.
Moving her left nipple back into her mouth, Velma gained a little courage and began to suck as quietly as she could. She tried to imagine someone, anyone besides herself. The first person that came to mind was her second grade home room teacher, Mrs. Connors. For a split second she wondered, of all people, why her? The woman was in her thirties when she taught Velma. On top of that, she had been pregnant most of the school year. Mrs. Connors had always been Velma's favorite teacher, however, because she had always been so caring to the girl. Getting along with the other kids in class had always been hard for little Velma, but Mrs. Connors had helped her keep her chin up. Mrs. Connors also had a noticeably large chest. Velma kept her mind on that as she went back to massaging her clitoris, pretending that it was her teacher's fingers between her legs instead of her own. The sensation was unbelievable. On top of that, it was so invigorating to be doing something that would be so frowned upon. It was enough that Velma had to beg her mother to go with the gang for the weekend to Daphne's parents' cabin, but if Mrs. Dinkley were to ever find out that Velma was masturbating, in a rusty van with others inside no less! Well... needless to say, the woman would lock her daughter up until the end of days.
Velma dug her heels into the floor and rocked her hips. Mrs. Connors had now become the cute boy that worked at the high school library when he did not have class in the afternoon. He winked at her. Velma loved when boys winked. She tightened her muscles again, her knees came together, and she rubbed herself faster. The library boy said in Mrs. Connors voice that Velma was approaching her peak and she felt it. She worked her clit faster and harder, arching her back to the point where she was practically holding her body up with her feet and the top of her head. Moving her hips as fast and as hard as she could without making a noise, imaging the library boy bucking her at this point, with Mrs. Connors bosom bouncing with each thrust, Velma was almost losing control-and her balance. She ran the risk of falling over at this point and knocking over the soda cans that had collected throughout the night from the five of them. (Shaggy saw no problem in letting his dog drink Coke). There was no use. The girl could not possibly lower herself. The blood coursing through her veins prevented this. Her feet were growing cold again, and she wasn't sure if she was about to orgasm. She had never had one before and did not know what to expect. Her thrusts did not stop. She pinched her nipple as hard as she could, the pain intense but pleasurable.
But in that moment there was a sudden air to the Mystery Machine that made Velma nervous. Though there were four other beings in the van with her, Velma had felt alone all night—until now. She stopped immediately and laid down as fast as she could, pulling her sweater down over her body. With lightning fast speed, she looked over to Scooby and Shaggy. Had either of them seen anything? Scooby was still sound asleep. He hadn't moved all night. Not even a tail twitch or an ear perk. He seemed the type to be a heavy sleeper. But on the other side of him was Shaggy. Velma couldn't tell if he had been in that position before or not. She thought she recalled his head facing up more towards her, but at this moment, his head was down facing his legs that were pulled up to his chest. The blood had traveled fast away from Velma's lower region, along with her face. Fear had caused her to become as pale as the ghosts she did not believe in. Her fingers and toes felt as if they were being pricked with pins. Did she dare call Shaggy's name quietly to see if he would respond? And if he did, what would she say to him? Velma stared as hard as she could at the boy across from her for the longest time, her pulse so intense she could feel it in her throat. Finally, she built up the courage.
"Shaggy?" she whispered so hushed that a butterfly would not be moved by the force of her voice. Nothing. "Are you awake...? Shaggy...?" When he did not respond, Velma's heart beat began to settle. She pulled her fingers from out of her legs. They were completely covered. Now more paranoid than ever, the girl slowly reached for her bra and used it to wipe off her fingers. The smell lingered in the air and it embarrassed her. She could feel the blood finally go back to her face, and her blush was almost painful. Scooching to the back of the van, she opened the hatch. In that moment, Velma's heart skipped a beat because Shaggy sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Hey. Like, where do you think you're going?" he yawned.
Velma's eyes widened, completely unsure of what to say, "What are you asking?" she asked in order to buy herself some time to develop an excuse.
"It's late. Why are you getting out?" Shaggy pointed to Velma opening the hatch.
"I... I needed to use the bathroom." She flipped her hair out of her eyes and sat up straight, keeping her composure. A reasonable answer.
Shaggy nodded, "Oh, okay. Do you want me to wait for you to get back? Or can I like, go back to sleep? I'm not even 100% sure I'm really awake right now, know what I mean?" he chuckled sleepily.
"That won't be necessary." Velma shook her head. "I'm quite capable of handling myself. I won't be long." And then she added, "Go back to sleep."
"I think I can do that. Just be careful, man." Shaggy laid back down, this time resting his head on Scooby, who didn't react whatsoever.
Velma opened the hatch and left it open as she made her way from the side of the road to the ditch beside it. Peeking over to make sure that no one was looking from the Mystery Machine, the girl peeled off her leggings, followed by her sticky underpants, deciding to leave that particular piece of evidence behind. Squatting down above them to do her business, Velma sniffed her leggings to determine how offensive they would be on the ride back home. As long as Daphne had some body mist in her purse, she figured she would be okay. Looking out to the corn field beyond, Velma began to wonder about Shaggy once more. He seemed convincingly tired when he asked her what she was doing when she was getting out. She hoped that it was not all an act. Despite what people thought about the boy, Shaggy was no a complete idiot, and Velma knew this. 'Forget it,' she thought to herself, shaking her head as if the memories would be flung from her mind by doing so. From that moment forward, Velma Dinkley decided that this had never happened. She stood, moved away from her soiled evidence, and pulled her leggings over her leather mary-janes and back onto her body. Crawling into the Mystery Machine, Velma peeked over to Shaggy to see if he had fallen asleep again. His eyes were closed. That was good enough for her. Turning her back to him, she pulled her sweater up and began to hook her bra back into place.
Shaggy slowly leaned his head on top of Scooby, placing Velma upside down and into view with his one eye open. All he got was a glance at the side of her body before he had to shut his eyes again while she curled up to go to sleep. "Zoinks," he mouthed to himself, trying his hardest to keep the image of Velma burned into his memory.