First Love : by (c) Hamilton Joyce mf Mfm I have her photo in front of me as I write, almost the only relic of those long ago days, because of all the travels and travails of my life. In monochrome she stands there, a pouting, truculent teenager, but heart-stoppingly lovely. Long blonde hair to her shoulders, bedraggled into rats' tails as she has clearly been swimming. Her white swimming costume is in contrast to her sun-tanned skin. You can see she has grown since she was given the costume, as her breasts seem to be in danger of popping out. And if I look closely at her little mound I can just make out the shape of those cuntlips I loved so much. The photo only survived at all because it has nestled in my wallet, a constant companion, for fifty years. On the back of the photo, in a childish, penciled scrawl I had written ' Sandy. Age 13. 1958.' During the school summer holidays that year, and for several before, my father parked me and my mother at a strange place called Juggs Haven. He had somehow acquired an abandoned Catalina flying-boat, left over from the war. Or rather he had the fuselage. Everything of value had been removed during the war, and he had removed the wings to convert it into a sort of lifeboat. Sandy's father had converted a wartime landing-craft, equally abandoned by the Ministry of Defense. Side-by-side, in their muddy creek, the two wrecks sat in the mud, or floated up with each tide. Little brown and green crabs scuttled around and between them. And through my porthole, I could see Sandy at her porthole. Juggs Haven is now an up-market Marina. Then it was a ramshackle collection of wooden shacks, up on stilts to be above the spring tides, up-turned boats, and converted debris of war. There were about a dozen regular inhabitants. As I remember it they were all male. Calling themselves longshoremen or fishermen, they scratched a poor living just on the wrong side of the law. Over the other side of the estuary, it was true wilderness. The beach was called Horse Strand, and it still had the iron scaffolds and spikes put there to foil any attempted invasion during the war. Behind the Strand was a relic of another European war, a fort built to foil Napoleon's invasion. It was ruined, and in parts flooded. Behind that was just miles and miles of tidal marshes and muddy creeks. Sandy and I loved Horse Strand, of course. But it was only possible to get over there on fine weekends, when, if there were enough takers, a fisherman called Rollo would ferry people over in the morning and back in the evening for sixpence. On weekdays it was impossible, and the current in the estuary was too dangerous, even though both of us were strong swimmers. Not that it was boring our side of the estuary. We were called mudlarks, as we enjoyed playing in the muddy creeks, where we would get covered in the rich black mud, only to wash it off in the clear sea-water the other side of the shingle spits. There were eels to catch in muddy buckets, and release in the tidal pool in the center of the settlement. We also caught eels on baited lines in the estuary at the slack of the tide, when they congregated, and would fry them up with eggs and marsh samphire grass on fires made out of driftwood, and coconut husks. Strangely, the beach was covered in washed-up coconut shells then. You never see any now. We had a yellow rubber inflatable dinghy, Royal Air Force rescue equipment, in which we used to paddle up and down the creeks. On Friday evenings our two fathers would appear, in the same car. Then the silence of the marshes and seabirds would be broken by moans, grunts and panting from the thin-walled houseboat cabins. Sandy explained to me what my mother and father were doing, and in great and graphic detail too. Sex education was even then better for girls than for boys. Perhaps they just listened more attentively. Anyway, it was something we giggled over a lot. But it was the mystery of deserted Horse Strand that always beckoned us. 'Please Mr Rollo. Take us over. We won't be no trouble.' 'Couldn't , sweetie. You know the cost of diesel?' A word about Rollo. He was more debris from the war. He had had one of those strange wars, mixed up in all sorts of dangerous expeditions behind enemy lines. And he was one of those who never came to terms with civilian life. He lived by himself in an upturned barge with a door cut in it and covered in black tar. He still had the authority of his former army rank. (My guess is he was a sergeant). All summer he wore the same ragged khaki shorts, and nothing else. Sandy and I were tanned brown: he was nearly black, He was tall, and muscular, without being heavy. More a runner than a boxer if you see what I mean. His curly blonde hair was bleached almost white by the sun, and was longer than the 'fifties convention. As I remember him, his chest was almost hairless. He was startlingly handsome, with his blue eyes and burned skin. His open profession was lobster fisherman, but he certainly smuggled. He was also one of the 'salvage sharks'. These gentlemen of the sea fought each other to get a line onto any yacht or small boat in trouble, and then claim the salvage.' He was a rogue, but a nice one! Anyway, for a week he refused. And then one day we saw him considering something. 'Shouldn't! But show us your tits, sweetie, and I'll take you over.' Sandy always was a daredevil, and not at all timid. And, it must be said she had tits any girl would be proud of. She just pulled up her shirt and showed him. 'Worth a trip,' he laughed. 'And you Boy-Ronnie, show us your cock.' Sandy's were the first tits I'd really seen, not counting photos of black girls in National Geographic, and I now know they were the best I was ever to see in a long and lecherous life. So I had a hard-on when I unbuttoned for him. 'Worth a trip, too.' I could see Sandy's eyes gleaming as she looked at my pecker, and I didn't mind at all that I was hard for her! Horse Strand was even better when we had it all to ourselves. We had explored the fort, run along the beach, skipped stones over the mill-pond sea, and were lying side-by-side on the sun-hot shingle. 'You think he'll bring us over again.' 'Yes. You should have seen his eyes narrow when you showed him your tits. He loved it.' 'And your cock, Ronnie. Show me again.' 'Yours too, then. We don't need all these clothes.' And so in a couple of seconds two teenage playmates were transformed into lovers. Innocent and unskilled perhaps, but lovers nonetheless. We both had grotesque tan-lines where decency had forced us to cover what were in the parlance of the 'fifties known as our 'privates', and she a tiny strip including her rosy-pink nipples. 'I think you look lovely.' My prick was, of course hard. 'Mmmm.' Her finger had strayed down to her mound, with its light, almost invisible blonde fuzz, and as I watched, the index finger slipped between the plump pink lips, so mysterious to a young boy. I found I was jerking my cock too, almost without thinking. 'I like doing this. I didn't know girls do it too.' 'Well, I do, Ronnie. Look, you do mine, and I'll do yours.' She moved so we were touching thigh-to-thigh, and her tiny, soft hand moved up and down my shaft, while my finger slid into her slippery slit. 'Higher, yes. You feel that nub. That's called a clitoris, and it's the best place. Am I doing it right?' 'Yes. That's lovely. Down the front is best, but all over, really.' She was feeling a nipple with one hand, and I knew she wanted me to, so I pressed my hand on that firm little breast and rubbed the nipple between finger and thumb. She was flushed, and I could feel I'd come soon. I rolled over so my chest was on hers. We kissed, and as she heaved beneath me I came into her hand, and from her sudden quietness I knew she had come too. We lay side by side. 'That was better, for me, Sandy.' 'For me, too. Better than by yourself. From now on I only want to do it with you, Ronnie. Let's save it up for each other.' And so every morning and evening Rollo got his peepshow, and all day Sandy and I played, and petted, and jerked each other off. It was probably a week later that the inevitable happened. It must have been at least a week, because I can recall her body that day, with its tan-lines faded, burned away by our new nudist life. We had played together twice, coming in our childish way, and were laying in the warm water of a pool left behind by the morning tide. Sandy was playful and was tickling me under my armpit. She loved this, as I was very ticklish (still am). I was fighting to get away from her, wriggling and struggling and laughing hysterically. I lay on to of her to try to stop her. Imperceptibly, our struggling became lovemaking. Her tits pressed into me, and her arms and legs were round my back as we kissed. I felt my cock slide in her slit, stopping wedged against the opening of her vagina. Then I felt the knob slip into her. She gave a start, but her belly pressed harder into me, and I felt my cock slide into her. And we were fucking...just like she had described our mums and dads doing. I felt her come, her vagina gripping and milking my young cock. And then I was coming, so much more intensely than ever before. We lay there, shell-shocked. 'That was....' 'I know, Sandy. It was...' 'Let's go up on the shingle, and do it again, Ronnie...' Our families were respectable, despite their hippy-like existence in summer, and on Sundays we went to chapel. I had to wear flannel shorts and a jacket and tie. Sandy wore her best dress, white silk with blue satin trimmings. And more to the point, no lady went to church then bare-legged. So she had to wear stockings and suspender-belt as well as her pretty panties. My lifelong love of lingerie probably dates from these Sundays. The preacher was worth listening to, as he threatened the congregation with hell and damnation for fornication. I would catch Sandy's eye, and see the gleam there. We both felt that our fondling and fumbling with each other was well worth the outside chance of a rendezvous with Old Nick. When we knelt for prayer, her hand would slip up my shorts and grip my cock. I would slip a hand up under her hem and feel her panties, slipping a finger towards her clit. How I loved, and still love, that two inches of soft flesh above the glossy stocking tops! But I would never have seen those pretties were it not for a happy chance. It seldom rained that summer, but one Sunday on the way back from church it did, just as we were passing Rollo's shack. It was heavy summer rain, big spots making craters in the gray dust . 'It'll spoil my frock.' Sandy was casting about, trying to find some shelter. Rollo was at his door. 'Don't stand there like stranded codfish. Ere, come in out of that.' 'Ere, some of this to freshen up that tea. Tea without brandy is poor spinsters' piss. This is good stuff straight from France. No mean little English grocer ever got his hands on this stuff.' The 'stuff' certainly warmed me, and I could see Sandy getting round it, too. 'You look pretty as a picture, sweetie. Almost worth going to chapel to see you. Almost...but not quite.' He took a slug straight from the bottle. 'Nice quiet place for a boy and girl to play, Horse Strand. Nobody to see, eh?' Another slug. 'I seen you, you know. I seen your little games.' I'm sure I choked on my drink, and I can remember blushing. But Sandy went straight into the attack. 'None of your business Mr Seth Rollo. Spyin on people. And it don't harm nobody, not no how. So there!' 'Waren't spyin. Clearin a lobster pot washed up on the Strand. Couldn't miss you there at top o beach. And very nice it war too. But you shouldn't let him do you, sweetie, not without a French Letter.' Condoms were called French Letters then: they came in little individual envelopes, colored pink and claret, Either that or durex, the company that made them. 'You let him do you like that and you'll get knocked up. And then you'll be in trouble, both of you. Ain't worth it.' 'And where will I get durexes from?' They were sold at the pharmacy, or at the barber's shop. 'Something for the weekend sir?' I could just imagine the reception a thirteen-year-old would have got trying to buy contraceptives. They'd probably have called the police! 'Can't have you in the family way, though, sweetie You're way too pretty. I'll get some for you. I'll get you a gross. That's a hundred and forty four. Enough?' 'Cor!' I was doing mental arithmetic, one hundred and forty four divided by three. We usually fucked three times a day. I probably thought it was about sixty days worth. 'Course, I'll want to use some myself.' 'With Sandy? I'm not sure...' 'What's it to do with you, Ronnie? It's my cunt, and I wouldn't mind Rollo doin me. I'd like Rollo doin me. So there!' 'That's right. You tell im, sweetie. Here. I got one here.' He undid his belt and his tattered shorts dropped to his bare feet. He was stark naked, and he was erect! Now, I've seen many a cock since, and I expect some of them have been longer or broader. But none of them have ever had the effect that the first adult cock, fully erect and ready, had on me. I was astounded. And so was Sandy. We both gasped, and stepped forward. 'Like what e' see eh?' He opened the little envelope and threw the paper on the floor. I watched entranced as he rolled the pink latex the length of that astoundingly long cock. 'There. See, sweetie. That's what you need. You watchin, Boy-Ronnie. You might larn summat!' Sandy had decided. As I watched, she pulled the white silk dress up over her head, and dropped it in a careless heap on the floor. She stood there in her little white court 'chapel' shoes and her glossy tan stockings. But it was the white lace suspender-belt and the dazzling white, shiny, satin panties that held me. As I write, fifty years later, I'm hard at the memory of them. His cock waved in front of him as he walked towards her, smiling his handsome smile. 'Now, ain't you a picture in your pretties, little missy.' She hugged him, her blonde hair just reaching his chest, and I could see she was holding his cock as he slipped his hands inside her panties and eased them down her thighs, till they fell to her feet of their own accord. 'And ain't that pretty too? Lovely little blondie cunt. Old Rollo'll fill that for e, sweetie.' I watched as he lifted her as if she were no weight at all, and carried her to his cot bed. He lay her down on it, and kissed her tits, each of them, her belly button, her mound, and then, laying beside her, her mouth. She was still holding onto his pink-rubbered cock. I felt no jealousy, only excitement, as he rolled on top of her, and could see from her face that he had penetrated her. The look of shock and apprehension as it was forced in was immediately replaced by a smile of contentment, and her arms gripped his shoulders even tighter. Her legs crossed over his bottom as he began to fuck her. I stood by the bed and watched from inches away. 'Take those shorts off, Boy-Ronnie and help her. Feel her up a bit. And show us your prick.' My clothes joined theirs scattered over the wooden floor, and I knelt by the bed. He had his weight on his elbows now, and I could reach for her breasts and fondle them, as I knew she liked. I tweaked her nipples, and squeezed her firm tits, and was rewarded by a moan of pleasure. Her eyes were closed. I ran a hand down Rollos' back from the tanned, leathery shoulders to his startling, white bottom. Here the skin was smooth and soft, as soft as Sandy's bosom. An impulse took me, and I leaned over him and kissed his buttock as he moved up and down, into and out of her. 'That's the way, Boy-Ronnie. Get on top and give me a good lickin. Look at her face.' I knelt between his legs and felt the leathery skin of his thighs, and then the white softness of his buttocks. I was licking more than kissing now. I could see her face, and I knew she was on the verge of coming. Without stopping my caressing of Rollo, I reached around and under him, and squeezed her breast again. Now she came, with those little moaning squeaks I knew so well. This time, however, they kept rising until she was making a shouting, grunting noise that I was sure could be heard all over the settlement. And her language was something else. I was sure Rollo had been holding back till she came...I had just learned how to do this myself for her. As soon as she was coming at her noisiest, I heard him grunting as his thighs crashed into her even harder and faster. Then they lay still, and silent. I sat on an old upright chair and waited. Rollo rolled off her, stood up, and pulled the French Letter off. I could see it was full of much more cum than I could make. He tossed it into a bucket in the corner, and wiped his cock on his shorts. 'Now that war something. You've taught her well, Boy-Ronnie.' 'Have you got one I can use, Rollo?' My balls were aching with lust, and my prick was like steel with wings. 'Have to wait till tomorrow. But I'll show you another good way, when you don't need one.' Sandy had heard this and it had broken through her satisfied post-sex reverie . She closed her legs and sat up. I caught a glimpse of the bright pink of her inner lips, that I knew so well. 'It'll have to be on the floor. No room on the bed for all of us. He threw a cushion and his two pillows on the floor. 'Now, you first, missy.'He positioned her on her side, with her legs open. 'Now you, Boy-Ronnie. With your head between her legs. Now kiss her. You know where she wants to be licked. ' He completed the triangle with his limp cock up to her face. Now you suck me till I get hard again, and I'll suck this pretty cock.' For the first time I felt a warm, wet mouth over my cock ,a tongue flickering round it, and the suction of his lips and cheeks. I concentrated on giving pleasure Sandy, nibbling and sucking at her clit, fondling her bottom, and rubbing her cuntlips with my free hand. I knew from her plumping cunt, and the way she was moving her bottom in little fucking motions that I had it right. But it was all I could do to stop myself from coming. I wasn't sure whether Rollo would want me to come in his mouth, though I knew that one day I wanted him to come in mine. I managed to keep myself at the very edge of pleasure, until I felt and heard her coming again. I had my index finger in her, and I felt her vagina contracting, relaxing, and contracting again on it. I forgot everything else as I shagged Rollo's mouth, and pumped my cum into it. I needn't have worried. He swallowed it all, and licked the last oozing drops from the end. Sandy had got Rollo hard again. Her mouth, and the feel of her hard young tits had worked their magic on him. 'And now, I'm going to show you a way that you have to learn how to like. It's like brandy. Hurts and burns at first. But when you're used to it it's good. You want to try. 'Oh, yes,' Sandy said. I didn't know the question was addressed to me, so he had to repeat it. 'It may hurt a bit at first, but then it's good. You want to try it, Boy-Ronnie?' My reply was hesitant. 'Ok, Rollo.' 'Sweetie, there's some olive oil by the stove there. Bring us it. Now, Ronnie, my sweet, you lay on this cushion, yes, with your leg bent like that.' I felt the oil dribble down the crease of my arse, over my arsehole. Then his fingers pressing and rubbing there, slipping up and down. 'You enjoyed my bottom while I was fucking?' 'Oh yes, Rollo. I loved feeling and kissing it.' 'Well, I'm enjoying yours too. Nicest bottom I've seen in many a year. Boy bottom, that is, Sandy. Yours is the nicest girl bottom. Now is that nice?' 'Tickles. But it's nice.' The tip of his finger was slipping into me. I liked it, and wondered why he had warned me about pain. Then his whole finger slid into me, and I could feel it moving about in me. Suddenly the neutral feeling was replaced by a shock of pleasure. 'That's what I wanted, Boy-Ronnie.' As he spoke he withdrew his finger and now I knew two fingers were up me. I arched back to meet them. He was stretching my bottom, and I guessed what he was going to do. 'Oh, Not that, Rollo. You're too big.' 'If this little sweetie can take me in her tight little cunt, then you can in your lovely bottom. Now be patient.' I was sure he had three fingers in me. And then he paused. He was oiling his angry looking cock. I felt his weight against the back of my thighs, and then an urgent pressure of his knob against my anus. 'Sandy knelt my the bed and kissed my neck. I felt her softer hand caress my shoulders. 'Be brave, Ronnie. I'm sure it'll be good. And I'll let you do me like that if you want.' As she spoke, I felt the knob slide in, and then a sudden pain as the length slipped up me, and my anus contracted on it in an involuntary spasm. 'Relax, Boy-Ronnie, and it'll go away.' It did pass, of course, and he was fucking me, slowly and gently. I can't say there was much pleasure in it for me. But there was no pain either, and I was happy to be giving Rollo pleasure. I knew I was because he was fondling my bottom, and whispering flattering comments about my body. He was going faster now, and then he reached under me with both hands and pulled me up till I was kneeling. He pulled me back onto him, and I could feel the broader part of his cock stretching me as he won that last inch. His thighs were smacking against mine, and then I heard the grunts that meant he was coming. Suddenly his cock moved easier, and I knew I had received his spunk. He wiped his cock in a bowl of water by the stove, and came back with a damp cloth to wipe my sticky bottom. 'Be nice to carry on more. But you better be off home. Rain's stopped now, and wouldn't do for your dads to know what you been at.' Next morning, Rollo had a quick feel of both of us as well as his usual peepshow. On Horse Strand, we found a heap of old ropes, and Sandy turned them into a good game, combining our childish adventure games with our new sex play. She was the Pirate Queen, and I was her captive. She tied me to one of the anti- landing-craft scaffolds and strutted around me acting out her role. She had decided I was a hell and damnation preacher, like Pastor Smike at the chapel. 'I have you now, you old, black cockroach.' The short piece of rope she wielded stung me across my thighs. 'I'll give you condemning young girls to hell just for pleasuring themselves.' Again the rope struck, higher this time, across my prick and belly. Her tits were lovely as she swung the rope, and I was as usual erect. 'I shall have you buggered, by Captain Rollo. That will teach you to preach at me.' She couldn't keep the game up as she giggled. But she had one more try. 'I know a sure way of sending you to hell, Preacher. You are about to commit a sin.' Giggling, she knelt in the shingle in front of me and took my knob in her mouth. Using what Rollo had taught her the day before, she sucked, licked and nibbled. I was helpless, of course, but close to paradise. Then, as I was about to come, I felt her tiny finger slip into my bottom. I just exploded into her mouth. Later. 'What about you, Sandy?' 'Oh, I came too. I was jerking while I sucked you. When you filled my mouth, I came. Next time, you be the Pirate Captain, and I'll be a helpless Princess you've captured. You can rape me. I'd like that.' Rollo was early that afternoon. We thought he would be! He left his shorts in the little boat, and walked up the beach to us dangling a box, tied in a red ribbon. He presented it to Sandy. 'A present for missy. One hundred and forty four fucks, tied in a ribbon'. 'Oh, Rollo. Thanks,' She kissed him, her breasts against his smooth chest. She opened the casket, and took two envelopes out. 'One each.' As I rolled the latex over my cock for the first time, Rollo was organizing the event. 'I'll do her from behind, so you can suck her clit at the same time. Then you do her, and I'll suck her.' 'Mmmmm.' Sandy was kneeling down ready. 'And then we've got a new tying- up game we can play. It was a long hot summer, all summer long. FIN All that was a very long time ago. I still feel that you are out there somewhere, Sandy, and if you read this then know that I would still like to play pirates with you on some deserted beach.