T22 Losing It {Titmouse} (mf,teen,1st)
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WARNING NOTICE:
The following story is erotic fiction and includes
descriptions of explicit sex. If you are a minor or
if such things may offend you, quit reading now.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Losing It
by Titmouse
(C)1997, All Rights Reserved
Honestly, losing my virginity wasn't such a big deal. Oh,
I was nervous and scared at the time, all right, but mostly I
just wanted to get it OVER with. And so I did.
My name's Marcee, by the way, Marcee VanZant.
Janie Philips was the first one in our group to actually do
the deed. She was barely 15 at the time, and we were pretty much
scandalized by it. Oh, we were all excited and wanted to know
ALL the details. But afterward, when Janie wasn't around, we all
bad-mouthed her for it. I was as bad as anyone, I guess.
We called our group WeFive because -- you guessed it --
there were five of us, but it wasn't long before it was down to
just four. Janie just kind of drifted away. I don't know if she
felt we "goody-goodies" had less in common with her sudden sexual
maturity or if she sensed our disapproval. Maybe some of both,
huh?
Funny, because only about three months later, Stevie --
Stephanie Connager -- became the next to fall. And when she
excitedly confessed that she and her boyfriend Lee had gone all
the way the previous weekend, Kayla Randall admitted that she had
lost her virginity only two weeks after poor Janie but had been
afraid to tell us because of how we'd treated her.
But we were older and wiser by then. We could have
probably named a dozen other girls who had taken the big step in
the last six months. Kayla was the oldest of us, almost 16 and a
half, and Stevie had turned 16 the weekend before she decided to
let Lee have it. That left Shawna Reed and I as the only
virgins, and I was the older -- a month older than Stevie,
actually.
Until then, I hadn't really thought that my turn would come
any time soon. I didn't feel ready yet to take the big step.
Suddenly, however, I was in danger of being the last one in the
group to lose my virginity, and that was an uncomfortable
thought. Make that totally unacceptable.
But I had a slight problem -- I had broken up with my most
recent boyfriend Ray only three weeks before, and I wasn't dating
anyone steady. The same weekend Stevie was doing the deed with
Lee, I had dates with two different boys, neither of whom was
going to get a second date, not unless I was desperate. So I
didn't have any good candidate to nominate for cherry-picker.
Not that I'd ordinarily have a problem, you understand.
I'm a pretty foxy brunette, about 5'5", with a trim bod, slim but
definite hips, and a good pair up front. The boys seemed to like
what I had to offer, and even my friends admitted I was the
prettiest of the group except maybe for Stevie.
Over the next few days, I thought of little else except my
problem. At first, I felt a little desperate. How was I going
to do this? And with WHO? But, after a major anxiety attack or
two, I calmed down. I began to think it wasn't so important to
give it up to someone significant. Like, I wasn't ready to get
serious or anything. The more I considered it, the more it
seemed there were only two real requirements. First, it had to
be someone I could trust with it, you know. Someone who wouldn't
ruin it, at the time and later. And it had to be someone I
wouldn't feel embarrassed about when I told (bragged to) my
friends. The second was probably more important than the first,
to be honest.
It didn't take me long after that to settle on Keith Millet
as the top candidate. He was available and interested -- in
fact, he'd asked me out the previous weekend after I'd already
committed to the two dates, and I had to turn him down. His
girlfriend, Zoey Bradford, had dumped him a while back. She'd
wound up with Edgar Castleman, a football player. He was a
tackle and pretty dumb.
Keith had moped at first, but he seemed to be getting over
it. He was on the basketball team -- not a starter, but
varsity. He was also pretty cute. I'd known Keith a long time,
since Tuttle Middle School. We both went there before good old
Weslow High.
In fact, we'd done some early experiments in the boy-girl
thing together. Keith was the first boy I ever let touch me --
just some outside-the-clothes stuff. It was mostly about
learning how to French-kiss and how to hug and that stuff, ya
know? Just good, clean fun. We'd gone our separate ways at
Weslow, but I'd always kind of liked him. And nothing I'd done
with him had come back to haunt me, which was more than I could
say for at least one of my ex-boyfriends. So that was another
plus for Keith.
I got through the next weekend without losing to Shawna
before I even started. She reported that she and her boyfriend
Mike didn't, like it was only a matter of time before they did.
They were talking about it, Shawna said. Mike wanted to (of
course) but she wasn't sure. I told her to follow her heart. It
would let her know when she was ready, I said. Until then, I
said, she should be true to herself and to what she wanted for
herself. I think she bought it.
But I knew time was tight and that Shawna could go any
time. I began to lay serious plans -- plans for getting laid.
Seriously laid.
On Wednesday, I finally managed to run into Keith at a good
time, not too many people around for distractions. We stood in
the hall chatting. I made no move to leave, and Keith finally
worked up the courage to ask me out again, which I quickly
accepted. Saturday? Why, sure, Keith. Go to the drive-in? You
bet.
So Saturday night we went to the drive-in. I think Keith
knew something was going on. There was a charged air, a sense
that something was going to happen. It was a sexy kind of
electricity. I think he thought he was probably going to get to
feel me up again, and I had a lot more for him to feel than the
last time. I caught him looking at my chest a lot. I even gave
him something to look at a couple of times. You know, stretching
my arms up, that kind of thing. And I bumped his arm with my tit
a couple of times, too. Accidentally on purpose.
We started kissing about fifteen minutes into the movie.
Little friendly kisses soon turned into deep, probing kisses that
went on forever. Keith moved out from behind the steering wheel
and I lay across his lap, my back to the movie. After pushing
his hand away a couple of times, I judged it was dark enough and
finally let him run his hand over my titties.
He squeezed and stroked them with less than total
competence but not bad enough to hurt me. That's not fair. He
was actually pretty good, just a little awkward in the technique
department. Anyway, I began to act like I was gradually getting
turned on, which was only partly an act. And pretty soon, Keith
tried to slip his hand under my tubetop (not chosen by accident,
of course) and, after pushing him away a couple more times, I let
him. I wasn't wearing a bra under the tubetop -- I didn't need
one -- so Keith soon had his hand on bare tit. He seemed to like
that. I kind of liked it, too.
It was pitch dark by then and we were in the next-to-last
row of the drive-in with nobody parked close. After another
brief struggle, I let Keith push my tubetop up over my titties.
He played with them for a while, then dropped his head and kissed
them all over. I'd let my ex-boyfriend Roger do that, too. When
Keith took one of my nipples between his lips and sucked on it
gently, I could feel my panties dampen. When he sucked hard, I
felt a bolt of white-hot energy shoot through my body and down to
my pussy, making it twitch and squirm.
Keith had his hand on my bare knee and began to work it
slowly up my thigh. I suppose he thought he was being crafty.
When he reached my shorts, I pushed his hand away. He kissed me
some more, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth. He played with
my tits and sucked on my nipples again. Then he put his hand on
my leg and tried to slide it up to my crotch again. I decided it
was time to have a talk.
"Stop it, Keith," I said sharply, putting my hands on his
chest and pushing away. I pulled the tubetop down over my
titties and slid away from him, putting my back against the car
door and tucking my knees onto the seat as an additional barrier.
"I'm sorry, Marcee," he said, downcast. "I didn't mean
to... I mean... I just got carried away."
"Well, okay," I said, softening a little, "You're just
going a little fast for me."
I could see him brighten a little at that, probably
figuring that too fast was not as bad as too far would have been.
He apologized and wound up holding my hand chastely while we
watched the movie. Before long, though, he put his arm around my
shoulders, and I snuggled up to him. We kissed some more.
Hesitantly, he put a hand on a tit again and, when I didn't
object, started feeling me up again. I even let him slip his
hand under my top, but I wouldn't let him pull it up and expose
my breasts.
Partly to compensate, though, I let my hand rest on his
leg. During one of our kisses, I slid it up his thigh and let my
fingers brush the lump of stiff flesh. He sucked in a quick
breath, and I slid my hand down again like it had been an
accident. As he continued to kiss and fondle me, though, I let
my fingers trace up the inside of his thigh until they made
contact again. I just rested them there, letting him know it
wasn't an accident this time. After a bit, I squeezed it and
started massaging his meat through his pants.
"Jesus, Marcee," Keith gasped between kisses. "You keep
that up, you're gonna make me...shoot." I giggled and gave his
turgid boner a pat.
"Oh, dear," I said, "we wouldn't want that." I let it hang
just a moment. "Not yet."
Keith looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I could
almost hear the gears grinding. But he decided to take the
indirect approach.
"So," he said after a pause, "what do you want to do after
the movie?"
"Oh, I dunno," I said, although I knew.
"You wanna get a burger or something?"
"Umm... I'm not really hungry," I said.
"What time do you have to be in?"
"Midnight," I said with a grimace. "I think I should be
able to stay out later on Saturday nights, but Mom and Dad won't
let me."
Keith looked at his watch.
"It's only a quarter to ten," he said. "The movie's almost
over. You wanna go out to the Point?" The Point was the parking
place of choice, a hilltop overlook where you could see the
lights of the city.
"Oh, I dunno," I said. "There'll be a lot of kids of there
on Saturday. I don't like that much." I watched his face fall
before adding, "Maybe we could go somewhere else, some place more
private."
Keith was thinking fast.
"Um... I know a place out Conner Road," he said
tentatively. "There's a side road. Nobody goes out there."
I thought for a moment, or pretended to.
"Okay," I said. "I guess so."
"You wanna see the end of the movie?" Keith asked,
obviously hoping I'd say no.
"What movie?" I said, laughing. "You mean there's a movie
here tonight?"
Now, I wouldn't want you to think that just because I
hadn't done the deed yet that I was a total innocent. Not by a
long shot.
Roger and I -- we'd gone pretty far. Far enough that he'd
begun to think it was just a matter of time before it happened.
I kept telling him no, but he didn't believe me. It didn't help
any that I did about everything else but with him during the
almost two years we went steady.
Even before Roger, I'd had some experience. Like I said,
Keith and I had done some preliminary explorations in our first
round back in the 8th grade. Then, the summer before I started
high school, I spent a month with my cousin Jackie and her folks,
Aunt Judy and Uncle Al. They had a summer cottage near Shaeffer
Lake. That's in Indiana.
Jackie was my favorite cousin. We were only six months
apart -- she's younger -- and we always had a great time
together. Nearly every summer since we were small, she's either
come to stay with us or I've gone to stay with them. A couple of
summers, we did both.
Although she's younger, Jackie developed sooner. She's
plumper than me anyway so it showed sooner. Her periods started
and her titties came out when she was 12. Mine came along the
following year just in time to give Keith a pair of targets for
his roaming hands. I wasn't exactly well developed yet, but they
were definitely more than bumps by then.
That summer with Jackie was a revelation. I had arrived
expecting to brag, but Keith and I had been pretty innocent I
found out. Sure, I let him feel me up, but we were awkward and
furtive and not very good at it. Jackie, on the other hand, was
edging toward being a slut. She got there a couple of years
later.
She and her sort-of boyfriend Todd were all over each other
in her family rec room with her mom and dad in the house. As
soon as we closed the door, Jackie pulled him into a corner. She
pushed herself up against Todd in a full-body press, kind of
lifting up one leg as if to wrap it around him. He kissed her
hard and deep, as if I wasn't there, and his hand slid up
Jackie's side and cupped a tit as if he did it all the time,
which apparently he did. And Jackie didn't object. No sir. She
kind of wriggled up against him and thrust her chest forward,
pressing her titty into Todd's hand. I'd never seen anything
like it.
That night, we had a long whispered conversation in the
bedroom we shared. At first, I was giving her a hard time, or
trying to, but Jackie wasn't having any of it.
"Don't be a fud, Marcee," she said scornfully. "We're not
hurting anybody. Todd's a lot of fun to be with. He's so sexy I
just wanna eat him up. He likes to kiss me and touch me, and I
like it, too. It feels g-o-o-o-d."
I admitted under questioning that I had liked it when Keith
touched me. I liked the idea of him wanting to touch me and of
me letting him touch me. But I didn't really think it was right
to let him. Heck, that was partly the point. Anything people
tried so hard to stop you from doing just had to be fun. And it
was. But it wasn't right.
Jackie laughed at me.
"That's so complicated, Marcee. It isn't that hard. Does
it hurt anyone? N-o-o-o. Does it feel good? YES! Then for
crissakes go ahead and do it, sweetie. Have a little fun."
"So," I asked after some kidding around and general
conversation about boys, "so have you done it?"
"Naw," Jackie said, "I'm not ready for that yet. It's
too... complicated, you know? I'm gonna save that for the right
guy at the right time. How about you?"
"God, no," I said. "I don't even want to think about it.
Right now, I'm just having fun."
"Me, too," Jackie said. She gave me a funny grin.
"Besides, there's lots of other things you can do."
"Like what?" I asked. I could allow myself to be a little
naive with Jackie, where I couldn't with friends at school. She
wouldn't put me down, and we didn't run around with the same
people anyway.
"Oh, the usual stuff," she said. I raised a quizzical
eyebrow. Jackie looked surprised. "Haven't you ever jerked a
guy off?"
"N-no," I admitted. I didn't even know what it meant.
"Jeez, Marcee, where ya been?" Jackie said. "If you play
with a guy's weenie, you can make him shoot."
"Well, yeah," I said, "but I never..."
"Look," she said, "you pull it out, ya know? And then
you.." She made a fist and pumped it up and down a couple of
times. "... And pretty soon -- whoosh! -- out it comes."
"What? You mean his... semen?" Was that what they meant
by 'coming?' I'd heard the word without understanding what it
referred to.
"Yeah. His cum. It spurts right out of the end of his
thing. Pow! Pow!" Jackie giggled. "One guy, like the first
time I did it, he got it all over himself. God, what a mess!"
"What's it like?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the thought
of body fluids getting all over things.
"Kinda thick and creamy," she said. "And it smells...
funny. But it's real sexy. I mean, like I feel really powerful,
you know, when I make a guy come. You take hold of a guy's dick
and start jerking it, and they love it. They just go crazy, you
know? Like it feels really excellent. And then, when they
shoot, it's like you stuck an electric wire up their butt, you
know, jerking and groaning because it feels so good."
"Jeez," I said, overwhelmed with new information. "It
sounds... weird!"
"Oh, it's weird all right," Jackie said. "But you do that,
you got 'em in the palm of your hand." She giggled again.
"Literally!" We both cracked up.
When we settled down again, I asked, "But what about the...
stuff? You said it's messy. What do you...?"
Jackie looked at me kinda funny. "Well," she said, "you
can catch it in your hand, but then, like, now what do you do
with it? After the first time or so, you can usually tell when
they're getting close, and you just put something over it to, you
know, catch it. I used to use a Kleenex or a napkin."
"You don't use a ... condom?" I asked, knowing it was dumb
even as I said it.
"Naw," Jackie said, "that's not for that. I mean, you
could, but... Rubbers are for when you really do it. It keeps
the cum from getting in you and making a baby."
I sat there a moment, digesting what she had said.
"You said... you used to use a napkin...?" I looked a
question at her.
Jackie's eyes flicked toward her parent's room.
"Well," she said, "you gotta promise you won't ever
tell..."
"I promise," I said quickly, drawing an X on my chest.
"Cross my heart."
"Well," she said, "if I really like a boy..."
"Yeah?"
"I use my mouth."
I was shocked, stunned. Had I heard right?
"Your... your mouth?"
"Sure, dummy. Haven't you ever heard of a blowjob?"
Well, yeah, I had heard of it, but I was pretty unclear on
the concept except that it had something to do with sex. Like, I
wondered what the big deal was. I couldn't imagine how blowing
on a guy, even on his thing, would do much of anything. Except
maybe cool it off.
"It's not really a blowjob," Jackie said, sensing my
confusion. "Like, it should be called a suck job. You put it in
your mouth and suck on it and jack the guy off. You kind of move
your head up and down, you know. You hold your mouth like
this..." she made an O "... and kinda hold it and rub it with
your lips and tongue. No teeth! That's important. And pretty
soon, whammo!"
"Gaah!" I said, curling my lip. "He shoots it... in your
mouth?"
"Sure," said Jackie casually. "It tastes kinda funny.
Warm and salty. Kinda gross. I used to spit it out, but now I
just swallow it."
"Ewww!"
"You'll get to like it," she said confidently. "Like I
said, it's real sexy, and it just blows the guys away. You give
a guy a blowjob once, and he'll do almost anything to get another
one. You promise a guy a blowjob, and he'll take care of you.
And if he does you right, I figure a blowjob isn't much to repay
him. It's a lot more fun than doing it yourself."
Well, I'd certainly learned more in the past few minutes
than in my whole life up until then. But now I had another
question, as long as I was at it.
"What do you mean... like... if he does you?"
"Oh, Marcee-girl," Jackie laughed, "you sure are green.
Where have you been?"
"C'mon, Jackie. Give."
"We're not running a charity here, girl. If a guy expects
it from you, he's gotta give it back. Hell, I want mine first.
You make a guy shoot, he's not good for anything for a while. He
just wants to lay around and enjoy the feeling. He don't care if
you're all worked up. Hell, I usually have to teach 'em. But I
make sure they learn."
Jackie could tell by my expression that I had no idea what
she was talking about.
"Oh God!" she laughed. "You're something else, girl.
Haven't you ever had a guy play with your pussy?"
I shook my head no.
"Oh, Marcee, have you been missing out!" Jackie's eyes
flicked toward her parent's room again. She looked at me a
moment, then seemed to reach a decision. "C'mere," she said,
scooting toward the way and lifting up the sheet, inviting me to
join her.
We'd shared a bed many times over the years, especially
when we were younger. This was different, I knew without being
told. Still, I hesitated only a second. Jackie knew something I
didn't, and I wanted to know right now. Moving quietly, I
slipped out of my bed and into hers. We lay there side by side
for a moment. Then Jackie turned onto her side and laid a hand
on my thigh. I jumped involuntarily.
"Easy, Marcee," she whispered, grinning. "I'm not going to
hurt you, I'm just going to show you something. This is the
way... well, somebody showed me. I was pretty amazed, and you
will be, too."
Jackie slid her hand down toward my knee, then inward and
slowly traced up the inside of my thigh. Before she reached my
middle, though, she moved her hand up on top again, ran it over
my stomach under my t-shirt, then down my other leg. This time,
she let the backs of her fingers flutter along the inside of my
thigh. I trembled with anticipation and a touch of excitement.
"Relax," Jackie whispered. "Don't hold your legs so
tight." She put her hands between my legs and tugged gently. I
let them gap open slightly.
"That's better," Jackie whispered. "Just relax. Close
your eyes and relax. Pretend I'm a boy, and I just want to make
you feel good."
I closed my eyes and waited. All my attention was focused
on the tickling touch of Jackie's warm hand as she moved it to my
inner thigh again and slipped it higher. And higher. Her
fingers brushed gently across my panty-covered mound, trailed
down my thigh again, returned to stroke lightly over my crack
before tracing down my thigh once more.
I shuddered involuntarily, my legs tensing then relaxing.
My legs drifted open a little more, giving Jackie better access
for her softly stroking fingers.
"That's better," she whispered again. "See how nice it
feels?"
It did feel -- well, not nice -- more like wicked, but
sensuous and exciting. Once, when Keith and I had been playing
our games behind some bushes in the park, he had slipped one of
his legs between mine and raised it to nudge against me there.
It had felt something like this. But I had backed off and he
hadn't persisted. Now, a warm glow was spreading through my
middle in response to Jackie's touches. I began to want her to
touch me again, tingling in anticipation while her hand brushed
along the sensitive skin of my thighs, waiting for her fingers to
come higher and touch me there.
Jackie laid her palm on my mound and wriggled her fingers
into the space between my legs. I shifted again, letting them
gap still wider. She rubbed up and down slowly, pressing in,
making me tremble again.
"C'mon," Jackie whispered. "Do me, too."
I turned slightly toward her and hesitantly put my hand on
her stomach. Jackie made a little snuggly move to encourage me
and raised a knee to give me access. I slid my fingers down over
her panties and gingerly rubbed them around in the space between
her legs. Jackie pushed her hips toward me, wanting more. At
the same time, she pushed her own fingers against my slot. I
returned the pressure and was rewarded with a sigh.
"Oh, yeah," Jackie hissed. "Doesn't that feel good?"
"...Yeah," I whispered back. In truth, I'd never felt
anything like it. I'd never touched myself that way; it had
never occurred to me to try.
With a deft move, Jackie slipped her middle finger under
the crotch of my panties and directly onto my slit. I flinched
briefly at the unaccustomed intimacy as she worked her finger
from side to side until it nestled between the outer lips, then
slowly stroked it up and down. It slid easily in the dampness
that had accumulated there. I shuddered and let out a long sigh.
Jackie moved her finger up toward the top of the notch and ran it
over a little bump I'd never noticed before. It felt especially
good when she did that.
"That's your clittie," she whispered. "That's what makes
you come."
The bump throbbed under her touch, and I let out a low
moan. Jackie flicked her finger across it a couple of times and
my middle jerked convulsively in response.
"You like that, don't you?" Jackie whispered. I nodded,
reveling in this new feeling. "Me, too," she said. "C'mon.
Give me some."
Caught up in what was happening to me, I had almost
forgotten that my hand was in Jackie's crotch. I moved up so
that I could work my fingers under the waistband of her panties
and wriggled them down through her sparse bush to the top of her
pussy. Probing cautiously in unfamiliar territory, I worked a
finger into her slit and found her bump, then traced my finger
over and around it. It seemed a little dry, so I slid my finger
lower, found her dampness and brought my lubricated finger back
up to roll it around and around as she had done with me.
Jackie drew in a ragged, hissing breath through clenched
teeth and blew it out again. Her hips moved back and forth under
my touch. Now it was Jackie who forgot about me. She had her
eyes closed and had brought one hand up to massage one of her
titties.
"Ummmm," Jackie moaned. "That feels so good! So sexy.
Oooh! Nothing... nothing like it."
She was moving her hips more urgently now, pushing forward
slowly so that her bump dragged across my pressing finger, then
snapping them back and doing it again. Her breath matched her
hips, dragging in as she pushed against my finger then popping
out in short gasps. She shuddered every time.
This went on for a couple of minutes. I did little except
provide the pressing finger against which Jackie sought her own
please. But after a while, she sighed and stopped moving. She
puffed her cheeks and blew out a long breath.
"Whew!" she said, "I was really getting going there. It's
been a while. But I wanna do you, not me."
She turned toward me and began to work her finger in my
slot again. My own excitement had not diminished. In truth, I
had found it sexy and stimulating to sense Jackie's growing
arousal and to know I was doing it to her. I was still plenty
wet down there, and her finger slid easily up and down my crack,
pausing at the top occasionally to circle around my pleasure
bump.
Jackie moved her finger down toward the bottom of my slit,
and I felt her fingertip probe for and find the entrance to my
channel. Slowly, slowly, she pressed inward, twirling her finger
so that it spiraled into my tight, virgin pussy. This was brand
new for me. I'd never done it to myself, not even when I was
washing. And I'd certainly never let a boy -- or girl -- touch
me there. Other than the doctor Mom had insisted I see when my
periods started, nothing and nobody had ever been in there
before. And this felt nothing like the doctor or his
instruments.
As Jackie worked her finger into me, I clutched at her arm
with one hand and did my best to imitate her with the middle
finger of my other. It was weird, almost as if I was doing it to
myself. As my finger penetrated Jackie's pussy, I felt hers
working its way into mine.
I kept expecting her to run into my cherry, which I knew
was supposed to be in there somewhere. But I felt no obstacle in
either of us. We wormed our fingers up inside each other
gradually until they could go no farther, and I felt nothing but
pleasure in me and warm, wet slickness in Jackie. From her sighs
and quiet whimpers, it seemed she was feeling nothing but
pleasure, too.
For long minutes, we lay there, one arm around the other
and one finger sliding in and out of each other's pussy channel.
I lost all track of time. It seemed like my whole being was
concentrated on that short tube of erotic flesh in my middle and
on the stiff, probing finger that was pushing in and sliding out,
in and out.
I was overwhelmed by sensations that I'd never felt, never
even dreamed of. Jackie used the palm of her hand to massage the
top of my pussy, occasionally slipping her finger out of my canal
to tease my clittie. Other times, she would leave her finger
pressed up deep inside me and use her thumb to tweak it.
I was lost in a sea of unfamiliar feelings. Waves of
rising emotion rolled over me, each a little higher and more
intense than the one before. My breath rasped harshly in my
throat as I gasped and panted.
Suddenly, I felt a change. A wall of intense pleasure
crashed into me. My scalp crawled and my toes tingled. A wave
rolled through my shuddering body from my head and from my toes
and, when it met it my middle, crashed and exploded. I bucked
convulsively, seized by a strange power that shook me with
passion. I must have cried out, because Jackie suddenly pulled
my face into her shoulder, muffling me. I think I may have bit
her, because she winced as if in pain.
For long moments afterward, waves of pleasure continued to
slosh through my body, prolonged by Jackie's slower and gentler
manipulations. She left my clit alone, however, which was just
as well. I think I would have screamed if she had touched it
just then.
Gradually, I began to wind down. Suddenly, I realized that
I had neglected Jackie for a long time and started to work on her
again. But she put her hand over mine to stop me.
"It's okay," she whispered. "Just relax and enjoy it."
I was beginning to catch my breath.
"Was that...? Did I...?" I stuttered.
"…Come? Well, only you can tell for sure," Jackie said
with a grin. "But you sure put on a convincing imitation if you
didn't."
I smiled back at her and relaxed, letting my hand slip out
of her panties because I was starting to feel awkward. I was
pretty sure I had come. If there was something more than that, I
wasn't sure I was ready for it. My head was spinning -- part
satisfaction, part exhaustion, part wonder. And maybe there was
a slight touch of fear at the power I had discovered and the
passion I had unleashed.
"You can do it yourself," Jackie whispered. "Like this..."
She pulled her arm out from under me and rolled onto her
side. Raising a leg to make it easier, Jackie slid her a hand
down into her panties, then clamped her knees tight around it.
Closing her eyes, she began to work her fingers in her crotch.
"I don't... put my fingers in... when I do this," Jackie
panted. "Not most of the time anyway. Just the bump... the
clittie... is all you need. Just... around and around. You'll
get the feel of it. Just do what feels right."
After a while, she twisted around onto her stomach and,
face half buried in the pillow, thrust both hands under her
middle. She was breathing hard, her fanny stroking up and down.
I realize now that I must have left her pretty aroused and
unsatisfied, because it didn't take her long to work her way over
the edge. In less than a minute, it seemed, she gasped and
whimpered, bared her teeth, and cried out softly, then slowly
relaxed.
"That's better," she said, after a moment.
We lay side by side in companionable silence and
fulfillment. I was starting to drift off when Jackie nudged me
and sent me back to my own bed, where I fell asleep full of
answers to old questions and puzzling over a whole bunch of new
ones.
The next day, we headed up to the lake with her folks from
their house in Connersville, a drive of an hour and a half.
After helping unpack and air out the cabin, Jackie and I grabbed
a quick lunch and headed around the lake shore for the central
area near the main boat ramp.
"What's there?" I asked as we walked up the road.
"Boys," said Jackie. "Everything else is incidental."
But the incidentals were entertaining enough. There was a
cluster of shops with gifts, clothing and food, plus a full-blown
carnival that ran throughout the summer. There was also a
roller-skating rink and a go-kart track. We headed there after
browsing the shops because Jackie assured me there were always
lots of boys around.
Sure enough, there were at least half a dozen guys hanging
around the banked, oval track and another dozen out on the track
in karts. Each ride was 10 laps, and we watched the current one.
Some of the drivers were older, but the majority were kids. It
was pretty competitive out there, I could see right away,
especially at the front of the pack. At the end of the run, the
carts pulled in and lined up by twos in the pits. Some drivers
stayed in for another round; others got out and new ones replaced
them.
"Oooh, lookee!" Jackie hissed and pointed with her nose at
two boys who were just leaving the ticket booth. One had blond
hair, the other brown. Both were good looking and the right age
-- about ours or maybe a little older.
From our vantage point near the end of the pit area, we
watched them enter. They had apparently bought several tickets
because they stuffed them into their pockets after turning over
one to the ticket taker at the entrance. They looked over the
waiting karts, most of which had emptied after the last round.
There were two up front near us. I saw them spot them and us at
about the same time. The taller one with the brown hair turned
and said something to his buddy, who also gave us a look.
The pair worked their way through the lined up karts,
occasionally flicking a glance in our direction but generally
pretending to be more interested in the karts. They stopped and
considered an empty pair in the fourth row before moving on to
the front. Of course, they both wanted the one closest to the
track, and Jackie and I watched while they tried to bluff and
bull the other out of it, then settled the choice with a coin
toss. Behind them, the double line of karts was filling up as
other boys moved in and made their choices.
Once they sat down and strapped in, they pretended to
notice us for the first time.
"Hey, look," the blond said to his friend. "Spec-ta-tors."
He looked directly at us. "Tell me, are you two the princesses
for this race?"
"I don't know," Jackie shot back. "What do princesses do?"
"Princesses don't do," the brown-haired guy said
scornfully. "They just are."
"That's royal princesses, dummy, not race princesses," his
friend corrected. "Race princesses just have to be pretty, for
one thing, and you two are very qualified." We laughed at the
compliment.
"Is that all?" Jackie asked. "Doesn't seem like much."
"Well," said the blond guy, blushing a little, "the other
thing is, you gotta kiss the winner."
I laughed and blushed more than he had. Jackie just looked
at him and his friend and then said, "Okay, you're on. But you
gotta beat everybody, not just your buddy here. Otherwise,
somebody else will collect."
Two boys in the row behind them had heard our banter, and
one of them called out, "Does that mean we're included?"
Jackie looked them over before answering. The one who had
spoken up was okay looking, but the guy next to him was a geek in
thick glasses who looked like he was probably younger than we
were.
"Sure," she said after a pause. "But what do we get if you
lose?"
"Loser buy sodas for everyone," said the brown-haired kid.
He looked around at the other three. "Deal?"
"Deal!" the blond and the guy from the second row chimed
in. The kid with the glasses said "Can't, dammit! I spent all
my money on ride tickets."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. With my luck, he'd
turn out to be a demon driver. Not that I was planning on
kissing anybody. Well, not really...
"All right then, just the three of us are in," said the
blond. "Okay?"
"Okay," Jackie said, speaking for both of us without
checking with me. She knew I was chicken.
By this time, the karts had filled up and the guy in charge
was walking up between the rows explaining the minimal rules --
Anyone who caused a wreck would be banned, slow down if the
yellow light came on and pull in immediately on a red light, even
if there were laps remaining. Ten laps. Go!
The good-looking kid with the brown hair had the inside and
got a jump on everybody. I'd already picked him as my favorite,
and I couldn't decide whether I wanted him to win or place
second. His friend was good-looking, too, but my guess was that
he wasn't quite as tall as I was.
They never managed to catch him. The blond kid and the one
from the second row dogged his tail the whole way, especially the
last few laps, but they couldn't get around him. The kid with
the coke-bottle glasses fell back and finished in the middle of
the pack.
When they dropped the checkered flag, the karts made one
last round and then pulled into the pits. Jackie and I exchanged
glances, wondering if anyone would really try to collect. She
moved up closer and leaned on the waist-high fence, just in case.
Our two pulled in at the front of the pack and stopped. They
exchanged grins, and then brown-haired guy climbed out of his
kart and sauntered over to us.
"I believe I won," he said modestly.
"I believe you did," Jackie said, and leaned over the
fence, offering her lips. The guy looked over at me and winked
before bending down to collect his kiss, a short smack on the
lips. I thought Jackie looked a little disappointed.
"So," said his friend to the guy from the second row, "how
'bout those drinks?"
"I wanna do another race, first," the kid said. "I already
bought the ticket."
"Okay," said the blond kid, "so did we."
"You wanna make it double or nothing?"
Both of them turned to look at the brown-haired guy.
"What do you mean?" asked the blond. "Two sodas or two
kisses?"
The one I liked, with the brown hair, said, "How about
both?"
They all looked at Jackie and me. I grinned foolishly;
Jackie looked at me.
"If that's okay with you guys..." the brown-haired guy
said.
"Sure," said Jackie casually. "Why not?"
The kid in the second row looked at the other two.
"Okay," he said, "but I want to change karts. Let's see
how you do without a head start."
The guy with the brown hair gave him a long look, then
said, "Sure. Why not?" He walked back to the other kart, waited
for the other guy to climb out, and settled into it.
"Hey," he called, looking at me, "isn't it your turn to be
the princess?"
I blushed in confusion. Jackie laughed and said, "Sure.
That's okay with you, isn't it, Marcee?" I had this big lump in
my throat and could only nod yes. I looked up at him, smiled,
blushed again, and had to look down.
"Wait a second," Jackie said. "If we're going to be giving
out kisses, we should at least know your names."
They introduced themselves. The blond kid was Mark, and
his brown-haired friend was Peter. The guy who had challenged
them was named Jimmy. We told them our names and we all smiled
and said hi. Mark and Peter shook hands with Jimmy.
By this time, the karts had filled up again and the starter
was ready to send them off. Taking advantage of his front row
inside position, Jimmy jumped off to an early start just the way
Peter had in the first race, with the other two right behind him.
For the first few laps, that's the way it stayed. About
the fourth or fifth lap, Mark made an attempt to get past Jimmy,
but couldn't make it before the corner. He had to run up high on
the track and let up on his speed. Peter, meanwhile, ducked
inside, passing Mark and staying so close on Jimmy's tail that
his front bumper was only inches from his rear. I was afraid
something bad was going to happen.
Jackie and I were cheering, yelling "Go! Go!" and jumping
up and down. Mark closed up behind the front two again, but they
were starting to lap the stragglers by this time and had to work
their way through traffic. Peter had to back off a little at one
point but soon closed up again. He tried twice to pass on the
inside, but each time Jimmy dropped down and closed him out.
With two laps to go, I was beginning I was going to owe the
two kisses I had earmarked for Peter to Jimmy. Then Peter tried
a new tactic. Coming into the backstretch, he went high,
slingshotting out of the corner and pushing his front wheels past
Jimmy's rear. Jimmy started to move out to block him and Peter
let off on the accelerator and then quickly floored it again just
as his nose cleared the back end of Jimmy's kart. With a little
flick of his wrist, he dropped inside while Jimmy was still
drifting outward and zipped past him.
Jackie and I jumped and shrieked as they zoomed around on
the final lap with Peter in the lead. Jimmy stayed right behind
but couldn't pass, and they roared over the finish line in that
order -- Peter, Jimmy and then Mark.
As they pulled in, you could tell Jimmy was pissed, but he
handled it fairly well, getting out of his kart and going over to
Peter. He put his hand out and offered his congratulations.
Then Peter climbed out of his kart and ambled toward Jackie and
me. His smile was making my stomach flip-flop.
"Well," he said, "looks like I won again."
"Yes," I said, smiling.
He moved in toward me and I leaned forward. The kiss he
gave me was not much longer than the one he had given Jackie. He
pulled back as if to walk away, and Jackie and I exchanged a
glance. Then Peter turned back to me.
"Wait a minute," he said, as if just remembering. "It was
two kisses, wasn't it."
"Yes," I said again, barely getting it out.
He leaned in and I raised my lips to him again, expecting
another shortie. But, as his lips touched mine, he slid his arm
around my back and pulled me close. My titties pressed against
his chest. His tongue flicked out to touch my lips and, without
thinking, I opened to accept it.
I don't know how long the second kiss lasted; I wasn't
timing it. Dimly, I heard Jackie laugh and say "Whoowee!" His
friend Mark cheered somewhere in the background. When Peter
finally pulled back, my heart was fluttering and my knees were
wobbly. He smiled at me, which didn't help any.
"Thanks," he said, then turned back to the other guys.
"Okay," he said to them. "Coke time?"
"How about double or nothing again?" asked Jimmy.
"What would we do with four sodas apiece?" Peter said,
after a brief pause. Mark said "Yeah!"
"Well, I don't think you can beat me again," Jimmy said.
"It's my turn to win a kiss."
"I doubt it," Mark said.
"Well, then," Jimmy said, "let's bet on it."
They jawed at each other for a while until Peter jumped in
again.
"Got an idea," he said. "How about this? If you win,
which I sincerely doubt, you get a kiss and I'll buy you a soda.
If you lose, you don't owe us anything. You just take off. I
think Mark and I can afford to treat the girls to a soda."
Jimmy hesitated. He looked at Jackie and me, then at Mark
and Peter.
"Here," Peter said. "I'll make it easy for you." He
walked back four rows to an empty kart. "I'll start back here."
Jimmy was trapped. He couldn't turn down the deal even if
he didn't like it, with Peter giving him such an advantage. He
knew it would be chickenshit if he turned it down.
"Okay," he said, "you're on." He sank down into his kart,
with Mark next to him, and Peter climbed into the one four rows
back.
When the race started this time, Jimmy quickly grabbed the
lead again, and it was clear he meant to hold it. Taking
advantage of the open track in front of him, he pushed it as hard
as he could. By the end of the second lap, Mark had managed to
close up on him, but you could tell he was running about as fast
as he could.
Peter, meanwhile, was stuck in traffic almost half a lap
behind, and my heart was sinking. He'd never make it. But,
while Jimmy and Mark dueled at the front of the pack, Peter
gradually worked his way through and around the other karts until
he was in third place, then poured it on to catch the other two
with only a couple of laps to go. Once again, it was the three
of them fighting it out.
Peter was the better driver, I could tell, but Jimmy and
Mark were so close together that they made a formidable barrier,
and Mark wasn't letting off to let Peter get by him. Peter tried
inside and outside, but Mark was dogging Jimmy so tightly that he
couldn't get around both of them and had to let off each time or
get pushed off the track.
As they started the last lap, Jackie and I were nearly
hysterical with the tension and excitement. Peter made his last
try as they headed into the backstretch, cutting down low on the
curve to build speed and then flying outward and around. He
passed Mark and got almost equal with Jimmy, who just let his
kart drift toward the wall to cut Peter off. Peter had to stay
high and hit the brakes to make the final turn.
Jimmy shot a triumphant glance back over his shoulder at
Peter, but -- in that brief moment, Mark had seized the
opportunity to drop low and beat Jimmy into the turn. Trapped
between the two, Jimmy had to back off, too. Mark shot ahead and
zipped across the finish line in first place.
So, to make a long enough story shorter, Jackie and I wound
up having sodas with Mark and Peter, while Jimmy skulked away and
disappeared. I thought I was going to have to give Mark his
prize for winning, but Peter -- with a wink in my direction --
pointed out that it was Jackie's turn again. That was fine with
her, and Mark didn't seem too disappointed, especially when
Jackie threw her arms around his neck and gave him a long, deep
kiss.
That's the way we paired off, then -- Jackie with Mark and
me with Peter -- and we all were happy with it. We had our
drinks, then walked around together the rest of the afternoon.
Jackie stayed close to Mark, hooking her arm through his and --
not by accident, I'm sure -- nudging him repeatedly with her tit.
Peter and I were more proper, but it wasn't long before we were
holding hands.
Both boys, it turned out, were 16 and would be juniors next
school year. Jackie and I promptly tacked a year onto our ages
and said we were 15. They were from a suburb of Indianapolis.
They'd already been at the lake several days and would be going
home after the weekend. It was already Thursday, and we were all
disappointed that they would have to leave so soon.
Mark and Peter walked us home at the end of the afternoon,
since we'd promised Aunt Judy that we'd be home by 6 o'clock. We
stopped in a wooded section of undeveloped land, making plans for
the next day. When Mark kissed Jackie goodbye, she leaned her
back against a tree and pulled him up against her. Peter looked
at them, then smiled at me.
"Do I have to win a race to get another kiss?" he asked.
"No," I told him. "All you have to do is ask." In fact,
I'd been wanting to kiss him again all afternoon. Peter put his
arms around me and gave me another of those deep, long kisses
that made my head spin. When he finally let go, I staggered and
had to grab his arm for balance.
"See you tomorrow," Peter said as we parted. Uh-huh.
Emphatically.
The four of us had a great time Friday afternoon although
we didn't really do anything. Both Jackie and I tried to talk
her folks into letting us go out that night, but Aunt Judy had
already planned for us all to go to dinner and there was no
persuading them to change plans. We whined and pouted to no
avail. But we did get them to agree that we could go to the
dance at the Pavilion on Saturday night. Jackie and I didn't
mention that we'd already sort of made it a date with Mark and
Peter.
Saturday afternoon, Jackie and I met up with the boys again
at the go-kart track. This time, we girls took a turn. It was a
big thrill for me, although an outside observer (and several on
the track) might have found my driving pathetic. It wasn't quite
"bumper cars," but only because the other drivers were better
than we. Jackie almost caused a wreck trying to pass me. I
wasn't driving that slow, really.
We'd brought our swimsuits with plans for a dip in the
lake. There was a big section roped off for swimmers. I was
nervously awaiting Peter's reaction to my modest two-piece that
managed to show off my developing womanhood pretty well, I
thought. (The antics of Jackie and I the previous night shaving
our "legs" got us laughing so hysterically that Uncle Fred,
unable to hear the television, shushed us crossly.) Jackie's
suit, also a bikini, managed to make her breasts look more than
ample instead of just ample goddamned enough. I felt like a
beanpole beside her.
Peter's reaction when we came out of the dressing room was
satisfactory, though. He didn't even glance at Jackie. His
eyebrows went up and he shook his head while mouthing "Whew!"
Then he gave me a hug and said "You look incredible." Like I
said, satisfactory.
Actually, I liked it that Peter was kind of quiet because
so am I. He didn't say much, but I loved the way he said it.
Jackie and Mark were well-matched, too, so it was good the way
things had worked out. Both of them were more boisterous (Jackie
was just plain boy-sterous) and loads of fun, but... Well, I
don't like being the center of attention. Let somebody else have
the spotlight.
I thought Peter in his bathing suit was the handsomest guy
there. He was tall -- almost six feet -- and lean, but nicely
muscled. Mark, I had to admit, wasn't bad either. Taken all
together, we were the sharpest group there. I actually felt a
little like the princess I had pretended to be.
We went swimming, and it was the sexiest swim I ever had.
(There are a couple of hot-tub episodes since then that might top
it, but that was much later.) To watch it from the shore, it
wouldn't have seemed like much, but that's because most of the
action was under water.
Don't get the idea we were awful. It was as much in our
minds as anything, at least as far as Peter and I were concerned.
We swam together, splashed around, and brushed our wet, slippery
bodies against each other as often as possible. We slipped under
the surface and kissed each other passionately, staying down as
long as possible. Peter never put his hands directly on any
questionable part of my body, but somehow my titties pressed
against his back or his arm or his chest. Our legs, stretched
out in the water, slipped along each other, and his slipped
between mine several times, sliding between my thighs. At one
point, he sat down in water up to his neck, and I sat across his
lap, arms around each other. I pressed my chest against him
shamelessly and felt his thing throb under my bottom.
Jackie and Mark were much worse, hiding behind the diving
raft and kissing. I know he touched her questionable places,
because I saw him yank his hand away when Peter and I popped up
beside them after swimming under the raft. I'm pretty sure
Jackie had her hands on Mark, too.
Afterward, we sat on the shore and let the heat and sun dry
our swimsuits. Jackie and I put suntan lotion on the guys and
then let them return the favor. I was already stirred up, and
that sure did nothing to cool me off. Peter ran his hand all
over my back and down my legs, getting the insides but being
careful not to go too high. One part of my bikini bottom took a
long time to dry.
The dance at the Pavilion was a lot of fun for the first
hour or so, but as more and more adults showed up they began to
play more and more oldies and less and less rock. We all slow-
danced a few numbers, which was all right, but we soon agreed
that it was getting boring.
Jackie suggested taking a walk and we all agreed, so we set
off down the road carrying our things. We'd changed out of our
swimsuits before the dance, and each of us carried a towel in
which we'd wrapped up our suits.
Jackie and Mark were ahead of Peter and I. After we'd
walked about half a mile, I saw Mark point off into the woods
along a path. The two of them started off down it, waving to us
to follow them. Soon we were out of sight of the road. It was
much darker there, but a full moon gave plenty of light once our
eyes adjusted.
The path died out on a small hill that ran down to the
lake. We stood there a while, the boys standing behind us with
their arms around our waists, talking and looking at the water
and the moon's reflection. Actually, Peter's arms were right
under my breasts, lifting them slightly. Especially when I bent
my knees slightly.
After a while, Mark and Jackie started whispering together,
then announced that they were going "over there" to find a place
to sit down.
"Maybe," Jackie said, "you'd like to find your own place.
I think we're gonna do some serious kissing."
We could take a hint. Peter and I headed the opposite
direction and soon found a small grassy area surrounded by bushes
on all sides except toward the lake. It was perfect. The last I
saw of Jackie and Mark for the next hour, they had hung their
suits on a tree branch and were spreading out their towels.
Peter and I did the same and ducked down out of sight.
I rolled into Peter's arms and gave him the best kiss I
knew how. My head started spinning again. If I wasn't actually,
certifiably, in love with this boy, then I was sure infatuated as
all get out. He was leaving the next day. I was hot and
bothered as only a 15-year-old girl (okay, 14) could be. I
didn't know what I wanted for sure, but I was ravenously hungry
for something.
In private, Peter was not as gentlemanly as he had been in
public, but that was okay with me. I not only didn't mind, I
wanted him to touch me. After a couple of kisses, he put his
hand on my titty. After a few more, he started unbuttoning my
blouse, and I let him do it without protest.
He cupped and massaged my breast through my bra for a while
and slipped a hand behind my back. Before I could decide whether
to object or not, he released the catch on my bra, and I felt it
come loose. I decided not to object.
When he slid his hand under the front and took my titty in
his warm, slightly damp hand, it felt wonderful, mature and very
sexy. He pulled on my nipple gently, and I felt it swell and
stiffen to his touch. We were kissing deeply all the while,
tongues alternately probing and retreating. He nibbled at my
earlobes and blew in my ear, sending chills down my spine.
Pretty soon, he put his hand on my thigh about halfway
between my knee and the touchdown zone, and I had another
decision to make. I knew what he was going to try to do. He
knew I knew and was leaving it up to me. The question was, would
I object. The answer was no.
When I let his hand stay there a while without protest,
Peter slid it up a little higher and waited, then a little higher
again. Reflexively, I squeezed my knees together, trapping his
hand between my legs. Then, consciously, willfully, I let them
relax. Peter moved his hand up the rest of the way and cupped
his fingers into my crotch.
It was the first time a man had ever touched me there, and
I'll never forget how it felt. Talk about new and exciting. I
was crazy about this boy. I wanted his touch -- I craved it. At
first, I just lay there and let him. Before long, I couldn't
help it. My hips began to rock in time to his presses, pushing
up to meet his touch, relaxing, then pushing back again.
A little later, Peter moved his hand up and began to fumble
with the button of my shorts. I could have stopped him, but I
didn't want to, and I didn't. I also let him slide the zipper
down. I might have objected when, instead of staying outside my
panties as I expected, he slipped his hand under the waistband
and went right for the naked truth. But we were in the middle of
a long, deep and passionate kiss when he made his move. I went
"Mmpf" or something like that, and then it was too late.
I can still remember the feeling of his fingers wriggling
through my pussy hair and finding my sex. The first touch was
electric, magic. I melted. I moaned and let my legs fall wide
open, giving him all the room he wanted. Peter pushed his hand
in farther, and I felt a finger glide between the lips, which
were wet and slippery. His fingertip probed between them, found
the hole, and pushed into me.
His touch was like Jackie's, but nothing like it. His
finger was bigger and blunter, his approach more direct and,
well, masculine. He pushed his finger into me vigorously,
although not faster than my still virgin pussy could accept it.
As wet as I was, that was pretty fast. In no time at all, his
middle finger was buried to the hilt inside me.
And me? I was hanging onto him for dear life, trembling
with passion, out of my mind. It felt so good, so sexy, so
depraved and so delicious. I was on fire.
As Peter worked his finger in and out of me, I rocked my
pelvis back and forth, helping him, wanting it, and very
definitely enjoying it. We were kissing like crazy. My heart
was pounding and my breath -- when I could breathe -- was rapid
and shallow. I felt shudder after shudder run through me. I
probably would have given Peter my virginity if he had asked for
it then, but he didn't. Given the state I was in, he could have
asked for my head and got it.
But we were both in heat, all worked up after three days of
sudden, skyrocketing involvement, after the sensual swim and the
suntan lotion, and after the last slow dances. Not to mention
being young and chock full of hormones.
Peter had his leg thrust up between mine, sliding it
between my thighs, pressing upward to drive my legs open and
press his hand and finger into my middle. I could feel his
hardness against my leg, a lump in his shorts, tube-like,
rampant, insistent.
I don't think I thought about it or made a decision. I
just reached down between us and grabbed hold. I turned my palm
up so that it slid through my hand as he rocked back and forth.
Peter groaned with pleasure and pressed himself against me.
We kept on like that for some time -- his finger plunging in and
out of my pussy, while my hand clutched and squeezed and stroked
his cock. With the exception of some minor details, it was very
close to fucking.
And I wanted more. I wanted to feel him as he was feeling
me, without clothes between our flesh. Stupid as it was, unless
I intended to give up my virginity right then, I started fumbling
with the button on his shorts. Peter had to help me with the
zipper, but together we finally got it open, and then I reached
in and put my hand for the first time on his -- well, his peter.
And Peter and his peter liked that very much. As my hot,
perspiration-damp fingers wrapped around his manhood, he let out
a long, low moan and began to move himself back and forth through
my grip. His finger pressed in and out of me; his palm pressed
and wriggled against my honey spot.
I felt like I was going to faint. My head was swimming and
spinning, my chest was heaving, and long, wracking shudders
jolted through me time after time. And then, suddenly, I was
coming. Peter's finger was buried in me, churning my insides and
making me shudder and bump and jolt. Bolts of unfathomable
emotion shot through me; waves of heat rolled over me.
Dimly, far away, I could hear Peter panting and groaning.
His hips were shooting back and forth rapidly, making his prick
slip through my clutching fingers. Starting to emerge from my
daze, I realized that he was about to come, too.
I wanted him to come. He'd made me come -- Hell, I was
still coming. He was so sexy, with his finger still buried in me
and his hot, rigid tool sliding through my fingers. I wanted to
make him come. I wanted to jerk it out of him.
Fortunately, at the last moment, I remembered that I didn't
want Peter to come all over me and my clothes. With a lurch, I
pushed him back and struggled out from under him. Peter had a
bewildered look on his face, wondering if he'd done something
wrong. But as I pushed him onto his back and kept a tight grip
on his prick, he quickly sensed that it was all right.
I didn't really know what I was doing, but I shifted my
hand around and began to pump it up and down like Jackie had
shown me. It was the first time I had ever seen a man's sex
organ in erection. The helmet-like head at the top was deep red,
almost purple, atop a stiff column of flesh. I knew why they
called it a "boner." It was so rigid that it was hard to believe
there was no bone inside. At first, I tried to let my hand slide
over the skin but, damp as my palm was, the friction didn't feel
right. Grasping it more tightly below the head, I squeezed my
fingers around it and found that the skin was loose enough to
slide up and down over the hard interior.
Peter seemed to like what I was doing. He lay back, eyes
squeezed shut, moaning and twitching. Whatever momentum had been
lost when we changed positions was quickly recovered. Peter had
his teeth clenched and bared. His breath hissed in and groaned
out.
"Oh...Oh!" he suddenly cried, and his pelvis jerked beneath
my hands. I felt his cock twitch and throb. I knew it was about
to happen. Remembering Jackie's instructions, and having no
Kleenex, I quickly put my other hand over the top.
It was just in time, because his tool twitched again and a
jet of warm goo shot out of the end and spattered against my
palm, then another and another. I kept pumping up and down until
it stopped, then went more slowly until Peter put a hand on mine
and held it still.
His cum was all over the palm of my left hand and still
more was running down over the right. I shook it off and wiped
my hands in the grass, trying to get the sticky stuff off as best
I could. It had a faint ammonia-like smell that was much
stronger up close.
Both Peter and I were embarrassed and uncomfortable now to
find ourselves half undressed and exposed. We put our clothes
back together, zipping, hooking and buttoning. Once we were
respectable again, it was better. I lay back in Peter's arms,
and we laid there on the towels, hugging and whispering.
"That was... really good, Marcee," Peter said. "Thank
you."
"Thank you," I whispered back. "Thanks for not trying...
you know..."
He smiled and gave me a squeeze. I'm not sure he was as
happy about that as I was. But I was deeply grateful, knowing
that I probably would not have stopped him.
Every once in a while, we could hear faint sounds from
Jackie and Mark's direction -- a rustle, a murmur, a laugh. I
checked my watch and it was only 9 o'clock, so we still had
plenty of time. I was content to cuddle in Peter's arms,
enjoying the slowly fading glow of satisfaction.
We were due back at 10, though, so about 9:30 I decided it
was time to get going. I told Peter and, after some last minute
hugs and kisses, I sat up and called Jackie's name softly. It
took three tries, each a little louder, before I got a response.
"Yeah?" her voice came back.
"We gotta go."
"Uh..." she cleared her throat and tried again. "Okay...
Give us a minute."
It was more like five minutes before we heard them come
stumbling out of the bushes toward the path. Peter and I quickly
grabbed our things and joined them.
Jackie's hair was messed up and so was mine, so we spent a
minute brushing and combing while the boys spread out the towels
and rolled our suits up in them again. They weren't saying much,
but I caught a wink from Mark to Peter and an answering shake of
the head. It suddenly occurred to me that the two boys would no
doubt tell each other all about what had happened -- and probably
exaggerate and brag about it. I was uncomfortable with the
thought, but there wasn't much I could do about it now.
We were all pretty quiet on the walk back to our cabin. I
think we were all sad that it was over. Mark and Peter's folks
were both leaving early the next morning, and we'd already
accepted that there wouldn't be time to see each other again.
About a hundred yards from our place, we stopped to say our
goodbyes. Peter and I exchanged addresses and promised to write.
So did Mark and Jackie, but mostly because we did, I think. Then
there was time for one last passionate kiss and fervent hug.
Reluctantly, I let go of Peter's hand, and we turned and walked
away.
When they were out of sight around a bend, I broke down and
cried, so we had to stop and make repairs before we could go in
and face the family. Jackie and I said little to each other.
She seemed dreamy-eyed and distant. I know I was.
Later, when we were getting ready for bed, she asked, "So.
How did it go?"
"Oh," I said. "You know..."
"C'mon, Marcee. Give."
"Well, it got pretty intense there for a while," I said,
sighing.
"So, what did you do? How far did you go?"
I didn't really want to tell her, partly out of
embarrassment and partly out of wanting to keep it just for me.
But I knew that without Jackie's help, I would have been a lot
less prepared for the wonderful experience I had had with Peter,
so I felt I owed her something. And I guess I was a little
proud.
"You know," I said finally and, imitating her gesture from
the other night, made a fist and shook it a couple of times.
"Far out!" Jackie said. "And did you get your goodies,
too?"
I nodded, blushing badly.
"All right, Marcee!" she said, grinning broadly. "Way to
go!" There was a long pause, and I realized she was waiting for
me to ask.
"How about you?"
"Oh, I got my goodies, all right. You bet!"
"How about...?"
Jackie looked at me and waited until she had my eyes.
Then, slowly and salaciously, she ran her tongue around her lips.
I wrote to Peter the next day and had a letter from him
when I got home two weeks later. I wrote back, but he never
replied to my second letter, and that was the last I ever heard
of him. But I didn't know that at the time, of course.
The next weeks passed slowly. I felt like I had a knife in
my heart that hurt every time I took a deep breath and sometimes
brought stinging tears to my eyes. Aunt Judy and Uncle Fred were
worried about me, questioning Jackie about what we had been up to
and watching me sometimes with concerned eyes. So I tried to act
better around them. But I felt really sad and broken, the worst
I'd ever felt about a boy.
Gradually, though, I began to lighten up. After all, Peter
had promised to write, and we didn't live that far apart. Maybe
it would all be okay, I told myself. I looked forward to going
home and writing to Peter.
For several months after school started, I was pretty down
on boys. Peter had never answered my second letter, and my
heart was broken, for the first time. I had a few dates, but
nothing serious.
Then the Christmas dance came along, and I just had to go.
It was the first big dance of the year in my first year in high
school. So, when Roger Fry asked me, and there was nobody else I
particularly wanted to go with, I accepted. And had a great
time. Isn't that always the way? Things seem to work best when
you expect the least.
Although he was a hunk and a hulk, it was Roger's wicked
sense of humor that attracted me as much as anything. His
imitation of old Mr. Patterson, the chemistry teacher, was dead
on and devastating. And he had this little girl's voice he would
put on, asking naive questions or making dumb comments.
Like once, there was this group of us sitting around,
bagging anything and everything. Somehow, we got onto sex and we
were all making suggestive cracks. And somebody said something
about it putting it where it would do the most good, and Roger
asked, in his little girl voice, "But I don't understand! Where
does he put it?"
One of his friends leaned over and pretended to whisper in
his ear. Roger's eyes popped wide open and he said "Oh my!"
faintly, and fanned himself with his hand.
Well, you had to be there, I guess.
So, before long, Roger and I were going steady. I wasn't
in love or anything, but I liked him a lot. And everything was
fine, except that he started pushing me to go farther and farther
when I wasn't in a mood for much but hugs and kisses.
We fought all the usual battles, one by one. When I
finally let him touch my titties without protest, the next time
he wanted to put his hand inside my blouse. And when I let him
do that, he started working on getting me to let him unfasten my
bra. And then he wanted to touch me down there, and then he
wanted to get his hand inside my pants or under my skirt. And
slowly, inch by inch, liberty by liberty, I let Roger have his
way. It was never quite enough, never too much insistence, for
me to feel I had to break up with him.
I mean, he was a nice guy. Don't get me wrong. He treated
me well, spent money on me, took me nice places and was
respectful in public. Roger was fun to be with, and maybe I
should have loved him, but I just didn't. He was just someone to
be with.
But, now that I had let him touch me pretty much everywhere
there was to touch, Roger had a new complaint. All day Sunday
after our Saturday night dates, he said, his nuts ached. He was
getting frustrated. He understood I wasn't ready to go all the
way. But wasn't there something we could do? Something I could
do? Other girls did, he hinted.
So, one night, after we'd been making out for more than an
hour, and Roger had worked his hand under my skirt and into my
panties, and I was feeling pretty worked up with his finger
stirring around in my pussy, I just decided Oh, what the hell?
So I opened up his pants and pulled his prick out and jerked him
off until he shot his load all over the dashboard and windshield.
That seemed to satisfy Roger for a while. It became sort
of a Saturday night ritual, minus the dashboard and windshield
part. We'd go to a movie or such, then stop off to get something
to eat, and Roger would always grab some extra napkins and hand
them to me to put in my purse for later. Then we'd go find some
place to park, most often at the Point, and we'd go to it. He
was always good to me, taking his time and getting me good and
worked up. He learned what turned me on, and most times he'd
make me come. But pretty soon he'd be pressing at me with his
dick, wanting me to take it out and jerk him off. And I would.
Like I said, that held him for a couple of months, maybe.
Then one night, we were over at his house. His parents were
gone, and Roger and I were down in the basement that they had
converted to a rec room, indulging in our favorite form of
recreation. We had the lights on incase his folks came home
early. I'd become less shy with practice.
Roger got me off good that night. It had been a couple of
weeks since we'd had the chance, and I was unusually horny.
Maybe it was just that time in my cycle when I always seem to be
more responsive.
Anyway, I was still turned on after I came, and Roger
started up on me again instead of just wanting his turn. I came
again after several minutes, and he kept going. And then I kind
of went off my nut, coming again and again, so many times I lost
count. Roger kept after me like a demon, almost as excited as I
was, pushing me up to the edge and then over, time after time. I
finally had to beg him to stop, too weak to push him away.
He waited patiently while I settled down, holding me in his
big arms and kissing me gently on my forehead, cheeks, lips. I
was overwhelmed by my body's response. I had never dreamed that
I was capable of coming so long and so hard.
"You must be pretty proud of yourself," I said, when I
finally had caught my breath. Roger just smiled.
"Seriously," that was wonderful, baby. Incredible. I
didn't... I mean, I never knew!" He squeezed his arms around me,
then started to slide his hand down over my stomach again.
"No," I said firmly, but took his hand in both of mine and
raised it to my lips. "I've had enough. It's your turn now."
I'd opened his pants up earlier and played with him, but
that had been long minutes before. Now, when I slid my hand back
into his undershorts, his penis was limp and surprisingly small.
It had always been up and cocky by the time I touched it. But as
I squeezed and pulled it gently, I felt it swell in my hand,
getting longer and stronger, until the head started to poke up
out of his shorts.
I peeled Roger's underwear down his hips, lifting it away
from his stomach in front and over his prick, which stuck out
stiffly now, curving back over his belly. The head of his cock
had emerged fully from its sheath of loose skin, and it was
purple-red with blood. I pushed his clothes down to mid-thigh.
Taking his boner in my hand, I began to stroke it slowly,
squeezing it firmly in my grip. Roger laid back, eyes closed,
and let me work on him. But after a minute, he opened his eyes
and looked at me.
"You know, it's... it's better if it's slick..."
"What do you mean?" I asked. This had always been fine
before.
"Well, it gets a little raw sometimes... afterward." He
ducked his head apologetically. "Could you... I mean... well...
like spit on your hand? You know, to make it slide?"
Well, that seemed a little gross, but it was my spit, after
all, so I brought my hand up to my mouth and dribbled some spit
into my palm. I didn't get much but, when I wrapped my hand
around his prick again, I could tell immediately that it was
better. So I did it again, and that was even better, and added
more later.
Roger laid back again and let me do him. I knew why he
liked it right away. I could see that it was more like real sex.
The feel of his slippery cock sliding through my tight grasp must
be more like real fucking. I kind of enjoyed the feel of it,
sliding my hand up and down on his pole, renewing the lubrication
every once in a while.
In the lighted rec room, I could see him more clearly than
ever before. I liked the way his prick looked, so strong and
urgent. I also like the feeling of power, of knowing that what I
was doing felt really good to him, that if I kept doing it I
would make him come. I kept watching the head of his cock poke
up through my fist as I slid my hand downward and then disappear
again my clutching fingers when I pulled up.
I started thinking, as I had many times, about what Jackie
had first told me about and then done. And what Jimmy had made
me do to him. I'd been repelled by it, but that was probably
because he made me when I didn't want to. I still remembered the
way Jimmy's tool had felt in my mouth. Like it or not, there had
been an incredible feeling of intimacy.
Spitting in my hand for the umpteenth time, it occurred to
me that there was a more efficient way to transfer liquid to
Roger's cock. Maybe I was feeling grateful and horny, or maybe
enough time had passed for the distaste from the episode with
Jimmy to fade. Anyway, I decided to try it again. I was curious
to see what Roger's bigger tool would feel like in my mouth.
Gradually, I leaned closer and closer until I could breathe
on his prick. Then, experimentally, I stuck out my tongue and
licked the head. Roger gave a gasp and his eyes shot open.
"Jeez, Marcee," he said, "that felt good!"
Encouraged, I licked the head a couple more times. Then I
ran my tongue down and back up the length of it. Roger gasped
again, his cock throbbed, and his whole body quivered.
"Jesus, Marcee," he said through clenched teeth. "Do it
some more."
So I opened my mouth and, sliding it over my tongue, took
the head of Roger's cock between my lips. Clamping them together
just under the ridge, I sucked on it. Roger groaned and fell
back weakly.
I pushed my head forward slowly, taking more and more of it
in until I felt the soft tip bump against the roof of my mouth.
I almost gagged, but pulled back in time, then pushed my mouth
down on him again. After doing that several times, I pulled my
head away and used my hand again, discovering that it slid easily
over his boner.
Roger was clearly enjoying what I was doing to him. What
surprised me was that so was I. Far from being disgusting, the
feel of his stiff tool sliding in and out of my mouth was a real
turn-on.
So I did it again. Before long, I had the rhythm of it.
My pursed lips clamped onto him as I slid my mouth up and down
his length. I held his cock up straight with my hand, which kept
him from going too deep. Sometimes, I'd slide it up and down
him, following my mouth. Sometimes, I'd pull my head away to
catch my breath but kept my hand sliding up and down.
Roger was almost funny. He was watching me half the time
and had his eyes closed tight the other half. Every time his
eyes popped open, they bugged out like he was under tremendous
pressure. His breath was ragged and gasping, and he kept making
little whiny noises. Trembles and shudders ran over his body.
"Oh, god, Marcee. Oh, god. Oh, jeez. Oh, god." He was
panting and not making any sense, except that I knew what he
meant. While I pumped away at him, I was wondering if he was
going to shoot, and what I was going to do when he did. I could
stop and get the napkins out of my purse or I could keep going,
and…
"Gnnnnnng!" Roger froze and then jerked, and suddenly the
debate was over. He shot his cum into my mouth. The first jet
caught me by surprise, and I almost gagged on the taste. I
pulled my mouth back and off him just in time to catch the second
shot on my nose. The third sort of splooted up and plopped back
on my hand, and the rest just welled up from the tip and oozed
down the head and over my fingers. I kept pumping at him until
it was clear he was done.
Some of the first shot had fallen out of my mouth when I
pulled back, but there was still plenty left. It was warm and
salty and gummy and yucky. I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted
to get the napkins and wipe my face and hands and spit it out,
but that would take too long. And Jackie had made it clear what
she did. So I swallowed it. It took several tries to get all
the gooey stuff to the back of my throat, and it felt strange as
it oozed around in my mouth, but I finally got most of it.
I got used to it over the next several months, since that
was how most of our weekend dates ended. Roger would finger me
until I came (or gave up and pretended to come) and then I'd suck
his dick for him. Before long, I was taking all his load in my
mouth and swallowing it down. I can't say I ever got to like it,
but I preferred that to the mess. It was just… neater, somehow.
And Roger definitely approved.
That held him for a while, but after a couple of months, he
began to hint that maybe we should move on to the next stage. He
didn't say it directly at first, but there was only one more
stage to go, so the meaning was clear.
And I just wasn't ready. At first, I was able to put him
off and distract him. But with each week he got more and more
insistent. It began to piss me off. One thing led to another.
We began to argue about everything.
And then, boom, he dumped me. I was stunned. Then I
learned that Cindy Merganser had been out with him the Sunday
before. And everybody knew that Cindy was a major slut. Let me
see if I can figure this out…
I was really pissed, and all my friends from WeFive agreed
we'd NEVER go all the way until we met the man we were going to
marry. And even then, not until our wedding night. Probably
not, anyway. We stuck to that all through our freshman year and
most of our sophomore year. And then the trees in the virgin
forest began to fall, one by one, and I was desperate not to be
the last tree standing.
Keith and I rolled out of the drive-in early, keeping the
car headlights off until we were out. We cruised back into town
and other the other side on Wadetown Road. About five miles out,
Keith turned onto a side road. After another mile or so, there
was a gravel track that lead back to grove of trees along Sager
Creek. Keith parked, leaving the radio on low.
It didn't take us long to pick up where we had left off.
When Keith put his hands on my tits, I didn't object. I also let
him slide his hand under my top again and stroke my bare flesh.
When he rolled the tube top up and over them, I pressed my
titties up to his seeking, sucking lips and reveled in the feel
of his damp kisses.
When he put his hand on my thigh, I trapped his hand
between them for a while by squeezing my knees tightly together,
then let them relax and drift apart. I gave a little hunch with
my hips to encourage him and let him know his touch was welcome.
Keith slid his hand up to my pussy and kneaded it through
my shorts. I let him feel me up, rolling my pelvis slowly in
time with his stroking hand. It felt really good. I think I
enjoyed it more than ever because I knew I wasn't going to stop
him. There was none of the usual anguish, no conflict between
desire and fear.
When Keith started to unbutton my shorts, I put my arms
around his neck and let him. I let him tug down the zipper, and
while he struggled with it, I pressed my breasts against his
chest, kissed his neck, nibbled his ear. He got them unzipped,
finally, and then slid his hand into my panties. I was wet and
waiting, my love bump already up and throbbing. When his
fingertip touched it, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and
I couldn't help letting out a soft moan of pleasure.
Keith pushed his finger over my clit and down through the
slick outer lips of my pussy. He slid his finger up and down in
my slot, wetting it with my juices, and then slowly wormed it
into my hole. I pushed up to meet it and helped him press his
finger as deep as it could reach.
I fumbled around his middle until I found his rampant hard-
on and then squeezed it rhythmically with my fingers. It
strained and swelled under my touch. Keith groaned and kissed me
deeply, then moved his nibbling, sucking lips to my neck.
Meanwhile, his finger was stroking in and out of my pussy -
- not very expertly, to be sure, but I didn't care. I think I
was turned on as much by what I was intending to do as by Keith's
somewhat fumbling manipulations of my body, but that didn't
really matter. I was plenty turned on, for whatever reason. I
could tell by the ease with which his finger sluiced in and out
of my slick hole.
I was overwhelmed by a sudden desire to feel his naked
cock. Awkwardly, I pulled his belt open and unfastened the top
button of his jeans, then began to work my way down the other
buttons. Keith, finally realizing that the cramped press of our
bodies was making it hard for me to get to him, shifted position
to give me more room to work. After getting three more buttons
open, I said to hell with it and slipped my hand inside his
undershorts.
Keith took a deep, ragged breath as my fingers found and
closed around his hard-on. He rolled his pelvis around, making
his erection slide through my grasp. A shudder rolled through
his body.
"Jeez, Marcee," he gasped. "I... uh... I gotta... Oh,
god... Please... Do something. You're getting me all worked up.
Don't just... you know... leave me like this."
I gave his throbbing cock a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry, baby," I whispered in a husky voice. "I'll
take care of you. I want... oh... I want more, too. Here...
help me get these off." I let go of his manhood and began to
push at the waistband of his pants.
Keith tried to help me without pulling his finger out of my
pussy but finally gave up and used both hands to work his jeans
and underwear over his butt and down his legs. As he settled
back down beside me, I took his hard-on in both my hands and
stroked it up and down. Keith groaned with pleasure, and I
realized that, as worked up as he was getting, he could shoot off
in the air, spoiling my plan.
As yet, of course, Keith didn't know there was a plan. Not
counting our mutual gropes a few years before, this was our first
real date. We'd probably already gone farther than he had
expected. I couldn't find the words to tell him, so I decided to
give him a big hint while easing up on the direct stimulation.
"God, baby, you feel so good," I panted in his ear. "I...
I want to feel you next to me. Here... wait a minute."
I began to push at the waist of my shorts, and Keith
stopped fondling me to help. Between the tightness of my shorts
and the cramped quarters, it took a lot of pushing, tugging and
squirming to get them over my fanny, but we finally managed. I
had made sure to hook my thumbs under my panties, so both came
off at the same time. I settled back, feeling the rough fabric
of the car seat under my naked butt. Kicking off my sandals, I
pushed shorts and panties down my legs and off over my feet.
There was a brief touch of coolness as the air contacted the
dampness of my pussy.
Keith gawked at my nakedness and, had there been more
light, would have seen me blush at his inspection of my charms.
I started to pull him down to cover me, then realized I still had
the tube top rolled up under my armpits. I wanted to be
completely naked. I pushed Keith back and snaked the top off
over my head, Keith helping.
"There," I said, "that's better."
Before pulling him down against me again, I unbuttoned his
shirt all the way, wanting desperately to feel his bare chest
against my naked titties. When the last button opened, I slid my
hands inside and pulled him to me, thrusting my breasts up
against him and squirming my chest against his. It felt
delicious.
Keith quickly thrust his hand down between my legs again.
I spread my knees wide to welcome it. His finger probed between
the lips of my pussy and slid into me again. I pushed up to meet
it, found his boner where it pressed against my leg and tugged up
and down on it.
"Oh, god, Marcee. I want to..."
I squeezed and pulled on his cock, but inside I was
suddenly full of doubt. Did I really want to do this? Was I
really ready?
"Have you ever...?" I whispered.
"Uh... no... I... not yet."
"Me neither."
He pulled his head back to look me in the eyes. Up to that
point, I'd given him every reason to think I'd already done it.
The way I was acting would certainly seem so. There was a
strange look in Keith's eyes -- desire, desperation, longing,
hope, fear.
I think that was when I decided finally and for sure. We
were both virgins. What I was going to do for him was at least
as important as what he was going to do for me. But I was still
caught on the edge and having a hard time getting over the last
hurdle.
We were all sort of wrapped up together, arms and legs
tangled. Keith pulled his finger out of me and moved his hand
down to his penis. I let go. Then he shifted a little more on
top of me, scrunched his hips forward, and I felt the blunt head
nudge me down there.
"Jeez, Marcee..." he said. "Please..."
Like I said, I'd already made up my mind, but this was
really, really it. I hesitated.
"Just let me... put it in a minute," Keith begged. "I
won't come. I promise. I just... just want to feel it."
At this late stage, it suddenly dawned on me that I'd
forgotten all about the rubber in my purse and my solemn promise
to myself, when I swiped it from the nightstand in my parent's
bedroom, to make him wear it. I wasn't afraid of getting
pregnant -- I'd been on the pill for almost a year -- I just
didn't want to catch anything, you know. But Keith was safe, I
told myself, unable to deal with stopping and fumbling for my
purse and then asking him to put it on. He'd sworn he'd never
done it and, from his general clumsiness, I was pretty sure that
was probably the truth. Next time, I promised myself.
Keith was looking at me intently, his eyes pleading. I
kissed him, gathering my nerve, and jumped.
"Yes, baby," I whispered. "Go ahead. But go slow."
"I will," he promised fervently, rolling a little more on
top of me. "I'll go slow. You tell me if it hurts. I'll stop.
I promise."
I felt his weight more directly on me, his hips spreading
my legs wider. I'd had a boy lie on my like that before, but
there had always been clothes between us. This time it was bare
flesh against bare flesh, electric, thrilling. His manhood was
trapped between us, a steel rod wrapped in soft padding.
Keith raised up a little, drawing his hips back. I felt
the blunt end nudging around, trying to find the right place.
Too high, then too low. (Woopsie -- not there, Keith!) I was
trembling with excitement and so wet I thought he'd slide right
in when he found the right place. Keith grabbed his prick with
one hand to guide it, and I shifted around to help him find the
target. I felt the head slip between my pussy lips and notch
into the entry to the channel.
Slowly, slowly, he inched forward. The feel of his manhood
pushing its way into me was like nothing I had ever felt before.
It was so much larger than a finger. I tried to relax. So big!
It was stretching me, spreading me, penetrating me.
Keith was moving his cock back and forth in little in-and-
out pushes, pulling back slightly and pressing in a little
farther, a fraction of an inch at a time. We were both trembling
now. I raised my head to look down between us, expecting to see
him buried inside me, and was startled to see that less than a
third of him was in. Good God! How would I ever take all that
inside my little pussy?
At the same time, I wanted it all, all the way inside. I
was lost in passion, in a trance in which my whole world and
being was centered at the single point where Keith's throbbing
cock was slowly pushing into my center. I was intensely alive
and supersensitive. I could feel everything. My hands gripped
Keith's upper arms, feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingers
and vibrate with tension. One of my legs was pressed against the
seat back -- fabric on one side and flesh on the other. I
wrapped the other around him and pulled him toward me, feeling
the hair on his legs against the smooth skin of mine. I could
smell us, too, a combination of sweat and the faint but growing
odor of sex, musky and dense.
I kept expecting it to hurt, but it didn't. Keith's cock
was slowly spreading and stretching me open, forcing its way into
my pussy. The feeling was scary but not really painful. No way
I was going to stop him. I wanted it. Nothing else mattered. I
wanted it all the way in me. Keith nudged forward again.
It felt like he had hit bottom. Was he in? I looked down
again and saw that he wasn't, that half of his prick was still
visible. Keith pushed his hips forward again and I felt the
resistance, this time accompanied by a stab of pain. It made me
suck in a hissing breath.
"Are you okay?" Keith asked, hesitating.
"Yes," I said, since the pain had stopped the instant he
quit pushing. "I think... I mean... I think it's my cherry."
"Oh, god," he said. "Do you... want me to stop?"
I hesitated, faced with another moment of truth when I
thought I'd left them all behind. But I knew I was committed.
It had taken too much to get to this point. I didn't want to
quit now and have to go through it all again.
"No," I whispered. "I want you to do it, baby. But do it
quick, not slow. You've got to break it quick."
Keith looked me in the eyes and knew I was serious. I saw
his own doubt, torn between the desire to do it and the
reluctance to hurt me. I gave him a brave smile and lifted my
head to kiss him passionately. I could feel his prick throbbing
inside me.
"Go ahead, baby, " I said. "I want it. I want you to do
it. I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I want you to fuck me.
I want all of it, now."
Keith backed up just slightly and rocked his hips back and
forth, getting himself good and slippery with my juice. He
nudged forward, penetrating little by little until he found the
resistance again, which I confirmed with a little gasp of mostly
anticipated pain. He pulled back a little, rocked his hips again
-- one, two, THREE! He shoved his cock into me, held it there,
shoved again and went much deeper into me.
I gasped, as much from anticipation and the increase weight
as anything. I felt a sharp sting up inside me, less than I had
expected, sort of like pulling off a Band-Aid quickly. And then
came the wonderful, glorious, satisfying, incredible sensation of
Keith's sex tool pushing deeper and deeper. His pelvis brushed
mine and the last part of his cock penetrated deep up inside me,
spreading me open as nothing had ever done before. I felt his
weight settle between my legs and rest on me, pressing his prick
all the way in. I felt the head bump up against my cervix, felt
the shaft swell and throb. My pussy was stretched tightly around
it. Tentatively, I squeezed him and felt him swell and stretch
back against the pressure.
I understood it all now, knew what all the noise was about.
This feeling was like nothing else. It was so right, so perfect,
so sensuously filling. My whole body shouted YES! I felt
wonderful, fulfilled, passionate. A wave of love coursed through
me, not so much for Keith as for this glorious, so right feeling.
This was what it had all been leading up to, this unimaginable
sensation. This was what my pussy was for. This was what
Keith's cock was for. I moaned a sigh from somewhere deep inside
me.
"Are you all right?" Keith gasped.
"Yes," I said quickly. "Oh, yes. It's okay... It's...
good."
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"A little," I told him. "But it's okay. It's over now.
I'm glad."
Keith moved tentatively inside me, back a little and
pressing all the way in again.
"Go ahead, baby," I said, sensing his hesitation. "It
doesn't hurt now. Go ahead. Do it."
It wasn't quite the truth. I could feel a slight stinging,
a rawness inside me as his cock slid back and forth. But I never
considered asking Keith to stop. This was what I had come for.
I didn't want him to stop. I wanted him to fuck me.
Slowly, Keith pulled back, and I felt a sudden terrible
sense of loss as he withdrew. Then he pushed forward, sliding
his cock back up inside me again, and it was suddenly all right.
He began to pump in and out, gradually increasing the speed of
his movements.
It was as if he was pumping me full of warmth. I felt hot,
glowing. Alternating currents of despair as he pulled back and
elation as he pushed in. In and out.
At first, I just lay there and let him do it to me. Soon,
however, I couldn't keep still, couldn't help raising my hips
slightly to meet him as Keith pressed in, getting all of it and
more, pressing my wet pussy up onto the rod that slid into me. I
relaxed when he pulled away, letting him slip out, knowing now
that it would be followed by another intense, satisfying
penetration.
I was excited as I had never been, feeling incredibly sexy,
marveling at the new feeling of a cock sliding in and out of my
pussy. When he pulled out, I found that rocking my pelvis
downward made his rod drag across my pleasure bump, sending
chills down my spine. When he pushed in, I pushed back, pressing
my middle up against his and grinding the bump against the hard
surface of the bone in his pelvis.
Keith was gasping for breath from his exertions now, and
moaning -- almost growling -- in the back of his throat. From
past experience, I knew he was getting close to coming. Although
I felt wonderfully sexy and aroused, I knew I wasn't going to
come, not this time. That was too much to expect. But I wanted
Keith to come. I wanted to feel it happen, inside me this time,
where it belonged.
"Oh, god, Marcee," he panted. "I'm gonna do it. It feels
so good."
"Go ahead, baby," I told him. "Don't pull out. I want it.
Come in me, baby. Come on. Give it to me."
I wrapped my arms and legs around him as tight as I could
and began jerking my middle up and down, helping Keith thrust in
and out of my pussy. The feeling of his stiff pole sliding in
and out was incredible, fulfilling, everything I had expected and
more.
"Come on!" I hissed in his ear. "Come on! Do it! I want
to feel it. Come, baby."
Keith groaned again, grunted, shoved his cock deep into me
and cried "Ahhhhhh FUCK!" I felt his prick jerk and twitch
inside me.
"Oh, god!" he moaned, and collapsed on top of me. My pussy
was suddenly juicier than it had been, and I knew he was shooting
his come in me. He jerked convulsively several more time, slowed
his thrusts and finally stopped.
I lay there underneath him for a while until his weight
became too much. When I moved, Keith realized he was crushing me
and raised up, pulling out. For the first time, I felt that
strange sense of loss that always comes over me when a man pulls
out.
We lay there together for a while. My heart was full of
strange feelings; my mind was full of memories of the long road
from puberty to here and all the things that had led up to this
moment.
Once it's over, I discovered, all the excitement disappears
and it just feels strange and awkward. It's also a little bit
smelly and a lot messy.
And that was how I lost it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End of 'Losing It' by Titmouse
Story 22
Author's Note:
I think this is one of my better stories. It's told from the girl's
viewpoint and is the second-longest sex story I've written. (That's
the second hint I've dropped in notes that I've written other stuff,
and I hope you got it this time.)
A female friend of mine was kind enough to say I did a fairly good
job (for a man) in adopting a female point of view. She wasn't talking
about this particular story, but still... I don't know, obviously,
but I try. I hope this is at least plausible and a turn-on for readers
of both sexes.
I've long been interested in the subject of how and when and why women
decide to go all the way the first time. Obviously, their reasons are
generally different from men's, who decide as soon as they learn about
it and devote most of their efforts to getting there until they do. And
for some time afterward. I've tried to get women to tell me, and while
some have been more forthcoming than others, it's been generally
unsatisfactory. Either they're too shy or think it's none of my business
or both. Details are notably lacking, and women who won't shut up about
anything else seem to clam up and provide only the sketchiest outline.
Any female readers out there who might be willing to tell me the truth
about the circumstance are invited to write. I want to know everything,
including how it felt, how you felt about it at the time, and what you
thought of it later. This is research, darlin', not prurience.
---
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