Author: wolfcub Title: Clothes Summary: A girl describes her childhood adventures with the neighbor boy. Keywords: bg 1st preg I've never been much interested in clothes--which, I guess, is weird for a girl--but it's true. I can remember when I was four years old I rarely wore anything more than a pair of panties. My mother always slept in, either because she had worked late or had been out partying; either way, I was out the door early, running around our apartment complex barefoot and topless. Most of the time, the only other kid living in the complex was a boy my age named Alan. From time to time, there'd be some other kids, but they rarely stayed more than six months, so it was mainly just me and Alan. Alan shared my penchant for running around in his underwear until we were five, when he took to wearing gym shorts, but, like me, he rarely wore shoes or a shirt. I don't remember anyone ever saying anything about me going topless until I turned seven, then some of the old ladies in the apartment complex started to harass me about it. "A young lady shouldn't go out in public half dressed," they'd say. "It isn't proper." I didn't know what "proper" was, at the time, but what I did know was that I lived in Florida, and it was hot! Anyway, I couldn't see what the big deal was. No one ever said anything about the way Alan was dressed, and there really wasn't much difference between us--at least, not at that age. He had wavy, blond hair that came down to his shoulders, and I had straight, brown hair that came down to almost the middle of my back. Other than that, we were both scrawny, flat-chested, little kids. I had never really thought of Alan as a boy (and I suppose he had never thought of me as a girl) until we were almost eight. I was up very early one Saturday morning, headed to the bathroom. I stopped just outside the door, surprised to see a naked man standing in front of the toilet, peeing. Alan and I usually spent the whole day playing with each other outside, which meant that we had peed in front of each other more times than I can remember; however, we usually gave each other a little privacy, so I had never actually seen Alan's boy parts. I was also used to my mom bringing home boyfriends, and I often met them when they weren't wearing anything except boxers, but, besides myself, my mom was the only person I had ever seen naked, up to that time. The lights were off, so the naked man in my bathroom hadn't noticed me. I backed down the hallway to my room and quietly closed the door. I waited until I heard the toilet flush, another few seconds until I heard the door to my mom's room close, then I slipped out of the apartment and waited for Alan in the woods across the street from the apartments. When Alan finally arrived, he was unimpressed by what I told him. "So what? I see my dad naked all the time. He's got a big one!" "I bet he wasn't as big as my mom's boyfriend," I told him, unable to believe that anything hanging between a person's legs could be bigger than what I had seen. Then I got curious. "You don't have anything like that between your legs, do you?" "Nah, mine's tiny--but my dad says it'll get bigger, when I'm older." He said that last part like he was disappointed that it hadn't started to get bigger, yet. I was kinda surprised to hear myself ask the next question. "Can I see it?" Alan giggled. "You wanna see my wiener?" "Yeah." Alan shrugged, then pulled down the front of his shorts, like it was no big deal. What I saw was a thumb-like stub. Underneath it was a pouch of loose skin, and in the pouch were a pair of small, round eggs. It didn't look much at all like what I had seen in the bathroom half an hour earlier. "Is that it?" He shrugged his shoulders, again, then pulled his shorts back up. "Wait!" I knelt in front of him and pulled his shorts down to his ankles, eager to get a closer look at his little package. I gently cupped his two, tiny eggs in my fingers and bounced them a few times, testing their weight. Alan giggled, again. I had heard my friend Kaitlin at school talk about how she would punch her brother in the nuts when he was bothering her, and I had seen boys at school get hit there a few times, which was why I was being so careful with Alan. I was glad to see him smile--and surprised to learn that gently handling a boy's nuts made him feel good. I wondered if Kaitlin tickled her brother's nuts when he was being nice to her. Next, I took Alan's little nub between my thumb and forefinger and gave it a little squeeze. I was amazed by how loose the skin was--it seemed like there was something firm inside a silky wrapping. As I squeezed and tugged on it, it got harder and longer--and my eyes got bigger around. After less than a minute, the loose skin at the end began to open, and I could see something just inside: It was like a little turtle trying to poke its head out. Because the skin was so loose, I tried to pull it back to see what was inside. Whatever it was, it was bright pink and had a tiny slit in it. I touched it with the index finger of my other hand. Alan gasped and pulled away. I looked up to see if I had hurt him. His face was flushed, but he was smiling, so I pulled the skin back, again, and rubbed the tip of his wiener with my finger. Alan gasped and tried to pull away, again, but I quickly reached behind him and grabbed his naked butt so he couldn't get away. With my thumb and middle finger, I pulled back his skin, and I used my index finger to rub his tip. His hips started jerking, and his breathing became a series of sharp, irregular gasps. He kept trying to pull away, but I had a good grip on him. Soon, he began to whimper, and, rather than trying to pull away, he started to thrust his hips towards me. I wrapped my hand around his wiener with my thumb pressed up agains the tip. He fell forward, resting his hands on my shoulders, then he started making strange grunting noises. His thrusting became quicker, then he let out a cry and fell forward, on top of me. I fell backwards and found myself lying on my back with Alan lying on my chest, breathing heavily. I started laughing, and Alan laughed with me while trying to catch his breath. "What was that?" "I don't know," he said, "But it sure felt good!" I ran my fingers through his hair as I gazed into his bright, shining eyes. I was enjoying the feeling of his naked chest pressed up against mine, so I was in no hurry for him to get up. When he had caught his breath, he raised himself up to his knees and said, "Your turn." "My turn, what?" "You gotta show me." "Show you what?" Believe it, or not, I really didn't know what he was talking about. "You gotta show me your stuff." "Oh. But I don't have anything there." "Come on! You gotta show me." It was my turn to shrug my shoulders. I tugged my panties down to my ankles as I stood up, then I stepped out of them. Alan dropped to his knees and put his face right up close to my kitty. His warm breath tickled. He then reached up and spread my lips apart. "Open your legs more." "Alan!" "Open your legs more! I let you touch me!" I moved my feet further apart and bent my knees slightly so he could get a better look. He spread my lips really wide. When he touched my button with the tip of his finger, I jumped back. Persistent, he crawled forward on his knees and stuck his fingers between my legs, again. "Hold still!" He started poking his finger around, and I tried not to pull away, but I couldn't help squirming a little. I really tensed up when he stuck the tip of his finger in my couchie. He looked up at me and smiled, then he stuck his finger in really deep. "Hey!" I pushed on his shoulders, and he fell onto his back, laughing. "Is that where your pee comes out?" "No!" I pushed on his head to stop him from getting close to me, again, but I spread my legs apart and spread open my kitty to show him where my pee came out. "It comes out here." "Then what's that hole for." "I don't know!" "How can you not know?" "Well, smarty pants: What are your nuts for?" He thought for a moment. "Well?" "I don't know." "How can you not know?" I asked, with my best bratty voice. That's when he pounced on me. We wrestled until we were laughing too hard to continue. He ended up on his back, and I was sitting on top of him. We both realized at the same time that we were still naked, and my kitty was pressed right up against his wiener. I jumped up and pulled on my panties. "Let's go." Alan tugged his shorts on and followed me. The rest of the day, we played in the woods, like we usually did. Neither one of us said anything about our earlier explorations; however, when we met the next morning, we both automatically removed our single item of clothing and "fooled around." This became our new routine: meet, fool around, then play like we always had. After a few days, our fooling around evolved from taking turns to simultaneous touching. This meant that we were standing face-to-face. One morning, I gave Alan an impulsive kiss. It was just a peck on the lips, at first, but each day it kept getting longer and deeper until we were wrestling tongues while feeling each other up. We had been doing this for a couple of weeks when I had a new idea. Alan was thrusting his stiff little wiener in my hand while rubbing my button with his thumb and trying to force his index finger as far up my couchie as he could get it. I realized that his wiener wasn't much bigger than his finger, and I wondered if it would fit inside me. I let go of his wiener, grabbed his shoulders, and pushed him away from me. "Lie down." "Why?" he gasped. "Just lie down!" I climbed on top of him, took his wiener in my hand, and pointed it where his finger had been a moment ago. I was surprised how easily it slipped into me. I laughed when I saw Alan's eyes open really wide! Apparently, it felt just as good for him to be inside me as it felt to have him inside me. I spread my legs wide to get him as deep inside me as I could. I got a funny tingle when my button pressed up against his skin, so I started rocking my hips to rub it against him. The wide smile on Alan's face told me that he liked it, too. He started thrusting his hips up towards me, and I bent over and hugged his body tightly against mine. He wasn't really thrusting his wiener inside me because it was too short: we sort of just rubbed our naked bodies together with him inside me. It sure felt good! When I got older, I read about how boys don't last very long when they first start having sex. I heard stories about boys only lasting a few strokes. I didn't know about that, then--I didn't even know that what we were doing was sex--but even though he was only just eight years old, Alan could go long enough to give me a tingly feeling before pushing hard into me, giving one last, long grunt, then going soft. Even though we didn't know what we were doing, we knew we wanted to do it. When school started up in the fall, we had to shift our daily play from the morning to the afternoon. We'd both race home, trade our school clothes for shorts (Mom started making me wear shorts, but I wore them without panties--and I still went topless), then run to the woods. Five minutes after stepping off the bus, we were going at each other like wild animals. For my ninth birthday, my mom bought me a bikini and insisted that I wear the top whenever I went outside to play. I resisted, but she said she was tired of listening to the old neighbor ladies complain about my "scandalous" behavior. The bikini was one of those ones with the tiny triangles held together by skinny strings, so I didn't mind, too much. In fact, I started wearing the bottoms instead of shorts. It was even worth suffering a week with sunburn to learn that I was actually closer to being totally naked in the bikini than I had been with just shorts. Apparently, showing off half my butt was okay as long as my nipples were covered because the old ladies in the apartment complex stopped complaining. I still don't get that, even after all these years. Alan's parents signed him up for swimming. It meant that we couldn't get together as often, but they got him one of those skimpy racer swimsuits, and he started wearing it to play. The swimming was also making his muscles fill out. That's when I realized that I was in love with him. I told Alan; all he said was, "Gross." All the time we were fooling around, I never thought about "doing it" with another boy. If Alan ever thought about doing it with another girl, he never said anything. In fact, as far as other girls were concerned, Alan was a typical boy his age: he tormented them or avoided them. As we got older and grew taller, I was confused--and Alan was upset--that his penis (we had learned the proper terms for our parts from a book we snuck at the library) didn't seem to be keeping pace: it was still just a tiny nub that stiffened to not quite two inches. (We had actually measured it!) I told him that I thought something was wrong with it, but Alan insisted that his father said not to worry: it would get bigger, soon enough--well, maybe soon enough for Alan's dad, but not soon enough for Alan or me. I had seen a few more of my mother's boyfriends naked, and I was curious about what it felt like to have something that big inside me. (I was also weirded out when I finally realized that my mom was doing the same thing with her boyfriends that Alan and I were doing!) One advantage to Alan being so short, though, was that he had to grind up against me to keep it from slipping out--and I really like that! By fifth grade, I had developed two little bumps on my chest. They seemed to take forever to develop into real breasts, but Alan really liked them. At the same time, Alan was showing signs of growing up, too, but it took us a while to realize it. I began to notice that after every time we'd have sex, some liquid would leak out of my vagina. There wasn't much of it--just enough to notice--but that had never happened, before. One day, I noticed a drop of the same liquid on the tip of Alan's penis. After some more sneaking around at the library, we figured out that the fluid was Alan's semen. That made Alan really happy! It also made me feel good that Alan was squirting his baby-making stuff inside me. Mom had explained to me about periods, and I hadn't started mine, yet, so I wasn't worried about having a baby. Actually, the thought of having a baby with Alan made me feel warm, inside. The next time we had sex, I made Alan stop just before he finished so I could see him squirt his semen. I rubbed his penis with my hand and let go when the first, watery spurt came shooting out. His penis bounced up and down a few times, and each time it did, it squirted a little more. There were about five squirts--each not quite as powerful as he previous one. From then on, whenever Alan squirted inside me, I remembered what I had seen, and that picture in my mind always gave me a really warm tingle all over my body. Afterwards, I'd think about having his semen in my body, and I enjoyed the feeling of it leaking out of me and running down my thighs. After another year, Alan's testicles started to get bigger. They looked funny, hanging low beneath his little penis, which seemed determined to remain small. (At twelve, it still wasn't three inches long.) My bumps had gotten big enough that I started calling them "breasts," even though they weren't like what the older girls had. Alan liked them, though, and he spent a lot of time rubbing and kissing them. I continued to enjoy taking his semen inside me. It had changed from thin and watery to thick and white, and he was making a lot more of it. We'd sneak off into the woods on the way to school, and I'd be tickled by squishy, wet panties all morning. He'd fill me again, after school, and I'd wear a sun dress or a skirt without panties so I could feel his juice running down my thighs as we played outside. Then, just before we went in for the night, he'd fill me a third time. It may seem like all we did was have sex--three times a day was a lot when most of the kids our age hadn't even had sex, yet; however, while Alan was an enthusiastic lover, he never lasted more than a minute, once he was inside me, so we probably spent less than fifteen minutes a day on sex--including all the kissing. I didn't mind: his frantic thrusting and desperate need to come off made our couplings exciting. It was a few minutes of intense passion followed by hours of me daydreaming about having his baby growing inside me. A few months after my thirteenth birthday, I was sporting a nice little bump, having never had a period. Mom wasn't even upset. I shouldn't have been surprised because she never did take much interest in me. I was thrilled, and Alan beamed with pride, when I told him. He turned out to be a great dad, and later, a wonderful husband.