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From: corn53@aol.com (Corn53)
Subject: (cron53) Jemma: Meeting Ariel (MMM/f, young, bond) part 4 of 4
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Warning: you must be at least 18 to read this somewhat erotic story about a
young girl who is tricked into participating in a strange contest. Parts of
this story are TRUE and should not be read by those persons offended by erotic
content.
**************************************************************************
*****************
JEMMA - MEETING ARIEL (Section 4 of 4) Chapter 10
“How are you feeling, Jemma? Were all those vibrators at once bothering
you?” asked Bill as he led me away from the Vibrator Table. “You looked a
little shaky getting down off the table.”
My legs felt like jelly and I was shaky inside and out. “I felt like my
skin was electric all over, Bill, like those balloons in Science Class that
made my hair stand up - only, like, um, my skin felt like tingly. I still do.
But it felt good. That’s for sure,” still having trouble thinking clearly.
“Good. Glad you liked it. Next were going to the Girl-Identify-Other-Girl
Stage. Here’s how this event works. It’s kind of a way to see if you can tell
two other girls apart even though you can’t see them. You’ll be allowed to use
your hands. They will be standing on the stage, with only their wrist cuffs
and blindfolds on. Their arms will be stretched over their heads while you
feel them, and get to know them.
You’re not allowed to talk to either of the contestants. After you’ve explored
each of them for a couple minutes, we will move them around and see if you can
tell which contestant is which. OK?”
“Is somebody else going to ‘Identify’ me later?” I asked, full of
questions. “Why won’t we have our hoods on? What if they are embarrassed?
Will people be watching me while I touch them?” My words not able to keep up
with the questions and pictures forming in my mind.
Laughing again, “Oh, Jemma, I’m so glad we found you. Yes, some of the
other contestants will have to identify you, too. You won’t be wearing hoods
so that, umm, you can use more of your senses to help you identify the other
girls. And...”
Interrupting, “’Other senses,’ what do you mean?”
“Well, besides your hands, you can use your nose and mouth. Maybe even
‘taste’ them - to help you tell them apart. They won’t see you because they’re
blindfolded, too. The girls won’t ever see your face even though they will hear
your name. Don’t even worry about that because no two girls in the contest are
from the same city. You’ll be completely anonymous, so you can do whatever
you want, except hurt them, of course.” Bill explained. “OK?”
Continuing, “I know you’ll do fine, Jemma. You’re getting quite a
reputation as a ‘champion’ here tonight. Just to make it more challenging for
you, we found two contestants of the same height and weight They will both be
put in the same position at the start of each round, starting with their hands
stretched over their heads.”
“Hum.” thinking about feeling other girls, “I’ve always wanted to feel
another girl, just for comparison. There are several girls at school I’d like
to feel up, but there is no way I could ever ask them. This will be fun since
they won’t know who I am. I have some ideas... Am I allowed to feel their
hair?”
“No, you’re not supposed to feel their hair.”
“How about their fingernails, breasts and their ...” hesitating.
“Their pussies? Yes. you can feel them all over and even put your fingers
in them. I think you might enjoy this contest, too, Jemma. All the girls are
shaved.”
“Then they will each have a different ‘sandpaper patch’ I bet. that could
help me tell them apart.”
Sounds of a group of the male judges grew louder as we approached. I
overheard comments like, “These two will be tough to tell apart. They look
identical to me, both beautiful.” “Oh, it’s Jemma. This should be good -
lot’s of spirit.” “I followed her over from the last event. What a champ.
You could tell she liked it all right, practically made a puddle on her sheet.”
“Hey, I even heard she volunteered for another practice round of ‘Tasting.’
I’m sure gonna stay for that!” These few comments I could distinguish from the
general murmur made me start to tingle inside again - wondering about the two
beautiful girls, thinking about strangers ‘tasting’ me. It was getting me wet
again. I could feel it on my thighs. My thighs don’t rub together since my
legs are so skinny, but I could certainly feel the cool,
slippery, wetness in the breeze.
“Girls, here comes Jemma now. She’s going to start touching you so she
can tell you apart. OK? Remember no talking.” reminded the judge as I was led
up the two big steps.
Someone unhooked my chain ‘leash’ as I went up the steps. Still wearing
my thin, leather collar around my neck, I was led by the hand around the edge
of the small, rectangular stage. There was a raised, wooden lip around the
edge so that I wouldn’t fall off. “Don’t worry, Jemma, we’ll all be keeping
our eyes on you. We won’t let you fall off.” said one of the helpful judges,
chuckling.
“Jemma, this is Susie, “ as he placed my left hand on someone’s tight
tummy, “and this is Ariel.”
I could tell them apart already! They both had the same tight stomach
muscles and their belly buttons told me they were each about two inches taller
than me, but Ariel felt “electric.” I don’t know how else to explain it.
The judge who introduced us stepped down off our carpeted stage, feet
klunking on the wooden steps. Turning, “OK, Jemma, you’ve got eight minutes
with them in this position. Get to know them.”
Dutifully I stood facing them, a hand on each tummy. Moved hands to their
breasts, comparing. Surprised how natural I felt doing this. Not even a
fleeting worry about being a lesbian. Enjoyed it, in fact. I said ‘dutifully’
because I felt the judges wanted to see me get puzzled and need to do more
‘feeling around.’ But I wasn’t puzzled at all, rather I just wanted to hug
and caress Ariel - so bad I couldn’t fight it. Never one to get lost in ‘mind
games’ though, I reached down to Ariel’s pussy with my right hand, and stepping
between the two standing girls, knelt between them, and put my left hand on
Ariel’s firm fanny, gripping with flared fingers. Her pussy was almost as wet
as mine. My right hand wanted to stay
there and explore, slipping between the folds... slipping so easily between her
lips to the softness within.
Each of my hands enjoying the thrill of Ariel’s firm flesh. I stood,
pressing my whole body against her back, with my right hand still in her bald
pussy. My left reached around to her breasts, squeezing hard - letting go -
tickling - pinching - moving to the other breast in a total hug. I kissed the
back of her neck, noticing for the first time the aroma of Ariel’s perfume.
I’ll never forget it.
Continuing to circle clockwise around her, momentarily taking my hand from
her pussy, my mouth went right to her breasts, a hand under each one. They
needed no support from my hands. Her breasts were firm. The nipples seemed hard
as our china dishes at home - but oh, so delicious. My hand kneading them,
tongue lapping, teeth nibbling - I made love to her breasts, unconscious of the
silent crowd.
Electrically charged. Both of us.
Unable to move, yet she moved closer.
She could not bring her hands down to touch me, or speak any words... but
she did make sounds, passion sounds, soft sounds.
Kneeling again, both hands now on her ass, I pulled her to me. My nose
pressed into her mound as my tongue tried to reach as far between her legs as
possible. “Untie her!” I wished silently.
My left hand reached around - under her ass and between her legs - fingers
meeting my tongue - both probing, loving, savoring.
“Untie her!” I pleaded aloud.
As if awakened from a spell, someone in the group of quiet judges reminded
me, “You’ve got four more minutes.” and as an afterthought, “Then we’ll
change their positions to see if you can tell them apart.”
Once again conscious of the crowd, I felt myself flush in embarrassment.
“My god! What am I doing?” I thought... only for an instant.
Then thinking, “Well, they’ll never see me again. Total strangers. Who
cares?”
Returning quickly to the aroma between Ariel’s legs, I began kissing...
fingers probing deeper.
“Hey, Charlie,” I heard someone’s whispered call, beckoning his friend,
“Come ‘ere ‘n look at this. It’s that Jemma girl.”
Ignoring the comments, keeping my hands on Ariel’s ass and pussy, I began
kissing my way up her tummy, past her soft, sandpaper mound, up her tummy,
tongue flicking into belly button, on up - catching each breast in turn,
towards my goal.
Her mouth.
Forgetting her pussy, I wrapped both arms around her thin torso - made
thinner with hands stretched above her head. Tilting my head up - full, soft
lips returned my own passion. Reflecting my own desires her tongue met mine.
Not dueling, but tongue caressing tongue.
Beautiful. I could not see her, but she was beautiful. My arms
constricting her breathing, I loosened my grip and brought my left around to
her heavenly breasts.
She was quivering inside. I felt it. I knew it.
“What am I doing? Why does she attract me so? Who is this girl?” my mind
in a turmoil.
Scents mingling - both her perfume and her fragrance, now smeared on our
lips, my hands, and her body.
“Times up, Jemma.” water on the fire!
****************************************************
JEMMA - POST SCRIPT & AUTHOR’S NOTES
Everything after that was “anti-climactic” in more than one sense. But
let me know if you would like to hear about the last two events, or the one I’m
still too emarased to write about. Maybe you could quess what they did to me -
or had me do to myself... or to the judges.
Anyway, needless to say I returned home safely, after picking up my school
books and getting dropped off at Traci’s house. I walked home without
answering her questions - ever - about that night.
Two years later, after getting my driver’s license I was in a minor
traffic accident. I wasn’t scared until the next day when the realization set
in that I could have been seriously injured. The same is true of my adventures
in THE WET CHERRY CONTEST. There were several times I was hit by ‘retroactive
fear,’ realizing how naive and vulnerable I was at the time of my adventure.
I was also “horny as hell”
much of the time, and I guess I still am sometimes. I’m more cautious, but
also more experimental and playful with sex.
Most of the time when I dream of that night... well, let me say that if I
could know when I was going to dream about that night, I would wear a
‘light-days pad’ to bed. I still get wet remembering those contests. As far
as I know I’ve never seen Bill or any of the others - until this morning when
Ariel stopped me in the library - if she’s the same Ariel. If I ever see her
on campus again I won’t let her get away.
I wonder what ever happened to those videos and pictures? I would like to
see them.
Sometimes I’ve asked trusted girlfriends, “hypothetically,” if they would
like an adventure similar to the one I just described: total safety - both from
germs and physical harm; total anonymity - no follow-up, pestering boyfriends
or “rumors” to haunt them... and, all of my friends, (the honest ones, at
least) said, “Oh my God! That would be great! Do you know where we could do
something like that?” I also noticed them squirming their legs and ‘adjusting’
their clothes while I described a “hypothetical” adventure.
How do YOU feel about it? Would you like a one-night adventure like that?
Please let me know. You can trust my friend who let me post this “confession”
from his computer.
And another thing... several very trusted friends even confessed to having
an early adventure - with a brother, cousin, neighbor, uncle, etc. - not
necessarily going all-the-way, but having what was definitely a sexual
experience. They shared these experiences after we discussed my “hypothetical”
idea, because they felt a certain “safety” in the encounter - no blabber mouths
- no possessive boy friends - just plain, experimental, sexual fun.
Readers, please let me know your thoughts. Address them to Jemma, c/o
Corn53@aol.com You can see adventures of other naive, curious young people at
www.mrdouble.com, where you will also find other “composite” stories by my
friend, Mr. Corn.
*************************************************************
(Author's note: please send any comments/suggestions/personal experiences to me
at corn53@aol.com. Parts of all of my stories are true. Some are copmosites
of memories which readers have shared with me. Thank you for your help with
this "literary research." - Corn53) My stories can be found at
www.mrdouble.com or at www.spiralzone.com - both are free sites.
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