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From: anon584c@nyx.cs.du.edu (Uther Pendragon)
Subject: {Pendragon} revised "APRIL'S FIRST.01" ( mf 1st rom ) [1/3]




IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

    This material is Copyright 1997 by the author.  All rights reserved.  I 
specifically grant the right of downloading, electronic copying, and 
reposting.

    I read alt.sex.stories.d.  If you have any comments or requests, please 
post them in that newsgroup or E-mail me at anon584c@nyx.cs.du.edu.  Please 
use "Pendragon" somewhere in the subject line of any posted reply.  

    All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public
figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

                           #     #     #     #


                              APRIL'S FIRST
                           by  Uther Pendragon

Part one:

On March 26, 1981, her parents had been much too busy responding to her 
unexpectedly early appearance to consider another name, but April had 
seriously considered choosing another birthday.  On this March 26th, 
however, she was turning sixteen.  Waiting another ten days would have been 
torture.
     Brian, seven months older and already licensed, drove her to the state 
facility after school.  "Right hand side," he said as she headed for the 
car with her learner's permit clutched in her hand.
     "You're a licensed driver," she replied, though she did get in the 
passenger's side.  "It's legal."
     "I've been driving seven months, and your father would kill me if I 
let you get behind the wheel for the first time in rush-hour traffic.  
Quite right, too.  Learn to drive, then you can practice on some country 
road with me in that seat."
     "When it's something *you* want to do, you don't care that my father 
would kill you."
     "When it's something I want to do," he pointed out, "*you* don't care 
that it's legal when you're sixteen."
     "That's hardly comparable."  And she hadn't thought about *that*.  She 
loved Brian, even if he was a little bossy.  Daddy certainly would kill 
Brian if he suspected him of kissing April's breasts.  And he would kill 
April if he knew that she took off her panty hose so Brian could make her 
feel so good down there.
     "It's your comparison.  Anyway, save a little of your excitement for 
tonight.  'What was your favorite birthday gift, April?'  'The only one I 
care about came from the Secretary of State.'  That would throw a *real* 
damper on your party."  Which freed her mind from the labyrinth of desire-
and-reluctance.  Her attention switched to the simple joys of anticipated 
fun, anticipated attention, and anticipated gifts.
     "So, what are you giving me?" she asked.
     "Well, you know I have a rule against telling before you open the 
package;  but this year you'll already have guessed.  My gift is a ride to 
the State License Facility."
     "Liar.  Tease."
     "I love you, Ape.  That's no lie."
     "I love you, too.  But I want to know now."  And she did want to know 
now.  She also wanted to be surprised.  The good thing about Brian was that 
she could tease and tease to know the answer now and still be surprised.
     He admitted that it would be her very own postcard so that she could 
communicate when her parents banned the use of the phone.  Then he admitted 
that he would give her a car to go along with her (upcoming) driver's 
license.  
     When the party was in full swing, and the time came to open his gift, 
it really did contain a postcard, but the card had a charm bracelet taped 
to it to muffle the tiniest rattle.
     Everybody there appreciated Brian's wacky humor, which focused them on 
the postcard.  April realized that only Brian knew what a charm bracelet 
meant to her.  The single charm was a car.  It was decent quality jewelry, 
hard to find in charm bracelets, actually better than the chain of her 
great aunt's.  April's didn't yet mean as much as that one did, though.  
Her great aunt had shown it to her one long afternoon, a biography kept in 
a box.  Even though Great-Aunt Amber had skipped over two stories, April 
had felt deeply honored at being allowed to share so much of that life.  It 
would have been mean to tell her sister Carla about the distinction which 
Carla hadn't shared, so Brian was the only person that she had ever told.  
He had sensed what she didn't say, which was that she wanted to be able to 
hold her own life on her wrist one day.
     Brian held his breath.  He was her steady, which was a temporary 
arrangement;  the bracelet, however, was intended to hold her life.  It had 
to be a gift from someone significant in her whole life.  In that present, 
he was making a claim and a promise.  In front of the whole crowd of their 
friends, in the absolute privacy of knowing that only he knew what it meant 
to her,  he was asking whether he was that significant to her.  
     She saw the hope and fear in his eyes, and immediately needed to kiss 
away the fear.  The gift had nearly brought tears to her own eyes.  She 
crossed to him and said "Thank you."  She had intended a light kiss, but 
her emotion overcame her.  
     She was suddenly conscious of her nipples sensitivity as they firmed 
against his chest.  She was conscious of his erection growing against her 
leg as she opened her mouth to his tongue.  She was conscious of her own 
moistness as his tongue found hers.  She was belatedly conscious of the 
whistles of their friends.  She and Brian broke the kiss to look into each 
other's eyes for a moment that was hundreds of times more erotic than the 
kiss.  Love was in his eyes, and a desperate plea that she would find him 
worthy to be significant in her life.  How could she not?  She'd shared the 
secret with him alone.
     "Put it on my wrist, would you?" she said.  His relief showed that he 
had heard the acceptance she had intended.
     "What was all the excitement?" her mother asked from the doorway.
     "Isn't this a marvelous bracelet?" April avoided.  "Brian gave it to 
me."
     "Yes dear, it's lovely.  Does everyone have enough to eat?  I think 
I'll stay and see the other presents opened."  She did, without hearing any 
more whistles.  April was properly appreciative of each gift and more 
appreciative of her friends and their pleasure.  
     At the end of the night Brian stood with Carla as April and her mother 
said goodbye to the guests at the door.  Carla started to clean up the mess 
as the last couple left.  Brian carried one load into the kitchen for her.  
"Two minutes," said April's mother when he got back.  "It's a special day."
     April walked him out.  "I love you," he said when the door was safely 
shut.
     "I love you, too," she responded. "More than two minutes can tell."  
When the porch light went out, they melted into each other.  His tongue 
searched her mouth as his hands clasped her hips.  Her hard nipples and wet 
crease matched the erection she could feel pressing into her.  She ground 
her belly against it as his hand came around to her front.  He reached her 
mound just as the lights came back on.  She jumped back and grabbed his 
hands, but then she squeezed them tight.  "We'll talk."
     "We'll talk," he agreed, and kissed each of her hands before freeing 
it.  He walked a little awkwardly to his car, turned so that his groin was 
hidden from the house.
     She helped clear the worst of the mess and start the first load of 
dishes.  "Was it all right dear?" her mother asked.  "I know the Easter 
holidays made it difficult."
     "It was lovely, Mom.  Really it was.  The party was great, even if it 
was a school night.  I can't blame you for that.  I know that you wanted to 
hold it on the fifth."
     "I very much wanted another child, but the date wasn't critical.  It 
was the *doctor* who said that you'd be born April Fifth.  Carla was a week 
late.  How was I to know that you'd be impatient all your life?  I was 
surprised when you decided to be born on the 26th, not disappointed."  It 
was an old subject, they could continue the dialogue even when they were 
out of earshot.  
     Having cleaned up the first level of mess, everyone went up to bed.  
She was dressed for bed when she heard Carla's unique knock.  She let her 
in and lay under the covers on one side of the bed.  Carla took the 
invitation to sprawl on the other side before she spoke.  "What happened, 
Sib?"
     They'd been referred to as "siblings" when April was eight and Carla 
fourteen.  That led to the joint nickname and, much later, to the rule that 
talk under that rubric was absolutely private.
     "Don't be hurt?" April began.  Carla nodded curtly.  "Great Aunt Amber 
has a charm bracelet.  Every charm has a story.  She told me most of them 
back last summer when she visited.  I couldn't tell you because I was 
afraid that you would mind that she told me and not you."
     "I'm not hurt.  She likes you better, but you like her better than I 
do, too.  It's not like being Mom's favorite, or Dad's, or even Gramp's."
     "Anyway, it was like magic.  The charm's weren't expensive, but each 
held a story.  The bracelet held her whole life.  Each charm was 
significant;  each was given her by a significant person.  I told Brian the 
story, back then.  What was nice, was he remembered and could tell that I 
wanted something like that.  What he was asking was 'Do I think he is 
significant in my life?'  I figure he is.  He was also saying that he 
wanted to be."
     "I would think," said Carla.  "You spend more time with him than at 
home."
     "You sound like Mom.  Look, Sib, who was your steady when you turned 
sixteen?"
     "Hmmm?  Sixteenth birthday?  Joey.  Remember him?  Coached you in 
basketball sometimes."
     "Is he significant in your life?"
     "Not anymore."  Carla waited for more.  None came.  "I see what you 
mean.  So you think that Brian may be permanent?"
     "I'm sure that he is permanent.  I'm sure that he's sure that we're 
permanent.  I'm not sure that our being sure is significant.  I watched 
you, remember?"
     "Was I that bad an example, April?"
     "Sib, you were a great example.  I'm trying to be Carla.  But you were 
in and out of love a lot."
     "You'll never be Carla, lucky you.  Try to be April.  You're in love 
with Brian?"
     "And in lust with him."
     "You haven't?"
     "Nothing has changed since we last talked.  ...  Except the bracelet.  
We still do everything else but.  Does it hurt the first time?"
     "I did, and cried on your shoulder.  And you never told.  Thank you, 
Sib."
     "You've done it for me loads of times.  Brian said something, though."   
Carla looked interested.  "You're a paralegal and all.  Brian wouldn't let 
me drive home when I got the permit."
     "Sib, you are an idiot.  I can tell you didn't drive home, you're 
still alive."
     "Well, I pointed out that it was legal."
     "I don't know about that one.  There might be some obligation for the 
licensed driver to use good judgment.  Why else have him along?  Want me to 
look it up?"
     "No.  Brian said that other things were legal when I turned sixteen 
but I wasn't rushing to do them."
     "Not quite true.  There is still 'contributing to the delinquency of a 
minor,' and things like that.  If you told Brian 'yes' last month, and he 
went ahead, he would have committed a serious felony.  If you say 'yes' 
next month, he's facing lesser laws that are unlikely to be enforced.  Are 
you thinking of saying 'yes'?  Because he should know that your age doesn't 
matter if you say 'no,' although there is a proof issue."
     "Brian's not like that.  So the law is all about him, and not about 
me.  I'm not thinking enough about saying 'yes,' if you know what I mean.  
Every time I'm with him, even the two minutes on the porch -- that went 
awfully fast, by the way.  Did Mom change her mind?"
     "I handled the light switch.  You had two and a half minutes, not 
counting the time before I turned it off.  Anyway ..."
     "Anyway," April cut her off, "every time I'm with him, I really don't 
feel like stopping.  Then I feel all scared of going on.  Does it always 
hurt the first time?"
     "My first time hurt like hell.  I don't know about anybody else's.  I 
was eighteen, and I came back to cry in the arms of my thirteen-year-old 
little sister because there wasn't anybody else I could tell.  And I went 
on to have several romances where it didn't cause pain, but ecstatic 
pleasure.  Then I fell in love with my boss who is happily married to a 
pregnant woman who is perfectly nice to me every time she calls and whom I 
hate with a passion.  And my little sister has had more romance in her life 
than I have for the last six months, and more sex, too.  And I don't know 
if it hurt anyone else."
     "Look," April said, "I'm sorry about this."
     "No.  You aren't to blame.  Jeff Benton isn't to blame.  Mrs. Benton 
isn't to blame."
     "And you aren't to blame.  You haven't done one thing wrong."
     "That's because I haven't done one thing.  Anyway, the law says that 
you weren't competent to give consent last week, but you will be next week.  
That's about you.  That doesn't mean that you should, or even that the law 
permits you to have sex.  What it means is that it makes a difference 
whether you say 'aye' or 'nay'."
     "And what do you think that I should say?"
     "'Nay.'"
     "Huh?  My non-judgmental sister?"
     "That's a decision that you can change," Carla pointed out.  "The 
other one isn't.  Besides, when you want my advice, you aren't ready to 
take that step."  She got up.  "Sleep tight, Sib."  April, to her own 
surprise, did.
     She and Brian didn't really talk at school, but the next day was Good 
Friday and school was out.  Brian drove her over to the school parking lot 
and let her drive in low gear.  In between, they talked.  "The gift was 
sweet, but did you really mean that you want to be someone I'll remember at 
sixty?" she asked.
     "Ape, I want to be someone you *talk to* at sixty."
     "You scare me."  He did.  She was terribly frightened of saying that 
she felt that way, of saying that she didn't.
     "That isn't a proposal.  It's what I want.  That's what you asked, 
after all."  And it was what he wanted, one thing he wanted.
     "I'm still scared," she said.
     "Never be afraid of me.  Look, this isn't getting us anywhere.  Let's 
try again, and this time move the wheel half as far as you think that it 
needs to move."  Inevitably, however, they did talk more, then and 
Saturday.  Sunday was Easter and a family day.  Monday, Brian took her to 
the movies.  Afterwards, they parked in a very secure place.
     For a while, they shared the back seat while they kissed and hugged.  
Then, she had it all -- but still needed to bend her knees too much -- 
while Brian knelt on the car floor beside her.  He eased her jeans and 
panties down to her ankles but started again to kiss her mouth.  His hand 
stroked her thigh while his tongue licked hers.  She wanted his caresses, 
she wanted more, she wanted him to talk sweetly to her as he used to when 
these caresses were new.  When she parted her thighs wider, he stroked up 
to their junction.  She gasped into his mouth as he clasped her there.
     "I love you, Ape," he said.  He did love her, and he wanted her, and 
he wanted to speak of his desire, but he knew that she wanted to hear of 
his love.  He parted her lower lips and dipped his fingers into her 
moisture.  His mouth switched to her breast.  They both were silent as he 
licked her nipples and stroked her clitoris until she tightened in 
preparatory agony.  He had to keep himself from rushing it.  He thirsted 
for her response, but he ached for her fingers to bring his own.  When he 
saw that she was about to begin, he thrust two fingers into her and sucked 
hard on her nipple.  His thumb brushed circles over her clit and she came 
bucking and gasping.  
     The tension pulsed through her like storm waves hitting shore.  She 
loved him, she wanted him.  He continued to stroke her until she collapsed.  
     "I do love you, darling April," he said.  At that moment, he loved her 
more than life itself.  "I'll love you forever.  Can't you believe that?"
     "I love you, too, Brian," she said.  She loved him with all her heart, 
and she wanted him more than that.  "God!  I wish we had something."
     "I do," he said.  "Do you mean that?"  
     She had when she said it.  Did she still?  Yes, but she was cramped, 
and the clock was ticking.  She started to struggle back into her clothes.  
     He was ecstatic for one second.  They were going to do it.  He was 
going to do it.  He loved her.  And wanted her, and wanted some woman, and 
wanted desperately to be a man, and wanted to claim her as his.  Then he 
saw what she was doing.  "You didn't mean that."
     "I meant that.  I wish we could.  But not here.  And we have what? 
Fifteen minutes to get me home."  Why had she said that?  Why had she said 
it then?  Why hadn't Brian, supposedly so empathetic, understood that it 
was a *wish* not a promise.
     "You didn't have to say it if you didn't mean it."  Brian was already 
getting behind the wheel.  April got out, redid her bra, and straightened 
her other clothes.  "I meant it when I said that I love you."
     "I meant it, Brian.  I love you and I want to show you that I love 
you.  A girl's first time is special.  It should be a special person and a 
special place.  You are a special person;  you are important to me.  
But ..."
     "But that would have been a horrible place," Brian was already driving 
close to the speed limit.  The evening was over.  "I can live with that.  I 
can't find you a special place with silk sheets and champagne in an ice 
bucket.  You couldn't get out overnight even so.  It's just cruel to say 
that you *would* do it under impossible conditions."  
     She usually took care of Brian after he took care of her;  this time 
she hadn't, and now it was too late.  He was taking all this in quite the 
wrong spirit.  She dreamed of walking down the aisle with Brian, why was it 
wrong to dream of going to bed with him?  But he treated sharing that dream 
as if it were an attack on him.  "Not impossible.  Just not there.  I do 
love you."  
     Boys, Brian suddenly saw, spoke of love to justify sex;  girls spoke 
of it to justify abstinence.  Was he any better?  Well, yes.  He wanted 
April on a permanent basis, marriage;  it was just that this permanent 
basis wasn't possible.  "I love you, too," he said.  "I wish I could just 
take you home.  'This is my woman, world;  what do you want to do about 
it?'  But that's a twin bed with cracks in the plaster over it.  That's not 
special either."  
     April had a vision of a caveman dragging her off, but Brian's 
possessiveness was attractive as well.  "I wish that I could take you home, 
too;  but they would never understand.  I'd be more nervous about them 
pounding on the door than about a stranger coming by when we were back 
there."
     "My room isn't a special place, but I do have privacy until Mom gets 
home around six-thirty."  He was desperate now.
     "You're serious?" she asked.  "Yes, you are serious."
     "I'm one hundred percent serious.  The question is are you?"  
     April thought that this wasn't really the question.  She was serious 
about this, just not certain which serious feeling to follow.  She 
seriously loved Brian;  she seriously wanted to be a woman.  She seriously 
wanted to avoid pain;  she seriously wanted to avoid being a slut.  She 
seriously wondered whether she was ready for this;  she seriously wondered 
if she ever would *really* be ready.  
     If she were going to do it, she thought, this was the right time.  She 
knew the joke about what you called people who used the rhythm method, but 
she wanted her timing to be safe, anyhow.  She'd have her period Thursday, 
maybe Wednesday.  She didn't want to be messy her first time, nor wait for 
weeks suspecting she'd caught despite everything.  If she were going to do 
it, tomorrow was best.  
     Lord!  She was thinking of doing it.  He was special, could he be any 
more special?  Waiting for the right man made sense;  waiting longer with 
Brian didn't.  He was the right man.  She hoped he was the right man.
     Brian had stopped thinking.  The only thing in his mind was a picture 
of April in a bed.  He drove while she sat silent beside him.  
     She took a deep breath and said,  "I'll ring your bell tomorrow after 
school."
     "Tomorrow?" he gasped.  "Oh, my love.  I do love ..."  He slammed on 
the brakes and turned to face her in the unmoving car.  "Tomorrow!  Ape you 
wouldn't!  Look, I know that you love April fool jokes...  Between your 
name and your birthday, who can blame you?  ...  But you wouldn't play that 
game on me, would you?  There's Brian waiting in his house, and April 
doesn't come, and doesn't come, and then she shows up with half a dozen 
girlfriends."
     "I wouldn't do that to you.  You're special to me.  I can see it.  
Believe me, I can see it;  but this is too important to me to make a joke 
of it.  Look, start the car will you.  I have to get home.  If I get 
grounded, I won't come over tomorrow."
     They made it just in time.  For the first time in months, April left 
his car without a good-night kiss.

Continued in part 2.
Uther Pendragon
-- 
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net

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