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Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 14:39:09 GMT


Michael's Sexual Awakening
      as told by `M'

Michael's Sexual Awakening (Volume VI) - a true story

I was on cloud nine all week. (See volume V if you want to know
why) Robin was in a couple of my classes,
and her eyes danced with mine constantly. I had made arrangements
to meet her Saturday afternoon at that same park. We were going
to make a day of it. My folks were going to be gone that afternoon
and early evening. I told her this and it didn't phase her - did
she know what I had in mind? (She did). Friday evening I had
"family" stuff to do. All evening my mind was non the next day.
Saturday seemed like it would never come, but after a nearly
sleepless night of anticipation, (and restless wrists), the
appointed day and hour arrived. And what a beautiful day it was.

Robin had packed a picnic basket and we spent most of the afternoon
frolicking in the park, and the wooded nature preserve that abutted
the park. We told each other secrets, and I showed her where my
forts had been when I had been small and played in these same trees.
Childhood seemed a distant dream now for I was a man. A man with
a girl at his side ... albeit a horny young man.

As the afternoon wore on I tried to work the conversation towards
returning to "my place" (God does that sound petty, or just stupid).
She put off these transparent advances, but still continued to 
hold me, and touch me, and tease me most of the day. Eventually 
we started the walk back and I thought we were headed to my house
but when we reached the point where we would make the turn we
paused, and I sensed hesitation in her.


"Well, do you want to come over for a while?" I asked, trying not
to sound too eager, but my voice getting huskier. Lust does that
I guess. It was about five o'clock and I figured I'd have the place
until seven, maybe seven thirty.

She reflected in her own thoughts for a while, perhaps musing that
things were going too fast, that I'd rushed things. I finally was
becoming bold with the opposite sex and they were becoming shy?

Finally she offered softly, "How about if we go over to my house
instead. Its about the same distance."

Hmmm. She doesn't want to be alone in my house with me.

"Okay" I said. My disappointment must have been obvious.

"I'll show you my room!" she offered, with a certain exuberance.

"Neat" I muttered, still disappointed, but warming up to the idea
of being in "that room" where she changed her clothes, where she
slept, where she ...

"My folks will be gone too".

Did I just gulp? Must have been someone else. Already the blood
was rushing to my extremities.

"Michael!" she started incredulously, "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing". Of course I was. Girls just did this to me.
It would haunt me all through high school and into college. I just
would never be able to get away with anything, keep anything from
them. I think I must have blushed every time I thought about ..
well you know, and the girls would always sense this about me, I
think. Looking back, I think the girls I knew liked this about me.
It probably flattered them more than anything I would ever say - that
I could get so flustered just being around them. It was almost as
bad as getting hard in front of a girl you hardly knew. But a hard-on
could be hidden with a hand in the pocket (and I constantly had
my hands in my pockets in those days), but the blushing ...

"You are too. You're blushing."

"No I am NOT!". Redder by the minute.

"Okay, if you say so", was the condescending reply.

We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time,
and when the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her
house when she was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first
time I was inside, and there I was.

We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small
kitchen, and living room off the kitchen.

We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time,
and when the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her
house when she was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first
time I was inside, and there I was.

We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small
kitchen, and living room off the kitchen. Three bedrooms and a 
bathroom down the hall, the typical rambler of the day.

In the kitchen she set down the basket of remains, and plopped
herself in a chair.

"Would you like a glass of milk?" she queried.

"Sure".

I think we both felt awkward. She poured us both a glass and
we sat at the table. I watched her mouth make love to that glass
of milk, and felt myself becoming aroused.

"Do you want to listen to some music?" she volunteered, "I have
a record player in my room".

"Yeah" I croaked. Must be something in my throat again.

And so we headed down the hallway and into the room of
forbidden passion - oops, there goes my imagination again.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Do you have any Beatles?"

"Yes! I think Ringo is so adorable!"

"If you say so", and if you like a guy that looks like he has a broken
nose, I thought to myself.

"Oh, I think you're adorable too, Mike", she giggled as if to reassure
me. And of course I blushed again and of course she giggled again.
God she loved doing that to me ... but she could do anything to me,
I was hopeless. There I was, probably looking like a stupid, syrupy
love-sick calf and this woman-child, radiantly red, freckles gleaming
needed just glance my way and the color of my skin would turn, and
the old familiar stirrings in my loin would commence.

"I, I think you're real pretty too," I stammered.

"Mike. You're so cute. And so shy sometimes. And so smart. I, I..."
she trailed off. What was she trying to say.

I moved closer. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her hand
patted the spot next to her. "Sit down" she invited.

I slid in next to here. Instinctively, we both slid close, touching
the outside of our thighs together. Her shorts seemed to creep up
her leg when we sat, my cutoffs attempting the same. Sensing my
hesitation, Robin again made the first move, her hand on my leg, her
head on my shoulder.

My one arm was now around her shoulder. My free hand on her thigh.
We both shuddered at what we knew was coming.

"You looked so sexy last week. You know, when you lost that hand",
she whispered, sexily.

"Hmmmmm", I said.

"I don't know it I could have done that. You know? I don't know
if I would have taken off my panties like you did."

I was hard as a rock and she was stroking me.

"It was allright. I was a little embarrassed." I admitted. My hand
had found the front of her blouse and I was feeling her breasts.
She made no objection, even shifting her position to give me better
access. Why didn't I think of this the last time?

"And in the park. Did you, I mean. Did you come in your underwear?"

More blushing, but who cared at this point.

"Yes" I squeaked. How could I deny that?

She giggled slightly. "Did I do that?"

"What?!?". My head was swimming. I was becoming confused. What
was she talking about. Oh yeah. I came in my pants. I'm about
to do it again. God that feels good. But how about if...

And on cue, her hand slipped inside the waist of my shorts, and
underwear and curled around the head of my penis ...

"ARGH" I gurgled. It was too much. The moment she touched my
privates I erupted, spilling my seed once more into my underwear,
her hand, gobs and gobs. It seemed to last forever and my hips
bucked from the explosion. She never let go, squeezing each drop
out of my maleness, relishing each drop, as I soaked myself. At
last, sensing my discomfort (as like most guys I get REAL sensitive
right after I come), she relaxed her grip, not letting go, but no
longer applying pressure. When I had caught my breath (and hers too,
she was as excited as I was), she began nibbling on my ear.

"Did that feel could?" she asked coyly.

"Yes. It was .. it felt real good."

"You're a mess." She stated it succinctly. She was correct. I was
a glorious mess. "Do you want to clean up?"

Yes and No. I was a little embarrassed, but her hand felt so good 
resting there, as I softened briefly. She giggled that little
half-giggle again, and pulled out her hand, "I think you should
clean up."

"Yeah, I'd better" I said sheepishly. There would be many more
times girls would make me cream my pants in the next few months,
and I think they did it on purpose. But I never complained. And
that night, things were just warming up.

I slid off the bed and looked around. Should I just clean up
there? I would feel so silly. "Um, is there a bathroom?"
What an idiot. Of course there is a bathroom.

"Right down the hall".

I hesitated. She said nothing. "Um, I'll be right back?"
I said it as if it was a question. I mean, was I supposed to
come back, or were we through?

"Okay!" she chirped merrily. That made me feel good. This was
going to be allright. Still sheepish, I found my way down to
the tiny little bathroom, two doors down from her room. I closed
the door quietly and locked it (was that really  necessary?). My
mind was playing games with me now. What was proper? Silently,
I dropped my pants, and using a small hand towel that was hanging
there I dabbed at myself. I did as best as I could, but once damp
public hair needs to dry on its own, and as for my underwear ...
well it was all soaked in (of course) but I made the attempt at
rubbing the towel and underwear together. Flustered, I remove my
underwear altogether and set it on the back of the toilet, pondering
my options. My cut-off shorts themselves were pretty dry, so
decision made, I pulled them up sans underwear and headed back
down the hall, making a note to retrieve my underwear later, when
it had dried up some.

Advancing down down the hallway I imagined what was waiting for me.
Perhaps she would be dressed in some sexy nighty, or maybe even naked.
Right. This was the real world and she was sitting where I had left
her, patiently waiting, only seeing her there as I came in from the
hall for the first time I saw that her face was as flushed as mine.

"All done?" he quipped. Jees I wish she would just drop the subject.
I came in my pants. I knew that. She knew that, its done. Lets forget
about that and go on shall we?

I ignored her question (a first for me), and struggled for something
to say. I stood by the record player and fumbled with the records.
Now what should I say?

"I heard it takes a boy a while to get hard again," she began,
"is that true?" her interest seemed genuine but this was a subject
I was not comfortable with. I shrugged. I was getting to half mast
maybe already at that point (Ah for the refractory period of my
teen years!). 

"Mike..."

"Hmmmm"

"Last weekend. What would you have done? If I had lost instead of
you. Would you, I mean, would that, ... you know ..."

No. I didn't know. What was this now.

"What?" I asked.

"I mean. Would you have made me take them off?"

Dead silence for a moment. How was I supposed to answer that.

"Well... it wasn't up to me, the others would have insisted."

"Yes ... but what about you. If I had said no would you have
been like the others?"

Gads, girls are hard to figure out. Even beautiful sweet Robin.

"I don't know." Play it safe. "Why, weren't you going to do it?"

"I'm not sure. I ... I have never shown myself to a boy that way
before".

"Well neither had I. I mean I never showed myself to a girl before."

Giggles. Do all girls do that when their having .. I mean when we
are ... what are we doing anyway?

"Mike ... Have you ever seen a girl naked before?" she rasped. Her
voice deepened, even for her. She was getting turned on. I was getting
turned on, again.

Another trick question. Men are supposed to be experienced, right?

"Sort of". Play it safe again.

"Playing strip poker, spin the bottle, or what?"

She was to curious.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Mike. You were the first boy I've ever seen. I mean... that way.
And the first boy that well, that ... um ... you know."

That came in his pants?

"Well," I started, it was now or never, " I really wanted to see
you that night. That way, I mean".

"If it had been just you I might have done it" she announced. Now
there was an invitation. And I was flattered ... and hot.

"Mike ... would you like to see me ... naked?"

I had died and gone to heaven for the second time in a week. It
was going to happen. Oh lord, remind me to go to church on sunday
to say thank you ... or confess my sins ... or ...

Earth to Mike, Earth to Mike. Are you there? My brain and overworked
sex organ woke me out of this stupor.

"Yes", I could barely speak.

Without a word, she reached down, grasped her blouse, and pulled it
over her head. Smoothly, she reached behind and unclasped her bra.
Raising her legs, and hips off the bed, and leaning back slightly,
her hands went to the waistband, and slowly, ever so slowly, timidly
even, she slid down her shorts and panties.

I gasped. Her mound looked inviting (she did have red pubic hair).
Her body trembled, as did mine. 

"You too. I want to see you too." she whispered.

Clumsily I pulled off my shirt. My pants were slower to come
off as my penis jumped to attention under the cut-offs under
her gaze. The head bobbed out and rose before her as I pulled
down my shorts, awkwardly balancing on one leg. And there I
stood before her. My soul bared, body red with excitement,
penis throbbing, pulse racing, heart beating so loud I thought
she could hear it.

And there she sat. Flushed with lust herself. Her glorious locks
of red hair hanging down both shoulders over her chest. Her breasts
heaving under her shortness of breath. Her ... Her pussy .. that
sounds so crude .. her ... her ... it seemed to swell and glisten.
Even standing here I could see ... I could smell the wetness, her
juices lubricating her loins. Her body practically shouting,
TAKE ME, but be gentle.

My eyes could hardly focus at this point I was so turned on with
sexual excitement. The room seemed to be swirling and it was almost
as if I was going to lose my balance. I quickly sat on the bed, lest
I should fall.

We embraced. We fell back on the bed. I kissed her lips ... her soft
sensuous lips. I nearly came just from this contact. She was on her back,
and me on my side. My penis was rubbing against the side of her
leg. I moved over on top of her, chest to chest, my organ tickling
the inside of her thighs where it hung. Her legs opened themselves
up to me. I needed no urging, nor did I ask permission. As I kissed
here lips and fondled her nubile young melons, I slid forward, and
upward ... and in. She tensed, then made a conscious effort to
relax her loins. I thrusted once, maybe twice, and like the typical
adolescent on his first time ... spasmed beyond control. Hips bucking,
voice choking, I came in grunts, like an animal in heat, for what
seemed like an eternity. It was if my body had turned itself inside
out, repeatedly. I was perspiring everywhere, and so was she, from
the intense body heat, from the pleasure, from the raw emotion of
two young people, each tasting the forbidden fruit, virginity slipping
away in one brief (and I do mean brief) moment. 

I brushed the hair from here eyes, trying to remain still, and stay
inside her down below. As my fingers delicately brushed her eyes, I
felt wetness. But it was not sweat I felt this time. As I brushed the
last locks of raven hair from here eyes I saw the trickle of tears,
running down her cheek, as I felt my own juices, running down our
legs, still entwined. I kissed her cheeks, reassuringly, but still
the water fled from her eyes, seeking comfort in the fibers of the
sheets. I was ... confused. The moment had been quick. Probably less
than what she had expected. Everyone thinks the first time is something
special. Was it my grunting. What changed this from two lustful
teenagers (in love?) into something sinful, something shameful. But
here eyes said it all without her saying a word. She wept silently,
as I hugged her, searching for the right words to say.

"Robin?"

Her eyes were closed, as if shutting the memory.

"Robin?" I pressed. "Are you allright?"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm fine" she said at last but she wasn't.

"What's wrong?" I didn't know how to handle this. It wasn't supposed
to be this way.

"I don't know" she cried. "Oh Michael. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong with you" I said reassuringly. "Its okay".

We lay silently. I was confused, as I always seemed to be. Nothing had
prepared me for this.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Maybe you had better. Any way. My folks may be home soon."

With a pause, I collected my things. I carried them out of
the room and into the bathroom, suddenly ashamed of my nakedness.
Deftly, I dressed, and retreated once more to the door of her
room. She had pulled the covers over her and was lying on her
side, wistfully looking out over the room, perhaps taking one last
look at her childhood memories that adorned the room.

For the first time, I noticed them. The picture of her when she
was five and learning to ride a bike. On her fathers shoulders
at some family picnic. And so on ...

"You'd better be going" she said.

"Yeah. I guess. See you Monday?"

"Uh huh."

And I turned, and silently traced my steps down the hall, through
the living room, the kitchen, saw one last time the picnic basket
we had so innocently relished that afternoon, and stepped outside.

There I was enveloped by the still night air, and cloudless sky.

I walked in circles on my way home that night. I alternately felt
scared and weak. Would she be remorseful for that night forever
and ever. God! What if she was pregnant?! I didn't think to ask her,
was it her time of the month? What would I say to here in school
on Monday. Could I look her in the face. Would she look at me?

And at the same time I felt the exhilaration of having gained
manhood- a virgin no more. Okay, maybe I had come kinda fast
(kinda?) but I got the deed done. She wanted it too. How was I
supposed to know she would "flip out" afterward?

Another sleepless night would follow and Monday came way too fast.
Robin avoided my eyes in school that Monday, and, uncomfortable,
I avoided hers. By the end of the week I couldn't stand it, and
even our mutual friends sensed there was a problem. We would
eventually get together, about a week later, to "talk about it".
Robin and I would remain as friends, but as she would declare,
"she just wasn't ready for that kind of relationship", but
wanted to remain "friends". We dated (if you call it that)
for a couple more months and I never again pressed her for sex 
(well, we kissed). We broke off shortly there after, probably
because we never got over the awkwardness of "doing it" and
then not doing it. Or something. I don't know. It just didn't
work out. Never the less, I still fondly remember Robin as the
first true girlfriend of my young life. She did not attend our
high school reunions, and I lots complete track of here after
graduation. She was quite popular and dated several boys during
out junior and senior years, and in fact became a cheerleader.
During the hockey games I would sometimes find myself pleasantly
distracted on the bench, watching her bounce up and down. And
I would see her stealing glances my way as well. In my heart,
I believe Robin remembers me as fondly as I do her, was I not
after all her first "love" as well. 

Robin, if you are out there, there is something I really meant
to tell you that night ... I loved you.

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