0 comments/ 68110 views/ 6 favorites A Year of Firsts Ch. 01 By: melaniej Chapter 1 My name is Melanie and I was a fairly late developer and quite shy so I had little to do with boys through most of my time at school. In fact it wasn't until I was almost eighteen that I really began to take an interest in boys generally and in the whole issue of sex. Up until then I had kind of assumed that it would all happen at some time in the future. I really didn't have much time for boys anyway because I was very focussed on academic success. I was a good Catholic girl who still went to church every Sunday. I had developed, finally, very nice breasts, B-cup but very well shaped. I was tall, brunette and not unattractive but certainly not beautiful. I had great skin which I looked after carefully and like all of my friends I was very much a virgin. In my case, although I knew about the mechanics of sex I knew nothing of the thrill of it. At that stage, even though I knew it was possible for girls to masturbate, I didn't really know how and had no real burning desire to find out. It was all somewhere in the future. Any vague fantasies that I did have were more romantic than sexual and usually involved some movie star rescuing me and kissing me before riding off into the sunset. But it all changed on my eighteenth birthday. It led to a whole series of first times that I will never forget. My girlfriends and I had gone to the movies and shopping for my birthday and by the time I got home I was tired. My family had celebrated with me the previous night so after two long nights I couldn't wait to get into bed and sleep. It was a hot night so I decided to just wear a white tank top and plain white underwear. That in itself was unusual for me because I almost always wore a nightie to bed. It felt kind of daring to be laying in bed dressed so scantily, for me at least. I fell asleep straight away and slept very deeply for hours. When I woke up I realised that it had been raining but now it had stopped and it was still and quiet and much cooler. I went to close my window. My room was on the side of our house and very close to the next house. My window was only about 8 feet from the window of the main bedroom in that house. Up until a week before the window was almost never opened. An old lady lived there but she had moved to an old age home and it had just been bought by a couple in the mid-twenties. It was their first home and they seemed like quite nice people. She was petite and quite pretty. He was well built and, in the brief glimpse I had seen, quite good looking. Their window was opened and I was just about to close mine when I heard a low moan. At first I thought it was a cat but then I heard another and it was definitely human, female and coming from next door. I stood in the dark listening. At first it was pure curiosity to peek into the lives of these strangers. Then it suddenly hit me, the reason she was moaning. It became much more interesting. Her soft moans continued and then I heard her speak. It was half-spoken, half-moaned. She said, "Yes." Long and low and drawn out. I think it is the sexiest thing I had ever heard anyone say, just that one word. And it affected me in a way that nothing else ever had. My nipples hardened instantly. They had already been slightly erect from standing near the open window but this was different. I felt them harden. I felt them respond to the sound. I felt them rubbing against the material of my tank top, more sensitive than they had ever been. I looked down to see them outlined against the fabric. My mouth was suddenly dry and my heart was racing. And then... I felt a warm tingling in my groin. I felt suddenly sensitive down there too, as if I could feel the cotton of my underwear against me. The whole thing kind of swept over me in a wave. I couldn't move, straining to hear more sounds from next door, my whole body tense. It was silent for several moments, then the moans began again but with greater intensity. She was moaning and panting, occasionally she would half-moan a long 'yessss' and each time I felt my body respond. I knew that I was wet. I could feel it soaking the crotch of my undies. The lips of my vagina felt unbelievably sensitive. I was holding on to the window sill because my legs felt weak. I wanted to hear everything. I looked into the darkened room wishing that I could see them. My breathing was shallow, my body tense, every sense seemed alive. Then he moaned, slow and deep. The sound of his male voice caused me to actually gasp. I can still remember the powerful effect even now because I had never felt like this before. He moaned again and then he said, "Ohhh, God" in a way that left no doubt that he was in heaven, or some place very close to heaven. Without even realising that I had done it, my hand was rubbing my underwear, slowly against the growing wet spot. It gave me a shock when I did realise what I was doing. I even pulled my had away for a moment. Then she began to moan more urgently and my hand returned to my sensitive, tingling vagina, rubbing the cotton of my underwear against the swollen lips. I had never felt so good. She began to gasp urgent sounds, little "yes's" and "yeah's". They were faster now and she was clearly building to something. He began groaning in time with her, I could sense the urgency in their sounds. My own hand was rubbing urgently now too. My fingers had found one spot that felt particularly good and I simply kept rubbing through my now drenched underwear. My legs were trembling and even though my other hand was still on the sill helping to support me, I had a need to rub my breasts. That's what it was, a need. I had to touch my breasts, to feel them, to rub the hard nipples. My hand carressed them through the light material of my tank top. And that made me moan. I moaned very softly but it wasn't a conscious decision. My body was responding without me even thinking about it. I cupped one breast, pinching the nipple lightly, then rubbed my hand across it to cup the other breast. Then back to the first and so on. From the open window next door the sound of the man had died away, but she began to pant, which merged into short squeals of pleasure, then they too began to merge into a single long "yess", high pitched and rising higher. Then there was a very brief silence. And then they groaned long and low, together, his deep male voice mixed with hers. It lasted for seconds, during which time I pushed my fingers hard against that extra sensitive spot on my underwear and pinched my nipple harder than before, holding both of my hands in those positions for the duration of that final groan of pleasure from my neighbours. I didn't breathe and it seemed every muscle in my body was tense as I listened to the dying sounds from next door. My legs were shaking and I knew, somehow instinctively, that the show was over and I moved over to my bed, lay down and felt my body slowly return to normal. I heard a few soft sounds from the window, a woman's soft laugh, some quiet conversation for a few moments, then the sound of the window closing and then, finally silence. I lay on top of my sheets, hot and suddenly tired. It was only then that it occurred to me what I had been doing. I had been masturbating. Something I had never contemplated actually doing myself. I guess I had associated it with prostitutes and 'bad' girls and the nuns at school had certainly encouraged that belief. I never even imagined that my friends would do such a thing. I felt suddenly embarrassed and a little guilty. It felt like I had just done a bad thing but it also felt so amazingly good. I promised myself that it was a once only event and that I'd never let it happen again. I got up and changed to some dry underwear, kind of disgusted with myself for what I had done to the white cotton ones with the little pink bow I had been wearing. I made a mental note to myself that I would probably have to throw that pair away. I finally got back into bed, pulled the sheet up and tried to sleep. It took quite a while. My mind kept replaying the sounds I had heard and vague images of what I imagined they were doing flickered in my mind's eye. Finally, just before dawn, I drifted off to sleep. A Year of Firsts Ch. 02 Chapter 2 The next morning I was disgusted with myself. I felt I had done a terrible thing that was really against everything I believed in. I promised myself that I would be stronger in future, and sleep with the window shut if necessary. And I was very good. I quickly returned to my usual self and had barely a sexual thought for almost two weeks. The couple next door helped out by deciding to make their bedroom on the other side of the house by combining two smaller rooms. Life quickly returned to normal for me. I was in my final year of school, which had just started. I was studying harder than ever. One Saturday night however, I had been at my best friend, Anna's house doing some maths with her and by the time I got home my parents had gone. They had gone to dinner at a friend's house and I knew they wouldn't be back till late. It didn't worry me that most people my age were out at parties or on dates. I wasn't really a party kind of person and since I really didn't know any boys I wasn't likely to be on a date. Besides, I was always one of those people who is happy with their own company. I was bored, there was nothing on TV and I had done enough study so I looked for a good book to read. I was a real bookworm so I had read almost everything in the house and wandered into my parents bedroom to see if my mother had borrowed any new ones from the library. She was a reader like me and usually had a few books on her bedside table. Of the three I found there, one historical novel set in the Caribbean really grabbed my attention. The cover showed a well built handsome man on a sailing ship holding a woman in one arm and a long curved sword in the other. I filled a bath and settled in for a relaxing hour before bed. I loved reading in the bath but this time would be different. It didn't take me long to get into the story and I was a fast reader, so the chapters flew by. Then on page 60, the hero caught a slave girl hiding on his boat, trying to escape a cruel master. He took her to his cabin and what followed over the next four or five pages was the steamiest description I had ever read. I was turned on from the first page and by the last I was short of breath and my heart was racing. I felt a strong urge to touch my breasts and rub myself. I could see my hard nipples through the bubbles. I had read in the novel that the slave girl ached for his touch, and I knew now exactly what that phrase meant. My breasts ached to be touched. And as for down there, I was already squeezing my thighs together, feeling the delicious sensations that the pressure brought. I shook myself back to reality, emptied the bath and quickly dried myself trying not to linger over any one part of my body for long. Even so, I left my groin and bottom until last and managed to convince myself that it was important to dry myself well down there. As much as I didn't want it to, it felt wonderful feeling the towel rubbing against my sensitive vaginal lips. I dressed in plain white underwear and a long blue nightie and slid into bed. I forced myself to think of school related things and decided to pray extra hard in church in the morning, for strength to stop this temptation of my own body. I wasn't sure that I believed it was wrong or sinful but the power of the urges frightened me more than a little. It took a few minutes before I managed to go to sleep. When I awoke I could hear my parents arriving home and a few minutes later my mother opened my door and announced softly that they were back. I turned onto my stomach and drifted to sleep once again. The second time I awoke, the sheets were bunched under my body and I felt suddenly breathless. I had been having a dream but the memory of it was already fading except that it involved me being naked. Naked and having my breasts kissed by a man. Unconsciously, I ground my hips against the sheet below my body, feeling the pleasurable pressure in my groin. My nipples were hard and sensitive again and I felt them pressed against my bed as my hips involuntarily pushed my sensitive vagina into the bunched up sheet. It felt so good but as I became fully awake, I made myself stop and turned onto my back. I couldn't keep doing this. I felt I was losing control of my own body. As good as it felt, it also scared me. I lay awake for a long time, determined to put any sexual thoughts out of my mind. I wondered if my friends ever felt like this but I knew that it was a question I would never ask them. It was close to dawn when I awoke a third time. I had been dreaming again. This time I thought I had been the slave girl, on the ship and the man had laid me on the bed and tore open my bodice to reveal my breasts. I could see the hungry look in his eyes. The dream may not have been about that at all, or only vaguely so, but I chose to believe that I was the slave girl. Without even realising it was happening, I allowed the dream to merge smoothly into a fantasy that I made up as I went along. The look in his eyes as he took in my breasts, the feeling of helplessness as he had ripped open my bodice, making my breasts bounce. Then I began to think about his hand slowly descending to lightly touch them. I allowed my own hands to slide up my body, over my thin nightie and cup my breasts, my hands shaping themselves to the curve of each, imagining his hands holding me like that. I caressed them lightly as I pictured him doing the same, so gently after the violence of tearing open the thin material of my bodice. I had a sudden urge to feel skin on skin, to feel my hands on my breasts without the fabric of the nightie between them. I knew I couldn't stop, I knew I felt guilty doing it and I knew I might hate myself in the morning but the urge and the need were too strong. I got out of bed and lifted the nightie over my head, looking at my body in the full length mirror, fascinated by the way my nipples stood so erect and felt so sensitive to every touch. I lay back on the bed and resumed the fantasy, hands caressing, fingers finding the hard little peaks of my nipples, tweaking and tugging them gently, each time sending jolts of pleasure through my body to my groin. I could feel the wetness down there now, soaking into my undies. I fought contradictory urges to stop completely and to touch myself there. I wanted to do both and wanted to do neither. Instead I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy. I had never slept topless in bed before and that alone thrilled me. It felt bad which made it feel very good. He was rubbing his hands slowly up my belly, over my ribcage and then slowly but firmly over my breasts. My hands copied the moves. Then his fingers circled each nipple, with a tantalising slowness, making me want more. Then his fingers were teasing each nipple, the lightest touch, pressing on them so softly, sliding them between his fingers. My hands did everything that his did. I could feel my heart pounding and I knew that I should stop. I knew I had to stop. Several times I did stop, briefly. But the pleasure was too intense and soon my hands were busy again. Then came the thought which made it impossible to stop. It entered my head so suddenly that I took a deep breath and shook my head at the shock of it. Men wanted to touch my breasts. They wanted to do what my hands were doing. They wanted to tear open my nightie and slide their hands up my body and over my breasts. Instantly a wave of greater pleasure swept through my body. I parted my thighs and arched my back feeling the cotton of my plain white underwear press against my pubic mound and conform to the shape of my vaginal lips. My hands were squeezing my breasts harder now. And the thought continued to echo in my mind. Men want to hold my breasts and tease my nipples. My breasts seemed so perfect, so sensitive, any man would want them. I groaned softly at the thought. It occurred to me then that a man, like the one in the novel would want to kiss my breasts. He would want to lick them. I pictured it, that man from the cover of the novel, licking and kissing my breasts. Another powerful wave of pleasure swept through my body and centred on my groin. Again I arched my back and felt the exquisite pleasure brought by my undies pressing against my vagina. A hand left my breasts and found the most sensitive spot near the top of my vaginal lips, rubbing gently. I felt better than even the first time I had touched down there. The feelings were much more powerful. I developed a rhythm, arching my back and applying pressure with my fingers, rubbing them up and down over that one spot as I moaned softly and the fingers of my other hand caressed my breast. Then as the wave of pleasure subsided, I relaxed for a moment until the next one arrived. Again my back arched and my fingers were busy. My whole body was alive but I needed more. Of what exactly I wasn't sure. There was no question in my mind of stopping now. The pleasure was too great. I tried to keep my fantasy going in my mind but it kept getting jumbled by new images and thoughts that arrived with each surge of pleasure. As the tempo of my rhythm increased, the thoughts came faster. I imagined him licking my breasts as he looked into my eyes, then his hands were on my breasts, then his lips, kissing softly. Then he was looking at my underwear. Then sliding his hands up and down my body. Up and down my thighs. Parting my thighs. Hungry eyes looking at my groin. Then more attention, tongue, hands, lips on my breasts, images spilling rapidly from my imagination as my own hands applied almost unbearable pleasure to my body. The next thought I had was the single sexiest thought I had had up to that point in my life. He slid his hand down my body, over my smooth belly to the top band of my underwear. I allowed my own hand to do the same. Pausing there, then one finger pressing under the waistband, and a second and a third, all just a little under the elastic. I pictured him looked deep into my eyes as all his fingers slid under the cotton of my white undies. They were touching the curls of hair over my pubic mound. The thought was another strong one, a man's hand, bigger and stronger than mine, inside my underwear. I was wearing modest white cotton with a little pink heart on the front. It occurred to me that his hands would be under that heart now, just as mine were. I loved the thought of a man's hand inside such innocent looking underwear. I slid my fingers down, through my pubic hair. I had been kind of mortified to even have hair growing down there, I had trimmed it carefully, mostly out of embarrassment that it might be visible when I went swimming. I would have died knowing that someone could actually see it. Now it didn't matter. I loved the feeling of my hands sliding through the curls. I felt the wetness then, a slippery smooth wetness against my fingertips. I moaned and thrust my hips upward, off the bed. I could no longer focus on my fantasy, only the sensations of my body. I allowed a single finger to slide down the slit between my vaginal lips at the same moment as I spread my legs wide. The wetness was everywhere, even in the slit and I realised, even inside me. My fingers returned to that most sensitive spot and I began rubbing. From that point on I could no longer control my actions or thoughts. Brief flashes of thought ran through my mind, without order or meaning, just random thoughts associated with the pleasure. Breasts licked, male hand in my underwear, wetness, rubbing, rubbing, the surges of pleasure getting stronger, sounds of the couple next door doing it...rubbing that sensitive spot, faster and harder. My fingers were rubbing rapidly, that hard, sensitive little spot, circling it, over and over, faster and faster. My hips were thrusting, arching my back, lifting my bottom off the bed. My free hand was clenched tightly, holding the sheet, my mouth open. I couldn't believe such pleasure was possible. I felt like i would die if I continued but I continued anyway, more urgent than ever. My breath came in short soft moaning pants now and I needed to keep doing it faster and faster. I was going to die from pleasure. I lifted my whole body from the bed, supporting myself on my shoulders and feet, the rest of my body arched upward, every muscle rigid. The biggest wave of pleasure yet swept over me and I held my breath. My fingers too had paused their movement, my mouth was open wide. The sheet had slid from my body, the pleasure reaching a peak. For a brief moment I was completely still and silent. It seemed even my heart stopped beating for that fraction of a second. My body still raised off the bed. I was going to die. The tidal wave that swept over me began low down in my belly and spread throughout my whole body in an instant. It was more than pleasure, it was complete ecstasy, complete fulfilment. It centred on my groin, centred on that sensitive spot under my fingers, suddenly too sensitive to rub even a little. My body twitched, hips thrusting higher into the air. I moaned a soft, high-pitched but long sigh as wave after wave consumed me. I felt my vagina spasm and tighten again and again. My bottom clenched tightly. My mind was blank, every thought wiped away by the extraordinary feelings that overwhelmed me. There were tears in my eyes and my face was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. As the surges of ecstasy began to ebb I slumped back onto the bed, breathing hard, heart racing wildly, the tension draining away. Several more soft sighs escaped my lips as I regained some control of my body and my thoughts. I slid my fingers out of my drenched underwear, gasping as the cotton shaped itself once again to my vagina, almost too sensitive now to even stand that touch. I lay for a few moments, simply too stunned to think anything clearly. My mind seemed hazy and I absently dried my fingers on the sheet and pulled it over my near naked body. I was shaking now and I began to analyse my actions. That much pleasure had to be bad and dirty. It was beyond anything I could ever have imagined. It was then that I realised what had happened to me. I knew orgasms occurred and knew women could have them and knew they were wonderful things to have but nothing had prepared me for this. Nothing had prepared me for the loss of control I had felt at that moment, the way it had begun in the pit of my stomach and then consumed me completely, the way I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to. I was both horrified and overjoyed at what I had done. I had done something that I knew was wrong. The nuns at school had told us that self-pleasure was a dangerous and selfish act that only the worst sort of girls indulged in. At the same time, I felt like a woman, a real woman that men might desire. I got up and put my nightie back on. I changed underwear, choosing light blue this time, dry and clean, leaving the white undies, with the little heart over the front, crumpled, stained and wet, beside the bed. I decided that I had done this once, and once only. Well, OK, twice really. But only once had I gone this far. I had explored my body and it worked the way nature had intended. I wouldn't need to do it again. I wouldn't do it again. But as I lay in bed again, slowly allowing sleep to overtake me, my thoughts were of the pleasure, the unbelievable, wonderful pleasure I had felt. Even now I could still feel my vagina, wet and hot and I could smell a scent, the scent of a woman's orgasm. My orgasm. I was a woman. I went to sleep with that smell, with the fading memory of the ecstasy, with the beat of my heart and with the knowledge that now I knew. I knew what all the fuss was about. I knew why a woman would want sex, would want a man, would want to orgasm as often as possible. Already I knew that despite my promise to myself I would have to experience those feelings again. A Year of Firsts Ch. 03 Once again, the following morning I felt a little ashamed of myself, especially when I saw the underwear lying balled up beside the bed. Even so, there was still a sense of discovery. I felt that a door had been opened to a whole new world and it was, if nothing else, exciting. I fought any temptation to repeat that experience for three days. By mid-week however, I found myself daydreaming in class, wondering what it would be like to have a boy touching me. I had no one particular in mind; in fact he was faceless but tall and strong. It must have been obvious that I was distracted. I was usually the perfect student and several teachers and some of my friends asked if I was OK. That night I struggled through my homework, my mind only half on the job. Eventually I had a shower, shaved my legs and underarms and put on my favourite little pink camisole and panty set and went to my room. The camisole was cut low, showing off the tops of my breasts and exposing my stomach and belly button. The little panties were probably the briefest that I owned, just covering the top wispy hairs of my pubic mound and cut high making my legs seem even longer and slimmer than they were. I liked wearing that set because it seemed like something a woman would wear, rather than my usual plain, cotton, little-girl underwear. I inspected myself in the mirror from different angles. I wondered if I looked like a grown woman who orgasmed or if I was just a plain little Catholic virgin like my friends. After years of being satisfied as the plain little virgin I suddenly wanted to be the grown woman. I switched the light off and climbed into bed. I knew that I was going to touch myself, event though I tried to convince myself that I was tired. The knowledge alone was making me wet down there. I wondered if a boy saw me in my cami and panties, he would want me. As much as I liked the camisole I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a man's hands ripping it open and exposing my breasts. No man except a doctor had even seen my breasts and I suddenly wanted them to be seen. And touched. And kissed. And then my hands were caressing them softly, feeling the nipples harden and press against the silky material of the camisole. I slid the material up and over my breasts, letting my fingers touch the soft pale skin, letting myself indulge in another fantasy, that man leaning and kissing them, tasting them, tasting my nipples, circling them with his tongue. Then I continued the fantasy story, adding elements, he had been watching me undress, watching me slide the camisole off, then he had come up behind me and embraced me, his strong but soft, gentle hands finding my breasts, cupping them, turning me around, leaning and kissing them. I slid the camisole over my head, exploring my breasts and belly, sliding my hands to my thighs. On an impulse I sat up on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. I imagined he was watching and slowly parted my thighs as I ran my hands down them. Would that make him want me I wondered. I could feel the wetness and the tingling had become a stronger urge, a need and my hand rubbed the outside of the little pink panties, rubbing my wetness into the delicate fabric. In my fantasy he was watching me, wanting me. I stood and turned, my hands gliding slowly down my back and over the curve of my bottom. He would be looking at my bottom now, wanting to touch it. He would move close and gently run his hands up the backs of my thighs and over my bottom, feeling the thin material slide against my smooth skin. I realised that I wanted him to see all of me, naked. I slowly slid my undies down, feeling them resist where they had puckered slightly into the slit between my vaginal lips. Then they pulled free and I wriggled a little until they fell to my knees. He would be caressing my bottom now. My own hands felt the smooth skin. I allowed the pink panties to fall to my ankles and caught my reflection in the mirror. It caused a moment of thought about what I was doing. I was, or at least thought I was, a very hardworking, private, modest, middle-class girl and here I was doing this sort of thing. I began to realise that half the thrill came because it wasn't something anyone would expect of me. Quiet little Melanie would never go home and strip naked imagining a man was touching her all over. I loved the thought that tomorrow I could put on my school uniform and no one would suspect I had had this little night-time adventure. I had always loved books and stories and made up complicated plots in my mind but this was better. This was so much better. I knew already that I was addicted. I allowed my mind to return to the fantasy. He was kneeling in front of me. I sat on the bed again, legs parted, imagining his eyes drinking me in. Then his hands sliding up my thighs. I held my breath and closed my eyes. I touched myself at the same time that the man in fantasy touched me. Slowly circling fingers around my sensitive spot, spreading the wetness, rubbing and teasing. I began to roll my hips forward against my fingers, my breath becoming shallow as the intensity began to build. He was rubbing up and down the slit between my lips before returning to the magic spot. Rubbing up and down, driving me insane with delight. Each time he slid his finger the length of my vagina it pushed a little harder, sliding a little deeper into the folds. I altered my position a little and used my other hand to rub the hard magic spot. Now I had two hands working down there. The finger was still pushing deeper between my labia, feeling the wetness. Even when I had put tampons in it had been a quick, unpleasant task to insert them but this wasn't remotely the same. That had been a chore, this was anything but. With a sudden determination I slide the finger deeper. It was my middle finger and it entered me up to the second knuckle. I could feel the silky smoothness of my vaginal walls, surrounding my finger. My other hand was rubbing faster now. The fantasy was forgotten. I wanted simply to feel that incredible release. I slid my finger in and out, feeling the delicious sensations on my lips as it parted them and the nerves came alive, sending jolts of wonderful pleasure through my body. My eyes were closed but I could picture myself looking so wanton, so wicked, so bad, so unlike me. Right at that point I had the next great revelation of my growing sexual awareness. My finger sliding in and out was like a man's penis. I knew the theory of sex, I had seen the diagrams in biology books, but this was the essence of sex in practice. My finger was like a man's penis entering me, entering my vagina making me feel incredible. The thought made me wilder and more urgent. My hands worked faster, I began my soft little sighs of pleasure each time my finger went into me. I began to push it deeper until it was almost all the way in. I felt the tip of my finger encounter resistance and I knew what it was, my hymen. Each thrust of my finger pushed against it. One day, I thought to myself, a man will push his penis through it and make me a real woman. I was beginning the slow ascent to my orgasm now. Having experienced the first one I knew the signs, feeling myself begin to lose control of my body. My hands were working rapidly over the centre of my body. My back was arched, my breasts, pushed out, nipples hard and erect. I slid a second finger in this time, feeling the delightful sensation of my vaginal lips stretching to accommodate it. Together the two fingers thrust deep into the slit of my vagina. I could feel the moment building, each thrust taking me closer, each teasing of the hard sensitive spot making me wilder, breathing hard, grinding my hips against my hands, knowing the moment was close. It began, with less warning this time, in my belly, surprising me with its force, my whole body twitching as it washed over me. It came in strong pulsing bursts of pleasure that brought involuntary gasps of ecstasy from my throat and caused my vagina to tighten hard around my fingers. I pushed them as deep as they would go. My legs quivered and I felt for a moment that I might faint, bursts of light exploding behind my closed eyelids. This orgasm was even more powerful than my first had been a few days earlier. This time it seemed to spread throughout my whole groin. I felt suddenly much wetter down there, feeling the wetness running over my hand and onto the sheet I was sitting on. The waves subsided much more slowly than they had the first time. Even after half a minute I could feel the walls of my vagina pulsing around my fingers. I sat for several minutes in that position, fingers inside me, recovering, breathing hard, my mind blank. This time there was no guilt or shame or embarrassment. Instead I felt relief, contentment and a lazy, dreamy exhaustion. I allowed my fingers to slide out. I used the little pink panties to wipe some of the wetness away and got a plain white pair of undies from my dresser drawer. I slid them on and looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I had a sense now that this private secret life of mine was going to become one of the highlights of each week. If it was a sin, I'd happily go to hell to have such pleasure here on earth. I lay on my bed, already feeling sleepy. I knew my old world of study, sports, church was about to change drastically. I wondered sleepily how anyone got anything else done when they could be doing this as often as possible. I would be at school as usual tomorrow but I knew it would be difficult not to dream of new fantasies and relive them tomorrow night. My final thought was a simple but profound one. If my fingers could feel so good, just how mind-blowing would a man's penis actually feel? I slept deeply until the alarm woke me the next morning. The next several weeks went by quickly. Almost every night I modified my fantasy. Sometimes the man was blond, sometimes dark-haired, always tall and strong but not a body-builder type. Just the thought of being in bed, indulging in my own world of sex and romance got me excited. Rather than going to bed when I was tired, I started to look forward to it. I had continued reading the novel I had started, savouring each sexual situation the hero found himself in, the slave girl in his cabin, the rich lady in her outdoor bath-house, the prostitute in the harbour-side brothel, the native girl on the beach. I had incorporated elements of each into my own private novel that I wrote in my head. I had also done some other reading at the library, about male and female anatomy. I now knew exactly what my clitoris was and was beginning to develop a very intimate relationship with it. My reading on the male body still left me a little confused. I looked at drawings of naked men in a medical book but I knew that a textbook drawing and an excited, erect man with sex on his mind would be two different things. It left some of the detail of my fantasies a little vague. I knew my hero would have this hard 'thing' that he would slide into my vagina, just as my fingers did almost every night. But I was confused about the size and even the shape. I didn't quite understand how it would all work out in practice. Mostly I wanted to know what it would feel like to have something inside me. My two little fingers felt very big when I put them in and he would be bigger than that, surely. Despite that, each night brought me new thrills. I learned gradually the best ways to bring myself to orgasm. I experimented with different positions, sitting, laying on my back, on my stomach, on my side and standing. I didn't orgasm every time but each night I went to sleep happy and satisfied. It was part of my life now and I didn't think I would ever be able to stop. The rest of my life proceeded pretty much as it always had. I just had this new, secret part now; the steamy, spicy part. I started wishing however that I had more of an opportunity to meet some boys, real ones. I wanted them to see me. I wanted to feel desired. A Year of Firsts Ch. 04 One lazy Sunday, I went to Anna's house to swim and study, although we quickly decided to do more swimming than studying. It was a blisteringly hot day and we alternated between sitting on sun lounges in the shade and diving into the pool to cool off. I was wearing my blue one-piece, cut high on my legs. I always made sure I shaved very carefully before I wore it and I had spent an hour in the bathroom the night before making sure that no stray hairs would be visible at the sides of the lycra. Anna was actually quite religious and took the whole church and sin thing fairly seriously. At one stage when she was younger she had thought seriously about becoming a nun. I wasn't exactly sure what I believed and went to church and prayed and tried not to commit any sins because I was expected to do those things. Anna's commitment to her religion was much more real, mine was simply what I had been brought up to do. And since I seemed to be committing some sort of sin almost every night now, the whole thing had become even more confusing for me. Anna was wearing a purple bikini. She was taller and thinner than me. She had pale skin that tended to freckle and smallish breasts but a face that I always thought of as very pretty. She had a wide mouth with the kind of pouty lips I would have killed for and big, emerald green eyes. She also had cascades of wavy, thick red hair that always seemed far sexier than my dull brown. I guess in the overall scheme of things we were both quite plain, or at least average but neither of us was ugly. Even so, we weren't in the same league as the beautiful girls at school, and we knew it. Anna was telling me bits of gossip she had heard from another friend, Lisa. Anna and Lisa worked together in their part-time job in a bread shop. Lisa moved in different circles to us. She mixed with the cool, beautiful girls, she went to lots of parties and she had a boyfriend. Despite all that, Lisa was quite friendly and didn't mind at all associating with less outgoing girls like Anna and I. "Lisa says that Paula is going out with a guy who is twenty," Anna told me. Anna loved gossip and scandal despite being as shy and serious as me. It was a little contradictory to her religious side but she chose to ignore the fact. "Twenty," I said. "I'm surprised her parents would let her." "Well, Lisa said her parents don't know. Can you imagine our parents letting us go out with a twenty year old guy with a car?" I couldn't imagine going out with any guy. My fantasy guy, yes, but not a real guy my age. Neither of us had ever been on a date so I had no idea how my parents would react. "Is Lisa still going out with the same guy?" I asked. I was becoming much more interested in the whole dating-boyfriend thing. "Yes, and I'll tell you a secret but you have to promise not to tell anyone, OK? She told me not to tell but I can tell you if you promise." "I promise." Anna knew that I could keep a secret. "OK, well she said that they have been just kissing and stuff for ages, but on Friday night they went a lot further." She paused and looked at me significantly. "How much further?" Anna and I rarely ever talked directly about sex, mainly because we had no experience and very little knowledge of it. It thrilled me that the discussion had taken this interesting turn. "Well, she said that they started off just kissing and stuff and then he had his hands on her boobs and the next thing she knew her top and bra were off and he was kissing her boobs. Can you believe that?" she said, wide-eyed with delight. "Wow," I said. I was suddenly jealous that a girl my age, a girl I knew was actually doing the things for real that I fantasised about at night. "Can you imagine a guy actually kissing your boobs?" I certainly could imagine it and in fact I had done so for quite a few minutes the night before. And now, I suspected that it had crossed Anna's mind on more than one occasion. I wondered for an instant whether my best friend lay alone in her bed doing the things to her body that I did to mine. I forced the thought from my mind. It felt wrong to think about her, another girl, doing that. And it was also a bit too exciting to think about it in broad daylight in a swimsuit. "I wish mine were bigger," Anna said. Even though Anna turned eighteen three weeks before me she looked quite a bit younger. "Yours are fine," I said reassuringly. "Anyway, bigger isn't always better." "Yes, but guys notice girls with bigger ones." This was a new Anna, fretting about guys noticing her. It seemed that the changes that had happened to me had also happened to her recently. "Guys will notice you before they'll notice me. You've got that hair and you're taller." "Guys aren't interested in hair. They're interested in boobs and they'll see that set you've got there, Mel and fall in love with you." "I don't think so," I said with a laugh but I was secretly pleased to have Anna acknowledge that my breasts were so attractive. They were rapidly becoming my favourite part of my body. "Anyway, back to what Lisa told me," Anna said. "She said that Glen, that's her boyfriend, said that he wants them to do it. And she said she'd think about it but she wasn't really ready for that. But she told me that if he had just gone ahead and done it right there and then without waiting for an answer she would have let him because she was feeling so turned on." She shook her head in disbelief. "God," I said. I was already making a mental note to add that to my fantasy tonight, the man asking if he could do 'it' with me, and then doing it anyway, without waiting for an answer. I crossed my legs, feeling the pressure against my tingling vagina. We both decided, perhaps for the same reason, that now would be a good time for another swim and dived in and paddled in the cool water. It cooled me down and calmed me down. After a few minutes Anna and I leaned our backs against the sides of the pool and paddled idly in the water. "She asked me if I thought she should do it," Anna said. "What did you say?" I asked. "Well, you know, I don't know anything about...what I mean is...I've never done....never been in that situation." "Mmm," I agreed. Neither of us had. If there was one person in the world, beside myself, who I was absolutely sure was a virgin, it was Anna. "But, you know," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "sometimes I think a lot about it." She looked away, embarrassed at her admission. I felt my heart beat faster. It was a relief to know it wasn't just me. "So do I." I said softly. I pushed away from the side and swam deep, covering my embarrassment with the water. I could feel my cheeks burning red with my own admission. Anna got out and dried herself before arranging her long limbs on the sun lounge once more. I swam several lazy lengths of the pool before I returned to my sun lounge beside her. We were both silent for several minutes. It was an unusual awkwardness between us. I wondered what I could say to return things to normal. It was Anna who broke the silence, but not in the way I expected. "Mel, if I tell you something, will you promise that you'll never, ever tell a soul." She was staring into the pool, clearly attempting to muster her courage to tell me something important, or personal, or both. My mind was still half-busy adding a few new details to my fantasy so I gave no thought as to what she might tell me. "Anna, you know I always keep a secret." Nevertheless, I promised for the second time that day. "OK, but this is...you're the only person I could ever tell this to. I couldn't even say this in confession." Anna had always been big on confession and seemed to have an endless list of sins to confess to, even though she led a life as innocent and blameless as mine. I hated going to confession because I had to make up some sins to tell the priest, which was probably a sin in itself. I waited while she collected her thoughts. "Well, I've been....doing something I shouldn't." "Like what? Cheating or something?" I really wasn't on her wavelength at all. "No..no...nothing like that. It's too embarrassing...but I feel really bad about doing it..I know I shouldn't." I clicked then. I knew exactly what she was talking about. She looked at me and saw from my face that I knew. We both blushed. Anna buried her face in her hands. She was bright red. She lifted her head and said seriously," Remember you promised. You probably think I'm some sort of pervert now." "No, Anna," I said softly. "You don't have to worry about that." "But it's wrong, you know. I keep telling myself I won't do it but..." "I've done it too," I said suddenly, less embarrassed than I imagined I would be. "Really?" Anna said looking at me, shocked. I nodded. "I had no idea," she said. I could see her visibly relax now. "I always thought I would never....you know...but..." She trailed off leaving it unsaid but understood by both of us. "When did you do it the first time?" I asked, suddenly curious. Now that we had both revealed our secrets, there seemed less embarrassment and less reason not to talk about it. "Ages ago," she said. "But lately, all the time." "Me too." I smiled, blushing and she smiled back. Another shared secret. I felt the wetness inside of me and was happy that my swimsuit was still dripping from the swim. I wondered for a brief, exciting moment if Anna was feeling the same as me right now but banished the thought quickly. "Do you do it in bed?" Anna asked. It seemed our mutual embarrassment had worn off completely now. "Yes. In my room, usually bed." "I mostly do it in the shower. Sometimes in bed." I knew straight away that I would have to try the shower. "And, last week," Anna continued, beginning to enjoy her revelations, "I did it at school." I was shocked at that and I could tell she was secretly delighted. "How? When?" "Well, I had a study lesson in the library and no one else was in there, so I was in that little study room and...I just started doing it. I kind of forgot where I was at the beginning and then later I decided that, well, you know how you just get to that stage where you can't stop. I don't think I could ever become a nun now," she laughed. "Weren't you afraid of getting caught?" "Yes, but I...just kept going. And the librarian wasn't even there. She was at a meeting somewhere. God, Mel, I'm glad I can talk about all this stuff at last. I feel so much better now. Not so weird." Well, if you're weird then so am I." I felt as relieved as she did. Even a little jealous. She had been doing it longer and it seemed, even more inventively than me. Anna's mother came out then and we quickly changed the subject, exchanging smiles when she asked what we were gossiping about. "Oh, nothing much...study lesson in the library," Anna said, trying not to laugh. We never got the opportunity to continue our conversation that day but I went home feeling happy. I felt closer to Anna than ever before and I knew that we would be having more conversations about our private lives in the future. That night I did it twice, once in the shower and once in bed a while later. It felt exquisite making myself orgasm as the warm water ran over my body. In my fantasy, my lover had caught me bathing under a waterfall on a tropical island and we had done it right there, in the sunshine with the water spilling over us. My legs could barely support me as I leaned my back against the cool tiles and allowed my fingers to work their magic. The second time, in bed, I imagined we had lain on flat rocks in the sun and he had asked if we could do it. He didn't wait for an answer. He took me in his arms and we did it. The powerful orgasm swept through me, drenching my fingers. I rolled onto my stomach and fell quickly into a deep, peaceful sleep, musing over the thought that Anna had probably been doing much the same as me at much the same time. A Year of Firsts Ch. 05 Anna and I didn't immediately begin discussing our new sexual discoveries after our original conversation although when anyone mentioned that they had a study lesson in the library we always glanced at each other and smiled. Over the next week or so, 'study' became a euphemism for masturbation. That was a good thing since both of us would have found actually using the word 'masturbation' far too confronting. We might have done it but we didn't want to have to say it. Our shared secrets also brought Anna and I closer together. We had always been best friends but now the relationship was different in a way that was hard to put my finger on. I think we both realised that we would get through the whole sex thing together, we had someone to share our problems and pleasures with. On a Thursday about five weeks into the school year, Anna asked me if I wanted to go shopping with her that night. She had to get a dress to wear to a cousin's wedding. "That is unless you have to stay home and study," she said. We had the first exams of the year approaching plus some assignments due. "Do you mean study or 'study' study?" I asked. "Well, either. But I know which one I'd prefer to do," she said smiling. "I'll come around to your place about six then," I decided. "I can always study later." "Do you mean study or 'study' study?" "Shut up Anna," I said laughing. "I'll have to think of something to wear." I didn't own a lot of clothes like some girls but the few times I went out I always took a long time deciding exactly what to wear. At home I took all my summer clothes out of the closet and tried to make a decision. Eventually I decided on a red sleeveless top with a V neck. I always felt that my breasts seemed a little bigger in it. I also chose a knee length denim skirt and my best white bra and panty set with the lace trim. When I got dressed and put on some red lipstick I felt quite sexy. I usually felt quite awkward when I went out and I knew I wasn't the most stunning girl in the world but I was beginning to like my body and appreciate its strengths. Besides my breasts, I had quite long and slim legs, and a flat stomach. I was a good long distance runner and quite fit so I guess I was also well toned. My mother always said that I should wear my hair up because I had a long elegant neck, like Audrey Hepburn she said. This particular night I decided to wear my hair in a bunch on top of my head. My mother was right, I did have a quite long neck. My mother dropped me off at Anna's house just after six. She lived quite close to the mall, about a ten minute walk. We planned to walk there while it was still light and then call Anna's dad to pick us up later. I was never a mall person like some girls who almost seemed to live there. I liked shopping but I certainly wasn't one of those outgoing girls who met regularly at the mall. Anna and I talked to several girls we knew and then set out to find Anna's dress for the wedding. She didn't intend to buy it tonight. She would come back on the weekend with her mother. We had fun for an hour and a half going from shop to shop. Anna tried on a dozen dresses and together we critiqued each one. I kind of envied her having a special occasion to look forward to. She looked great in a lot of them but we eventually decided on a black dress that I couldn't help thinking would suit me as well. Afterwards we got some junk food for dinner and found a table among the crowds of people. The mall was always busy on Thursday nights. "Hey, guess what?" Anna said. "Lisa told me that in a couple of weeks there is a dance with St Pat's. We should go." St Patrick's was the boys' school that was associated with our school. It was actually only a few hundred metres away although the teachers did their best to keep us apart. "Do you really want to?" I asked. Anna and I and another couple of our friends had never been to a dance before. In Grade 8 and 9 we weren't at all interested and in Grade 10 and 11 we had considered it but we were really a little intimidated by the cool girls who would have boyfriends there while we wouldn't know anyone. We decided that it would be too humiliating to spend a night at a dance and not be asked to dance at all. We were also, to be honest, simply too shy. Now, in Grade 12, we were beginning to feel more confident and a lot of the other girls, like Lisa were becoming much more friendly as they grew out of our bitchy phase that teenage girls go through. "Lisa said there will be lots of cute guys there." Anna and I discussing cute guys - things had definitely changed. "She said we might even get asked to their formal." A formal was like an American-style prom and the St Pat's one was early compared to most, in May. Ours was in October. Anna and I weren't even sure we would go to our own, let alone expect an invitation to the St Pat's one. "Let's go," I decided. I was excited about the prospect of meeting some real live boys if only I thought to myself, to work into my night-time fantasies. But the new more confident me also hoped that maybe some boy might find me attractive and then, who knew where it might lead. Having a boyfriend seemed a very distant prospect but a tantalising one nevertheless. My mind was lost amidst images of snuggling next to a boyfriend at a movie, on his arm at a formal, at the beach together and I was just getting to the sex parts when Anna nudged me. "Don't look but there's a guy down there looking at us," she said quietly. "Where?" I asked, looking anyway. The mall's eating area was built on two levels, the main one and a second level, sunken by a couple of feet. In the sunken area was a man sitting alone, glancing up at us every now and again then looking away quickly. He was probably in his early twenties and quite good looking. "Why is he looking at us?" I asked Anna quietly. The whole eating area was crowded and there were plenty of other girls around. "I don't know but I just realised that he can probably see straight up our skirts," Anna said urgently. Instinctively I clamped my legs together a little tighter and pushed my skirt between them. I looked up and saw the guy lowering his eyes back to his meal, smirking. "Do you think he was looking up our skirts?" Anna said. "Yes. What a creep." Secretly though I felt kind of excited that he was looking. I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn't been aware that a man was able to see my underwear and I didn't even realise it. But it was also pleasant to know that a fairly handsome grown man was trying to peek at my undies. "I dare you to cross your legs while he's watching," Anna said with a mischievous grin on her face. "No way. I'm not doing it." However I allowed the idea to wash around in my head for several minutes. "You do it. I'll do it if you do it first." "No, you first," Anna insisted. Part of the thrill came from simply contemplating such a thing. I had been taught for years to always sit like a lady and make sure I wasn't flashing my knickers and now here I was seriously considering doing it on purpose. "OK," I decided. I was already mentally creating a new fantasy around this moment. "How will I do it?" "Don't look at him," Anna instructed. "I'll kind of watch him and see what he does. Just cross your legs and give him a thrill." I took a breath to prepare myself. Looking back the moment seems a little trivial and childish but back then it was amazingly exciting and very sexy. I looked down at my french-fries and crossed my legs. I waited for a report from Anna. "He looked up," she said. "But do it slowly. And there's two other guys checking us out too." "Where?" I said, looking around. "Don't be so obvious," Anna scolded. She was clearly enjoying this little game, probably more than me. "See the two guys two tables over from him. They both looked up when you crossed your legs." The two guys were younger than the first, maybe in their late teens, I guessed. Neither was especially good looking but I didn't care. Having male attention of any sort was a thrill. "OK. Now do it slowly," Anna said. I looked down again and hitched my skirt up a couple of inches. I felt positively wicked. Who knew that teasing men could be so much fun. Slowly I uncrossed my legs, leaving them side by side and very slightly apart. Then very deliberately, and as slowly as I dared, I re-crossed them. My heart was racing. Anna turned to me, her face alight. "My god, they were absolutely watching you. I swear that guy's eyes just lit up. Do it again." "No, your turn," I insisted. I wanted to watch their reactions myself. I could feel myself getting wet and tingly. Imagine shy little Melanie and Anna, flashing their underwear at guys in the mall. I wondered if other girls at school had done this. "OK, ready," Anna said. She went through the routine as slowly as she could. I watched the guys out of the corner of my eye. The two younger ones nudged each other in the ribs and looked quite openly. The older guy was a bit more subtle. Each time I looked at him I realised that he was very good looking. I reported the details back to Anna who continued to be delighted. It was my turn again and I casually crossed my legs, allowing them to come apart just a little more this time. The thrill hadn't diminished at all. I could sense the good looking guy's hungry eyes drinking me in. I wondered suddenly if this little show was making him hard. God, am I making a man's penis go hard! It was an intoxicating thought. For the first time in my life I had a sense of the power that a woman can have over a man. I was in love with the thought of a man wanting me, wanting to see my body, imagining me naked, fantasising making love to me. Anna and I each did it several more times with the guys never missing a thing. It was almost instinctive that they knew exactly when to look our way. I wondered if they knew we were putting on a show for them but it probably didn't matter much. My undies were beginning to become rather damp to the extent that I feared embarrassing myself by having a wet skirt. I suggested to Anna that we should think about going. On the way home we were both fairly quiet. I was completely absorbed by my new-found power over men and the excitement it gave me. I had felt in control and I was starting to understand why a woman might even want to be a stripper in front of men. They would be in the palm of her hand. As Anna's dad dropped me off, she turned to me from the front seat. "That was a fun night's shopping Mel." "Sure was," I agreed. I thanked her dad and got out of the car and headed down our driveway. Anna called after me, "Don't study too hard, Mel." I laughed and waved as they drove away. I knew exactly what I would be doing tonight. My imagination had already planned the beginning of my new fantasy. It would involve a beautiful, expensive restaurant, me in a sexy black dress and a guy in his early twenties looking up my dress at my lace underwear. And I knew my fingers would be busy, as I imagined how much this man wanted me and needed me until finally he would take me home and make long, tender love. Then he would drive me wild with desire, teasing me and teasing me, taking me so close to climax time and again. And then when I could stand the pleasure no more he would make me orgasm so powerfully I would feel faint. And I would lay in his arms completely spent and completely satisfied and a complete woman.