The Birthday Gift

"Why? Isn't there at least some kind of definition or description of it?"

"I'm sure there is, Honey, but it ain't gonna help you understand what it's all about. Problem is, it's not something you can see or a touch or that can be adequately described using any of the five senses. It probably involves all of the senses, but it goes way beyond that. It's a feeling. In fact, it's the most intensely pleasurable feeling there is, and it is so unique that no one could possibly hope to adequately describe it in words."

"Wow," she whispered. "So what you're saying is, the only way to understand this addiction thing is to actually experience an orgasm." Slowly a smile spread across her face. "And that means you're going to have to show me; or at least teach me how to have one, right?"

"Hold on, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's nothing that says you need to have an orgasm in order to enjoy sex, and it can take some women a long time before they actually get to the point of having one. It's more the male of the species that's responsible for keeping things going, because he can have orgasms far easier and more frequently that women can, and tends to screw everything in sight, even if it doesn't particularly want to be screwed. Still, it would help if you understood the mechanics of an orgasm and to know about your own body and how it responds to different things. That way, when you do eventually have sex, you can help your partner understand better how to make it pleasurable and satisfying for you."

"So, like I said, you're going to have to show me, right? What do we do first? Should I take off my clothes or what?"

"No!" I shouted, then quickly lowered my voice. "Uh, no, that won't be necessary. We just need to go over some anatomical things, okay?" She nodded and widened her eyes in anticipation.

"Okay," I continued, "let's start with the, uh, vagina. How much do you know about your vagina?"

The embarrassment she displayed earlier seemed to disappear with the prospect of finally getting into some details. "Well," she said, counting off on her fingers, "I know it's a cavity. I know it's where a man puts his penis in order to have intercourse. I know it's where I bleed from during my period. I know that somewhere around there is where I pee from. I know it's where babies come out when they're born. And I know it feels kind of weird and gets gooey when someone rubs on it with their hand. I guess that's about it."

"Do you know what your clitoris is?"

"No, not really. I've heard that word before, or maybe read it somewhere, but I don't know anything about it. Is it important?"

"It's about the most important thing you have when it comes to orgasms. It's more or less the female counterpart to the male penis, except it's usually tiny and sometimes difficult to find and stimulate."

"So, do you think you can find mine?" she said. Her expression was serious, and it was clear she wasn't joking.

"I think maybe you should do that yourself."

"Oh, God," she whimpered. "I don't know if I want to do that, Uncle Dave. Can't you at least help me? I know you're worried about Dad and all, but I'm telling you, no one is ever going to know about this. Ever! Please?"

Once again, I felt caught between what I knew she needed and what that little voice kept telling me was wrong. Finally, I made up my mind. "Okay, Honey, but we're going to have to be real careful. Tell you what, why don't you go into your bedroom and turn the light out? I'll wait until you say it's okay to come in, then I'll try to talk you through this."

Suddenly confronted with the prospect of actually having to do something, her resolve seemed to slip. She pushed back against the couch and closed her eyes. But after several seconds of silence, her eyes snapped open again and she stared at the ceiling."Okay," she said, with just a hint of shakiness in her voice. She stood quickly and almost duck walked toward the hall. "Should I get undressed?" she yelled as she disappeared into the darkness.

"You might as well," I answered. "You're going to have to sooner or later anyway."

I waited until I thought she'd had time to get into her room, then stood and walked cautiously after her. As I made my way slowly down the hall, I heard a soft rustling sound, and then her voice came from behind the closed door "Okay," she said, just loud enough for me to hear. "I'm ready."

I turned the doorknob and opened it a crack. When she didn't protest, I pushed it far enough to squeeze through. In the shaft of light from the hall, I caught a glimpse of her bare legs lying stiff and straight, as if they might belong to a porcelain doll. As the shaft grew, the light moved up to illuminate a soft, downy fluff of light-brown pubic hair. That was all I saw before I closed the door and the room fell into semi darkness, with only the twilight through the window to illuminate it.

"Are you ready?" I asked as I approached the bed.

"I .... Think so. How about you?" she said with a hint of nervous humor. When I sat carefully on the edge of the bed, I heard a quick intake of breath, as if she'd accidentally touched a hot stove. But soon I sensed the stiffness go out of her body, and she cautiously reached out a hand. I took it in mine and squeezed.

"Are you sure?" I asked

"I'm sure, Uncle Dave," she said, and she returned my squeeze. Then, very slowly, I moved her hand over her body and down toward her legs. She resisted at first, but I kept gently pushing until both our hands rested on that soft tuft of pubic hair.

"Now I want you to open your legs a little, okay?" She didn't answer, but soon I felt her legs slowly begin to move apart. I spread my fingers across the back of hers and moved our hands down until I could feel the warmth of her vagina beneath them. I stopped then to let her pull away if she wanted to, but she made no move to do so.

It was an awkward position for me, sitting half turned and leaning over like that, so I asked, "Do you mind if I lay down beside you? It will be easier for me that way."

"God, no," she whispered.

Without moving my hand, I slowly turned and stretched out next to her. I kissed her on the cheek, and she seemed to relax a little, so I began to curl our fingers downward until I could feel a slight warmth of moisture.

"Okay now," I said with my mouth close to her ear, "let me explain some things to you." I felt her nod, so I continued. "Just above the opening to your vagina, you're going to feel some things. Fleshy things like soft wrinkles. Can you feel them?"

This time, she moved her fingers without my help, and after a moment of exploration, she said, "Uh-huh. It's kind of gross. I'm getting all gooey down there."

"That's good, Honey. It's like you said before about being lubricated. Now I want you to press a little harder and see if you feel anything else. Maybe like a little button or nub in the center of that fleshy stuff." This time I helped her by pressing and moving her finger up and down. I knew from experience that actually locating her clitoris would probably be difficult, but that the motion and friction should cause at least a little sensation.

We kept at it for a while, gently moving up and down, until she stopped with a little jerk. Then she started again, stopped, and let out a sharp breath. She did this a couple of more times before whispering, "I ... I think I found it. It, it sort of tingles when I touch it. It feels kind of like the end of tiny Q-Tip. Is that it, do you think?"

I didn't answer, just kept pressure on her fingers until she started moving on her own. But when I tried to draw my hand away, she stopped. "Please don't, Uncle Dave," she pleaded. "I can't do this by myself. And I need badly to keep doing it." I once again applied some pressure, but it seemed as if all she needed was the confidence that came with knowing I was there, because she soon took over completely. Still, I allowed my fingers to follow hers as if I were actually helping.

From there everything seemed to happen in slow motion. It took a long time before her legs began to move and her hips started rising and falling. Her breathing soon began to deepen and, in an almost inaudible voice, she said, "I've never felt anything like this in my life. It's ... it's nice." This was followed by a soft moan that seemed to emanate from deep in her chest.

We went on like that for what felt like forever, though it could only have been a matter of minutes. And after a while, when she seemed unable to get past a certain level of excitement, she began to slow down. By that time, even though I had tried my best to remain disinterested, I had developed an erection that threatened to burst, and it was all I could do to keep from letting on how badly I wanted her. When she finally stopped moving her hand and pulled it away, she turned and kissed me softly on the lips.

I was about to lose my self control and take her right then, when she whispered in my ear, "I've got an idea now about what an orgasm is. But it's only an idea. It was kind of like being on a carousel and trying to grab that golden ring that's always just out of reach. It's fun and exciting, but it's also really frustrating, if you know what I mean." And boy did I know what she meant.

She nibbled on my ear for a while and I could hear her breathing begin to slow. I thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but then she coughed softly and continued. "I felt like I was running toward a cliff and was scared to death of going over, so I kept holding back. It was like wanting something so bad you could hardly stand not having it, but not being able to get there for fear it would suddenly be over and you would fall into some bottomless chasm and die. I loved it while it was happening, but it about drove me nuts because I couldn't get there. Is that the way it's supposed to be?"

Not being a woman, I wasn't really qualified to answer, but I decided to give a shot anyway. "From what I've heard," I said, "it sometimes takes a while for a girl to get over the fear, to let herself go enough to have an orgasm. And it's not always easy to do it by masturbating. Sometimes it takes the extra emotional stimulation of actually having intercourse, or maybe oral sex."

"Oral sex?" She lifted herself up on an elbow and stared into my eyes. The twilight had given way to a rising moon that shown behind her like a spotlight with part of its lens missing. "Do you mean ... what it sounds like?"

"I guess so, yeah. But don't get all freaked out about it. It may be hard to believe until you've experienced it, but it can be one of the most enjoyable experiences you will ever have."

"It sounds ... God, if you mean you would actually put your mouth on ... that would have to be one of the grossest things in the world. Doesn't it taste terrible? I can't imagine ..."

"Listen," I said. "This is a conversation better left for another time. Right now we're talking about orgasms and how you feel coming so close to ... well, coming."

"Is that what they mean when they say 'coming?' I always wondered what that meant. Speaking of ... coming, what's it like for you—for guys, I mean? How do you deal with jumping off that cliff or whatever?"

"It's similar, but not the same. That's why young boys aren't very good at having sex with young girls."

"I don't understand."

"Well, for a boy, it often happens quicker, and there is no fear. For a girl it takes a lot longer, especially at first, and some boys don't know that. They just put their penis inside you and have their orgasm real quick, while you're still only part of the way there. Then their desire fades rapidly and they leave you frustrated and wanting more, just like you told me about what happened a few minutes ago."

"But if they're so quick, how does it ever work out for both people?"

"If the boy understands a girl's needs, he can do lots of other things to help her get to the right point before he puts it in. It's called foreplay, remember? And if it's done properly, you can ... uh, come together, or at least at about the same time."

"That sounds complicated. Does it hurt?"

"Foreplay?"

"No, I mean when he puts it in."

"The first time it can hurt, but after the initial pain, if the boy knows what he's doing, it gets better. And it should hurt less and less as time goes on. Eventually it won't hurt at all. Of course, that depends on how small your vagina is and a how big his penis is."

"How would I know? I mean if a guy is too big for me."

"Well, generally, it isn't a problem, only if he is extraordinarily big and you are extraordinarily small. But that doesn't happen very often."

"What does it look like?"

"What, a penis?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. It looks different when it's soft than it does when it's hard."

"You mean what the boys call a hard on?"

"Have you ever seen one?"

"I saw my dad once getting out of the shower. It was all wrinkled and funny looking."

"That's what it looks like when it's soft."

"So how does it change when it's hard?"

"It gets longer and thicker, and there's a bulge at the end that's bigger than the shaft."

"Sounds gross. Could I . . .?"

"What?"

"I just wondered if maybe I could see yours?"

"Now, that's a problem. You need to understand that this ... that we ... we shouldn't be—."

"Look, Uncle Dave, we've been all through that. You know I need your help to understand these things and no one but us is ever going to know about what we do here tonight. Or is it that you're embarrassed to show it to me?"

"No. Well, maybe a little. But, it's more than that. It's even more than worrying about your parents finding out."

"What else could there possibly be?"

I was at a loss for words right then, because the answer to her question was bound to lead to other things, things I might not be able to control. Still, I decided to be honest. "Honey," I said, "the real problem is that I'm getting extremely frustrated myself right now, and I need to get some relief pretty soon or I'm going to burst. And when you take that and combine it with the fact that I want to make love to you so bad I can barely stand it, well, you can probably figure out the rest."

She was silent for a moment, and I could feel a shiver run through her body as she snuggled against me. "Do you mean you actually want me? Or is it just that I'm here and naked and young and innocent and willing?"

I slowly turned to face her, then put my hands on her cheeks and drew her lips to mine. It was a long, passionate kiss, eventually accentuated by my driving my tongue deep into her mouth. And since our bodies now faced each other, my erection pressing against her skin must have felt like a hot poker. Our lips eventually parted and I worked my way around to her neck, sucking and kissing almost frantically. When she cautiously reached down between us, I didn't protest. Her fingers gently explored, first encircling me, then moving up to rest lightly around the tip. I could tell I was probably harder than I'd ever been in my life, and I involuntarily started thrusting against her hand as I came closer and closer to orgasm. But somehow the passion of the moment seemed to leave her right then, and she drew back.

"Uncle Dave," she whispered close to my ear. "I think you might be way too big for me." I realized then that she had moved her hand back between her own legs, and before I could answer, I felt her once again touch my throbbing penis. "Judging from what I can feel," she said, once again testing her own size, "you couldn't possible fit inside me."

I waited until she had gone back and forth a couple of more times, then stopped her hand with mine and pulled it to my lips. After a moment I reached over with my own hand and gently laid it atop her pubic hair. She jerked a little, but she didn't stop me as I moved downward. Very carefully, I inserted a single finger, which fit rather snugly against her unbroken hymen. She jerked again as I pushed farther in, but then she seemed to relax, even spreading and lifting her legs to help me.

"Does that feel okay?" I asked as I began rubbing against her clitoris with the back of my thumb. She didn't answer, just moaned and pushed against my hand rhythmically. After a minute or two, I slowed down and started to pull out.

"Oh, don't take it out now," she said, her voice far away and garbled as if she was talking under water. "Please Uncle Dave. It feels soooo good."

I continued to keep a slight pressure and movement against her clitoris as I removed my finger, but once it was completely out, I slowed to a stop and rested my hand lightly on her stomach.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and smiled at me. "Did you see what I meant? About how small I am compared to how big you are?"

"Yes," I answered. "Actually, that's what I was doing down there. And there's something you need to know about what I found." Her eyes widened in anticipation, as I tried to formulate the proper words. "Have you ever heard of something called a girl's cherry?"

She screwed up her face in concentration, then said, "Oh, sure. That's what guys talk about popping, right? It's a thing girls are supposed to have when they're virgins, but not after they've had sex. I always thought it was some kind of boy's inside joke, something they made up so they could brag about their conquests, or maybe just an easy way to categorize girls."

"Well," I said, "in a way that's true, but the fact is that it does exist and it is something a girl usually loses when she first has sex. It's called a hymen, and it's basically a membrane, or thin piece of skin tissue that partially covers the opening to the vagina. Some girls, by the time they reach your age, have already broken it without having had intercourse, especially if they're involved in sports or dance and acrobatics."

"I've always been sort of an egghead," she said sorrowfully. "I was never very good at sports, and I never took dance lessons or anything like that. So, I guess you're trying to tell me that mine is still there. Is that it?"

"That's exactly it. I can tell it's still there because of the tightness when I put my finger in, but I can also tell that, other than that, you're pretty normal in size. Maybe a little smaller than most girls your age, but not abnormally so."

"Okay. That's kind of reassuring. But what about you? I have nothing whatsoever to base it on, but you seem to be sort of abnormally big. Wouldn't the combination of me being smaller than normal and you being bigger mean that ... well, that we wouldn't be exactly compatible?"

I knew she was right to a certain degree. I wasn't really what would be called abnormally big, but I knew I was bigger than average, and that fact presented me with a good reason to stop all this before it went any further. The problem was, I didn't want to stop. The size difference, I knew, could be handled, and she could eventually be stretched enough to make things comfortable for her. Still, that little voice kept bugging me to do the right thing, so, reluctantly, I decided to follow its advice for a change.

"You're probably right about that," I said, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. "At least for your first time, it might be best if you waited until you found someone more normal in size."

"But ... but I don't want to," she said with a sigh. "I want you to be my first. You said at least for my first time, which means things might get better once we get past that hymen thing. I could stretch and adjust and then it would be okay, right?"