First Summer: The Farewell Ball

Greg had given me ahead of time a pretty good idea of what the night was like. He'd been given my permission to roam free, accepting those invitations to dance that came his way without worrying too much about me. We'd agreed how I should signal him if I felt neglected and he'd made it clear I wasn't going to be immune to being hit upon if only for a dance and that I was free to accept or refuse as I felt inclined and to come and seek his protection if that was needed.

I watched as Greg danced with others, trying to pick those who had carried a flame for him from those who were merely friends. I watched as he and Kate danced; Kate spending much of the time brushing the crutch of her panties seductively - and I dare say for her even arousingly - on his thigh. Secure in my relationship, I could watch all of this and be happy for Greg.

What's more I was touched by the mood; almost brought to tears by it. I was jealous that this was something denied to big city kids. Between the anonymity of large numbers and the relative lack of that sense of departure and being split apart that comes with always remaining where you grew up, this was a different world to mine. For all my dismissal of it as a bogan world before I got here, I had come to realise there was a lot more to it than that. Yes, even these guys and girls recognised you had to leave it to go very far in life (Greg's comments about his sister's future summed up the general expectation that if you didn't leave town you'd be married to a bogan and pregnant by the time you were 19 - at least getting married was part of it). But they knew they'd come from something precious.

I didn't escape numerous dance invitations and accepted many. Depending on how well I knew the guy and my general impression of him, I even allowed a degree of physical closeness and flirting in the dancing that was beyond what I would normally engage in. Given the nature of my outfit, a lot of guys asked me for a kiss; many offering puckered lips. I eventually offered a line that hemlock was far too dangerous, but I'd kiss them on the side of the cheek. I found a firm kiss would leave a notable yellow lipstick lip imprint and by the end of the night it was becoming a bit of a fad to get one from me - to the extent I had to reapply my lipstick several times. I actually had a ball, in a number (but except with Greg later, not all) of meanings of that word.

Greg was careful not to neglect me. Except for Kate, other girls got no more than a song or two before Greg circled back to me; offering me an excuse to break away from a less welcome dance partner or patiently allowing me to see out a tune or two with those I'd come to know and trust more. Kate, being - apart from me - his best friend in the world, and having become in such a short time, mine also, was permitted a bit more. But as always with Greg, he knew when enough was enough.

By about 11pm things were getting quite steamy. Some dancing couples were obviously barely able to control their amorous feelings. On the dance floor some erections were clearly visible within spandex costumes that hid nothing. There had been times when Greg's arousal had only been hidden by the closeness of our bodies and the thickness of the pants material, but was all too clearly felt pushing in to my pubis. I started to worry that the dampness in my crutch might start to make itself visible; but one look around the room told me no-one was noticing and no-one cared - too busy with their own arousal to worry about mine.

Had this been ancient Rome it would have been about now the general orgy would have started. Maybe I was even sorry it wasn't; had something suddenly broken out I think I might by then have been more than willing to let Greg take me on the floor there and then among a field of passionately engaged bodies.

The band stopped for a break and we went back to our table - joined by Kate and the bloke she'd obviously picked as her hookee for the night and a selection of other table mates still on their feet. By the time the band started up again 15 minutes later the mood had changed. Probably a number of the couples running hot with passion slipped away during the break, altering the balance of the numbers. But an excess of alcohol had started to really make itself felt. It wasn't a sense of menace - more just that feeling that people were starting to lose it. The romance - even the passion - was dissipated and had started to be overwhelmed by loud voices and clumsiness.

It was no longer either Greg's or my scene and a decision it was time to go was quickly made.

In a way it was a bit sad. In this way the country kids were no different from the city ones. I've seen similar situations back home too. It's just it was all going so nicely and then so suddenly the mood fell apart; I felt something had been lost.

With a round of man hugs or kisses on the cheek, Greg made his good-buys to those that mattered to him; Kate putting an arm around his neck and pinning him in full body contact while she planted a none too quick kiss square on his lips. As she kissed me goodnight too she gave me a knowing wink - as if to say she knew all about what-ever carnal activities we might now have in mind and encouraging me to get into it.

As we walked hand in hand back to the boat a sense of anticipation and the arousal that came with it grew in me. That's the trouble with too much planning - you're always thinking ahead too much and not spending enough time in the moment.

Greg probably suspected this was intended to be something of a role playing night, but we hadn't really discussed how it was going to play out. How does a pretend villainess challenge her gallant superhero and get herself an imaginary knockout when - even in play - her superhero partner is unlikely to do anything remotely likely to have that effect.

On the way back to Greg's place we had to cross the sandbank. I was well familiar with it since it was sometimes where we came by boat for a bit of a frolic in the shallow water and a picnic on the beach nearby. Visible from houses across the river during the day, it was completely private even in bright moonlight. As Greg stood up to tilt the motor up to let us travel through the shallow water, I resorted to the one thing every younger sister learns as a way to provoke their older brother. I tickled him right where I knew it worked best.

Distracted by me, he missed getting the motor up and the boat ran gently aground; jamming itself to a standstill on the sand. Greg squirmed, trying to escape my unmerciful tickling - just having time to turn the motor off before he collapsed in a heap under my onslaught.

He grabbed for my hands, trying to control them as I repeatedly broke free and went for his vulnerable ticklish flanks time after time. He tickled back, each time sending me in to a spasm of wiggling giggling female body parts as each of us tried to get the upper hand in the tickling. But he wasn't willing to use his full strength, so it was more often him in defensive mode.

With one hand stuck firmly in his flanks and sending him in to a spasm of laughter on the floor I stuck the other down the front of his pants and circled his by now erect shaft. "Careful Batman or you'll knock this villainess out and you'll be tempted to strip me and have your way with me"

Between gasps for breath he managed to get out a "probably" before launching a vicious attack upon my own flanks. Now he had me squirming; although I was greatly exaggerating the effect - throwing myself about, rubbing myself up and down on him, ignoring the breast that had popped out and generally being as flirtatious as I could until I pretended to hit my head on the side of the boat and went completely limp on my back on the floor of the boat, legs spread wide apart.

"Oh dear, this stunningly beautiful sexy villain has knocked herself out. What should I do?"

It was a rhetorical question. Already his fingers were stroking my nipples causing them to engorge - the still covered one pushing deeply into the lycra of my costume. Satisfied with the effect, his fingers travelled down to the camel-toe creasing the front of my outfit and slid firmly through the valley, scoring a direct hit on my by now throbbing clit. I suppressed a moan of pleasure and felt a wetness flooding through the thin material along the whole length of my crutch.

As the fingers of one hand continued to pleasure me, I felt the other fumble with the button on the suspender holding up the front of the boot of my left leg. When that was freed he undid the zipper on the side of the boot all the way down to my foot. Then the now free hand moved to the right leg and repeated the process.

Relenting from his all too pleasurable attack on my clit for a moment he used both hands to slide the boots down my leg and off my feet; having much 'accidental' contact with my crutch as he did so.

I sensed him kneeling over me studying my body and wondering what to do next. His fingers played with my stomach as he fumbled with the clasp of my belt and released it. Leaning over me he peeled my costume off both shoulders, his hands sliding down the line of the V-neck of my outfit to ensure my breasts were both exposed and pulling down the zipper as far as it would go. Then leaning in to me further he brought his lips over one breast, sucking it deeply in to his mouth and teasing the nipple with his tongue; fingers stimulating my clit at the same time.

Lifting his head off my breast while still playing with my clit, he used his free hand to roll me on my side. Then he used both hands to work my arm free of my garment, pulling it down as far on that side as he could. He obviously understood that the undressing process itself was part of my fantasy and wasn't rushing it.

Rolling my body on the other side, he released that arm also and pulled the costume down as far as my waist. Then he rolled me onto my back again. Every movement was made with as much tactile touching of my erogenous zones and of my body in general as possible; the back of a finger being slid along the line of the camel-toe of the garment, the back of a hand brushing a nipple, the palms of his hands sliding along my skin from one task to the next. It was beautiful. I just wanted it to go on; I was scared I might even come prematurely.

With me on my back he struggled briefly to pull my costume further down - out from under my bottom, but found the dead weight of my body pinning it and making it hard to move.

He sat over me and lifted me up by my arms in to a sitting position; then he worked his way around behind me and knelt in the space vacated by my upper body as he sat me up. As I slumped forward, he used his torso to stop me flopping back. Then he picked me up with an arm under each armpit and lifted me face down over the soft side of the inflatable boat. The large diameter of the side tubes of the boat meant my body formed a sort of pyramid; the apex at my lower chest where it rested on the boat, my upper chest and head flopped over the side facing toward the water - the arms themselves dangling down into the cool water. My stomach sloped down to my hips which themselves were supported by my legs in a kneeling position.

With my costume no longer caught under my body Greg was easily able to strip it down my legs; lifting my knees one at a time to pull it out from under them and eventually down my lower legs and off my feet, leaving me completely naked except for my now soaking wet g-string. His fingers explored my crutch, finding my vagina open and ready for him. With greater urgency now he repeated the process to pull my g-string off me too, before moving my knees apart to make room for him. With his crutch resting against my bum I could tell he was in a kneeling position behind me. I felt his hand fumble his erection out of the pants of his outfit and slide it under my crutch, the other hand coming around my hips to guide it in to my vagina. When he'd positioned it securely at the opening he pushed steadily forward; burying himself deeply inside me.

One hand came around and found my clit and started stimulating it while the other found a nipple and tweaked it between his fingers. Then he started thrusting; hard needy thrusts which rolled my body back and forwards over the side of the boat with each withdrawal and thrust. I just let my body go limp; leaving him in full control.

Inside me, I'm not sure whether it was my G-Spot he was hitting, but it just felt so good as he thrust hard against the front wall of my vagina. He was hitting all the right places. Slippery with my juices, my clit was rejoicing under the skilled movement of his fingers and with each deep thrust I could feel his balls come up against my clit as his fingers moved out to make way for it. "oh yes..." My body couldn't but help groan with the pleasure he was inducing. It was hard to keep playing the role of someone unconscious; are they meant to emit orgasmic moans?

He kept thrusting, kept fingering me, kept tweaking my nipple. Unrelenting pleasure washed through my body. With a low prolonged moan I came, unable to resist the need to tighten every muscle in my pelvis as waves of pleasurable contractions overwhelmed me. Greg held himself still, letting me use his body to extend my orgasm and squeeze every last ounce of pleasure out of it.

When I'd relaxed back into a floppy limp object he withdrew. For just a minute he wasn't in contact with me, his movements being communicated merely through the gentle rocking of the boat. Next his hands were around my lower chest where it rested on the side of the boat. He rolled me over on my back and I let my body form a single backward arch; my hair and arms both now draping in the water. He swivelled me around, positioning me to lie along the length of the boat's side, my legs spread wide apart as they straddled its tubular shape; the limbs of one side of me touching the floor of the boat, the other caressing the water.

Through slit eyes I looked up at Greg. Bulked out by the costume, he towered over me, the wet effect of his costume shining in the moonlight, the muscles picked out and exaggerated by its shadows. Somehow he'd lost the pants, so dominating my field of vision was his erection. Because it blocked any view of the keyhole through which it emerged, it seemingly grew out of his suit - its pale colour contrasting with the moon-touched dark grey of the suit itself. My perspective of it and the shadowy light multiplied it size. Like in the fantasies I'd had the day we first bought our costumes - and as I'd lay awake at night several times since - it looked enormous - far too big for even the bulked out body it was attached to.

I might be female, but I'm not immune to visual stimulation. I yearned for it. I yearned to have Greg over me, on me and in me again. I waited in anticipation as Greg balanced himself precariously on the side of the boat and positioned himself to enter me; wanting more. As he entered me I gripped his shaft enough but not too much. One of his hands was under the small of my back lifting my hips in to him, angling my pelvis upwards so again his shaft was again hitting the front wall of my vagina. The other was by my head. Like in my fantasy, the cape draped over us both forming a blanket covering our bodies. His thrusts were measured but strong. Through the blurred vision the slits of my eyes allowed I could see his concentration; looking to pleasure his own body in mine; unaware that in just taking his turn he was coming close to sending me through another round.

He wasn't in a hurry, thrust followed measured thrust and withdrawal, each one bringing as much pleasure to me as it obviously was to him; although in the process unbalancing me a little - each thrust pushing me off the apex of the side tubes just a little bit more and eventually nearly to the tipping point where both of us would end up in the water. Before I was ready I could see the look on his face change. He lowered his head and I noticed his gaze look down along the length of our co-joined bodies. The pace and the strength of his thrusts increased. A long loud groan emitted from him and he tightened his thighs and pushed himself hard in to me.

There was by now a pattern to Greg's best orgasms. The sound and final hard thrusts indicated the first stage of them. But for a really good one, there was a moment's rest and then there seemed to be another wave, another couple of thrusts and another final push. Then another moment's rest and a final shiver that went right through his body. If it was a really good one, he'd then stay fairly hard - maybe even be ready for another round without having to withdraw and start all over again.

Certainly the first stage gave every indication of being in the top category; but the final push that accompanied it had an unforseen side effect. It pushed us both past the tipping point. I suddenly knew we were going to slide off the boat into the water. Greg, lying on top of me with his legs between mine had no leverage to stop us, so once I was going, so was he.

I had just an instant to wrap my legs and arms around him and bind us together as we rolled over; flipping Greg on his back, me landing on top of him in the shallow water; deep enough to break the impact of any short fall, but barely deep enough to cover Greg let alone immerse me. Greg's orgasm didn't miss a beat; it may even have been enhanced by the cold water on his balls or the adrenalin rush of the topple.

With a moan of intense pleasure, the second wave overwhelmed him; hard thrusts and a final need to bury himself deeply being followed by a shiver of delight that shook his whole body, like the final drops of fluid were being wrung out of him. Which then left him still as hard as a rock under me.

That was just as well because he'd left me well on the way to my second orgasm. Giving him a second to recover and make sure he'd got the best of his own pleasure, I lifted myself up over his chest and started rocking towards it. As I looked down I had this view of my superhero lying under me, the water lapping over his chest of his suit the water's phosphorescence creating almost a halo around him.

If ever I wondered just how the whole guy visual thing worked, this is probably as close as I was going to get to really getting the whole sense of it. It might not have been exactly as Greg communicated it - concentrating on the female characteristics of the person they were with - it was more the way it played with my fantasies. Greg, the look of the muscle suit still on him - right down to him still wearing the boots - with its cape moving gently in the tide, the superhero image, the water playing around our bodies, even my own role as the evil villainess all came together in this amorphous fantasy fulfilment which quickly pushed me along to a powerful orgasm.

As I finished I lay back down on him; his arm - cool with its wetness - embracing me, the fingers playing gently with my hair. If Greg had subsided a bit after he'd came the first time, what I had just done on top of him had restored him to rock hard. I gripped his member firmly inside me and rolled him over on top of my, asking as I went ..."do you want to finish your second too?". And so, wordlessly as I lay on my back in the shallow water, my superhero lifted his body over me with arms outstretched and while the water dripped off his suit down on to my chest he thrust in to me until his groans of pleasure again communicated to me that I was being filled with his cum.

Now I was double shotted. I had two of Greg's ejaculations still captured inside me. Until I'd managed to spill my guts to Greg about what he'd done to my maternal instincts, that had been absolutely tops on my fantasy chart; but one that could only occasionally be achieved given the way males usually work. Our talk had helped me get some of that out of our system, but it was still something I wanted to savour for as long as possible. I tightened myself around him, trying to form a seal and keep it in; while trying to keep him up and firm.