My Awakening

I was a bit of a late bloomer.

I can't even blame a strict upbringing, or religion, or anything else but myself, to be honest.

I was just a little awkward and shy.

By the time I was nineteen, I still hadn't masturbated. I'd heard about it, even nodded along and agreed while girlfriends discussed it in giggling semicircles under the stairs at school, or under the covers at a sleepover.

It wasn't that I didn't want to do it. I just didn't know how to. And I didn't really have anyone I was close enough to, to ask for guidance on it.

So, it was quite the shock indeed, when I met a young lad in the summer of 1999, and within a few minutes felt like I'd known him all of my life.

He'd arrived in the area with his parents for a bit of a holiday with some relatives. And being the same age as myself, he'd left them to it and looked around to find himself something to do.

It helped that he loved The Who. One of the best rock bands ever.

And that was how we met.

I was sat minding my own business at a lonesome picnic table away from the hordes of civilization. I think I was reading, but I don't quite remember that bit. What I do know is, I had my favourite Who t-shirt on. An up close and personal image of Roger Daltrey smiling, his crystal blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of the bad boy rock star, and naked innocence.

I almost peed my panties, when I looked up at some random moment, to see someone else wearing the exact same thing.

Our eyes locked.

And we started chatting.

That's all we did that first day. We talked and talked and talked. I don't think we even moved away from the picnic table, until it started to get dark. And as we both prepared to set off in opposite directions, we promised to meet again the next day.

Which we did.

When I got up that morning, I showered before even looking at the clock. As I dried off, I watched the sky outside turn from orange to blue. I pulled out my favourite dress, and a plain pair of white panties. They were comfortable, and with the dress being long, I didn't think anyone else would be any the wiser.

I skipped breakfast. And was out the door before 7AM. My mother reminded me to put a pair of shoes on, and I kept those simple too, with some summery canvas slip ons in a pale shade of yellow. I'd barely worn them before, and they were a little stiff. But I didn't plan on doing much walking.

To my surprise, he was already there, when I got to the picnic table. The plan was to be there first, and be prepared. I guess it was his plan too, and he beat me to it.

Again, the conversation happened naturally. Music, movies, books, the weather, food, you name it, we talked about it. And not one bit of it seemed forced, or awkward.

The time passed.

When his belly rumbled we both laughed. Then out of instinct, we both checked our watches at the same time. 1PM.

We decided to just go to the local sandwich shop for a bite, rather than stand in the queues everywhere else. And I knew one of the girls who worked there, so managed to get a few little extras thrown in.

He paid, against my protestations. And we moved back to our table. Our. That's kinda how it happened. It really did become our table, on the second day of knowing each other. Without freaking either of us out.

We still managed to keep talking, even while eating.

And then it happened.

Right at the very end of our meal. On my very last bite. He leaned across and brushed some food away from the corner of my mouth. His touch electrified me. His skin on mine. I felt it from my lips down to the tips of my toes. And quite a few places in between.

I blushed in an instant. Looked away.

We both laughed.

Maybe to ease the intensity a little, he pulled a Walkman out of his jacket pocket, and we both took one side of the headphones each. It was one of those CD ones, so we had to be careful not to move about too much, or the thing would skip a few seconds at a time.

He didn't have any Who on it, but there was a good mix of '70s and '80s rock, a few of the classics, and one or two I'd never heard before, but liked.

For some reason we ended up on the grass. I don't remember the exact second-to-second account. But there we were, sitting close up against each other on the ground, swaying to the music. And still talking.

Then for no reason at all, he leaned across and kissed me.

I wanted to close my eyes, drink it all in, savour it in my mind. But I couldn't. I froze. I didn't even kiss back.

He must have sensed it, because he brushed his fingers down the length of my arm. He paused, smiled at me, and moved his lips back onto mine.

It did the trick.

I enjoyed my first kiss. So much so, that I couldn't stop.

Our hands roamed over each other. We got a good feeling for each others arms, shoulders, necks, and fingers. At one point we sat there with our fingers entwined, just kissing with such a gentle touch. Utterly lost in the moment, and each other.

Although it felt like time had stopped, it hadn't. Because we only pried apart when the sun started to fade.

My heartbeat was racing. I could barely swallow, I was so enamoured and excited.

When his hand moved to my leg, I closed my eyes.

When it crept higher, I opened them again.

I gazed at him. Both terrified and besotted in the same exact second.

I had a major decision to make. And a quick one at that. How far did I want this to go?

His eyes sparkled, the whites glowing with an orange hue as the evening cascaded into night.

He reached the side of my panties. Stroked the material, and some of my skin.

My nipples poked against my dress, painful and exhilarating. Not far from where he touched me, I could feel myself moisten. I wanted it all. Every last bit of him and every last bit of me.

But. Just but.

He kissed me harder. I kissed back with just as much passion. Both of us breathing through our noses against each other. Building up quite the furnace between us.

He moved inside my panties. Squeezed my bottom. I almost yelped into his mouth.

I'm pretty sure that in that second, if someone had demanded we both stand up, I'd have wobbled and fell over no matter how hard I tried. The music was discarded by now, but I found myself swaying to a beat all of my own. Intoxicated. I inched myself around a little to give him better access.

I didn't dare touch him. I longed to. My fingers twitched on the rough material of his jacket. Like a puppy shifting in its sleep, as it imagines chasing bunny rabbits or whatever else it gets up to.

The sky was amber now. Any other night, I'd have been sat gazing up at it, in awe of its beauty. But I guess there's a day in every girl's life when she becomes a woman. And leaves behind the things of childhood.

He kissed lower. Almost to my chin. It caught me a bit of guard, and I didn't know what to make of it. Then he went over the precipice. And I understood entirely.

And I let him do it. I urged him on with my moans.

Down over my neck and throat. And to my cleavage that sat in line with the top of my dress.

He looked back up at me for approval.

I nodded and smiled through another moan.

He pulled down part of my dress and attached his face to my bare breast before the cool air even enveloped it. His saliva hot, and his tongue eager.

I reacted to his every movement with some sort of noise coming out of my mouth. I couldn't believe the sensations. Not just physical, either. Mental, emotional. I wanted to laugh, to cry, to just hold and be held.

His hand moved around my hip.

I tensed. I didn't know yet how far I wanted this to go. He slowed, again in tune with me.

He moved his other hand to my breast, squeezed it, rolled the nipple with his thumb. Enough to drive me wild.

Then he made it.

His fingers brushed across my pubis. I gasped and exhaled in the same moment, and almost choked.

When he found the sensitive nub of my clitoris, I had to stop.

With more reluctance than he could possibly have understood.

I pulled back. Reached out to his arm, and grasped his wrist. I had to steady myself before talking. My head was swirling, my senses on fire. So aware of the world around me. Like an awakening.

He smiled at me. And I sighed with relief. I was expecting him to be angry. Or at least for him to try and convince me otherwise. But he read me just right. He pulled up the top of my dress, and continued to kiss me.

I made my mind up.

I'd go further. But not penetration. I'm not even sure why. I didn't have anything against it. And my panties were soaked by this point, so I sure as hell wanted it all. But something just blocked me in the back of my mind, from going the full way.

I plucked up every bit of courage I could muster, and stroked my trembling fingertips down over his jacket. I found the material of his shorts a bit sooner than expected, and almost jumped.

He did too. Talk about mixed signals. One minute I'm cooling him off, the next I'm down below his belt line.

But he didn't argue.

I would love to have teased him. To have snaked back and forth, explore every inch of him. But it was closer to being dark now, and I was afraid I might give in and go back on my decision.

So I went for it.

I pressed the heel of my hand against his bulge. And it was very hard. So hard, I licked my lips and sighed.

He pushed against me. Wanting more.

I gave it to him.

I stroked him. Pressed against him, and delved down under his balls. Squirming because it was making me so damn turned on.

I wanted so much to pull down his shorts. I even tried to a few times, but my fingers froze. Either out of frustration, or to help me out, he did it himself.

I had to look.

He was fully erect. His flesh pounced out as soon as it was freed. Thicker than I expected. Longish too. But what did I have to compare it to?

I moved my hand against it. Skin on skin. It was like being in a glorious storm. The thrill, the fear, the goosebumps.

I wrapped my fingers around it. Or tried to. And to my surprise, I was a natural. I began rubbing it up and down. Slow at first, then finding a rhythm that suited us both.

He thrust his hips against my movements. I tightened my grip.

Little by little, his foreskin worked back. I'd seen a few penises by that point, swimming pools, a cousin in the bath, but I'd never seen what lurked beneath the foreskin. Especially not when hard.

With one zealous thrust it rolled back to reveal the full head. I couldn't take my eyes off it. My tongue licked along my bottom lip.

He was close. I didn't know much, but I could tell from his movements, that he was nearing something that he wanted.

Without thinking, I dipped down. I think it caught both of us by surprise.

I kept my hand around the base of him. And kissed the tip.

He shuddered. Grunted.

It was now or never.

I lowered myself a little more and took him in my mouth. Not all of it. Maybe the head, and an inch or so of the shaft. I suckled. Moved my tongue around.

Then he fastened his fingers against the tops of my shoulders.

He froze stiff. Silent.

And my mouth filled.

Spurt after spurt.

Too much.

I had to open my mouth, and half of it spilled out. Over my chin and down to the ground between us. I didn't know what to do with the rest of it. It seemed a little rude to spit in front of him, especially if he took that as a sign of my disgust.

So I just swallowed.

It didn't taste bad at all. I'd heard some of the girls at college talking about it. Most seemed to think it was gross.

I didn't.

I directed his still twitching erection back toward my face, but it missed this time. A little of the fluid landed to the side of my nose, and dribbled to the corner of my mouth. I twisted my tongue and lapped it up.

He flopped back onto the ground. Panting for breath.

I lay down beside him.

It only took a few minutes for him to recover, but it was a really nice few minutes. We just held each other. Not a word spoken. Just watching the last of the orange fade from the sky.

The End.