by Ed Bemand
When they tired of the water they returned to the river bank. Fortunately it was a warm evening. Driven by some kind of chivalry he offered her his t-shirt to dry herself with. She rubbed herself vigorously with it. His eyes seemed to be having great difficulty in not lingering on her body. She found it rather pleasing. She handed the sodden garment back to him and sat down on top of the pile of their clothes.
"What now?" he asked, "Do you want to get dressed again?"
"Maybe later." She smiled. "Come here first." He sat down next to her. Both of them liked to think that it was them that initiated the kiss, but it was too close to simultaneous to be able to tell. He ran his fingers lightly over her arm as the kiss deepened. Her hands roamed over the unfamiliar territory of his back as their bodies pressed together, sharing their warmth. At first it was the cold that made her nipples stand out from her small breasts but rapidly it was just a reaction to his touch. She could feel the unfamiliar hardness of his cock pressing against her stomach. She closed her fingers over it, exploring the novel details of its shape. She lightly stroked its head and felt a hint of moisture gathering there that wasn't water.
Things took their course from there. She lost her virginity that night, at fifteen, lying on a pile of their clothes under the stars on a clear summer night. They were both nervous enough to take a while getting used to each other's bodies. Neither of them was quite sure what they were doing but passion gradually took over as their egos dissolved into each other and their bodies merged. When they had finished they lay in each other's arms and looking up at the sky, feeling momentarily satisfied by the world.
They spent a lot of time together over the next couple of months. When Phil left town to start university, she felt lost. She was never sure if she'd exactly loved him, but she'd felt something for him and she was glad that it had all happened. Mostly she was missing the new found warmth and pleasure that she had learned could be gained from sex. She took to pleasuring herself regularly, but however enjoyable the touch of her own fingers could be, now she had experienced the deeper pleasures of mutual caresses, it seemed like a pale substitute.
She turned her attention to those others of the boys she knew that might be amenable to her that weren’t so ego laden as to be repellent. She focussed exclusively on those older than her, boys that would be able to bring something to drink to their encounter. The boys in her year still seemed so immature. It was easy enough at that age to find herself having a casual liaison with a boy. Her new found taste for alcohol certainly helped. She spent the Autumn of that year drinking cider and getting fucked. More often than not it happened out doors. She got used to having to check her hair and clothes for lingering leaves before she went home. Most of the boys weren’t anything special and a lot of them were too uncertain about what they were trying to do to be much use to her, but the mere presence of a cock inside here caused at least some level of pleasure even if she often found herself having to do most of the work required for her own orgasm. Their inability to sufficiently please her left her disinclined to give them a second chance and she found herself working through her peers, looking for that elusive something. Had it just been a fluke that she had been able to experience so much more pleasure with Phil?
There weren’t many girls in her school that she felt close to, and Scott had been her closest male friend. The boys she was spending time with now weren’t people she wanted emotional intimacy with. She was just looking for pleasure. She found herself missing the times when she had someone she could talk openly with. These days when she saw Scott he just looked at her oddly and then tried to avoid meeting her gaze. They hadn’t talked properly in months. At nights when she lay in bed, her hands gripped between her thighs, she found herself wondering about him. Would he be able to offer her what the others had so far failed to? Her thoughts of him excited her further and she had to bite her lip to stifle her moans of pleasure.
She felt like she was spending a lot of time alone in school. The boys she had already fucked and abandoned had nothing further to offer her. Anyway, they just looked at her with embarrassment. She was sure that she heard people whispering about her and giggling. What business of anyone else’s was it what she chose to do with herself? It was easy enough for her to make sure that she had company for Saturday nights though and that was the main thing. She and her chosen beau of the week would spend a few hours somewhere secluded, chatting, drinking and fucking. Her experiences of different men meant that she was learning the arts and methods of sex quickly. Left to their own devices, they just wanted to get themselves hard and push inside her, then bounce back and forth a few times until they came. It didn’t offer her much. She knew that pleasure needed to be savoured and made to last if it was to be fully enjoyed. She knew her developing sexual aggressiveness scared some of them, but they were still eager enough to go along with it. She noticed increasingly that some of the girls were looking at her differently. She didn’t care. She’d never felt close to any of them. If they wanted to giggle behind their hands when they saw her, what difference did it make to her? It bothered her more that Scott was uncomfortable around her. They had been so close for years. Scott’s pursuit of Amy had come to an end and he was back to spending more time with his friends, but somehow she didn’t seem to be a part of that any more. She saw him alone one day, walking towards her down a corridor in school. He looked like he wanted to find another direction to go in but couldn’t. She wanted to break the awkward silence that had formed between them over the last few months.
“Hi Scott.” She tried to smile at him normally but it wasn’t easy.
“Hi Mel...” he looked the other way.
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, you know, same as ever.”
“It’s been a while since we talked, I barely know what’s going on with you anymore.”
“I know. Things have been... different lately, haven’t they?”
“Why?”
“Things have changed. You’ve changed so much.”
His words annoyed her. She had changed? It was him that had stopped wanting to be around her so that he could chase after Amy. How could he make it sound like it was her fault?
“How have I changed?” She was angry and he could see it.
“Listen... I don’t want to piss you off, Mel. As long as you’re happy with what you’re doing, that’s great. It’s just not anything to do with me.”
“What am I doing?”
“You know what you’re doing. You know what all the guys are saying, hell half of them are saying they’ve fucked you already and the rest are just wondering when it’ll be their turn.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Really, are you saying you haven’t been working your way round the guys?”
“And what if I have?”
“Like I said, it’s your business. I just don’t want you to get yourself into trouble over it. People talk about you, call you a slut all the time.”
“Is that what I am to you now, a slut?”
“Of course not. I remember how things were when we were kids, but I guess it can't be like that anymore. It’s up to you if this is what you want to do, just be careful.” He smiled nervously and walked away from her.
How dare he? He hadn’t talked to her in months because of some girl, and now he was calling her a slut and saying it was her that had changed. Well, maybe she had changed, but so what? Why couldn’t she change if she wanted? What was wrong with her wanting to have sex? If any of the boys had been any good she wouldn’t have needed to have sex with the rest. It was their fault for being crap at it. And it was Scott’s fault too. She would never have even started doing it if he hadn’t abandoned her because he wanted Amy. If he was such a horny boy that he’d ditch his friends for a girl, then why couldn’t it have been her that he wanted? They’d been best friends for so long and now he was happy to just leave her behind.
It didn’t bother her what these people thought about her. None of them mattered.
As long as she was getting what she wanted it was fine. She started planning her Saturday night. What went on during the week didn’t have to matter as long as she got what she wanted at the weekend, and what she wanted was to get drunk and get fucked. She made plans for that weekend with Rick. He was a couple of years older than her and played rugby for the school team. She’d heard a few rumours about him getting rough with people but she didn’t care. She was sick of boys. Maybe he’d turn out to be a man.
Rick wasn’t exactly big on foreplay. He also made it clear that he had plans for later in the evening when they met up at about six. He opened his drink, downed half of it and started to undo his jeans. He dug out his cock so that it hung out of the front of his jeans and told her to suck it. His bluntness and aggression probably helped him do so well on the rugby pitch. It wasn’t something she was used to. None of the other boys had asked her to do that. When she didn’t immediately do as he asked he repeated his instruction. She knelt down in front of him and leaned forwards slowly, opening her lips. She wasn’t sure how much of it would be able to fit in her mouth. Impatiently he pressed his hands to the back of her head, driving her mouth further down around him so that it filled her. She gagged on it but he wouldn’t let go. He pumped himself into her face rhythmically. She could barely see anything but the pale flesh of his stomach and the tangled mass of his hair close to her face. She couldn’t breathe properly and wanted to be able to push herself free of him but his grip was too tight. He kept pumping into her face. He pushed too hard and she gagged and started to choke. He let go of her head and pushed her by the shoulder so she sprawled backwards. She rolled over and coughed and spluttered a mess out onto the grass.
“Shit, I thought you could do better than that, the stuff the other guys told me about you...”
“What the hell were you doing?” She demanded, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.
“Exactly what you wanted me to.” He absent mindedly ran his hand up and down his shaft. “Strip so we can do this properly.” He leered at her.
“Fuck off.” She started to stand up.
“It’s too late for that. You know what you invited me here for, so let’s get on with it.”
“That was before you rammed your cock down my throat.”
“What did you expect me to do with you? Now strip.”
She stood and dusted herself off.
“No.” He reached towards her, grabbing a handful of her blouse. She slapped his hand away. “I said no. Stop, or…”
“Or what? Everyone knows what you come here to do.” He grabbed her wrists and held them together. What did everybody know? She tried to pull away from him but he tightened his grip. He slapped her arse hard with his free hand. “Maybe you should keep struggling. It’s turning me on.” He grabbed the back of her jeans with his hand and started to tug on them. He was lacking in finesse but his determination was enough to pull them down. He pushed her to the ground and pulled her jeans the rest of the way off her. He lay on top of her. He was too heavy for her to break free. She flailed her arms across his back, trying to dislodge him but he didn't care. His fingers poked bluntly into her crotch, pulling aside her panties and probing the soft flesh of her pussy. He forced her lips apart with his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against her. He shoved himself into her, causing her to emit a sharp yelp at the surge of pain. There was nothing she could do to stop him. He fucked her harder and more brutally than anyone else had before. There wasn’t the warmth she usually valued.
When he had finished he pulled out of her, tugged his jeans back up and sat on the ground. He swigged the remains of the cider and smoked a cigarette while she lay there, feeling worn and sore. He crushed out the cigarette and got up.
“See you next week?” He leered at her again and walked off.
She was left alone, her clothes in disarray, her pussy aching badly, unused to the level of force that he had used on her. She avoided boys for a while after that.
She became a lot more wary around men because of that. She didn’t want to let herself be in a position where she was forced to trust anyone like that again. She still wanted sex, but she wanted it to remain on her terms.
The harsh critic would say that Melinda got what she deserved. But is rape a suitable response to her being happily promiscuous? That evening may have started out similar to the others in her recent past, but it ended very differently.
As far as Rick was concerned he was entirely justified in what he did. Melinda was a slut who was just asking for it. She didn’t have the right to not want his cock in her throat after she had agreed to meet him there. He acted similarly with other women over the years. Most of them didn’t want to tell anyone about it afterwards. Neither did Melinda. She just wanted to forget it, but she knew she shouldn’t.
Eight: What Jamie said to Cassie
As we can see, Melinda as a nymphet found no great difficulties in acquiring boys to spend time with. Her forthrightness and honesty about her desires made it easy for her to get what she wanted, even if they in turn made her more susceptible to the things which she didn’t want. It’s arguable that she got off lightly compared with what could have happened to her. As has been remarked, her sister had her first abortion at eighteen. It wasn't her only one. But what of those who have difficulty with that forthrightness and find it hard to even imagine just being able to fuck someone? How are such people to be able to satisfy the cravings that sex and lust manifest in our souls?
“Hi stranger. I’m Cassie.”
“Hello.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jamie.”
“Hi Jamie. Are you naked?”
“No.”
“I’m wearing a lovely red bra and panties. They’re very silky.”
“Stockings?”
“Of course... and shiny red heels to.”
“Mmmm...”
“Oh, you like red do you, Jamie?”
“Yes.”
“What else do you like?”
Nervous giggle.
“Girls.”
“Well that’s a good thing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m a girl. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about what you like to do with girls?”
“I like to kiss them.”
“Every girl likes a lovely, passionate kiss. What else?”
“I like to touch them.”
“Mmmhmmm. Where’s your favourite place to touch girls?”
“All over.”
“That’s nice. I’m touching myself somewhere right now, why don’t you see if you can guess where?”
“Ummm... your leg?”
“How did you guess? Yes. I’m stroking my leg, above the knee. My stockings feel lovely. Do you like stockings?”
“Yes.”
“Does thinking about them make your cock hard?”
Silence.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I bet it does, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you touching it?”
“Yes.”
“Have you made it nice and big and hard for me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you stroking it?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy. Would you like it if I were touching myself?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm... well, this bra is feeling a little bit tight. Maybe I should slip it off and play with my nipples. Would you like that?”
“Mmm...”
“Just let me undo it... there we go. I’ll just slip the straps down my arm, there’s one.... and the other one. Now, if I just move a little bit, the bra will just slip off my breasts. Do you like breasts?”
“A lot.”
“Which do you like best... little, cute, perky breasts, or big, huge bouncy ones?”
“I like big ones.”
“Mmmm, that’s great. Mine are lovely and big. I bet you’d love them. I bet you’re playing with yoursel
f right now thinking about them, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me guess... the head of your cock’s getting juicy now thinking about my big, gorgeous breasts, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s good. Do you want to tell me what you’re doing to it?”
“Stroking... squeezing... playing...”
“That sounds nice. My nipples are getting hard now.”
“Are you playing with them.”
“What a good idea... would you to like to squeeze them while you play with that lovely big cock of yours?”
