An interesting thing is that my friends at school thought I really knew a lot on the subject because I would learn certain things from Rob that the boys knew but we girls did not, and the same for Rob vice versa.
I don’t know when this started, but I suppose it was when we were in around the fourth grade, or when I was in fourth and Rob a grade behind. We were just one year apart in school, although I am a year and a half older.
At the time, I never thought of our talks on the subject as exciting, just that I enjoyed them and they were interesting. Later on I learned that Rob used to get erections sometimes when we talked about this, but I did not know it at the time. I know I must have been excited in much the same way, but not getting an erection myself, would not be as able to think of it in that fashion.
Then when I was almost fourteen and Rob just past twelve I first began fooling around with boys. I was an early developer in the breasts and looked larger than I was on account of being slim in other places, unlike most of the other girls who had large breasts but were also large all over. Thus I was the object of interest for boys older than myself, and began going for rides in cars with boys who were sixteen and were able to drive. I think my mother would have disapproved of this, but I didn’t say anything to her, so she didn’t know what was doing.
Dating at this stage meant you would go for a ride in a boy’s car and maybe stop at a drive-in place for a soda and then park somewhere, and the boy would try to get as much as possible. You had to give him enough to avoid getting the reputation of an iceberg, but if you gave him too much you got the reputation of a tramp, which was worse. What was generally involved was just some kissing and feeling-up.
I enjoyed this very much. I think what I enjoyed most of all was being wanted by the boys, and also the sense of power in having a boy get hot for you, but nevertheless being able to keep him from going too far. Also, I would get quite worked up sexually, but didn’t know what to do about it exactly. After a heavy necking session I would be kind of tense and squirmy and would have trouble falling asleep. I didn’t know anything about masturbating. Rob had already learned to masturbate by this time, but I didn’t know this, as we had never discussed the subject at all. I knew about boys masturbating from various jokes you would hear, either from other girls or from some of the boys, but at the time I did not honestly know that girls could masturbate too. I thought it was strictly a boy’s thing.
It is just amazing the things you can grow up not knowing, and here is where Rob and I part company with a lot of the non-swingers we know who otherwise have the same political outlook as we do. And I’m speaking of the subject of sex education. Your average conservatively inclined person will say that this is something to be carried out in the home, and that sounds all well and good when you hear it, but then thinking back on the home Rob and I grew up in, and remembering how misinformed so many of the kids I knew were, I don’t think it is something you can safely leave to the home, any more than you can trust parents to teach their kids how to read and write and do arithmetic. I wouldn’t even trust the average parent to know enough himself to instruct his children, assuming he would be open with them anyway.
Not that this is something Rob and I have to worry about, because in our case I think we would, if anything, be too open in front of any children we might have, such as telling them everything and encouraging them to be nude in front of us and each other, and even encouraging them to have sex play with each other if they seemed so inclined. And at any rate it is out of the question unless we adopt children, as Rob has had a vasectomy, and whether or not we will adopt children is an open question at the present. Because an investigation would be dangerous, we would either have to adopt through the black market, which is a big risk, or else take an interracial child, of which the supply is greater than the demand, and thus they are not quite as apt to look as closely. But neither of us is absolutely sure that we would be completely at ease with an interracial child on account of our not being as liberal on racial matters as many people we know. Also I do not know how good it is for an interracial child to grow up in a home with white parents, but when the only other choice is an orphanage, I guess he’s better off. Actually, we are both of two minds on this question, so it is something we are not going to rush into until we are more certain.
The first sexual experience that I had with Rob came after a date like the ones I was talking about. This was a boy of seventeen whom I had gone out with twice before and who was more experienced than most of the other boys, or at least that was the impression he managed to give. This was an evening date to a drive-in movie, and it was just the two of us rather than double-dating with another couple. Naturally we spent little time watching the movie. I went farther with him than I had ever gone before, and a lot farther than I had planned. For one thing, he got me to take my bra off, which I had never done before, and kissed and sucked my breasts, which was also a first for me as, come to think of it, it would have to be, since I had never before taken my bra off for a boy. He also tried to touch me between the legs, but here he had less success, because I was wearing dungarees and would not permit him to undo them, which he could not do unassisted. He still tried touching me through the jeans, but neither of us could really feel much of anything that way. It was his touching my breasts and especially sucking them that really excited me in a way that was brand new to me. I had never been hot like this before. I didn’t have any special feeling for the boy, either sexually or emotionally, but was simply hot.
When it became obvious that I was not going to let him go any further, he drew away from me and lit a cigarette and talked about being frustrated. I said something sarcastic to the effect that of course a big man like him was accustomed to getting laid every time he went out with a girl. He said it wasn’t a question of that, although as a matter of fact he did get laid more often than not—which I did not believe for a moment, not even at the time—but that when a man was excited he had to get physical release of one sort or another or else the come all swelled up in his balls and was painful to him.
I had known that boys got frustrated but did not know exactly what it amounted to physically, and I was glad that he told me. I asked him if he couldn’t do anything for himself in that respect, meaning of course couldn’t he masturbate, although I was not inclined to mention it specifically. He said he used to do that but that it was not really satisfying when you were used to something else, and also that it was supposed to be bad for you, especially if you had a tendency toward bad skin in the first place, which he did, to an extent. I’m positive that is something he really believed, incidentally, which is one more argument about what happens when you leave sex education to your average parents.
I said I felt sorry for him, but if he thought I was going to let him lay me out of sympathy for his condition, he had another think coming. He said there were other things you could do. In fact, he said there were friends of his who got frustrated on dates with girls and then went and let fairies do things to them. I asked if he had ever done this, and he said no, he wouldn’t go with a fairy for anything, because it was not his style, but at times like this he could understand how a man could be desperate. He really had a pretty good line, as you can see. I wanted to know exactly what it was that fairies did, having certain ideas of my own but no clear picture, but I wouldn’t ask, and he didn’t tell me on his own. Then again he said there was something I could do, and I asked him what he meant, and he opened his pants and took out his penis.
I think he expected me to draw away, but I was frankly fascinated to look at it. It didn’t look very big at all. I had thought they were supposed to be so huge that they would split you in two the first time, and his was about an inch and a half long. Of course, what I didn’t know at the time but learned much later was that when men’s penises are not erect they will vary in size from the tiniest thing to a length that is almost the size of an erection, but that all of them when they do become erect are very nearly the same size. I und
erstand that a black man’s penis is of the latter class for the most part and is just about the same size limp or erect, which is why they have this reputation for being particularly well-hung, whereas this is supposed to be mostly a myth, although never having swung across racial lines, I have had no direct experience in this area.
Anyway, everybody knows that it’s not how long you make it, it’s how you make it long. There’s a saying that being overly concerned with how well-hung a man is, is the sure sign of a relatively inexperienced swinger, just like being totally hung up on large breasts or anything else that’s purely physical in that respect.
To make a long story short, this boy showed me how to masturbate him, and I got the strangest feeling the way his penis grew in my hand. I think that was more exciting than anything the way it turned from a soft little lump into a regular steel bar. When he was ready to come he got some Kleenex and I jerked him off into the Kleenex. This disappointed me, because I had the urge to see him shoot.
That night I just went home and did my studying and then went to sleep without saying anything to Rob. Usually I would talk to him about my dates and sort of hint at the things I was doing, without going into any real detail, but since it had just been a matter of kissing and feeling before this, there wasn’t much detail to go into. This time I felt I really wanted to talk to him, but wanted some time to think about it myself. I had trouble falling asleep due to being hot, and I played with my breasts a lot in an effort to make myself feel as he had made me feel. It felt nice, but not as good. I also touched my genitals, but just briefly, and not enough to get myself hot.
The next day I still didn’t talk to Rob but found myself thinking about him. Having touched the other boy’s penis, I would think in terms of Rob’s penis and wonder about its size and if it would get hard in the same way. That night I had some kind of a sex dream about Rob and his penis, but could not remember any of the details.
On the following night I went out with the same boy again, once more to a drive-in movie. I made sure to wear dungarees again. Even so he worked on me at great length between my legs, and this time managed to get me hot down there, as well as exciting me by sucking my breasts. We went on like this for a much longer time than before. I guess he was more relaxed because he knew that he would get his rocks off before the evening was over, and so could afford to take his time and not rush things.
Before long I found myself taking the initiative and rubbing the front of his pants. His organ was already erect and seemed larger than I remembered it. For this reason he had to take his pants down completely instead of merely opening the fly and pulling it out as he had done before. So I was able to see not only the penis but the balls and surrounding area as well.
I began at once to touch him, and he said that he could tell I enjoyed this. I gather he thought it was rare for a girl to take pleasure in this act. Then he tried to get me to take off my dungarees as well so that we could touch each other at the same time, but I was afraid if I exposed myself he would try to screw me, and I might be unable to hold him off. So I kept stroking him, and this time he did not get the Kleenex out in time, and just shot all over the place. Afterward he went around wiping up every drop like a fanatic, as if his own come was disgusting. I got excited watching him shoot and recognized the odor of come, which I had smelled the first time. I wondered how it would taste, though with no intention of tasting it to find out, and certainly with no thought of fellatio, which I knew nothing about other than knowing phrases like “blow-job” and “frenching” and that fairies did this, but not knowing what it might be.
That very night I sat down with my brother and told him a lot of this. It was obvious that he was very interested, but what I was not bright enough to realize was that he was also very excited and stimulated. He was very much attracted to my breasts and had been having the same desire to see me naked as I had for him. I later found out that he had tried peeping at me in the shower and had seen me once or twice, and would often picture me in his mind when masturbating.
I also got excited talking to him, but without knowing that our conversation was part of the reason for it; I just thought I was hot from my date. I went to bed and couldn’t sleep, and this time touching myself made it just that much worse.
I got up and put on a robe and went to see if Rob was still awake. His light was on, and I was going to go in and talk to him. The door was open a crack. I was about to knock when something made me just ease the door open a few inches and look inside, and there he was sitting up in bed playing with himself, and I was amazed to see that my little brother had a penis that was, if anything, bigger than that of the boy I had gone out with.
After looking at him for a few seconds, I drew the door shut again and knocked on it. He called out, “Who is it?” which didn’t make much sense, as who else could it have been? I said it was me. He told me to wait a minute, and then he called to me to come in, and he was sitting up in bed with a pillow behind him and pretending to be reading his chemistry-set instruction manual, which I guess was the only thing nearby that he could pretend to be reading.
I sat down on the edge of his bed and told him I couldn’t sleep. What was going through my mind was that my brother was getting into the habit of doing something that might not be good for him, either for his skin or just generally bad, and that I could help him. Obviously I wanted him for more reasons than that, but as far as I knew, I just wanted to do something nice for him.
I didn’t know what to do exactly, but I kept looking at the blanket and thinking what he had underneath it, and wondering if it was still big and hard. It was a warm night, and I said that he must be pretty hot under the blanket, which made him blush for reasons I could understand. I suggested he take off the blanket, and he blushed some more and said that because it was so warm he didn’t have anything on under the blanket.
“Well,” I said, “I don’t have anything on underneath my bathrobe. If you take off the blanket, I’ll take off the robe.”
He said I was just talking. I said maybe he’d believe me if I took off the robe first, and he said I wouldn’t do it, and without further ado I just took off the robe and stood before him naked as the day I was born, and all embarrassed and excited about it at the same time.
I thought his eyes would come right on out of his head. He really looked like a frog. Then I said it was his turn, and he just sat there staring with his skin the color of a tomato, so I took a hold of the blanket and pulled it all the way off, and there he was with a flagpole sticking up between his legs.
I asked him if he remembered what I had told him I had done with the boy. He said yes, and I said we could do the same thing if he wanted, because I didn’t want him to be frustrated or to masturbate. I asked him if he had ever jerked off, and he said no, and I asked him what he thought he was doing just before I came into the room. He couldn’t understand how I knew about that. I told him I knew him very well and knew he was excited, and it was natural to feel like doing something like that at such a time, but that it was better for you to do it with another person. He said another boy had jerked off in front of him in the school lavatory a few months ago and showed him how to do it, and ever since he managed to do it the first time he found it hard to give it up, although he suspected all along that it was not a good thing to do.
I asked him if he would like to do what I had done with my date. He thought maybe it was wrong, and I said I didn’t see why it should be wrong because he was my brother and I loved him and I didn’t care at all for that boy. And I also said I knew I could trust him, whereas I wasn’t about to trust that older boy an inch, and if Rob would promise not to try to screw me, we could do everything I had learned. He promised up and down that he wouldn’t try to screw me, and I knew that he meant it and would stick to his promise.
I got right into bed with him and started right in with kissing. Being in bed and not in a car, and being naked together, made regular kissing much more exciting than I thought possible. I taught h
im how to soul-kiss and lay right on top of him kissing him, with my breasts pressing his chest, and I could feel his erection against my stomach. Then I let him touch me everywhere all over my body and kiss and suck my breasts as much as he wanted to, which was something he didn’t tire of. I curled up on the bed so I could play with him while he did this. I really explored him, his penis and his balls, and enjoyed this very much. He shot a great load of come, which landed partly on the sheets and the rest on my leg, which also was exciting.
Then we just went right on fooling around—instead of going home immediately, which was what happened both times after my date shot his load. He played with my genitals a lot and put his finger into me, but only an inch or so. He also found my clitoris. Neither of us knew to look for it, but we certainly knew when he found it, and although I did not come that night, I was well on my way. At one point I got some of his come on my fingers and licked it off. I liked the taste, but it still did not occur to me to blow him. At another point he got astride me with his penis between my breasts and rubbed back and forth. I hoped he would shoot all over me, but he didn’t, although he got good and hard. Later on I jerked him off again, and he came again, but of course much less than before. I purposely got some on my hands this time so I would have an excuse to lick it up. He was a little worried that it might be possible to get pregnant that way. I at least knew enough to tell him that you couldn’t get pregnant except by screwing, so as long as we didn’t screw, everything was perfectly safe.
Even on that first night I wanted to sleep with him all night long and be able to do things again in the morning. But there was no telling when our mother would come home, so we knew better than to take the chance. I went back to my own room and fell right asleep. Since I hadn’t come, you might think I would still be frustrated in the same way. That was not the case at all. I felt completely relaxed and went right off to sleep, the best sleep in weeks.
Beyond Group Sex: Doing Their Own Thing (John Warren Wells on Sexual Behavior) Page 12
