First Crush

Posted by: Author: Age: 14 at the time Posted on: 0 comments
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Growing up in the 70s, I was given no sexual information from my parents other than boys are different and I couldn't expect to be allowed to date until I was eighteen. Looking back, I think the lack of information was the direct result of my parents also coming from families where sex just wasn't discussed. Only after I was an adult with my own kids did my mother admit to me once that her early sex life with my father was full of quiet fumbling, and my only knowledge of how I differed from boys were the furtive glimpses of my little brother's weiner, and I remember only once seeing it erect, though he was only five or six years old and it mostly looked like a thumb. My mother accused him of playing with it, despite his denials. I was curious, mostly about how boys could have those things just hanging from their front.

When I was fourteen, I was given the opportunity to stay with cousins in Kansas, just outside of Kansas City. My aunt had remarried and her new husband's job brought them to Kansas. My cousins were 16 and 11, both boys. My job that summer was to watch my younger cousin. My older cousin was not very responsible, and the two of them often fought. So I was a summertime babysitter.

The neighborhood where they lived was full of boys. I don't remember seeing any girls around at all, except at the neighborhood swimming pool. The family across the street had three boys, the oldest being my age. Most of the rest of the boys were very close to our age as well, either a year or two older or younger. I would sit on my cousins' front porch and watch all the boys playing basketball, football, or frisbee. Only one boy talked to me at first, when I had taken my cousin to the pool and yelled at my cousin to stop splashing me. This boy, Derrick, had dark hair and splashed my cousin back. He then asked me where I was from, because my accent was different. I told him I was from Oklahoma.

We were both going into the eighth grade. I remember he really liked Elton John. I wasn't too much into music. He said he saved the money he made mowing lawns to buy records, and said maybe I could come over to listen sometime. He had a small hi-fi set in his bedroom that he played his records on. While my cousin was out playing, it was easy for me to spend time with Derrick in his room. His parents worked and they hired an elderly woman to watch the kids, except she spent all her time watching soap operas. He became my first real crush.

One time, he asked me if I wanted to listen to a new record he got by a band called 10cc. The song on the radio at the time was 'I'm Not In Love,' which I really liked. We would sit and listen to it over and over again. On this afternoon, Derrick got up and went into the small bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and began to pee. I think he left the door open out of habit, rather than to be an exhibitionist. I remembered being shocked, watching him pee as I sat on his bed. I didn't really have a view of his weiner, but watching him pee standing up was a new experience. When he finished, he did a kind of shiver, then came back into his bedroom, never saying a word. But seeing him go to the bathroom and have him be so nonchalant about it, well it kind of made me also treat it very matter-of-factly.

I asked him how he could pee without hitting everything. He said, 'You just aim.' On another afternoon, when he got up to use the bathroom again, closing the door behind him, I went to the door and opened it. He was surprised to see me standing there, and I told him I just wanted to watch. The next time I asked if I could point it. Holding his weiner, I was surprised how spongy it felt. He instructed me to hold it by the loose skin rather than the manner I was using. The whole thing was over in fifteen seconds, and we were back on his bedroom floor looking for another album to play.

We talked about how boys and girls were different. He said he looked at an Elton John album that had naked women on it and it gave him a 'boner.' He leafed through his albums and handed me his Captain Fantastic album. On it were several nude women with their breasts and pubic hair showing. I asked him how a boner works. He said he didn't know, his weiner just got hard.

It was only later when we found ourselves in the treehouse he and his best friend built on the property behind their houses did I get an opportunity to see his boner. The treehouse was rather high, and I was afraid to climb up to it for the longest time. However, once I did, it was exhilarating to have the view yet be hidden within the leaves. Derrick would pee off the side of the treehouse and let me aim his weiner. It was during one of these pees that his weiner began to stiffen. Not a lot, just to where it stuck straight out.

In the treehouse, we would kiss. They were chaste kisses, no tongues or anything, but during one kiss, Derrick put his hand on my crotch and I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. I had never been touched there, not even by myself, except when I was bathing. Our kissing, then petting, became more regular, and I would feel his little boner in his pants while we kissed. Neither of us really tried to progress beyond just petting through our clothes. I knew what we were doing was wrong, and I would have been in trouble beyond belief if my aunt ever found out. But I really liked this boy and how I felt when I was with him.

At the pool, we would sit together and sometimes hold hands. It was nice. One afternoon, after swimming, we were sitting in the treehouse, still in our bathing suits. I was a flat-chested fourteen year-old in a one piece. Derrick wore blue Speedos that were the style back then. When we kissed and touched, it was so much better with our suits' thinner fabric, and when I looked down, I could clearly see the outline of Derrick's boner. I pulled his trunks aside and looked at his hard weiner. Derrick just sat and allowed me to explore it. It was so veiny, except the top was still spongy. The skin was remarkably soft, I remember, and as I lightly touched it, Derrick was absolutely silent. His pubic hair was sparse and wispy, very much like my own. I felt his weiner, just stroking it up and down with my fingertips, when Derrick cried, 'Oh!' and his weiner seemed to visibly jerk about ten times. I had no idea what I'd done, and Derrick just lay on his side, kind of curling up.

He said the same thing happens when he touched his boner, that it was kind of painful, but nice. I understand now he had an orgasm, but we didn't know this back then. His weiner stopped throbbing but remained stiff, and Derrick didn't want me to touch it. He said it was too sensitive. He pulled my suitleg aside when we resumed kissing, and I felt his fingers brush against my bare skin. I remember, it was exquisite. He stopped kissing me and looked down at my crotch. Our pubic hair was very nearly the same color, except I think I had more. His touches were soft like I had stroked him, and he told me I was wet. I told him I get like that whenever we were together and started kissing.

I had never masturbated, I didn't even know what it was. But his touches along my skin gave me the nicest feelings, and I didn't want him to stop. I don't know if I had an orgasm, but I really enjoyed it all the same.

It was after that first time when we actually saw and touched one another that we tried to spend as much time together in the treehouse as we could. We ended up laying side by side and just caressed and kissed one another. By the end of the summer, I could tell Derrick how I preferred him to touch me, rubbing between my labia and rubbing my clitoris lightly, and I would stroke him like he showed me, using my whole hand. He also started ejaculating, which forced us to keep tissues handy.

We tried writing to one another when I went back to Oklahoma before school resumed, but we drifted apart before the year was up. Nonetheless, I learned from his touching me how to touch myself, and I would fantasize it was Derrick's hand caressing me when I would do it before sleeping.



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