Erin, and My First Thong in Public

Erin and I were at school together, but not in the same year. She was one year ahead of me. 

In school, we all looked pretty much of a muchness. I suppose that’s the point of school uniform - anything to avoid encouraging individuality, and enforce conformity. Naturally, being evil little bitches, we had names for everything. School was called “The Virgin’s Retreat.” Largely because it was a convent school, staffed (in the main) by nuns and monks, and we were all virgins in it. (Well, mainly.) 

As I said, Erin and I were good friends although we didn’t see each other out of school because she lived a long bus ride away in the main town. (Nightmare of an hour and fifteen minutes on the bus…each way!) 

“Well! Fuck you, then Missy” I was in town (unusually for me then) and I had walked past a girl that turned out to be Erin. I would never have recognised her, and even now, with me staring at her open-mouthed I barely saw her as my friend from school. 

She had an off the shoulders jumper that simply screamed “Look! No bra”, and the most gorgeous skirt, plus of course, that sin of all sins…makeup. She looked stunning. 

My body reacted strongly. My mouth went dry, I could barely think, let alone speak, and when she invited me to her home I could only nod….I couldn’t even speak. This was a very different Erin to the one I knew in school. 

On the ride to her house, she told me her parents were out for the day so she likes to ‘have some fun’. This includes the makeup which she isn’t normally allowed to wear at home and an outfit that, well, to me at least, screamed “follow me, fuck me.” 

Over a cup of tea, I finally found my voice and told her how amazing she looked and that I would never have recognised her. I told her I loved the off-the-shoulder jumper, and I even told her it screamed “I’m not wearing a bra.” Erin smiled widely, and simply lifted her jumper. I was right. No bra. God, but her tits were perfect. They were everything I wished mine were in that they were much bigger, a ‘b’..maybe even a ‘c’, and they were shaped to perfection. 

“And that’s not all.” She stood up and lifted her cute little skirt. I was half expecting to see no panties at all, but instead, there was a real live thong! She turned slowly, her skirt up over her waist and revealed she had a perfect bum to go with her perfect tits. 

My mouth opened and I blurted out ‘I haven’t got any!” Erin giggled and said ‘come with me then.’ In her room, she rummaged deep in her undies drawer for a little lockable box. “Mam thinks I keep jewellery in here, but it’s something much more important.” Inside were about five different thongs, and a large lipstick container. (Well, I was only 17, that’s what I thought it was…honest.) 

Erin picked out a nice black thong, and i was surprised to find it wasn’t made of silk or something exotic, just plain cotton…but it was the first time I held a thong in my hands. Somewhere, Miss Brain was informing me that this item or clothing, although clean now, had been between Erin’s legs. And while I was thinking this, Erin urged me to try it on. 

By now, well, I’m won’t say I was soaked because I wasn’t, but I was definitely wetter than normal. I turned away from her and a split second before I pulled my panties down, I pushed the crotch of them between my lips to dry off a little. 

Pulling that thong up my legs was one of the high spots of my life to that point. It felt a little weird when the string went between my bum cheeks and having almost nothing covering my sex…and barely covering it at that…set me off creaming again, this time it was the full-on wetness that leaves me sitting in a puddle of my own making.  

No, my lovelies, we didn’t do anything to or with each other. I would dearly love to say that we did, but no. I got to wear her thong for an hour or so, and then she told me to wear it home. “I know it’s made you wet….just have some fun in it and wash it. You can give it back to me at the “Virgin’s Retreat.” 

Walking in it felt very strange, and I was acutely aware of it…but then I would be since I’d never worn anything like it before..well, certainly not out and about in public. Miss Brain helped…in an unhelpful way…by popping images of porn into my head where the girl gets her thong pulled well to one side while she gets fucked. Sitting on the bus back to my village, I made sure my skirt was up at the back and my bum cheeks…my bare bum cheeks were on the rough fabric of the seat. I knew how little was covering my hole, and I knew I was a very hot mess down there. I was, however, a good girl. I resisted the strong temptation to masturbate on the bus…which, for me was something I had not only done before, but was getting very good at. 

Back home I almost ran to my room. I wanted to look between my legs, but I couldn’t decide how. Hand mirror? No…too clinical. Full length mirror? Too far from the bed. Chair, then? Ok..still not ideal, but it’s the best I’m going to get. 

I moved one of my armchairs to what I thought was a good distance, and for a moment just sat there. Then slowly, I opened my legs. A small black V was reflected back at me. Then I hung one leg over the arm of the chair, quickly followed by the other. 

Oh….that small V….and look…where it disappears between the cheeks of my bum! I had never seen myself in anything so sexy….although I knew my sister wore thongs, I didn’t have any myself. The material was shinier than I remembered, then (duh) I remembered how wet I was. 

All it took was a couple of rubs. I didn’t even get my hand under the waistband. I touched myself, and Miss Brain simply reminded me “Erin’s cunt has been where yours is. Cum on her cum stains.” There weren’t any of course, but I imagined I had stolen these from her laundry and that the little white marks were now against my cunt. 

It was a lovely, intense cum. I saw the material become even wetter and I knew I had squirted into her undies. 

Ok, so, weekend over, and we’re back at The Virgin’s Retreat. I had to wait until lunchtime to give Erin her thong back. “Had some fun?…Yer dorty fecker”. I went the colour of a well boiled beetroot. No need for words. I handed her back her now washed clean thong…and decided that it would be better that she didn’t know I hadn’t take it off over the entire weekend, and I genuinely lost track of how many cums I had in it. 

“I wish these were part of the uniform,” I said wistfully to her as we sat together eating our sandwiches on the school field. Erin lifted her knees up took a quick look round and reached under that hideous kilt. I saw lovely white cotton panties, but she pulled them aside and for a moment I thought she was going to flash me. Under her white panties was a white thong. She winked at me. “For me, they ARE part of the uniform. 

So, that was Erin…straight….not even bi-curious…and now, as I write this, married with her first child on the way. 

You know, when I think back to that school….yes, it was a tough place, and no-one inflicts discipline like a sexually frustrated monk or nun, but for us, it was a hotbed of hormones, and when, in my last two years there, they started to admit boys in order to try and keep the numbers up (it failed…and when it was obvious it was not going to be sustainable they simply kicked the students out, shut the doors and left…not the slightest thought given to their education.) the addition of testosterone, and students who had cocks instead of tits and cunts did nothing to ease the broiling mass of sexual tension in that place. 

During my last two years there, two girls became pregnant, both of them did the deed on school grounds and during the school day! It must have been the fastest fucks on record, but then teenage boys aren’t known for their endurance. Both girls had fallen for the myth that ‘you can’t get pregnant the first Time. Actually, no…wait…one of them believed  that, the other had believed ‘I’ll pull out’ which, in all fairness to the lad, he did…long before he came, but no-one told him that sperm can be present in pre-cum. You don’t have to cum inside a girl to get her pregnant. 

Looking back at my schooling, I have to admit, austere as it was, I got excellent grades, though whether it was because of the sisters or in spite of them I’m not really sure. 

We, as adolescent girls sailed the stormy seas of boobs, pubes, periods, masturbation, crushes (on each other) peer pressure, and the ever-present demand to be trendy. If you were openly ‘bi’ or better yet ‘Lez’ you were counted among the elite, although I know for a fact that several of the girls who claimed to be lesbian would run a mile if another girl hit on her. I know, because I was one of the girls doing the hitting. 

We learned a lot from each other. We learned how to cum silently in class, we learned the thrill of flashing our panties, we learned the exquisite pleasure of going panty-less for the day. I learned…and I know I’m not alone in this…how other girls smelled and tasted by sniffing panties in the locker room. I learned that saying the rosary kneeling on sharp concrete embedded with bit of broken tiles and flint could turn into something almost sexual, given a little mental fortitude. I learned that anything that’s ‘against the rules’ can become a sexual act. Peeing my panties became something I loved, and although I find myself doing it less than when I was on my own, it remains something that is high on my ‘nice things to do’ list.

And lastly, my lovelies, I learned (eventually) what smoking a certain leaf can do for the sex act. Oh believe me, many of us were conned right left and centre. Two girls claimed they were getting high while the other three, of whom I was one, sat there pissing ourselves laughing because we knew they were smoking to contents of a teabag! 

But eventually, someone got hold of the real deal. I know that it does indeed give you the munchies, but I also know that, for me at least, it makes orgasms seem to last forever, and changes their feeling subtly as well. Somehow I feels more intense…hmm…maybe not more intense….oh fuck it. Imagine someone paints a wall green, and then uses a slightly different shade of green…yes…it’s like that. A slightly different shade or orgasm. 

It was while still at school that I took my own hymen out of the field of play - a decision I have absolutely no regrets about. It was either me and my candle, or I would have found myself some lucky married man to relieve me of my cherry. Why married? Easy! He certainly isn’t going to tell anyone, unlike teenage bots who brag constantly to each other. He would have been skilled at sex, again unlike teenage boys. He would have made absolutely certain I couldn’t have got pregnant; teenage boys will say anything to get their cocks inside you, and lastly, I would have been less likely to catch anything unpleasant. In the end, though, it was far less complicated just to abstain from masturbation for a few days until I was climbing the walls for a cum, and take my candle to bed with me. One very pleasurable night later, and little blood on a towel, and I knew what it’s like to cum with something inside me. When it came to my first fuck, all the nervousness and anticipation of pain to come were simply not there. 

One nun actually told us “Girls, sex is supposed to hurt you the first time, and for some of you it will hurt always. It’s to remind you that what you’re doing is sinful, and you should only ever be doing it within a Christian marriage with the intent of having a baby.” Fucking sin….again….and how the fuck would she know? 

Ah well, Emily is home from work soon, and I’m wearing a lovely cotton thong from a pack I bought today.