My First Touch

Growing up as an only child with conservative parents, I learned very little about sexual subjects. My only experience was those that I read about.  My father made sure the shelves in my room were filled with books, poetry, bible stories, my dictionary and the Encyclopedia Americana.

Through my encyclopedia I learned the sticky stuff in my underwear some mornings was the release of seminal fluid and were nocturnal emissions. As far as female anatomy, my favorite was The Dinky Bird illustration by Maxfield Parrish in a book of poetry.  I would look and fantasize about the girl in the swing with her small breasts for hours.  This passion for reading led to me advancing in school and leaving me with very few friends my own age to talk with. Since I stuttered intensely as a youngster this lack of conversation was a bit of a gift. 

By the time I was 13, my sexual interests became a priority.  Before I had learned about masturbation, I discovered girls liked to touch me and although I received no sexual gratification, it was nice to be wanted.  I also found that I could speak to girls that didn’t know me and weren’t expecting a word fumbler like myself.  On such girl I met was Linda (I even remember her last name after all these years). 

She was a pretty girl in a Catalina Bikini. I knew this because the name was embroidered along the inside of the bra and I spent a lot of time looking at her breasts.  She was from a metropolitan area to my north and my small island was a favorite vacation destination.  One day we were out in the water talking and bumping into each other with the passing waves, when it started to rain.  There was vacant beach house and I recommended we go there to get out of the rain (even though we were both soaked from the ocean) and sit in private.  On the side of the home was a step with a half wall leading into the living room that covered us from view.  We took her blanket, covered our selves and sat with my arm around her as the rain came down in torrents.

One thing led to another, we kissed and under cover of her blanket I moved my hand across her breast, albeit, on the outside of her bikini top.  She put up no resistance and I went for broke and slipped my hand over her warm flesh and firm breasts. Finally, a dream come true, my first touched breast and nipple.  But Linda was not one to let it end there, she guided my hand to her bottoms and allowed me to slide my fingers into the panty.  I had seen breasts before.  I knew I liked to see them and wanted to touch them, but the bottom area was virgin territory for me.  I knew the front was smooth and unlike men, they had no penis. I was massaging the area, unknown to me, above her clit. I went on for several minutes in ignorant bliss when she took hold of my forearm and pushed it down deeper into her bikini panties. My finger slipped into her moist hole (I honestly thought I was touching her asshole). I like that she purred and so I continued my slow probe amazed at her warmth and wetness. I reached deeper into her panty, only to discover her actual ass. She again took hold of and moved my arm up and down her slit until I began doing it on my own…into her pussy, up her slit and across her clit.  “Oh yes, oh yes, don’t stop…please.” She leaned back, lifted her ass and slid her panty down to her feet and spread her legs for me to see.  It was beautiful and my cock felt as if the bone would rip out of the skin.  Suddenly she stiffened, her legs held tight and began convulsing, grabbing my hand as she violently humped it.  We played that over many times until she went home 3 days later.

We exchanged addresses and several letters, but we never met again.  I thought of her throughout the year and as I write this I am reminded of how women have taught me all I know about sex and I am forever grateful.