Oh, This Was Lovely. Just Lovely

Thursday. Low ache in my tummy, but holy crap! My boobs! They felt like tiny bombs about to explode. They were physically hard, and my nipples stuck out as hard as they can go! They felt exactly like they did when they first formed. I remembered it so well, those tiny puffy nipples that became bee stings of boobs. How proud I was of having 'titties' as me and my friends called them, and like many schoolgirls before us, we had an "itty bitty titty committee". Mine stayed itty bitty though, I remembered my first training bra. Why do they call them training bras? Soft cotton, and I still fit the fucking thing! So I got it out and put it on. Just doing that made me feel even more randy. So I rummaged around and found a pair of knickers my mum told me were good for 'surprises' down below. They were large, dark blue knickers with a very thick gusset. I slipped them on and felt instantly transported back in time. Suddenly, I was a virgin again, who had never even explored herself.  I sat on my bed, knees together, feet slightly apart, but no....that didn't feel right. I quickly put on a pleated tennis skirt and a t shirt and sat on the floor cross legged like we did in assembly. Ah yes! That's better! As I shifted around, I felt myself getting wetter. I remembered the teachers who would deliberately try to look up our skirts while pretending not to. Everyone from old Mr Cressy (name changed) to the young, hunky and definitely fuckable Mr. Evans. Oh, now I could just smell myself now and then. Thinking back, that whole school hall smelled of vagina if the assembly ran on a bit. Imagine, 500 young pussies all sitting cross legged on the floor, all oozing into their panties, some with visible wet stains!  I sneaked my hand up under my skirt remembering that discussion I had with a girl called Emma. Emma was more developed at 13 than I am now. She had a knowing look about her, and we all thought she had been all the way. She talked about sex all the time, especially 'polishing the bean' which is what she called masturbation. I even saw her do it in class one time. Ah sat next to me, and quite brazenly hooked her panties down and went for it. The design of our desks meant no one could see, but I could, sitting next to her. I remember her face creasing up and it looked like agony. I asked her if it hurt? She whispered "fuck no! It's amazing! What? You never polished the bean?" I didn't know I HAD a bean! I remember Emma parting her lips and showing me hers, but what I remembered most was the scent of a freshly cummed vagina.  Now, I was rubbing myself through those large blue panties, and getting very close. By this time, I was 13 again in mind, body and soul. I felt that lovely 'stop, or you'll wet yourself' feeling that I think no most girls get. I remembered back to how often I'd stop myself and indeed, this time, I edged too starting, getting to the point, and backing off. Then, I imagined that conversation with Emma. "Well, yeah, I DO play with myself, but it makes me feel like I'm gonna pee myself." "So? PEE yourself then! It might make you cum!" I pinched my nipple, but backed off immediately. My titties were way too sensitive for pain. Meanwhile, under my skirt, I was fiddling my clit through those thick, cotton knickers. I imagined i was sitting on the hall floor, and Mr Evans had me in detention. He was making me masturbate as punishment, as I remembered the semi he usually had, I came into my knickers. Wave after wave pulsed through my quim, and yes, I wet myself too.    Friday. A different feeling. Today I feel more erotic, far more grown up feminine than yesterday when I definitely felt more sticky schoolgirl. Today, I need soft, silky, feminine. Unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of sexy undies. I've never really needed them. Boys (and girls) don't seem to mind what you wear as long as they get their fingers in me. Or their cocks! But I have only just realised this, I need the sexy silky undies for me, not them. I must do something about getting my own,  Fortunately, I have a sister! Jayney lives with her married couple at the moment and so I scooted into her room and had a mooch about. She has always been into buying herself dresses and sexy undies, and there were a lot left. Unlike me, she is horribly well organised. She has a panty drawer, a bra drawer and a tights/stockings drawer. I rummaged about until I found a very sheer, Lacey bra, an almost see through thong, and a pair of stocking tights. You know, tights that are made like stockings? Not hold ups. These have a waistband and are attached to the leg parts. Fuck...I can't describe them. Girls reading this know what I mean.  With that lot on....wow....I felt amazing. I chose one of my summer dresses, not caring a jot that the underwear could be clearly seen through the dress....or maybe that was the point. So, out of the house and across the field. Walking slowly, breathing in the wonderful spring air, listening to the birds. I was aware of every inch of my body, from the air around my legs, to the thong between the cheeks of my bum (I don't usually like thongs at all....but only one or two days a month they make me feel super randy), and then to the sheer and slightly scratchy material of the bra. I suppose deep down, knowing they are Jayney's was also erotic. These were all clean, but my quim where hers has been....well, you know.  By the time I got to my old barn, I was feeling so horny. I had wet the thong through long ago and I leaned my back against the warm flint wall and cupped my titties in both hands. They are far less painful than yesterday, and responded well to my firm grasp by sending a shiver down to my hole. I find I can squeeze inside and force quim wetness out if I want to. I must admit, I do get very wet. Unusually wet. Remember, I've had sex with other girls, and masturbated with them. Compared to the girls I've seen, I get way wetter than they do!  I went into the barn, and climbed up into the hay loft. This place is only used by me. Upstairs, I've swept out the floor and there is an old armchair up there. It's my place. Dotted around are panties that are either mine, or someone else's. Most have been peed in, but all have been cummed in.  The sunshine was streaming in through the window and was refracted in the dusty air. I hitched my dress right up around my waiste and squatted. I did this purely so the thong would pull tight, almost painfully tight, and so I could smell myself. I love the smell and the taste of my quim, and I have many different names for her. Mostly, it's quim, but sometimes it's my hole, my cunt, my twat. It depends what mood I'm in. So, I breathe in deeply and the air is suffused with my scent. My knees are spread wide and I look down between my legs. The thong is so tiny, my quim lips are showing a little. I'm tempted to piss, but quickly realise I'm not in that mood today. Standing, I snuck the dress from my shoulders, and it drops to the floor.  I lean back against an ancient oak pillar, feeling the rough wood on my back. Reaching up, I entangle my hands in an old shank of rope. It makes me feel tied up and helpless. In my mind anyone could come in and fuck me. This thought makes my clit throb harder. I 'struggle' a little. Imagining footsteps on the stairs, and one of our farm labourers, a particularly nasty man who I've always been a little frightened of, peeling my thong off me and sticking a work-roughened finger up me. Then, I realise that this too isnt the fantasy I need. I release my hands and drift aimlessly over to the chair. I flop down in it and hook my legs over it's arms. I feel totally exposed. Yes, this is what I need. My right hand pushes into the thong and finds my quim wet, ready and already close. I begin to masturbate and almost immediately know I could cum. I slow my pace and hold myself right on the edge. I don't stop, which is what I usually do. This is more like holding a car that is ready to change gear just below the point where you need to. How long do I keep myself there? I have no idea! A very long time! I am so desperate to just increase the pace or the pressure. Either will bring me off. I slip the bra straps down and push the material down so my miserably small titties are pushed up by the bra. Then I bring my left hand to my mouth. I turn my head aside and bite the knuckle of my first finger. I mentally take my own photograph of what this would look like to anyone who might see. And that sends me over into a crashing orgasm. I feel my vagina contracting hard, something I don't tend to feel if there is nothing in me at the time. But this time, I feel everything. I can also hear squishing, even though at no time have I fingered myself, I feel liquid running down my bum, and I know I have had a massive squirt into Jayney's thong. I can squirt pretty much when I want to, but sometimes, a squirt happens without me deliberately making it happen. When I have those, they are huge. When I first had one, I was certain I'd pissed myself, but it wasn't pee. Neither is this. The orgasm rolls on, making me bite my knuckle even harder and I am writhing in the chair. I a, the essence of femininity. I am woman at her most primal. I have woken the dragon, and she is breathing her fire throughout my body. I fall asleep. When I woke up, I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, my legs were still hooked over the arm of the chair, and the barn seemed to smell of me and only me. The thong was, as I expected, soaked through and the chair had a large wet stain on it. There were even wet marks on the floor. I stood, picked up my dress, and put it on. Now the 'event' was over, so was the feeling. The thong felt really uncomfortable. Not only between my bum cheeks, but also because it was soaked through. I stopped in the field and took it off.  I walked back to the house naked from the waist down, with quim juice still oozing from my gaping hole.