Telepathy? Who Knows

You know women know when someone’s staring at us, right? Well, the other day, I saw a girl walking home from school. She had a pink shirt on, which put her at 17 at the youngest, or 18 at the oldest. There was something about her…something in how she moved…something in how many buttons were undone on her shirt, or maybe it was her hairstyle, or perhaps a culmination of things, but it seemed to me that I knew 100% knew two things about her. One was that she was a virgin, and two that she was absolutely ready for her first time. 

The age at which this happens varies widely. Some girls are physically, mentally and emotionally ready far younger than society (and the law) considered appropriate, while some aren’t ready until their mid to late 20s. There’s no one age. This girl, I knew, was ready. I seemed to know she masturbated regularly, just as I seemed to know she was moist as she walked home.

Watching her made me….well….jealous. She was about to embark on the most exciting voyage. Her first time might be with a boy, and even if it was, there’s nothing to stop her having another first time with a girl if she wants to experiment. (Oh me! Me! Pick me! Donkey from Shrek impression again!) Her first time being touched by fingers other than her own….her first time wrapping her slim, delicate fingers around a hard cock. Receiving oral sex for the first time…(a surprisingly big deal for a girl) …her first time going down on a boy…or a girl.

So much to experience….and I found myself insanely jealous of her. Well, no….not jealous….well…maybe a little. Excited for her for sure. 

Miss Brain took her scalpel out and expertly dissected the girl’s clothes away, leaving her in her bra and panties, and I felt myself wetting up. What wouldn’t I give to kneel in front of her and gently ease those panties down to her ankles and bury my face in her soft, beautifully scented pubic hair. Oh how I’d love to run my tongue between her moist labia until I found her little bud of a clit. 

I imagined her alone in her bed at night, legs spread and hand in her panties just at the moment of orgasm, with that furrowed brow look of exquisite agony on her face. It seemed as if I could read her thoughts as she imagined a boy between her legs fucking her. 

Then Miss Brain dropped in the reality of that event. Her, desperately wanting to, but being scared. Him, rock solid and wanting to be inside her. Her nervousness making her vagina less elastic than it might be, and him trying oh, so hard to be gentle, while she clutched his shoulders and bit her lip, trying not to cry out in pain as he stretched her for the first time yet at the same time trying to will herself to open up and accept him.

Finally inside her, his clumsy movements resulted in him spurting deep in her. She didn’t cum, of course. Not even close. Afterwards, she said she did, and he willingly believed the lie. Then the moment neither her mum nor the school told her about. She stood up, and semen poured down her legs. But she didn’t mind….in fact, she smiled. You can’t be a virgin with a boys cum running out of you can you? Never mind…it will be better next time. 

At what point, as I watched her walking by did I slip my hand into my panties, I wonder? I wasn’t imagining sex with her, rather, I was imagining her sexual journey and as my orgasm gripped me, it was me living vicariously through the wonderful, extraordinary, limitless world she has yet to discover. 

As I stood in my orchard watching her receded into the distance, I cast a glance into my sexual history. Experimenting with girls’ panties at school, which, at the time, I thought was a brilliant way to discover if I could go down on a girl in real life without the inevitable embarrassment of finding that I couldn’t! My first kiss with a girl….my first touching….and licking. My first fuck with a boy….the realisation that I really was truly bi-sexual….my sister, during lockdowns, and the absolute certainty that if I’d been blessed with a brother, we would have fucked too….then as my sexual perception widened, I realised what role play games my parents played, and I became part of them. In the depths of lockdown, when we all went a little crazy, truth be told, I heard them talking about me, and realised, even as I stood on that chair in my closet with my ear pressed to the vent, and heard mum talking to dad about how I was “…definitely growing up…..her panties….cum stains….imagine her masturbating at night…..” and they’d gone on to have sex, but using my name, I had realised with an absolute certainty that for two pins I’d have gone in and joined them. Once, and once only, I caused my dad to have me. I realised then the eroticism of incest, even though Ali and I had been fooling around for months. The incredible fortune of meeting Emily and finding in her a soul-mate and a bind so strong, we aren’t threatened for a second if one of us ‘plays away’. 

And Dani, of course. Watching her emergence into a sexual entity and being privileged to be a part of it. Yes, my sexual history is long indeed, but time is short, and no-one knows the future. 

Carpe dium…as the saying goes.