Michaels Sexual Awakenings (chapter 5 of 7) b/g

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Subject: Michaels Sexual Awakenings (chapter 5 of 7) b/g
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Michaels Sexual Awakenings (chapter 5 of 7) b/g
Author: 'M' (Michael W )
chapter 5 I was on cloud nine all week. (See chapter 4 if you want to know why) Robin
was in a couple of my classes, and her eyes danced with mine constantly. I
had made arrangements to meet her Saturday afternoon at that same park. We
were going to make a day of it. My folks were going to be gone that
afternoon and early evening. I told her this and it didn't phase her - did
she know what I had in mind? (She did). Friday evening I had "family" stuff
to do. All evening my mind was on the next day. Saturday seemed like it
would never come, but after a nearly sleepless night of anticipation, (and
restless wrists), the appointed day and hour arrived. And what a beautiful
day it was. Robin had packed a picnic basket and we spent most of the afternoon
frolicking in the park, and the wooded nature preserve that abutted the
park. We told each other secrets, and I showed her where my forts had been
when I had been small and played in these same trees. Childhood seemed a
distant dream now for I was a man. A man with a girl at his side ... albeit
a horny young man. As the afternoon wore on I tried to work the conversation towards returning
to "my place" (God does that sound petty, or just stupid). She put off
these transparent advances, but still continued to hold me, and touch me,
and tease me most of the day. Eventually we started the walk back and I
thought we were headed to my house but when we reached the point where we
would make the turn we paused, and I sensed hesitation in her. "Well, do you want to come over for a while?" I asked, trying not to sound
too eager, but my voice getting huskier. Lust does that I guess. It was
about five o'clock and I figured I'd have the place until seven, maybe
seven thirty. She reflected in her own thoughts for a while, perhaps musing that things
were going too fast, that I'd rushed things. I finally was becoming bold
with the opposite sex and they were becoming shy? Finally she offered softly, "How about if we go over to my house instead.
It's about the same distance." Hmmm. She doesn't want to be alone in my house with me. "Okay." I said. My disappointment must have been obvious. "I'll show you my room!" she offered, with a certain exuberance. "Neat" I muttered, still disappointed, but warming up to the idea of being
in "that room" where she changed her clothes, where she slept, where she... "My folks will be gone too". Did I just gulp? Must have been someone else. Already the blood was rushing
to my extremities. "Michael!" she started incredulously, "Why are you blushing?" "I'm not blushing". Of course I was. Girls just did this to me. It would
haunt me all through high school and into college. I just would never be
able to get away with anything, keep anything from them. I think I must
have blushed every time I thought about .. well you know, and the girls
would always sense this about me, I think. Looking back, I think the girls
I knew liked this about me. It probably flattered them more than anything I
would ever say - that I could get so flustered just being around them. It
was almost as bad as getting hard in front of a girl you hardly knew. But a
hard-on could be hidden with a hand in the pocket (and I constantly had my
hands in my pockets in those days), but the blushing ... "You are too. You're blushing." "No, I am NOT!". Redder by the minute. "Okay, if you say so", was the condescending reply. We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time, and when
the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her house when she
was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first time I was inside, and
there I was. We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small kitchen,
and living room off the kitchen. We set out in earnest it seemed. I had known Robin for some time, and when
the gang was being chauffeured around town I had seen her house when she
was dropped off or picked up. But this was the first time I was inside, and
there I was. We came in through the back porch. It was a simple house, a small kitchen,
and living room off the kitchen. Three bedrooms and a bathroom down the
hall, the typical rambler of the day. In the kitchen she set down the basket of remains, and plopped herself in a
chair. "Would you like a glass of milk?" she queried. "Sure". I think we both felt awkward. She poured us both a glass and we sat at the
table. I watched her mouth make love to that glass of milk, and felt myself
becoming aroused. "Do you want to listen to some music?" she volunteered, "I have a record
player in my room". "Yeah" I croaked. Must be something in my throat again. And so we headed down the hallway and into the room of forbidden passion -
oops, there goes my imagination again. "What do you want to hear?" "Do you have any Beatles?" "Yes! I think Ringo is so adorable!" "If you say so", and if you like a guy that looks like he has a broken
nose, I thought to myself. "Oh, I think you're adorable too, Mike", she giggled as if to reassure me.
And of course I blushed again and of course she giggled again. God she
loved doing that to me ... but she could do anything to me, I was hopeless.
There I was, probably looking like a stupid, syrupy love-sick calf and this
woman-child, radiantly red, freckles gleaming needed just glance my way and
the color of my skin would turn, and the old familiar stirrings in my loin
would commence. "I, I think you're real pretty too," I stammered. "Mike. You're so cute. And so shy sometimes. And so smart. I, I..." she
trailed off. What was she trying to say. I moved closer. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her hand patted
the spot next to her. "Sit down" she invited. I slid in next to here. Instinctively, we both slid close, touching the
outside of our thighs together. Her shorts seemed to creep up her leg when
we sat, my cutoffs attempting the same. Sensing my hesitation, Robin again
made the first move, her hand on my leg, her head on my shoulder. My one arm was now around her shoulder. My free hand on her thigh. We both
shuddered at what we knew was coming. "You looked so sexy last week. You know, when you lost that hand", she
whispered, sexily. "Hmmmmm", I said. "I don't know it I could have done that. You know? I don't know if I would
have taken off my panties like you did." I was hard as a rock and she was stroking me. "It was all right. I was a little embarrassed." I admitted. My hand had
found the front of her blouse and I was feeling her breasts. She made no
objection, even shifting her position to give me better access. Why didn't
I think of this the last time? "And in the park. Did you, I mean. Did you come in your underwear?" More blushing, but who cared at this point. "Yes" I squeaked. How could I deny that? She giggled slightly. "Did I do that?" "What?!?". My head was swimming. I was becoming confused. What was she
talking about. Oh yeah. I came in my pants. I'm about to do it again. God
that feels good. But how about if... And on cue, her hand slipped inside the waist of my shorts, and underwear
and curled around the head of my penis ... "ARGH" I gurgled. It was too much. The moment she touched my privates I
erupted, spilling my seed once more into my underwear, her hand, gobs and
gobs. It seemed to last forever and my hips bucked from the explosion. She
never let go, squeezing each drop out of my maleness, relishing each drop,
as I soaked myself. At last, sensing my discomfort (as like most guys I get
REAL sensitive right after I come), she relaxed her grip, not letting go,
but no longer applying pressure. When I had caught my breath (and hers too,
she was as excited as I was), she began nibbling on my ear. "Did that feel could?" she asked coyly. "Yes. It was .. it felt real good." "You're a mess." She stated it succinctly. She was correct. I was a
glorious mess. "Do you want to clean up?" Yes and No. I was a little embarrassed, but her hand felt so good resting
there, as I softened briefly. She giggled that little half-giggle again,
and pulled out her hand, "I think you should clean up." "Yeah, I'd better" I said sheepishly. There would be many more times girls
would make me cream my pants in the next few months, and I think they did
it on purpose. But I never complained. And that night, things were just
warming up. I slid off the bed and looked around. Should I just clean up there? I would
feel so silly. "Um, is there a bathroom?" What an idiot. Of course there is
a bathroom. "Right down the hall". I hesitated. She said nothing. "Um, I'll be right back?" I said it as if it
was a question. I mean, was I supposed to come back, or were we through? "Okay!" she chirped merrily. That made me feel good. This was going to be
all right. Still sheepish, I found my way down to the tiny little bathroom,
two doors down from her room. I closed the door quietly and locked it (was
that really necessary?). My mind was playing games with me now. What was
proper? Silently, I dropped my pants, and using a small hand towel that was
hanging there I dabbed at myself. I did the best I could, but damp pubic
hair needs to dry on its own, and as for my underwear ... well, it was all
soaked (of course) but I made the attempt at rubbing the towel and
underwear together. Flustered, I remove my underwear altogether and set it
on the back of the toilet, pondering my options. My cut-off shorts
themselves were pretty dry, so decision made, I pulled them up sans
underwear and headed back down the hall, making a note to retrieve my
underwear later, when it had dried up some. Advancing down down the hallway I imagined what was waiting for me. Perhaps
she would be dressed in some sexy nightie, or maybe even naked. Right. This
was the real world and she was sitting where I had left her, patiently
waiting, only seeing her there as I came in from the hall for the first
time I saw that her face was as flushed as mine. "All done?" he quipped. Jeez I wish she would just drop the subject. I came
in my pants. I knew that. She knew that, it's done. Let's forget about that
and go on shall we? I ignored her question (a first for me), and struggled for something to
say. I stood by the record player and fumbled with the records. Now what
should I say? "I heard it takes a boy a while to get hard again," she began, "is that
true?" her interest seemed genuine but this was a subject I was not
comfortable with. I shrugged. I was getting to half mast maybe already at
that point (Ah for the refractory period of my teen years!). "Mike..." "Hmmmm" "Last weekend. What would you have done? If I had lost instead of you.
Would you, I mean, would that, ... you know ..." No. I didn't know. What was this now. "What?" I asked. "I mean. Would you have made me take them off?" Dead silence for a moment. How was I supposed to answer that. "Well... it wasn't up to me, the others would have insisted." "Yes ... but what about you. If I had said no would you have been like the
others?" Gads, girls are hard to figure out. Even beautiful sweet Robin. "I don't know." Play it safe. "Why, weren't you going to do it?" "I'm not sure. I ... I have never shown myself to a boy that way before". "Well, neither had I. I mean I never showed myself to a girl before." Giggles. Do all girls do that when they're having .. I mean when we are ..
what are we doing anyway? "Mike ... Have you ever seen a girl naked before?" she rasped. Her voice
deepened, even for her. She was getting turned on. I was getting turned on,
again. Another trick question. Men are supposed to be experienced, right? "Sort of". Play it safe again. "Playing strip poker, spin the bottle, or what?" She was to curious. "Yeah, I guess." "Mike. You were the first boy I've ever seen. I mean... that way. And the
first boy that well, that ... um ... you know." That came in his pants? "Well," I started, it was now or never, " I really wanted to see you that
night. That way, I mean". Boy was I a silver-tongued devil or what? "If it had been just you I might have done it" she announced. Now there was
an invitation. And I was flattered ... and hot. "Mike ... would you like to see me ... naked?" I had died and gone to heaven for the second time in a week. It was going
to happen. Oh lord, remind me to go to church on Sunday to say thank you
... or confess my sins ... or ... Earth to Mike, Earth to Mike. Are you there? My brain and overworked sex
organ woke me out of this stupor. "Yes", I could barely speak. Without a word, she reached down, grasped her blouse, and pulled it over
her head. Smoothly, she reached behind and unclasped her bra. Raising her
legs, and hips off the bed, and leaning back slightly, her hands went to
the waistband, and slowly, ever so slowly, timidly even, she slid down her
shorts and panties. I gasped. Her mound looked inviting (she did have red pubic hair). Her body
trembled, as did mine. "You too. I want to see you too." she whispered. Clumsily I pulled off my shirt. My pants were slower to come off as my
penis jumped to attention under the cut-offs under her gaze. The head
bobbed out and rose before her as I pulled down my shorts, awkwardly
balancing on one leg. And there I stood before her. My soul bared, body red
with excitement, penis throbbing, pulse racing, heart beating so loud I
thought she could hear it. And there she sat. Flushed with lust herself. Her glorious locks of red
hair hanging down both shoulders over her chest. Her breasts heaving under
her shortness of breath. Her ... Her pussy .. that sounds so crude .. her
... her ... it seemed to swell and glisten. Even standing here I could see
... I could smell the wetness, her juices lubricating her loins. Her body
practically shouting, TAKE ME, but be gentle. My eyes could hardly focus at this point I was so turned on with sexual
excitement. The room seemed to be swirling and it was almost as if I was
going to lose my balance. I quickly sat on the bed, lest I should fall. We embraced. We fell back on the bed. I kissed her lips ... her soft
sensuous lips. I nearly came just from this contact. She was on her back,
and me on my side. My penis was rubbing against the side of her leg. I
moved over on top of her, chest to chest, my organ tickling the inside of
her thighs where it hung. Her legs opened themselves up to me. I needed no
urging, nor did I ask permission. As I kissed her lips and fondled her
nubile young melons, I slid forward, and upward ... and in. She tensed,
then made a conscious effort to relax her loins. I thrust once, maybe
twice, and like the typical adolescent on his first time ... spasmed beyond
control. Hips bucking, voice choking, I came in grunts, like an animal in
heat, for what seemed like an eternity. It was if my body had turned itself
inside out, repeatedly. I was perspiring everywhere, and so was she, from
the intense body heat, from the pleasure, from the raw emotion of two young
people, each tasting the forbidden fruit, virginity slipping away in one
brief (and I do mean brief) moment. I brushed the hair from here eyes, trying to remain still, and stay inside
her down below. As my fingers delicately brushed her eyes, I felt wetness.
But it was not sweat I felt this time. As I brushed the last locks of
auburn hair from here eyes I saw the trickle of tears, running down her
cheek, as I felt my own juices, running down our legs, still entwined. I
kissed her cheeks, reassuringly, but still the water fled from her eyes,
seeking comfort in the fibers of the sheets. I was ... confused. The moment
had been quick. Probably less than what she had expected. Everyone thinks
the first time is something special. Was it my grunting. What changed this
from two lustful teenagers (in love?) into something sinful, something
shameful. But here eyes said it all without her saying a word. She wept
silently, as I hugged her, searching for the right words to say. "Robin?" Her eyes were closed, as if shutting the memory. "Robin?" I pressed. "Are you all right?" She took a deep breath. "I'm fine" she said at last but she wasn't. "What's wrong?" I didn't know how to handle this. It wasn't supposed to be
this way. "I don't know" she cried. "Oh Michael. I don't know what's wrong with
me." "There's nothing wrong with you" I said reassuringly. "It's okay". We lay silently. I was confused, as I always seemed to be. Nothing had
prepared me for this. "Do you want me to leave?" "Maybe you had better. Anyway, my folks may be home soon." With a pause, I collected my things. I carried them out of the room and
into the bathroom, suddenly ashamed of my nakedness. Deftly, I dressed, and
retreated once more to the door of her room. She had pulled the covers over
her and was lying on her side, wistfully looking out over the room, perhaps
taking one last look at her childhood memories that adorned the room. For the first time, I noticed them. The picture of her when she was five
and learning to ride a bike. On her fathers shoulders at some family
picnic. And so on ... "You'd better be going" she said. "Yeah. I guess. See you Monday?" "Uh huh." And I turned, and silently traced my steps down the hall, through the
living room, the kitchen, saw one last time the picnic basket we had so
innocently relished that afternoon, and stepped outside. There I was enveloped by the still night air, and cloudless sky. I walked in circles on my way home that night. I alternately felt scared
and weak. Would she be remorseful for that night forever and ever. God!
What if she was pregnant?! I didn't think to ask her, was it her time of
the month? What would I say to here in school on Monday. Could I look her
in the face. Would she look at me? And at the same time I felt the exhilaration of having gained manhood - a
virgin no more. Okay, maybe I had come kinda fast (kinda?), but I got the
deed done. She wanted it too. How was I supposed to know she would "flip
out" afterward? Another sleepless night would follow and Monday came way too fast. Robin
avoided my eyes in school that Monday, and, uncomfortable, I avoided hers.
By the end of the week I couldn't stand it, and even our mutual friends
sensed there was a problem. We would eventually get together, about a week
later, to "talk about it". Robin and I would remain as friends, but as she
would declare, "she just wasn't ready for that kind of relationship", but
wanted to remain "friends". We dated (if you call it that) for a couple
more months and I never again pressed her for sex (well, we kissed). We
broke off shortly there after, probably because we never got over the
awkwardness of "doing it" and then not doing it. Or something. I don't
know. It just didn't work out. Never the less, I still fondly remember
Robin as the first true girlfriend of my young life. She did not attend our
high school reunions, and I lost complete track of her after graduation.
She was quite popular and dated several boys during out junior and senior
years, and in fact became a cheerleader. During the hockey games I would
sometimes find myself pleasantly distracted on the bench, watching her
bounce up and down. And I would see her stealing glances my way as well. In
my heart, I believe Robin remembers me as fondly as I do her, was I not,
after all, her first "love" as well. Robin, if you are out there, there is something I really meant to tell you
that night ... I loved you.
`M' --
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