My First Time


My First ExperiencePart IA Girl on a MissionIn the summer of 1984, I was just 13. My parents, as was our custom, rented a house for two weeks near the shore in a small resort community near Wildwood, New Jersey.   Resort Community may now suggest to me something grander than what it actually was, but at 13 it was summer-exotic, and enough of a resort for me.   At home, my brother and I were kept on the end of a “vigilant leash” of parental concern and worry of addiction, addiction and rape. But for those two wonderful weeks, we children had the run of the beach with curfews relaxed and watchfulness muted. Michael Jackson was the hottest guy on the pop scene that summer. No one had any idea of what bubbled behind his bleached and remanufactured face, so he was held as a tolerable icon by the parental class.   Many of the kids, guys and girls alike, mimed his style and danced to his “Thrilla” sound on the fringes of the older kids’ parties. That summer, the dress code for we fledgling women during the day was as small a bikini swim suit as we could get away with, accompanied by a beach towel we could carry, wrap around out waist, or just under our arms, depending on the level of modesty we felt compelled to project.   On the go, as we were, and nearly undressed, it didn’t take our pale summer skin long to darken under the summer shore sun. In my case, I quickly became a dark honey copper color, and my dark auburn hair streaked with near-blonde waves was usually gathered in a ponytail. Scatters of freckles we sprinkled over my nose, and below my hazel eyes, which seemed greener than my winter eyes. When I bathed I marveled at the contrast between my darker self and the white triangles on my chest and lower belly. Unlike my brother, who was 16 and had hair on his chest and under his arms, I was nearly hairless and still very childlike in appearance.   At only a ninety pounds, or so, as womanly as I hoped to look, photos from that summer show I still looked like a child. Our after supper uniform consisted of a pair of short shorts, usually white, and a pastel colored tank top.

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    Fleshing out the evening costume was the typical plastic jewelry of the time and flip-flops. In my case, I usually didn’t wear a bra, although my mother made me when I would wear a white top because my nipples were dark enough to show through and “pointy” enough to poke out a bit. Unlike some of my girlfriends, my breasts were just “cute little nubbins,” as my aunt called them, and my hips were just beginning to take on their womanly curves. Mainly, I was just a typical gawky girl of 13 with pretensions of physical seduction just moments away. That was the summer that we first began to become seriously attracted to the opposite sex. As far as sex itself was concerned, I didn’t know a whole lot about it. I knew the basic physical differences, and I knew that my nipples were growing more sensitive, and that it felt good, sometimes really good, when I touched myself between my legs at night in bed, but how that translated into actual sex was still a mystery. As we moved over the boardwalk like a flock of young seabirds, we girls would mimic what we thought was oral sex by stroking the straws in our cherry colas, or sucking seductively on saltwater taffy before collapsing in shrieks of laughter and nervous joy. Shortly after our arrival at the shore, our gaggle of girls strolled along the boardwalk, our young skin glistening in the sunlight. We ranged in height from about five feet to five six or seven, and Gina, who lived in Hackensack, was certainly the best endowed of all of us, with dark Italian tan skin, dark, almost black eyes and hair, and a bosom and bottom that seemed to flex and bob as she walked more than it had the day before.   I remember walking behind Gina with another girl, Jamie, a lithe, blond and blue-eyed girl from West Orange. I watched Gina’s stroll, or rather roll, as she walked, her fanny cheeks bulging-- round and tan--from beneath her white bikini bottoms. She seemed to be walking with a cadence different than the rest of us. More assured, and certainly more bouncy. Jamie and I exchanged glances, and communicated that we both thought something odd was going on, but what, we transmitted to each other with shoulder shrugs, was unknown.

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  Later, Jamie and I were leaning on the railing of the pier where some of the boys were making general nuisances of themselves and irritating the older residences of the town, when she asked, “What’s with Gina?”I distinctly remember the feeling of warm sun on my shoulders and the light summer sea-breeze caressing my body, the feel of the terrycloth towel under my elbows where they rested on the rail when the revelation came to me. “Sex,” I said.   “I’ll bet she got some!” I know I blushed under my tan as the enormity of what I had just said out loud registered. “What!” Jamie exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t think…”Of course I thought “…”, and I was pretty sure now that Jamie did to.   As Jamie and I turned and walked along the boardwalk to the pier, she said, “I wish I had a boy. ”  I agreed, wistfully, not really believing any longer that I was in Gina’s league. She had tits. Not just tits, but TITS. ”  And she had an ass, not just a butt. And her legs seemed womanlier with niceround thighs and slim calves and ankles. Her white bikini clung to her accenting her smooth, dark skin, while my blue and white checked one patterned like some sort of little-house-on-the-prairie-gingham number just sort of hung on me.   (I thought it was hot when I bought it with my mother at Macy’s earlier in the summer. I think that was the last time I ever “shopped to shock” with my mom until it came time for a senior prom dress. ) And, if you looked, and I did look, as all girls compare themselves, she had a pronounced pussy. (I had yet to learn it was called a "mons".


  )It was a mound that stood out from her other curves with an occasional dark hair poking from between the suit and her moist skin, and when her suit was damp,you could easily see the outlines of her labia.   I wanted to be Gina. Jamie and I walked along in silence for a few minutes when she asked, “Have you ever kissed a boy?”“Sure, “ I lied. “Lots of times…”  I hadn’t really. We played post office at a birthday party just a few weeks before this, but I managed not to be selected to go into the closet with a boy. I just new it would have been Brian, and he wasn’t my idea of a boy I wanted to kiss. “Ummm,” was her only reply. Later I was at Jamie’s house while she changed into shorts and a halter-top. Her breasts were larger than mine (Whose weren’t. Even Brian had bigger tits than I did. ), probably a solid B-cup.   Her nipples were smaller around than mine were, and a light pink color, while at least mine were larger, darker and “pokier” than hers. She didn’t seem particularly shy about being naked in front of me, although I was just a tiny bit nervous about it because I wasn’t used to seeing other people naked. She had a light down of pubic hair just above her slit, widening only slightly as it rose toward her belly button.   It was so fine; it was hard to see at first.

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    He fanny was nice and round, but less “Gina” and more me, and her legs were coltish like mine. At 13 she was still as much a girl as I was. She had a nice longish face, full lips that were as red as only a young girl's can be. She had very blue eyes and her blonde hair was tinged with just a trace of red.   She didn’t really tan like the rest of us, and she had red highlights on her shoulders, upper chest, nose and upper cheekbones.   She looked much as you would imagine a fair-skinned girl to look during the summer. I tied the strings of her halter-top around her neck from behind as she bent her head forward, noticing the fine wisps of hair at the nape of her slim neck. I could see the pulse in her artery where it pumped under her thin flesh. As my fingers lingered on her at the bow I had tied, feeling her, my mouth went dry. Her hair hung down, framing and obscuring her young face. From that position she said, “Will you teach me how to kiss?”  I almost didn’t catch what she said, or I didn’t believe I heard what I had heard, so I said, “Huh?”  I watched as her neck reddened, flushing with the embarrassment of her question. “Will you teach me? Will you teach me how to kiss?” She turned and looked at me, her blue eyes wide open and brimming with tears.   “I don’t know how,” she continued, now looking down. Then, she almost whispered, “I’m afraid…”Well, now that she brought it up, so was I.   I really didn’t know any more how to kiss a real kiss, not a cousin at Christmas type of kiss, but eyes closed and isn’t he wonderful kind of a kiss.

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   But I was afraid to back track now.   I wasn't sure I wanted to. So, I said, “Well, sure, but I don’t know who we would use as a boy. ”  I turned away from her, hoping she wouldn’t see my embarrassment and desire. “We’ve got to have a boy for this to work,” I said, hoping this impossible condition would end this topic. But it didn’t. Jamie was desperate, and I was cornered. She said, “Well, we could kiss each other, couldn’t we?  We’re friends and all…” She looked wan and hopeful at the same time. “Hey, “ I said, “I’m not a lezzy or anything…”“Oh, I know that!  I’m not either, but I really, really need to learn this if I’m ever gonna get any, “ she paused and looked away, “Sex. ”  I just looked at her unable to respond. I was in the same boat Jamie was, but somehow my little bravado was putting me into a weird place. I could feel my heart quicken as I thought of kissing Jamie's full lips. “Well, we couldn’t tell anyone, “ I said, experimentally. “No. No, we couldn’t do that,” Jamie exclaimed, but with a brightness in her voice that was pretty unnerving because it indicated that she thought I had agreed to teach her to kiss.

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    “So, what do I do? What do we do first?” she asked all quick and tumbly-like. “Well,” I said, walking around to face her. “First we have to close our eyes, “ which she did, “And you have to tilt your face a little,” which she did. “Then,” I hesitated, “we kiss…”  I touched my lips to hers, my eyes closing as I did so. Jamie leaned forward just a bit putting pressure on our lips where they touched.   I has so amazed at how soft she felt, and how wispy her little, rapid exhales from her nose felt, and how, well, how nice it felt.   We stood like that for a few heartbeats, only our lips touching, our bodies bent over carefully so we wouldn’t actually touch.   I felt her lips moving slightly just before we broke the kiss. “Wow, “ Jamie said, with a breathless rush, “That was really cool!”  Her eyes sparkled. Really, they did, and she smiled broadly.   I felt my face smiling too. It was cool, and it was fun.   “Let’s do it again, “ she said, “But just for practice. ” “Yes, just for practice, “ I agreed, and we leaned in again, our lips touching, more smoothly now, now more experienced.   I felt her lips part just a tad, and the tip of her tongue touched my lips, intruding just a millimeter into my mouth.

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   Not far, but just far enough to transfer her taste to me. She tasted so sweet and clean and fresh.   After a moment, we broke the kiss, and I’m sure my eyes sparkled this time. I felt my heart racing and my blood sliding through the thousands of miles of arteries and veins that laced by body. I felt my pulse in my wrists and neck. “Well,” I managed to get out. “That’s pretty much how it goes. ”  I smiled into Jamie’s smile. We were still only inches apart standing in the middle of her small bedroom. Without any warning we both leaned in and kissed again. This time both our lips opened, and out tongues touched, and electric fires were lit in me that have yet to be extinguished.   I felt her hands resting on my upper arms just above my elbows,  her fingers gently squeezing my muscles, and somehow, mine lightly grasped her shoulder and neck as our tongues danced and our lips moved slickly together. My eyes were shut and somehow I felt no need to breathe, as we pulled closer, our kiss uniting us, our young breasts touching, and our bare bellies together. For the first time I felt sexual heat from another human, and I didn’t want it to end. I felt Jamie's hand slide down my arms and gently cup both of my breasts.

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   I shuddered with the foreign pleasure of her touch. I ground my pussy hard against hers, and felt her thigh press between my legs, and mine between hers Her fingers massaged my little breasts, and my nipples hardened under her palms as she rubbed me. My hands drifted down over her chest and gently touched her small, smooth mounds. It was so wonderful to touch another person. I felt the burning of her sex on my thigh, and the muscle of hers flex against my soft female places.   I never wanted this to end. But, it did.   Jamie broke our kiss and stepped back, gripping her arms below her bosom and twirled. “Oh, I just can’t wait for sex!” she piped. I stood transfixed, I’m sure, my arms still held where I held her, my head forward just a bit on my neck still in “kiss” mode. My nipples and groin tingled, and I felt a heaviness in my sex, and a growing slippery wetness within my pussy. Jamie twirled across her bedroom, pausing by the door to the hallway, and said, "Wow, I can't wait to get some!!!" And out the door she went. What was that? My mind said. But I said, “I can’t either. ”  Slowly my temperature returned to normal.

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   After all, I wasn’t a lezzy or anything, and while it was exciting and more than interesting. I felt full of the physical promise and my body fairly crackled with excitement. I now knew that I was a girl on a mission, and its code name was Sex. .
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