I remember the first time I discovered what "it" was for. Not that the real
"first time" - that would happen several years later - but in many ways that was
less memorable than these events.

It was just before I started at high school. Every year for the summer my parents
would take me away on holiday with them to a cottage they owned by the sea - they
loved it, but I hated it - a girl of that age was easily bored and I was a no
exception. In fact I think some years I must have been a real brat! This year was
going to be a little different - they suggested that it might be fun if my friend
Sally came along. I was delighted - we were really close and used to hang out
together all the time. Sally was the same age as me, but looked a lot older -she
had started developing earlier than me and looked quite grown up. I used to envy
her boobs that looked enormous, although I guess looking back they probably were
not more than an "A" cup. But when you are that age and only have the merest hint
of a boob starting to develop you really get a complex about these things!

We had been at the cottage for a couple of weeks when my patents announced they
would be going out for the evening. We girls we given a lecture about how grown
up we were now and what a responsibility they were putting on us by letting us
stay there alone. The lecture seemed to go on and on, but eventually after all
the dire warnings about not letting any strangers into the house they went out.
As soon as they had left Sally let out a great whoop: "Yes!" At this she made
straight for the drinks cabinet:

"Time to party!"

I was shocked.

"Don't. You shouldn't," I said as she helped herself to a glass of something.

"Loosen up. Try some of this"

I am not sure what made me accept, but I did. She had poured a large gin and
tonic and gave it too me. It tasted horrible. I made a face.

"Trust me it gets better when you are used to it. Drink up."

The devil was in me now: I emptied the glass. She poured me another. She was
right, this one did not taste as bad. By the time I was drinking my third I was
starting to quite like it.

As the alcohol loosened us up we started talking about lots of things we had
never discussed before - boys and sex. I guess by then I knew what sex was about,
but some how it was all kind of theoretical. I could not really understand why
anyone would want to do it. When I said this Sally was shocked.

"But it must feel so good."

"Why?" I naãvely asked.

"Don't you know? You must have had those feelings. You know you see a boy and it
goes all tingly down there."

"Not really."

"I bet you never touch yourself there either!"

"Of course I do - when I wash or get dressed. I'm no prude!" I protested.

"Not like that silly. I mean touch yourself until it feels really good. You know
until you come."

"Oh that. Oh yes of course I do." I lied not really knowing what she was talking
about.

Not wanting to get further embarrassed I quickly changed the subject.

We stayed talking (and drinking) for a couple of hours by which time I was really
very drunk. I was still sober enough to be worried when I heard a car pull into
the drive.

"Quick." Put those bottles backs." I yelled.

Somehow we got all the bottles back and hid the glasses and rushed up to our room
before they got in.

"That was close" I whispered with a giggle.



"Quiet - they'll hear you" she said with a finger to her mouth as the door
closed.

Down stairs we could my parents talking.

Suddenly there was a sound of someone running upstairs.

"Catch me then!" It was my mother's voice, but it did not quite sound normal. She
sounded very young and her voice was playful and girl like. There was another
clatter on the stairs as my dad ran up after her. The door to their bedroom
slammed closed.

"They're going to do it!" whispered Sally. "Listen."

We put our ears to door - through the thick doors we could not her very clearly,
but something was happening. There were groaning noises, a few giggles and what
sounded like my mother groaning. Then it went quiet - but not for long. We could
hear their bed creaking and the sound of groans started again.

"Yes. Yes. God that's good" I clearly hear my mother call out. I was amazed - I
had never thought of them doing that sort of thing.

"Christ yes. Now. AH!" She shouted.

It went quiet.

"Well, aren't they naughty!" giggled Sally.

"Shush. They will hear you!"

"I don't think so! Anyway I need to sleep after all that booze." She said as she
stripped off and collapsed naked onto the bed. In seconds she was snoring quite
loudly. I undressed, put on my nightie and climbed into bed.

Somehow despite all the booze I could not sleep. My mind keep going back to what
Sally had been saying early and what we had just heard a few minutes ago. Was I
really that different? After all even my parents had seemed to be enjoying
themselves. As I thought this I could feel a tingling down there. Was that was
Sally meant? And what did she mean about touching yourself?

Put my hand down there and started to examine myself. I could feel the first soft
hairs just starting to grow and it felt sort of warm. As I felt further I could
feel the outer lips and then my inner lips. I familiar with this, but some how it
felt different this time. I could feel a warm moisture and as I moved my fingers
around there was one spot that felt different.

"Ouch" I gasped as touch one part that seemed particularly sensitive. I could
feel what seemed like a little knob of tissue that felt hard right at the top. As
I was feeling, I found myself looking at Sally's naked body on the bed next door.
Here boobs looked huge but I took some pleasure that at least her nipples looked
smaller than mine. I could see a slight bulge at the top of her legs and a soft
covering of hair. I looked to see if she had the bit I had just felt. In the
half-light I could not really tell, but somehow just looking was making me even
more excited.

I started rubbing that bit a little harder. The nicest feelings seemed to be when
I rubbed it gently between the lips. I experimented with different was of rubbing
it. I moved over on to my front and rubbed myself against the sheet. I rolled
onto my back again and tried it with one hand, then the other. I eventually
settled on using both hands and gently moving the lips all over it. It felt
amazing. By now I was lost in what I was doing until there was a load noise. I
stopped suddenly, but was relived to hear it was just Sally snoring.

I put my hand back down there. I was surprised to feel I was dripping wet. I felt
the moisture, it was not like pee, much thicker and greasier. I experimented with
rubbing the moisture over that part I had just discovered. The lubrication made
it even nicer - if that was possible. I was soon lost again as I gently massaged
that little lump that felt so good. As I got more excited the lump seemed to pull
it self further back into its little hood and get even more sensitive, but now
sensitive did not meant I wanted to rub less hard. I found myself rubbing it
harder and harder. All I could think about was how good this felt and how
beautiful Sally's body looked naked on that bed. I really wanted a body like
that. Her boobs lay on her chest like two little islands with their pink nipples
like little peaks on top. They fascinated me - they made her look so grown up. I
looked down at my body and my breasts. Not that I really had any breasts like
Sally, but in the last few months a noticeable swelling had started under the
nipples, and the nipples themselves had really grown. The dark bit at their base
had got quite fleshy and the teats had become huge. When they got cold they stood
out at least half an inch and often embarrassed me by show through my blouse.

I felt my then. They were really were big considering there was the smallest of
breast buds for them to sit on. They had gone hard and were standing out like
little pegs - just like they do in the cold. But this time they were hot and felt
nice as I touched them. I played with one between my fingers, but was careful to
too keep one hand between my legs. Touching them felt good, but not nearly as
good as my new discovery between my legs. My thoughts started to get wilder. As I
played with my nipple and rubbed between my legs, I kept looking at Sally. My
mind was pretending it was her fingers touching me. The thought got me even more
excited, but made me feel a bit guilty - girls were not supposed to touch each
other. I could not help it though - I had this image of just lying there as Sally
touched me. I could see her body over mine, her boobs hanging down. Her nipples
touching mine.

To make mind think of something else, I imagined what my parents had been doing.
I though of my dad's cock. I had seen it lots of times - we were not exactly a
modest family when it came to bodies. I had even seen it hard once - I remember I
had walked in on him in the shower and it was all covered in soap and looked
really huge. Suddenly I my mind made a connection: they had told us at school how
a man's thing had to be hard before he could have sex. I found myself wondering
what would it be like to have one inside me. I could picture a hard cock (just
like dad's had been in the shower) and tried to pretend one was going into me.

As I fantasized I experimented with putting a finger inside. I was so wet it
slipped inside easily. I was so young and tight, that just one finger was enough
to really stretch me. I felt strange - it hurt a bit, but something in my head
seemed to like the feel of something going into me. I slowly worked it deeper and
deeper in to the tight hole. I felt so wet and tight. I was surprised that I
could get my finger in all the way up to my knuckle and still had an urge to push
it in deeper. The sensation was strange, as I moved it in and out it felt a bit
like shitting, but in a nice way that was not at all lavatorial. Each time I
pushed a finger in, I just wanted to feel it stretch me and go deeper. I tried
putting two fingers in. It stretched me so much it hurt, but even the little bit
pain almost seemed nice.

I lay back and worked out a rhythm where I used one hand to work my finger in and
out, whist the other played with my new toy. My fingers seemed to get a life of
their own: they just rubbed harder and harder and went in and out quicker and
quicker. The images in my mind were now completely out of control - I was seeing
Mum and Dad doing it; then I was thinking about Dad's cock; then I was thinking
about Sally's body; then I was imagining Sally touching me; then I was touching
her; then Dad's had his cock in her; then he had it in me. The pictures flashed
quickly through my mind like an erotic slide show - each picture accompanied by a
wonder sensation down between my legs. I felt really hot, sweating and my
breathing was heavy. I was even groaning slightly, but by now I didn't care it
felt SO good.

Then it happened.

I felt something deep inside of me contract and felt a tight spasm between my
legs. My whole body went stiff and my mind was filled with every image I had
fantasized about, all at once. It was both frightening and the most pleasurable
thing I had ever felt. A wave of warm pleasure swept over me and I felt more
spasms coming from within. It seemed to last forever yet was over too soon.

Afterwards it felt like I had just woken suddenly from a dream. The sensitive bit
had become so sensitive I could hardly bear to touch it I was so wet the bed was
slimy and smelled kind of musty. I felt strange: somehow a little guilty but also
much more grown up.

Now I knew what Sally was talking about!