Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2006 21:42:52 +0300 From: Mozzie Subject: Suzie # 3 This is the story of a girl's sexual awakening and her experiences and those of her friends. How her curiousity and self-doubt bring her to explore new heights in pleasure. The story will develop to show instances of masturbation, M/F, M/F/F, F/F, M/M - if any of this is likely to cause you offence, please do not read on .... Artemka caught on quick. I started to smear the splatter over the wall with my hand, but was only making the situation worse. He simply said "bath", I had no real idea what he was doing but it was an idea so I followed it. We both dashed across the landing and into the bathroom, bolting the door behind us. I knew my parents wouldn't hear much from the bathroom but was a little scared when the main light went on. Thinking on my feet, I switched on the little light over the mirror and snapped the harsh white light off. We stood there, my beautiful boy naked in the soft light and me wearing just my panties. Just looking at each other, I was drinking in every inch of him. I had stolen this boy's innocence, his virginity, was I becoming some kind of lust crazed hunter. His cock had never really gone down much; it was always sort of half-hard. He reached across to touch my breasts and he stepped closer to kiss me on the lips. "Thank You" it was like listening to an angel, this considerate cutie had feelings, about then I knew I had fallen for him - or maybe he had caught me, I don't know and I didn't care. He was pressing against me, I could feel something moving across my mound. I couldn't help but look down. Nestling between our groins his cock was moving, straightening between us. Knowing what it was only heightened the thrill. I ground my mound hard against him, feeling that wonderful pressure building inside me again. He smiled and pointed at the shower. Of course, he was there to clean up. I pulled the cord for him and the water gushed out. He tested the temperature with one hand and stepped under the torrent. A little shower gel meant that, within seconds, a thick soapy film was being rubbed all over him. He smiled and waved me to come in with him. I needed no second invite, the sight of watching him smoothing that white frothy mass over himself was adding to my growing sensations. Almost subconsciously I stepped out of my panties and stepped naked into the shower. He started to smooth the gel over me, allowing the water to form the deep thick foam. He reached around me, working the gel into my hair then slowly down my back and around my buttocks, the entire time pressing against me. All the time I rocked my hips, sliding his straining cock against my throbbing mound, feeling its length glide past my clit. At the very top of the glide, I ground us together feeling the base of his tool rubbing around my twitching sex. At every chance we kissed, our lips meeting and pressing together. My tongue slid into his mouth and soon his tongue was in mine, drawing our breath away. I was sliding my hands all over his back, simply smoothing his soap away. I couldn't be bothered to get any gel. I ran my hand down his spine and under his bum, lifting him slightly by each cheek before sliding all the way back up to his shoulders. My hand glided down his sides and came to rest on his hips; it was only seconds before they found their way around front, forcing their way between our bodies and onto his rigid cock. He moved back a fraction allowing my hand in. My thumb rubbed across the slit in the swollen head, Artemka trembled and kissed me hard. I didn't need any more encouragement; my hand wrapped around that swollen throbbing rod and started to pump fast. Artemka gasped at the sudden change of tempo, his buttocks actually pinched in with tension. He reached down to my mound and was pushing and probing around the front, drawing his thumb across from side to side. I knew he was looking for something but didn't yet know where it was. I stopped my pumping and stepped back a whole step taking both of his hand in mine. I lowered them underneath me and pressed his hand over my slit. He smiled in absolute pleasure, almost like a child finding that toy he had been hunting for. I poured some shower gel into my palm. It was probably one of he most difficult things I have ever done. I was getting distracted as Artemka explored his new found delight. His fingers brushed my clit, flicked it, stroked it and even tried to pump it much like I had been pumping him but it was too little to hold. Then his fingers hooked up and went inside me, at first just a little then more and more almost like he was trying to work out how deep it was. I smoothed the shower gel over his chest, hurriedly working down until I had my slippery soapy hand pumping his cock again. I was getting too far-gone to manage the rapid pumping that I had before. I settled with my slow, oh so slow pumping, taking each stroke up a far as that tube of skin would go and pulling all the way back until it wouldn't move anymore. The first time I did it Artemka looked liked he had choked, he sort of stumbled forward but caught himself. After so many months I had my hot river back inside me, my body was tingling and my mound felt like a melting pot of hot slime. I leaned forward to kiss him. He stopped his exploring and put his arms around me. His kiss was hard. I could feel the animal passion. I put my arms around him and we held each other tight. The soap between us added a new sensation as my hardened nipples slid over his chest. We were pressed together. I could feel his stone hard shaft pushing against my mound. I started to grind our crotches together again and, within seconds had his slippery cock sliding smoothly along my thrusting clit. I was rocking my hips up and forwards, getting his full length in contact with my clit and lips, feeling the tensions build inside me. I could actually feel my juices dripping out from inside me. Artemka was saying something, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. He was adding to the pleasure moving his hips up and down, sliding his length further along my undulating slit. One of his hands was reaching under me, his fingers playing with me, sliding into me. That was too much. A huge hot wave rushed from my stomach towards somewhere near my spine and then turned to smash against my mound. My whole body shook, and I could feel gush after gush of hot lotion pulsing into my already dripping vagina. The wave subsided a little, not a lot. I could feel it building again. It was like watching a wave come all the way from the horizon until it drove up onto the shore, I could feel it slowly advancing, trembling in anticipation. Artemka was still rubbing against me, sliding his wonderful prick along my wet slit. I had stopped moving when my orgasm had hit, but he had kept on going, keeping my tensions building to another higher brink. His hand was under me again, playing with my lips, spreading them apart. His cock was sliding up and down, inching lower and lower. Sudden realisation struck me just a fraction too late. I felt his own hand guide the swollen head of his cock into my dripping vagina. For a second he held it there, before I could find the first word to tell him to wait, to tell him of my fear of the pain. Our eyes met, I could only stare at him wide-eyed, mouth open. I stepped back trying to get away. His hips thrust just once and he was in. He pulled me close and kissed me, my breasts flattened against his chest as he held me tight, my own arms were loosely around his back. The boy was inside me. I could feel him. I could feel the hot rigid mass pressing against the walls of my slippery hole. I could feel that hard swollen head pressing deeper into me than anything had been before, stretching me with a gentle firm pressure. There was no pain; there was a moment of resistance but nothing else. I bore down with my hips, mostly to find out if he was all the way in. Couldn't really tell but that started him moving. It was awkward for him standing up, he tried to bend his knees and thrust up but his cock kept being pulled all the way out. I needed him inside me, after all these months of fear; I was desperate to have something solid deep in me. That wave was rushing towards me again and I so wanted a cock in me to meet it. I pointed at the floor outside of the shower. He looked shocked, no ... let down, disappointed even. Poor thing thought I was saying we should stop and leave. I pointed down at the floor again and the very big smile came back. The water clicked off, even as we stepped out of the shower Artemka was stooped kissing my nipples which were like two little peas, I could swear even my breasts were larger. His shaft was absolutely rigid, straining upright just a few inches away from his taut stomach. It swayed a little as he stepped down onto the floor. We both knelt down, as we lowered to the floor he kept up his attention to my nipples. I knew I was still very aroused but somehow felt that the feelings had gone down a little, almost like my wave had gone back to the horizon, still there just not rushing so fast forward. Reaching over I grabbed his penis. It was so hard it was scary. I started my long slow pull again. I slid that tube of skin about halfway over the purple shiny swollen top; it wouldn't go any further, so I started the long slow way back. I never got to finish it though. Artemka pushed me all the way to the floor and without ceremony put his hand to my mound, putting his fingers inside me and prising my lips apart. He positioned himself between my knees and laid himself down, taking the weight with his free hand. His probing fingers guided his shaft between my lips once more. This time there was no pause, he pushed hard. There was another moment of panic on my part, but quickly an overwhelming realisation that there was no pain. He was simply pressing in more and more; our hips were ground together but still he kept pushing. I could feel that hot rigid shaft stretching my vagina, pushing in further and further. Then it was moving, sliding out. The slipping of his hot pole past the lining of my slopping vagina, something was brushing past my clit, sensations I had never had before were rushing in. That wave was on the horizon and it was coming in fast. I think about then he lost it, something animal took over. He started to thrust, hard. Our pubes were bumping into each other. His shaft slid in and out. I think once it came out so far it fell out, but went straight back in with his next thrust. He was raised above me. His hands were either side of my shoulders taking his weight and lifting him off me. His hips were rocking back and forth, driving his young powerful tool deep inside me with each push. He was looking around, not focussing on anything in particular. He licked his lips a little and then he was biting his bottom lip, all the time struggling to breath. The sliding and pounding inside me was taking its toll. It felt like my whole vagina was filling with hot liquid from rivers pouring from my nipples and the whirlpools that were my breasts. Somewhere behind my vagina was a hot pool straining and stretching to burst through my mound. It was so frustrating, half of me wanted it to burst out and the other half wanted it to carry on building until it blew my head off. It was only maybe a minute before Artemka started holding his breath. I reached around him, running my hand down his back until I was pulling gently on his buttocks, pulling him faster and faster into me. I arched my back, forcing my mound down onto his eager pounding groin. I felt his buttocks pinch in tight and his thrusts became not so fluid, more erratic. He was holding his breath. I felt the first spurt of his cum hit the top of my vagina with such force it was like a dull sting. I felt that powerful throbbing that I love so much, only this time deep inside me. He let go of his long-held breath as his second spurt emptied into me, but kept pumping in and out. I think it was the third spurt that finally finished me off. I'm really not sure. All I know is that the feeling of that hot liquid splashing into me from this hot hard pulsing rod was too much. The hot dam broke open and spewed out all its liquid and pent up pressure. I flew off into my own dream world of swirling dark shadows as my whole body was racked with spasms. I was vaguely aware of Artemka shooting a few more loads into me, before he collapsed gently onto me. We lay there just a few moments. He kissed me and said his "Thank You" and stood up. I was still breathing hard when he returned to a quick shower. At that time I wasn't sure if I had used him to achieve my long awaited orgasm, to steal his virginity for my own wicked way - or if he had used me for just the same purpose. It's funny, I didn't feel used or dirty; I just felt content. I lay there watching that beautiful boy rinse the soap off his body. He took a wet face cloth and disappeared out of the door. I took my turn in the shower, forcing myself to be quick and not to linger. He returned, momentarily scaring me that it was mum walking in. He rinsed the face cloth and went out with again. I realised he was clearing up the mess we, I, had made in his room. I dried myself in his towel; I didn't have a towel in the bathroom, and walked naked to his room. My panties were too wet to put back on, there was that hardening yellow stain that looked like dried cum rubbed into them in places, probably from our pre-shower embrace. I stuffed them down the side of the laundry basket; vaguely remembering the guilty hiding of Tun's briefs in much the same way and for the same reason. I found my nightshirt and slipped it over my head. Artemka looked like he had finished cleaning up. I kissed him gently on the lips and took the face cloth off him. He lay back on the bed. I turned the quilt over and covered him up. For an instant he looked disappointed, surely he didn't expect me to join him overnight, not with my parents just down the hall. I smiled and shook my head, he smiled back - we kissed one last time and I edged my way out and back to my room. The face cloth was soon thrown aside and I returned to my bed, the whole encounter had only lasted no more than maybe an hour; it had seemed like hour after glorious hour. I had little time to dwell on that. Sleep came over me like a mist and I drifted away to dream. The following morning I woke feeling like a spring lamb, or at least what I think a spring lamb would feel like. I had a sort of ache, like a bruise inside of me, but it was no great problem for me. The whole house was waking up and the usual breakfast routine was chaos. Dad grabbed his toast and coffee while trying to sort of scan huge amounts of the daily paper. Mum was fussing around, delivering the food to the table while trying to make sure dad had everything for his busy day, at the same time trying to pack her own bag for her morning job. The doorbell rang and I seemed to be the only one free to do anything about it. The Immigration Service people were there, all smiles and none-too-subtle suggestions about coffee. I lead them through. Mum fluttered a little more, if that was possible. I was sent to fetch Artemka from his room; he had to go to the day centre. I was never quite sure what this day centre was all about. It seemed to be a sort of cross between an assessment school with interrogations in the breaks. Whatever was involved, the ever-changing guests disappeared there 9 to 4, even if they were only going to be with us a day or two. I walked up the stairs, trying to look completely disinterested in what was happening. Trying to look like Artemka was just one of the dozens of kids who passed through our door. In my heart I was desperate to see him again. The prospect of having him taken away was looming but I was trying to adopt the same hardened outlook that I had with the parting of Tun, but it was proving very difficult. I tapped on Artemka's door and crept in. He was fast asleep, looking like a slightly ruffled angel. The small window was still open but there was a strange smell in the room, almost like Tun's briefs had smelt after his cum had dried inside them. The smell was very slight, but it was there. Maybe I was being too sensitive to it, worried perhaps that somehow this smell would betray what had gone on last night. I opened the main window wide and turned back to the bed. Artemka was awake by now, a little confused but coming to his senses. He focussed on me and smiled, lowering his lovely dark eyes in embarrassment of the memory. I sat on the side of his bed and gently kissed him on the lips. I had a message, something he simply had to understand. "Artemka, last night, secret, you understand". My beautiful boy smiled and nodded. With a lot of reluctance I stood up and moved away, telling him that he had to get up and see his visitors. He arrived in the kitchen maybe five minutes after me. He was wearing the same clothes that he had when he arrived, blue jeans and a light grey sweatshirt. His trainers, which I imagine used to be white, were tattered. It looked like he had no socks on at all. He looked vulnerable, hell he looked like sex on legs. Artemka disappeared out the door with the goon squad. I dutifully got into mum's car so she could drop me to school on her way to work, collecting Tanya on the way round. She was going to Aunt Gwen's after work and wouldn't be back until later. Before I got my hopes up they were dashed. Dad was going to come home early before Artemka was dropped back, in case the Immigration Service had anything to tell him. School trudged on, homework was set and excuses handed in lieu of essays. Eventually the final bell rang and I was out of there. Tanya's mum took her turn in returning me to the ole homestead. I let myself in and wandered into the kitchen. Turned on the TV and started to kill time until dad arrived home. Boredom fuelled curiosity and it wasn't long before I sneaked into Artemka's room. The windows were still open. Jeepers, dad would go nuts if he knew the windows were open all day while the house was empty. Oh well, no harm done. The smell wasn't there anymore. The quilt was in a crumpled mass, so I pulled it off the bed. There were three quite large yellow crusty stains on the sheet and, once I had worked out which way round the quilt was, there were a lot of small spots on the quilt cover. There was no real way of covering it up, so I took the plunge and stripped the bed of its linen. I dumped the whole lot in a basket and walked into the bathroom to empty the laundry hamper, and then into my room to pick up the usual stray bits. It wasn't too long before the whole lot was rolling around in a white bubbling mass at 40(C. No problem but it was time to return to my original quest, to poke my nose into Artemka's bag. Back in his room, I found it dumped in the bottom of the wardrobe. All of the drawers were empty in the room, just this bag. A well practised mental picture, to allow me to put it back as I found it, and I was unbuckling the rucksack. It was all quite disappointing really. There was a plastic bag with a toothbrush and a tube with what I think was toothpaste. There were a few pieces of paper with Russian writing on it and a towel that was worn thin in places. That was a waste of my time. Dad arrived just after the laundry was transferred to the tumble drier. He was pleased that I was doing the chores without having to be asked. He would never of guessed. The Immigration people arrived with Artemka about 15 minutes later. He went straight up to his room, while the goons talked to dad. There was some discussion was taking place and a few forms and bits of paper were signed. The goon squad left, smiling at me and nodding on the way out. My heart was pounding, what was going on ? Had Artemka let on what had happened while he was at the centre, had the officials just told dad ? Dad was stood there looking a little dazed. I tried to get back upstairs, tried to get to Artemka to get some idea what might be going on. I was a fraction too late. Dad called me back before I made it up more than one stair. I almost choked on relief when he told me. The problem was simply that Artemka had arrived with no possessions and the Immigration Service had decided it was something my parents should sort out. They had provided the money, that wasn't the problem; dad simply didn't relish the idea of shopping with a teenager. He was doing his best to postpone the whole thing until tomorrow, the weekend, when mum would be able to take care of it. By the time mum arrived back home, dad had the whole shopping problem blown out of all proportion. Mum arrived as a calm and completely unfazed influence. To her it was obvious that the boy had no clothes, she had picked up some essentials to tide him over until the Immigration Service had sorted something out. She was delighted when she saw the cheque for the shopping trip. Like me, my mum loved shopping, even for someone else. She passed me the carrier bag to take up to Artemka. I remembered to look like it was chore. She almost pleaded with me to make him feel more welcome. She was actually delighted when I 'reluctantly' agreed to take an interest. I added a lovely touch asking what his name was again. When I'm good, I am very good. She was actually humming merrily when she took over the emptying of the tumble drier from me. I went up to Artemka's room, uncertain about his mood after a day with the goon squad. I tapped on the door and waited this time. In seconds the door was opened. He smiled immediately, almost bowing as he invited me in. Mum was coming up the stairs carrying the dried laundry. He looked a little panicked, I simply handed him his carrier bag. "Here's a few things for you, I hope you like them" its all I could think of. He smiled again, nodded understanding and closed the door. Mum came up to the door, thanking me for being so nice, as she took her turn to knock on his door with his bedding. A flash of inspiration made me mention that I would pop in later to check he didn't need something to read or anything. Mum actually smiled encouragingly. I did my homework at the PC in the lounge. It was agonising, all I really wanted to do was speak to Artemka, just to be with him, but I knew I had to take it slowly. No one could know and, about then, guilt, lying and guilty secrets added to the confused mess that my mind was in. It was a few more hours before I picked up a few books. Mum and Dad were engrossed in the TV. I had to make my excuses "Do you know if Artemka can read English ?" I asked in all innocence. Mum looked up and smiled "Thank you Suze, why don't you go and ask him ?" Artemka looked at the books a little, sat beside me on his neat newly made bed. He was wearing some new baggy light grey jogging pants and a plain white T-shirt hanging down over the waist. The whiteness making his smooth tanned skin all the more attractive. The T-shirt was so new it still had the fold marks in it. He was bare footed, but there was a pack of sports socks on the bed. I must have interrupted him pawing through his new clothes. He saw me looking at him and smiled. He put the book down and gently took my head in one hand, once again our lips met in a gentle sweet kiss. My own hands made themselves busy smoothing his chest through the starched cloth. We kissed for a long time, each time we took a small break our lower lips remained just touching - it was just ... perfect. I slid my hands under his T-shirt and lifted. Obligingly he lifted both his arms, allowing me to pull it over his head. We broke our kiss just as his head disappeared in the material but quickly resumed as soon as it pulled through the other side. I started to slide my hand around his body, feeling the silky smoothness of the boy's skin as my whole handed glided over his back and then around to his chest and stomach. Reluctantly I broke my contact with his lips and started kissing along his jaw line and down his neck. Slowly I worked my way down his shoulder and chest, lingering again on his nipples. We were still sat up beside each other; it was getting difficult to bend over any further. I gently pushed him back to lie flat on the bed with his legs still over the edge of the bed. That was a whole lot more comfortable for me. I carried on kissing and using little licks on his chest and worked my way down his stomach. My right hand been sliding up and down his thighs but, as I worked my kisses down, I allowed my hand to finally work its way up. I found a compact but very hard bulge, cupped it in my palm and rubbed it quite hard. Artemka threw his head back and smiled at this. Using both my hands I pulled the elastic waistband of his jog pants wide and slid them down. He obliging lifted his bum to allow me to take them off him completely. He was wearing a pair of brilliant white briefs, apparently one of my mum's purchases. Tun's briefs had been much like my panties, just plain but a bit more substantial. These were different, they had two kind-of seams coming down from the waistband and slanting out to each side of his bulging crotch. In one of these seams was an opening, but it seemed way too small to get my hand in. His penis was trying to stiffen but was being held, curled up, by the very strong material of the briefs. It was making a very hard large bulge, which I just had to rub. Artemka was still just lying back, enjoying every moment. All he could do was rub my back a little. I lay back on the bed beside him, keeping up the rough treatment of his crotch. Our lips met again, our tongues probing and fighting with each other to dominate the breath-stealing kiss. He pulled at my school shirt, pulling it from my skirt and started to undo a few of the buttons. As soon as he had made enough of an opening, his hand was inside and onto my bra. He was kneading and squeezing my breast with the same roughness that I was using on his crotch. The almost savagery of what we were doing was exciting me in a way that was different to the intimacy of the previous night. He tried to undo a few more buttons, then changed his mind and slid his hand up my legs and under my skirt. His fingers slid straight up my thigh and came to rest on my panties. His fingers gently rubbed my mound, pressing the material that covered my opening. He continued the kiss, sucking the breath out of me, as he moved over me. I had no idea when I put my school uniform on that morning that, by the evening, I would have a near-naked boy pressing against me. My skirt was pushed up and our crotches were grinding into each other, the white sturdy cloth of his briefs crushing into the flimsy navy material of my panties. He was reaching down between us, trying to take off his briefs or pull down my panties, I can't be sure which. A click stopped us both in our tracks. It was nothing more sinister than an electric light switch in the kitchen, but it reminded us of the situation. It snapped us back into reality quick smart. I had almost allowed us to get carried away. If we had continued we would have been sure to be discovered. The realisation had hit us both; the moment was ruined. We separated like a pair of scalded cats, almost jumped apart. By the time I had straightened my skirt and tucked my shirt in, he was dressed again. Without much though I went to leave, he stopped me by grabbing my hand. He looked almost pleading with those big dark puppy dog eyes "Tonight, please ?" I was desperate to get away so I agreed. I agreed without really thinking. Within seconds I was out and heading to my room. to be continued ...