Date: Fri, 12 May 2006 20:28:51 +0100
From: Mozzie <mozzie@zalau.ro>
Subject: Suzie # 5

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 ....

The following morning I woke with a start. It wasn't very late but I could
hear people moving about. I didn't have time to linger, to think back over
what I had enjoyed just hours earlier. Already I was plunged into the world
of guilt and secrets, scared that some detail in my room would blow the
whole deal, sure that one glance and my mum would know every detail of what
I had been up to. I had to head off any visitor. I dashed for the door.

As I swung it open, my mother was on the other side. We both gasped in
shock. Immediately my mind raced, was there anyway that she could tell what
had happened just by being there, did I look somehow different. If she knew
anything she gave no hint, she was just surprised that the door had opened
just as she was about to knock on it. She hurried me along, the traffic
would be bad on a Saturday, basically the usual worries.

I quickly showered, got dressed and gave my room another critical look
over. I even sniffed the air. Eventually I decided I had done as much as I
could to make sure there were no traces of my shameful actions. I headed
down for breakfast. Artemka was already sat at the table chewing on
toast. He was good, he didn't look up too much but his eyes gleamed
brightly when he saw me. He smiled, said good morning, and went back to
chewing with just the hint of a smile on his lips.

Mum rushed us through breakfast and bustled us into the car. As ever
whenever mum makes a fuss of being late, we sailed through the traffic and
straight into a space in a half empty car park.

On the way was some exciting news; Artemka was to stay with us for maybe a
week. In my own mind I had resigned myself to losing him within a day or
two. I also heard some really disturbing stuff about why he had run away to
find his dad. He was being looked after by a man in Russia who was a scout
leader, the man spent his entire time taking photographs of the young boys
and selling them to perverts. Artemka had finally had enough and walked out
on him, it was this revelation at the day centre that had delayed his
return. The good ole Immigration Service wanted to be sure he was going to
be safe before they sent him back. It would be a while until the Russian
police got their act in order, in the meantime we were 'stuck' with him. Of
course I had made the expected tutting noise on hearing this but, secretly,
my heart was pounding.

Mum had so much to do. She didn't know how she was going to get it all
done. Should she pay for three hours parking or six ? Its funny, every time
she did this, I just knew we would dash around frantically and be back in
the car in about two hours. I think its something they learn at 'Panicking
for Mothers 101'.

Much as expected, we were back at the car with time to spare. We had even
stopped for a coffee along the way. Artemka had three carrier bags with
clothes in and a new holdall. He had balked at the cost of designer or even
regular clothes and wouldn't let us spend that much on him. We had tried to
explain that we weren't paying, the Immigration Service had left us with
some money, but he wouldn't hear of it. Soon enough we had bought him
everything he needed at Wal-Mart, mum was even happy because there was
money left over. Of course it wasn't long before she started fretting about
having to explain why she was returning some of it unspent. My suggestion
to simply keep it was met with a long and drawn out explanation which
lasted nearly all the way home, during which Artemka slept like an angel in
the back seat.

We got back home and he went to his room to unpack and enjoy his new
belongings. Mum carried on fluttering around. She hadn't worked for years
and had taken a morning job at exactly the same time they had decided to
start fostering - now that is not good planning, even to my ditsy mind. Mum
asked if I would mind showing Artemka around town until dad could collect
us from somewhere, she could pop into work and make sure things weren't
piling up and. I 'reluctantly' agreed and within minutes, poor confused
Artemka was back in the car and we were heading into town.

We wasted the rest of the day wandering around, staring in windows and
watching the traffic drive down the 'wrong side of the road' from Artemka's
point of view.  Eventually dad arrived to collect us from the corner, spot
on time as ever. There was the usual rush to get in the car, as ever a car
drew up behind as we opened the doors and everyone panicked. Artemka
suddenly cried out and was bent over clutching his face.

Dad was marvellous, he drove the car up on the pavement to let the traffic
past and then came rushing round. In the panic to get in the car, Artemka
had caught his lovely beautiful face on the top corner of the door. There
was no blood but his left eye looked sore, so we went off to the
doctor. The bureaucracy at the doctors was incredible, but two phone calls
to the Immigration Service soon got him in front of the quack for maybe
three minutes. By that time a black eye was making itself clear, but the
doctor said it was almost certainly nothing to worry about. Like all
doctors he wasn't going to commit himself, we still had to keep a close
watch on him and take him to the hospital if ... blah blah blah -
basically, if he screwed up and missed something, it would be our fault for
not spotting it later.

A quick diversion via McDonalds was all it took to restore normality and
soon we were back home to mum who was ready for eye injury panic fluster
part two. I went upstairs and left her to it.

About an hour later, halfway through Charmed on DVD, mum came tapping at
the door. The doctor had told us to keep watch on Artemka for his 'head
injury' and he was going to stay and rest in his room, would I mind going
in and keeping him company while she and dad went in the garden for an hour
or so ? I made a great play on grimacing but eventually agreed, I even
nodded intently as she repeated all the head injuries warning signs to
watch out for - even she smiled when, after she had gone through them all,
I reminded her that I was there when the doctor had told them all to dad, I
even manage to add one that he had forgotten.

Artemka grinned from ear to ear when I managed to explain that I was
babysitting him. We watched mum and dad settling down at the bottom of the
garden. As soon as they were busy I rushed around to check the other doors
were locked. The only door they could use was the patio door that was right
under Artemka's window; we would hear them open that and they had to walk
through the lounge, then the kitchen to get to the stairs that lead up to
us.

We sat on the bed. I took his face in both my hands and looked at his
eye. It did look sore but he just shrugged and smiled. Even so I gently
kissed it better. Just allowing my lips to brush it, time and again. It had
started, so my constant fluttering kisses covered his cheek; then ran down
his nose until our lips were pecking gently at each other. We would allow
our lips to brush slightly, and then recoil just a little to look at each
other and then move in for another gentle kiss. All the time we had each
other held gently by the elbows, no more.

After a wonderful eternity of kissing, very restrained I thought, we
actually left each other alone to look through his new purchases. I stood
up to check the parents were still doing things at the bottom of the
garden. Artemka had unpacked everything into a drawer and was pulling
things out one at a time. Eventually he pulled out a pair of briefs, he
grinned and he said, "I think for you".

I didn't know what to do or say. He had remembered my fetish, my interest
in boys' underwear was surely abnormal and he had remembered it. Suddenly I
found I was feeling guilty even to my beautiful Artemka. I asked him how
long he had watched me doing what I had done last night, he was so matter
of fact about his answer I eventually calmed down a little. He had woken up
as I had taken the briefs off his leg; he had seen the lot and he had fun
watching me.

He reached into his old knapsack and pulled out a crumpled pair of white
briefs, the ones that I had worn last night. He had hidden them not quite
knowing what to do. I guess he could hardly leave them out and risk my
mother finding them in the laundry in the state they were in.

I led him to the bathroom and ran some water into the basin. It didn't take
long to clean them up enough to have them in the laundry basket without
arousing any suspicion. I wrung them out and just draped them on his
bedroom inside window ledge to dry in the sunshine, making a mental note to
put the in the laundry later.

All the time I had been doing this Artemka had been watching me, smiling, I
think just content that I was there. We returned to his room and sat
down. We started the kissing game again, but this time I let my hand rest
on his leg. He had both of his hands gently on each side of my neck. My
hand started a subtle circling, just tickling my fingertips on his
thigh. As the kissing went on, my hand started to move along his thigh. I
barely brushed his crotch as my hand stole up under his sweatshirt to
stroke his chest. Slowly my hand roamed around his back and smoothed his
smooth upper body.

It wasn't long before I was pulling his sweatshirt up and over his head. He
had to help with the last bit while I went back to the window to check on
my parents. We both lay back on the bed, I was taking in every inch of his
chest running my hands over him - trying to possess and absorb every inch
of his glorious body. Almost predictably my hand slid down his stomach and
under the elastic waistband of his sweat pants. I reached down and found a
large bulge waiting for me. My interest in his underwear immediately came
to the fore. I simply couldn't help myself. I lifted the sweat pant's
waistband down to mid thigh. This made his whole position immediately
awkward. He was still sat on the main part so his trousers were now only
pulled down at the front. He didn't need any hints. He raised his hips and,
with his feet in the air, pulled them completely off. Bless him; he even
took his socks off.

He lay back down again with his legs bent over the side of the bed,
expecting me to lie down beside him. I didn't. I sat down at the edge of
the bed alongside his hips. I drank in his beautiful smooth young body. He
was wearing another pair of brilliant white briefs. They were exactly the
same design as the ones from yesterday and I would guess were in some sort
of multi-pack that my mum had bought. I put my hand completely over the
bulge at his groin and swirled it around a bit. I looked at him, trying to
spot any sign of an early ejaculation - testing my theory that the first
time only lasts a few seconds and the second time lasts longer. He was
smiling and obviously enjoying it, but I couldn't see anything dramatic. He
had his hands behind his head and was letting me get on with it.

His erection was trying to grow but was being held as a compact hard bulge
by both his briefs and by my hand. I swirled my hand round in a circle,
pressing hard. Artemka was grinning like an imp, bright eyed, but didn't
look like he was going to cum right then and there. I couldn't remember if
it happened sort of suddenly without warning - all I could remember was
that it was quick.  I changed tactic and rubbed my hand up and down,
pushing the lump down between his legs and then up so it was trapped
between my hand and his stomach. He gasped a little and was breathing hard
but still didn't look like he was going to cum.

My exploration continued. I pushed his cock around a little until it could
move within the material. In seconds it had moved to point straight up
towards his belly button, it was trying to squeeze under the waistband. I
wrapped my hand around the clothed tube and started to pump. With each pump
the waistband pulled back and the tip of his shaft poked out, eventually it
was completely out poking over the top of the waistband all the time. I'm
not sure if it had grown that little bit extra or if I had moved the
waistband down.

Artemka was looking down at me. He looked urgent and I wondered if he was
close. After a little more messing around I reached down inside his briefs,
cupping his balls with my fingertips and allowing my palm to lay along his
cock with the white cloth of his briefs keeping my hand firmly in
place. His shaft pulsed powerfully against my hand. That was enough for
me. I lifted my hand and pulled his briefs down, he did the little jig to
work them down to his feet and kick them off. I was fully clothed with a
completely naked boy laying out in front of me willingly at my mercy and I
was going to take every advantage of that.

He spoke "we, like last night" I could only look sympathetic, I knew he so
wanted to continue his growing ascent from virginity that I had started -
but my parents were only at the bottom of the garden. He looked half
disappointed but otherwise OK. I felt almost guilty, but there was nothing
I could do about it.

I studied his shaft, traced every vein up with my fingernail, thrilling on
each twitch that I caused. I gently squeezed his balls. I eased the tube of
skin all the way up and all the way down, loving the sight of the head
emerging through the hole in the end. Artemka reached down and took hold of
his own shaft. He squeezed it slightly harder than I did. He pumped it
faster than I had and with shorter strokes. Then he stopped and guided my
hand back to him. I copied what he had done, watching the skin gliding back
and forth over the end. I asked him "is that what you do ?" He looked
embarrassed, his eyes lowered and an almost imperceptible nod. I had just
discovered how boys masturbate.

I pumped for a short while, watching him start to squirm and writhe on the
bed. The head of his shaft grew a little bigger and went very shiny and a
darker shade of purple. I'm not sure but his balls seemed to tense up. He
was starting to hold his breath again, so I stopped. He looked at me in
shock, I smiled obviously I had stopped at exactly the time I had planned
for. A tiny, ever so tiny, speck of goo was in the slit of his shaft. I
smiled, just a day or so ago I would have thought that he had ejaculated on
seeing that, now I knew better.

I couldn't resist myself. I licked the drop from the tip of his shaft. His
whole body shook and the rod rose up to follow my tongue. God, that turned
me on. I was sure that I was doing something that no one else anywhere
would ever do.  I mean this wasn't sex like I had been taught.

I licked again, just the tip. Another small drop came out, so I licked that
off too. Artemka was going spare. He kept reaching down as if to put his
hands on my head but then changed his mind. His whole body was squirming on
the bed. I was enjoying driving the boy mad with frustration and I was
reasonably sure he was enjoying it too. He was staring at me, each time I
lowered my head he looked around intent on seeing everything that was
happening. Yes, I'm sure he was enjoying it.

His balls were tightly drawn up again his body so I reached down to explore
what they felt like. I drew my tongue, not just the tip; the whole rough
length of my tongue pressing hard, all the way from the base of his cock
right up to the top. He gasped and I felt him throb hard. I took hold of
the base of his cock to hold it upright, a small trickle had leaked out of
the slit and was running down this little valley underneath the head. I
held him like an ice cream and ran my tongue hard around the top. His
reaction was immediate. He was lifting his hands up and down and half
trying to sit up but didn't appear to be able to make his mind up. His head
was thrown back and his eyes screwed shut. His mouth was open gulping for
air. This I recognised, oh yes; I knew what was happening now.

My tongue ran around the rim of the head, which was jumping uncontrollably
nearly all the time. I was having a job keeping my tongue in contact with
it. I found a neat path, down the valley and around the rim, back over the
top and repeat. I had done this a few times and was just thinking about
building up speed when a gasp, once again, reminded me that there was a boy
attached to what I was working on. His eyes were still screwed shut but now
he was biting his bottom lip. His cock was straining, there was huge thick
tube running along the bottom of his shaft, it felt hard and I could feel
it pulsing, pushing its contents harder and harder as it strained to shoot
out.

To see Artemka in this crazed state was just so exciting. I so wanted him
to cum. I didn't care about me right then. I would share in the power of
his orgasm. He was close, I could tell. He had held on this long. He had
held on much longer than his other first times. The boy whose virginity I
had taken was learning. My hand still had his shaft hold by the base and I
moved it slightly, just slightly, and Artemka almost cried out. "Hold on" I
said, hoping he could extend my pleasure a little longer, then I realised
that he might not have understood so I tried "Wait." That registered with
him. He opened his eyes wide and stared at me in almost disbelief, gulping
in air he could only whisper "Soon, no, soon." My poor boy couldn't last
much longer.

A long dribble of white oozed from the slit. Almost without thinking I
lowered my head and licked it up as it ran down the swollen head. Artemka
gasped. I lowered my head and kissed the top. I knew this was what I had
wanted to do; it seemed almost natural. It was something that no one else
could ever have even thought of. I had tasted enough cum to know that it
was pretty bland stuff. I was a little worried that it could make me ill
but I was too far gone to worry about an upset stomach.

At my kiss, his shaft had pulsed violently, Artemka was struggling to
breathe, his thighs were taut and his cute little bum was dimpled from the
tension. He was sort of half-sat up; his stomach was half crunched
tight. This boy was way past being close to orgasm, he was positively
overdue. I had been giving his penis uninterrupted attention by hand and
tongue for just over five minutes and now it was time to finish him.

I slid my fist up his straining shaft. Moving it back to where he had shown
me. I stopped. I simply held it. He stared at me in desperation. There was
a clear unspoken message, begging, pleading with me. Without warning I
pumped. This was no gentle massage, no subtle caress. Instantly my hand was
a blur; a savage, rapid short stroking. I had known he was close, it was
probably only two seconds before his hips lifted and the first small spurt
came out. I knew better now than to keep it pointed into the air or at
me. I pointed his hose along his own body feeling the thick wads course up
through his penis, before spitting out, leaving long trails of thick cum
across his stomach.

Artemka was gasping. His whole body was twitching. Slowly he regained
control. I kept hold of his member, slowly pulling back and forth, more
gently now, squeezing that last drop out. The rigid shaft started to
soften. It was still a firm rubbery tube, still long, but I could bend it
after a while. I looked at my boy. He lay back with a fan shaped series of
streaks stretching up from his groin. The furthest one stretched from just
below his nipple to his shoulder, the last one was just a large drop where
the top of his penis had been.

As I sat there, gently stroking him, I realised that a little white goo
always seemed to dribble out nearly all the time we were making out. This
was different from the cum that shot out so far when he climaxed, even then
I knew that the first spurt was always little, it was the second one that
went the furthest. I wondered I the stuff that was dribbling out first
wasn't cum, but something else, maybe it was like the goo that made my
vagina slippery long before my orgasm. I still had so much to learn. In my
mind I smiled, at least I had someone to learn it on.

Artemka was calm now, watching me looking at him. He looked down at his
chest and saw the trails of cum high up past his nipples. His head fell
back to the pillow, smiling and laughing. I looked at him wondering if he
was just happy or if there was something else. He caught on to my enquiry
"long way" was all he said. I had to ask "isn't that what usually happens
?", he shrugged his shoulders clearly not understanding. I tried again
"does it always go that far ?" again he shrugged. Hell, one last try, I
pointed at the top of the longest trial "all the time ?" This time he
understood, he smiled and shook his head. "No no, little way" and, to
emphasise his point, he spread his thumb and finger across his belly a few
inches, he carried on "sometime little, sometime far, all good" and he
grinned.

I felt wonderful. In my own mind it was now clear that he usually only shot
his load a few inches but under my influence he was squirting his juice
huge distances. I was so happy, thrilled that I could make this wonderful
boy so aroused. I actually started to feel experienced, amongst all the
guilt and shame came a mixed feeling - confidence.

I moved to the window, my parents were still in the garden. Artemka needed
to clean up. He sensed this too and stood up, immediately the cum started
to run down his chest. Awkwardly he put his hands underneath the trails
trying to stop them falling off him. He dashed off to the bathroom.

I sat there a few minutes. I was trying to get my head in order. I was
trying to make clear mental notes of what I had leaned and the new
questions that I had found to answer. I heard my parents chatting,
approaching the house. I flew into action. Like a thing possessed I grabbed
Artemka's old briefs off the window ledge, and gathered his clothes off the
floor. I straightened the bed with on e free hand and dashed over to the
bathroom, praying that he hadn't locked the door. He hadn't, I pressed the
handle and walked straight in. Artemka was in the shower and initially
looked startled. Before he could say anything, I was sure he would invite
me in; I said "mum and dad" and pointed downstairs. He nodded seriously. I
threw his old briefs in the laundry hamper and dropped his clothes in a
pile on the floor, and dashed out.

I was so proud that I had reacted so quickly. I was sure that mum would
realise that if Artemka was in the shower and his clothes were in his room,
at some stage he would have been walking around naked. The pride was soon
replaced by guilt again, guilty that I was become so adept at covering my
shameful tracks, that I was becoming expert at deceit. What was I becoming
?

I wandered downstairs and dad asked where Artemka was. I told him, he had
gone to the bathroom, I thought he might be having a shower. Mum clucked
around a little, was he OK, she started to rattle off the list of head
injury warning signs again. She was just getting into a state about what
would happen if he collapsed locked in the bathroom, when we all heard the
bathroom door open and Artemka came padding down the stairs. Mum looked a
little foolish, realising how she was over-reacting, Dad gave me a knowing
look and raised his eyes skywards.

Artemka smiled and soon we were all outside in the garden, throwing
together an impromptu barbeque - another first for my cute little
Ukrainian.

to be continued .....