Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2006 13:36:07 +0300
From: Mozzie <mozzie@zalau.ro>
Subject: Suzie # 1

A work of fiction. If this is likely to offend you or it is illegal for you
to read it, please stop reading it!


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 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 ....


I guess like most people do at some time or another, I started wondering
"am I the only one who ..." or "am I normal". Fearing the answers are "yes"
and "no" in that order, it's not the sort of thing you can ask friends.
Bitter experience tells me that best friends can become greatest enemies at
the beat of a heart and, with that change, your deepest shared secrets soon
become public knowledge and ridicule. I hoped to find the answer on the
'net, instead I got more and more confused. I soon found that I wasn't "the
only one who ..." but, because of the sites that I was drawn towards I
started to wonder "if I was normal".

It was through one of those sites that I found an online mentor, who helped
me through the problem. She was so careful to keep the whole thing, very
properly, on the net. I soon solved my own problems, sorted my head out. I
felt that if I posted my own experiences here, maybe others who found
themselves in my predicament might draw some reassurance.

So here we go ...

I had just started my periods and taking more and more notice of my body.
Mum had been pretty hopeless, simply introducing me to pads but going no
further, she believed such things were best left to professional educators
- yeah right, I now know she wouldn't embarrass herself. Spurred on by the
school rumour machine, I soon started exploring myself. I learned where to
touch myself, where to stroke with feather light touch, where to push with
an almost brutal thrust. I have no particular shame in admitting that I was
masturbating and didn't have a problem with it, there were dozens of girls
who would blush and coyly admit to being ardent enthusiasts.

Pretty early on in the experimental stage of my sex life my mother had
suddenly opened my bedroom door to ask if I was OK. I never know to this
day if she saw or suspected what I was doing, I was obviously making
noise. I had murmured into the darkness that I was OK, doing my best to
pretend that I had been mumbling in my sleep and that she had woken me.

I spend long hours most nights touching myself, simply enjoying the thrill
but yearning for something else, something more. I wore my long cotton
nightshirt over my school panties, fearful to take them off in case mum
burst in on me again. It didn't really matter too much, I added the
sensation of cloth rubbing over my mound to my growing list of things
pleasurable.

Almost on cue, the school sex education lessons started up and I went from
thinking I knew everything, to realising just how much I had to learn. They
didn't solve anything, they added to the problem. The lessons were very
short and very factual, it was a very basic biology lesson given by an
embarrassed teacher who didn't want to be there and certainly wasn't going
to answer questions. What little I had learned I used that night. I moved
my growing sexual awareness into an important new level. I had an in depth
knowledge of my clit, with all its pleasures, but had always found my
vagina too shallow to be of much use and I had given it little
attention. That night I knew that something was meant to slide into there
and break through what I had always thought was the end.

I worked myself up into a frenzy; I started to slide my finger in and out
of my vagina. At first the effect was much the same as before but slowly I
found that it was becoming slippery. The frenzy grew beyond what I had
managed before. I simply couldn't touch myself enough, my free hand was
sliding between my peaked nipples and my clit, I didn't know what to do
with myself. Almost by reflex I soon found my hips thrusting down, trying
to get my finger in as deep as I could. I'm not 100% sure but that could
have been my first ever, oh so sweet, orgasm.

The sex education classes ended soon afterwards, but by then I had learned
something more about boys. I knew I needed something long and hard to
complete my experiment. My (then) best friend had commented, as she had
unrolled a condom in the lesson that it would wrap completely over Claire's
"toy". Claire went crimson and ran out of the room gasping back her
tears. I was at a loss to know what had happened, but soon my friend's
explanation had inadvertently introduced me to dildos.

That night I lost my virginity to a carrot. I was far too eager and had
simply pushed it in with little foreplay and no lubrication (natural or
otherwise); my hymen tore almost straight away. The pain was incredible. I
stopped at once and feared that I had done myself some irreparable
damage. Naturally I said nothing, simply accepting that I would be dead by
morning but at least I wouldn't have the embarrassment of explaining how I
had injured myself. It was days before the bruise-like ache finally ceased.

As my memory gradually caused the pain to fade, and my period came and went
without problem, I started playing with myself again. OK I was a little
tentative in touching myself, but the old pleasures started to coarse
afresh. I still couldn't bring myself to push anything inside me, not even
my fingers.

My nightly experiments reached a sort of plateau, I guessed there was
something else but still didn't want to face the experience of a painful
penetration once again.

At this time my parents started fostering for the Immigration Service.
Basically if they caught someone coming into the country illegally, the
adults went to wherever and the kids came to us for a few days until
something more permanent could be decided on. Sometimes they stayed a few
weeks but not often. These kids often came to us in quite a state,
sometimes they hadn't washed for days and often they had only what they
stood up in.

An Asian boy arrived called 'Tun', I didn't really pay him much attention,
he was just one of a string of part-time visitors as far as I was
concerned. He was a little older than me and was really quiet. He spent
most of his time in his room.

I must mention that I rarely dried myself in the bathroom. I preferred to
lounge around my room, in my robe, until I was dry. That fateful morning I
got up and had a shower. I stepped out, slipped on my robe and opened the
door.

Beside the bathroom door was a low planter. Tun was stood on this on
tiptoes and, holding onto the doorframe, leaning across the door. He had
been looking through this little window above the bathroom door. There is
this sort of fuzzy plastic stuck on it, but there's a clear border that he
was trying to look through. I had simply opened the door far earlier than
he had thought I would.

He was shocked and started to mumble something in his language. I was
stunned. Funnily enough not that someone had been spying on me, I was
stunned because of the bulge in his jeans. His elevated position had raised
his bulge to face level as I had walked out the door, two more steps and I
would have collided with it.

We both said nothing more. He headed towards his room and I walked into
mine. I sat there trying to clear my thoughts; each time I had this mental
picture of that bulge. It wasn't what I had expected. I had imagined a sort
of long rod sticking out, like the textbooks but with clothes over
it. Instead it was like a lump, can't describe it any better.

It took a long time for me to realise that I had a golden opportunity
here. I had the chance to satisfy my own curiosity and to move up in the
school hierarchy of girls who knew about "it". I spent ages batting the
idea back and forth in my own mind. I had a boy who I could blackmail as a
Peeping Tom, who would be gone probably back to foreign shores within a day
or two, and who couldn't speak to my parents or anyone who knew me because
he didn't speak English. Of course, I had realised that the Immigration
Service Social Workers had translators, in fact I had come up with dozens
of things that could go wrong but, somehow, I had dismissed them all.

Fully dressed and well rehearsed I tapped on his bedroom door. He said
something so I walked in, about then everything I had carefully rehearsed
was forgotten. He was sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the TV with
the sound turned down. He glanced up and looked like a frightened rabbit,
he kept his eyes lowered to the floor.

I tried slow English, fast English, sign language, and still couldn't get
myself understood. So I took his hand and led him out of the room. Well,
almost, he pulled his hand back just before we made the door but I nodded
and waved him to follow me. I have no idea where he thought I was taking
him. Looking back, he probably thought I was taking him to my parents for
punishment.

When we reached the bathroom door, I did this ridiculous sort of shower
dance and pointed at the over-door window a lot. After a short while, he
looked like he was catching on that I wanted to talk to him about his
Peeping Tom act. I wanted to confirm that he had understood so far, so I
gave him a thumbs-up sign. Idiot! As soon as I had done it, I realised that
I cold have just said it was OK to watch me. Well at least he smiled. I
then started waving my hands in a frantic "no that's wrong" gesture,
eventually we were both giggling away at our mutual confusion.

I pressed on with my mission, the plans for which were falling apart the
more I tried. By this time, I was reduced to pointing at the bathroom
window and pointing at his crotch ! He looked as confused as I was, but I
am certain he was catching the drift. In frustration, I stormed off in a
huff back to my room. He tried to catch my hand as I went past but I
avoided him. I turned to close my bedroom door to find that Tun had
followed me. He looked in a kind of half puzzled and doubtful that he had
understood even part of what I had been trying to say.

Big breath and I decided to try again. I closed the door and had a moment
of realisation that I had a boy trapped in my bedroom with things sexual on
my mind - that had to be a red-letter day.

Speaking slowly, knowing he wouldn't understand, I reached forward to touch
his crotch. Before I got there, he jumped back a few inches and tried to
grab my hand. I simply said "Its OK" and tried again. This time I actually
touched it.

It wasn't what I had been expecting at all; there wasn't a long hard pipe,
just a lump. I cupped the whole thing in my hand and started to explore it
with my fingers. It really didn't help my understanding; I had to see this
thing. Tun hadn't objected so far, in fact he looked like he was starting
to like he way this was going.

I lifted his hoodie and pulled it up. After a short confusion of when to
move his arms, the hoodie came off. I stood back and looked at my prize. I
had yet to appreciate the smooth skin of his chest and the flatness of his
stomach. That sort of appreciation would start soon enough; right now all I
was interested in was pure biology.

I stepped forward and he made to lift my T-shirt. Oh no, this was going to
be MY show and I let him know that. He looked confused but didn't try
anything on me again.

I ran my hand down his stomach, copying the sort of movement I do to get my
hand inside my own panties, but the waistband of his jeans was simply too
strong. I could get my hand inside but then the angle was all wrong;
instead I pulled the button apart and slid the zip down. I sort of pushed
the zip opening with my hand, pushing the jeans down his thighs as I did
so, Tun did this sort of jig to move the jeans down to his feet and kick
them off.

He was wearing a pair of light blue briefs. A large bulge of his scrotum
with his cock curled around the top but slightly to the left. I was staring
at it when I could swear it moved.

Without asking, thinking or even caring what Tun would have wanted, I
reached out and touched it. It moved, oh boy did it move, it fairly jumped
but was being kept curled tight against his balls by the briefs. I spent a
short while stroking and rubbing this lump, loving the feeling of it
throbbing against my fingers.

Eventually I cupped it completely in my palm and rubbed hard, it just felt
so natural. My efforts dislodged it from the material and it changed
position inside the briefs and grew quickly towards the waistband. This was
the hard pipe shape that I had been expecting; now I understood why it had
only been a lump before.

I carried on this sort of rubbing at the base of the rod. That's the area
where I got my most pleasure from and I simply thought it would be the same
for him. I could see a small dark blue damp patch in the light blue cloth
of the briefs. The very end of the rod was straining away from his stomach
almost an inch and it kept twitching a little further away every once in a
while.

I had completely forgotten that there was a boy connected to my new
plaything; until his hand came down to hold mine. I was actually quite
startled. When I looked up he was gazing at me with glazed eyes and his
mouth was open, he was having trouble breathing.

He guided my hand toward the top of the rod - that throbbing twitching
end. He pressed my hand hard against him and started to move it up and
down. Taking his lead I started to rub quite hard and he moved his hand
away leaving me to it. It was only a few rubs before I had figured to hold
properly with my fingers and was slowly pumping away.

It wasn't long, two minutes maybe. I could hear Tun breathing in gasps. He
actually kept missing a breath. He kept moving his hips forward and
backwards, not very much but it was noticeable. He was so tense. His legs
were almost trembling. The very end of the rod was pressing up under the
waistband of the briefs and that small dark wet patch was growing and was
now in two or three places. He was making a sort of 'guh guh guh' sound

I was taking things to its natural conclusion. I was going to take his
briefs down and hold him by the flesh, he certainly didn't seem like he was
going to object. Before I could do anything about it he gasped. The tip of
his rod spasmed so violently it nearly fell out of my hand. The wet dark
patch grew huge and white slippery goo oozed out of where the tip of that
rod strained against the soaking cloth. I stopped rubbing but had my hand
touching him. I felt that rod throb maybe five or six more times, each time
the dark wet patch grew still more, and Tun stepped forward to catch his
balance as he nearly fell over.

I had no idea what had just happened, my hand was smeared with that goo.
Tun was grinning. Slowly it dawned on me, this was what the sex education
classes were all about. The boy had ejaculated, not by pushing in and out
of a vagina like we had been told - but outside of it.

I was trying to take it all in. He was saying something to me and pointing
to the door. I didn't know what to do next. Eventually he smiled and
gathered up his clothes. He opened the door a few inches, peered out and
then he dashed out across the landing and went straight into the
bathroom. At least he was discreet. A few moments more and I heard the
familiar sound of the shower. I resisted the urge to peer in that door top
window in revenge.

to be continued ....