Chapter 1

I apologize for any typos because I'm sitting here typing with just my left hand, which really means with just one finger. As you may be able to guess, the other hand, actually more than one finger, is inside me as deep as it will go, the thumb rubbing that little projection that always makes me go wild. This must be the way a hard cock feels. I've been at it for more than a half hour, trying to figure out a good beginning for this story. I guess I'll have to be late for school. My progress has been slow because my brain has been concentrating on the good work of my right hand, my middle finger like deeper than it's ever been, the wetness it feels, the musky scent my body is generating. I keep thinking about yesterday with Janet and last night with Fran. And especially my conversation with Mom.

Ooh, ooh, aah, that's better, that's soooo nice. I have always loved that feeling, even more since Janet taught me what it was like, and I passed it on to Fran. OK, now I can use both hands to type.

It was hot as heck yesterday and we were practicing in the sun, jumping around in those darn heavy outfits, yelling things like "GO TIGERS" as well as the more complicated cheers. Football season was still weeks away, but Ms. Olson is a slave driver. Nobody at the game cares about the cheers; we all know that. They just want to see our breasts (boobs) sticking out and get a glimpse of our satiny panties as we jump, so they can fantasize about us when they go home and play with themselves. But for a fourteen year old girl whose boobs are only halfway out, it was a fun gig. I was one of the girls at the center of attention, right up there with the football players. Nice hunks they are, but I'm not into guys. Until yesterday, I wasn't into girls either. My experience was limited to just my well trained right hand around and inside my love tunnel, aided on occasion by my big sister's purple vibrator. Purple? Ugh.

When we were finished, Ms. Olson asked me to delay my shower and come to the office with her for a little chat. I wondered if I had been doing anything wrong. As soon as we got there, her phone rang, and she spent quite a while talking to her son's speech therapist. By the time she was finished, all the girls had showered and left. Thinking about it later, much later, I wondered if she had planned the call that way.

"I just wanted to speak to you, Becky, to tell you how glad I am that I picked you to be a cheerleader. The effort and excitement you put into the cheers are really gratifying. There's just one thing I wonder if we could correct. You are not yet as well developed on top as the other girls. The fans are mostly male, and the only thing they really do focus on is the way you girls are built. High school boys are in to nothing but tits. Good thing you're not a cheerleader for a pro football team; they'd have you out there with almost nothing on. You know how boys are just from being an attractive girl. Do you think you might be willing to wear a padded bra for a while?"

"Jeez, Ms. Olson, maybe I'm not sticking out like Dolly Parton, but I don't think these are too bad. I get enough comments from the boys in class, and enough cheap feels. I'm growing fast, and I'll get there soon." With that, I pushed my chest out the way I had done it with my first training bra.

"Don't you hate those dirty little cheap feels? First of all, we're not out in public. You can call me Janet. Second, as for growing fast, let's take a good look at them. Let's get that sweater off you." With that, she stood up, took the bottom of my sweater and started to pull it over my head. I raised my arms to help and the sweater covered my face for a moment or two. As it did, I felt surprise, a teeny bit of trepidation, and some unexpected excitement. When the sweater was completely off, my face was flushed.

"Stand sideways and look at your profile in the mirror." As I did so, she came behind me, laid her hands gently on my shoulders, and looked in the same direction, seeing my breasts in profile just as I saw them. Though I would never admit it to her, I saw what she was talking about.

"Remember that profile. Now look at them with a bit of padding." With that, she slid both hands inside my bra and covered my breasts, kneading them slightly. It was not what I had expected, but it was nothing that I minded. To my eyes, the boobs clearly looked larger, and as I idly wondered if the demonstration would have been more effective with my sweater still on my body, my nipples suddenly reacted to the feather light touch of her skin on mine. My head spun; she was a beautiful woman, not my idea of a dyke. Without thinking, I put my hands on the outside of the cups and squeezed softly, making her hands squeeze my breasts, equally softly. Her lips kissed the back of my neck, and my panties moistened.

"Ms. Olson..."

"Janet."

"Janet..."

"You must still be grungy from the workout. All the girls have left. Let me lock the door and help you take a shower."

"That would be nice."

Her arm was around me as we walked, my sweater tossed over my shoulder and held by one finger. My knees were close to shaking. Fran and I had talked a lot about boys and girls; we'd seen magazines, watched porn videos that her father thought he had hidden well, but we had never touched each other that way, nor kissed anywhere but on the cheek. I knew what was about to happen, quickly approving of it once I realized that I could not become pregnant nor catch any diseases-that last was probable only, but I was game, I was curious, I was excited, I was just plain hot. My mind was a blur of thoughts about how I was about to enter into a brand new part of life.

At the shower, she reached behind me to unhook the bra, tossing it on the bench and bending her head to take first one, then the other nipple into her mouth, sucking one while caressing the other. She stood up straight and leaned to kiss my lips. The probing of her tongue was a surprise, but an action I easily conformed to and reciprocated. Ignoring the rest of my clothing, she proceeded to strip herself, without my help. Her body was firm, slim waist, rounded hips, perfect except for her pendulous breasts. If mine were too small, hers were too large, yet my hands reached for them, weighing them if you will, kneading then kissing the soft flesh. Her pubic hair was dark and bushy, hiding her outer lips. I was wet, I was dripping, I was pouring, I felt like Niagara Falls. My hand, my sister's vibrator, had never given me this feeling, not ever.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled down my skirt and panties, then removed my shoes and socks. Her head darted between my legs, her thumbs spread my lips, and her tongue probed me below, but just for a few seconds. We each put on shower caps, then she reached behind the curtain to turn on and adjust the water to a medium warm. After we had turned around to soak our complete bodies, she pressed me against one wall and kissed me deeply, then knelt again, her tongue's invasion this time meant to go the distance. Her tongue attacked fiercely, in, out and around, her lips sucked, her fingers dove in to my front door (and back!!!). That was definitely a new feeling for me, making me squirm. Her lips on my clit brought me over the top, and as I moaned, I pressed her head into the center of my wishbone, finally announcing with a gasp that my orgasm had arrived.

"Now you do me." She stood up, kissed me and pressed her back against the wall, her legs spread. A girl doesn't need a lot of lessons to learn that stuff, and I knelt before her, on my knees as an adoring slave, yet I was not feeling subordination but power, the power to bring her to the heights I had just seen for myself. It had not of course been my first orgasm, but the first one brought on by a woman's mouth and hand, and I had felt it as never before. My tongue, my lips, my hands explored her as she had done to me; not quite exactly, as I wasn't ready to put a finger in her back there. As I nibbled, I raised one hand to caress her breasts, eliciting a welcoming moan from the back of her throat. She clasped my hand hard to that breast; she obviously liked that contact. I loved the taste of her clitoris between my lips; concentrating on it, I soon brought her to a screaming finish, her body shuddering when it hit.

She reached down to lift me by putting her hands under my breasts. We kissed again, then each of us began to soap up the other, for after all, that was the stated purpose of this exercise. She concentrated on washing the hair between my legs, her finger sliding a little soap inside me. I could not help but do the same for her, with my fingers continually tweaking the hooded clit. We don't need time between orgasms the way you guys do, and we got there for the second time each in just a few moments. After rinsing, she dried me like a baby, gentle touches all over, with particular attention to the special areas, then dried herself without my help. We kissed nakedly, rubbing breast to breast, pubes to pubes, then dressed and left.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Becky. Maybe you're right. Maybe your breasts are already the right size. I'll have to check them out again to be sure."

I smiled at her convoluted offer of more sex. "Yes, tomorrow, definitely."

"I'll cancel practice tomorrow. I'll tell them I'm not feeling well. We can go to my house after school."

I ran home, to an empty house. My mother was working late, and my father was out of town, either working or spending time with some girlfriend, my mother was never sure. There was a message on the answering machine from my mother, saying that there had been a big accident at a local factory, lots of injuries, and the hospital was keeping the entire ER staff on overtime all night, and she wouldn't be home till morning. I wondered if my father was the only parent with a 'special' friend. I called Fran.

"You've got to come over here, right now."

"Why?"

"Just come over. You'll find out."

It took her ten minutes. She didn't rush. We were sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing each other.

"OK, what's so important?"

"Guess what I did after school."

"Cheerleader practice."

"Guess what I did after that."

"I don't know."

"I took a shower."

"So?"

I didn't answer her, I just smiled.

Suddenly her eyes bugged out, like when they come out on a stalk and spin around in a cartoon.

"With who?"

"Janet."

"There's no Janet on the cheerleading squad."

"Janet Olson."

She gasped, just staring at me. "Wow."

"That's it? Just 'wow'?"

"Tell me all about it."