Looking back, I am perpetually amazed by my naivety and that of my friends. I read stories about kids nowadays and how sexually aware —and experienced!-they are. When I was their age, members of the opposite sex were as known to us as quantum physics.

Which is my excuse as to how my first blow job was as a giver rather than a receiver. I look back now and don't regret it. The only regret I have is that it took me so long to discover the pleasure.

Like most boys fresh into our teens, we roamed around in groups, our aim to find opposing groups of girls and terrorise them until they screamed and ran away. We were easily amused in those days.

The quickest and simplest way to achieve our goal was to lift up their skirts, showing their underwear. Yet as we progressed through the months, the girl's reactions slowly changed. They still screamed, yelled, cursed, but they no longer ran away to tell the nearest teacher.

They would struggle, fight free, and then dare you to lift the skirt of their friend, the challenge we were more than happy to accept.

With hindsight the memories make me laugh. Some girls seemed to struggle less, seemed to relish the attention and grasping hands, and in our naivety we mistook the signs of permission to go further and soon got bored of them and went after the girls who struggled and shouted the most. As a result, our daily showing of tight teen panties dropped markedly.

Some of the girls even joined in occasionally. With their ever-ready and alert eyes watching our every move for signs of a possible attack, the swift hands of a female friend would come as a complete surprise. This amused us no end as the unsuspecting victim would then turn on their attacker with a vengeance that was remarkable in its vindictiveness. We had many a good show watching two girls trying to lift the opposite's skirt, the result of which resulted in both girls skirts ending up around their waists at the same time.

Apart from being a means to waste time during break times, we really didn't know what to do with girls.

My best friend Derek had a sister and he made sure everyone knew just how much of a pain in the neck she was. She was a couple of years older than us, yet I had no problems with her. She smiled at me and laughed at my jokes, yet it would be several years later before I finally understood what her posture and comments were really telling me. But by then it was too late.

It was also the era of the VHS and inevitably, tapes containing imagery we never understood but were too embarrassed of potential scorn from our mates to admit to not understanding.

My burgeoning panty fetish was starting to go into overdrive around this time. We (mainly me) were still lifting girls skirts, and I thought my targets were starting to loose interest as they stopped struggling once their skirts were raised, affording me long unobstructed views of their smalls. I was never really interested in what lay beneath the delicate, inevitably pastel coloured fabric, but in the actual panties themselves.

It was only a matter of time before my interest turned elsewhere. And that turning led to Derek's sister, or more accurately her underwear drawer.

My mother's undies were plain, white, seemed to have enough material to make a tent out of and besides, they were my mothers.

Those belonging to Dereks sister —Julie- on the other hand, were dainty, lace edged, and from the brief glimpses I saw of them when their mother was doing the laundry, came in a wide variety of colours. Every time I caught a glimpse of them, my pulse would race and a pleasurable feeling would start to manifest between my legs.

Meanwhile, in real life, other events were about to make an impact. A video made its way around school (Which Derek and I managed to get a hold of and watch). We didn't really understand what was going on, and because it was just the two of us, we admitted as much to each other.

The video contained several scenes of men getting naked with women. The men got hard (embarrassedly we admitted to each other that that was happening to us on an increasingly regular basis as well) and the women did things to them we could not believe or understand. Why did she put his hardness in her mouth? Why did she allow him to put it in where she peed? What the fuck was that all about?

Not really any the wiser, we handed the video over to the next eager boy the next day. Little over a week later, a boy and girl from the year above were suspended indefinitely. No-one was sure for what, they were close friends, so it couldn't have been fighting.

It had all us kids wondering. Eventually, a couple of weeks later, a rumour went around that those telling swore blind was true. "What happened," they said "was this."

In one of the quieter places in the playground, the suspended boy and girl had been chatting. After a while, he had wrapped her in his arms and starting kissing her (On the lips!). After an indeterminate time, she had dropped to her knees, undid his trousers and had taken him in her mouth.

Had we not watched the VHS tape a couple of weeks ago, Derek and I would have never believed that a girl would do such a thing, but now we were not so sure.

What happened next was where many of the stories differed slightly. A teacher, through chance or through being told (depending on the teller), had come across them. Both had been summarily marched off to the head teacher's room never to be seen again (at least in school).

Needless to say that proved to be the topic of conversation in the playground for many months to come.

I had been getting hard on an increasingly regular basis, the more I thought about girls' panties, the harder I became. It was starting to become an obsession that was ruling my sleep at night and most of the day as well.