Weekend at Grandmas
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Pretty in Pink

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Amber gets to spend a weekend at her Grandmother's, where she will become a woman. Of course that's just the beginning of her journey from girl to woman.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Ma/ft   Mult   Consensual   Heterosexual   Swinging   Gang Bang   Group Sex   Orgy   White Female   First   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism  

My journey from girl to woman took a while, and it started with a weekend at Grandma's.

I'd never seen anyone come before, or even have sex, but it looked like I was about to get my chance. I was lying just a little ways beyond the feet of my older brother Rick and a girl I think was named Julie, and from the noises they were making, that magical moment was fast approaching...

I'd gone down to the edge of the lake to do a little exploring, and heard someone behind me. I was screened by some trees, and the snoop that resides in every girl came to the fore. I wanted to see what was happening. It was my older brother Rick and a girl in a blue two-piece. She had a blanket in her hand, and I had the distinct impression it wasn't to have a picnic.

"I didn't think things were supposed to start until noon," Rick said when she spread the blanket on the ground.

"I couldn't wait," the girl said. "Call me an earlier starter." Then she pulled down Rick's swim trunks and started licking his dick.

Now he's a boy, I mean he's my brother, but in the family setting you sort of forget that your brother has a dick. There it was, and it looked a lot bigger than the last one I'd seen. Of course that was on a two-month old cousin whose diaper I was changing, so that doesn't count. But you don't realize that that part of a guy grows along with the rest of their body.

Of course Rick's dick did a bit more growing, and before very long it was hard, and much bigger than I thought. A girl was expected to get something that big inside her? Suddenly I wasn't so sure about this whole sex party thing.

The girl dropped her top, and Rick got the hint. He started kissing her all over, face, neck, boobs, and before long she slid off her bottoms.

You try not to look; it's rude, and somehow an invasion of privacy. But there was her sex, a pink fold of skin between her legs, topped by a small tuft of dark hair. And Rick's fingers slid in there and started doing some exploring. I actually saw his fingers sink up to at least the first knuckle inside her.

You sort of know you have insides, but a lot of the time you put it out of your mind. Not now. As she scooted under him, I knew what was coming, and held my breath. She took Rick's dick and guided it to her sex. Rick did the natural thing. I could actually see his thing sliding into her. And she made some gasping noises as he did so.

The rest was just like in the books Mom had shown me. Much moving, thrusting, and so on. The girl began making "umm" sounds, and Rick was groaning. Things were clearly going to come to a head because her voice kept getting higher and higher, and I could see her fingers clamped to his butt. Rick began moving faster, if that was possible, and then he groaned and seemed to jerk several times. I could distinctly see a froth of white appear right where his dick joined her.

It took me a few seconds to realize that he'd just come inside her. No condoms, no pulling out at the last second to come all over her tummy, but bareback, with his stuff inside her.

They lay there, resting, and stroking each other. I thought at first there'd be round two, by this time I was worked up enough I wanted them to do it again, and I'd get off at the same time, but he gave a sigh, and his much softer dick slid out of her. I could see white in her slit—it had to be his come—and some of it ran down her bottom to land on the blanket.

I'd wondered what couples did after they did it. That's one of those questions like where does your nose go when you kiss, and is answered only by either seeing it, or doing it. They kissed some more, then got up. They collected their things and headed back to the house, their suits and blanket in hand, and not at all concerned that they were naked.

I sat back in my little hiding place. I was terrifically turned on. I'd worn my really dangerous two-piece suit, the green one that barely covered the essentials without giving the viewer any chance to mistake what was underneath. Now I slid my fingers down and took care of my most immediate need.

When I was a little more composed, and a lot more relaxed, I pulled my fingers out from between my legs, knocked some dirt off of my legs, and headed back to the house. It looked like the party was off to an early start.

Our parents were swingers. Mother had told me that when I was 14. It explained why she and Dad would spend Friday and Saturday nights out, and she'd come home smelling of soap and water. I didn't exactly equate that with sex parties, but one afternoon I caught a hint of it on TV. There were people who got together to have sex. With people they weren't married to. Everyone naked.

I wasn't sure what to think. Rick knew about it, and seemed accepting, but guys and sex ... it's an automatic thing with them. A hard dick, they say, has no conscience. Or brains. I couldn't understand Mother doing it, but after listening to the TV show, and doing a lot of reading—not on the internet as that tracked the sites we visited—Mother's comment that they did it for the fun of it finally penetrated.

If you listened to some of the older girls at school, those who'd done it with a guy, sex was messy, and not always much fun. It hurt, too, or at best was uncomfortable. Of course anything done in the back seat of a car is apt to be uncomfortable, so I took that with a grain of salt. If it hurt all of the time, or was uncomfortable, why did women keep doing it? And why did the heroines in the romance novels seem so eager to do it again time after time (and why didn't they ever get pregnant? Hmm? Another unanswered question).

I mentioned some of this to one of my girlfriends. She snorted. "A woman learns to put up with pain. Look at childbirth. What of these women who have six or eight kids? That's going through labor that many times, and everyone tells us how much that hurts."

I wasn't convinced. I heard Mom and Dad one night, and from the noises she was making, it certainly didn't sound like it hurt. In fact it sounded like she was having a good time. I had a lot to think about as they collected us from school one day and we headed to Grandma's. We were going to be there the whole weekend, and Mom told me flat out that this was a swinger's party, and if I wanted to participate with other kids my age, I could.

We lived in a parish right up against the Mississippi state line. Father joked that a well-hit tee-shot could land in the next state, and Mississippi State Police cars would often use our driveway to turn around. Grandmother lived only a few miles away, well, 20, but going there was like traveling to another world. The views were different, the accents different, and the whole place looked different.

The three of us kids attended one of those big composite high schools that have become so popular in recent years. Rick, Krystal my slightly older sister, and me, Amber, the brat of the family. We were a year apart, almost literally as our birthdays were within a week of each other. I was the youngest at 15, and when Mother took me aside the day before, I thought it was going to be another variation of The Talk. You know, where a mother tells her daughter the 'facts of life'. We'd had this talk when I was 12, and she'd told me a lot more when I was 14. The difference was that when I was 12 she covered the mechanics of what was happening, and when I was 14 she began discussing emotions and feelings.

Most of this was lost on Krystal. She was very much a girl who valued flash over substance. She didn't do a thing without considering what her friends would think. She applied it to everything, including school. I will admit that she was blonde, and pretty, though she wasn't quite pretty enough or blonde enough for the cheer squad. So that left me to have the brains. It's one of those things people don't comment on, but a girl is either pretty or smart. There's a reason why most girls with high grade points have small bra cup sizes; they don't need big boobs to attract a boy. They have their sights set on the smarter boys they'll meet in college, and those boys, well some of them, know that a smart wife is an asset.

I was the exception; straight red hair, a bigger bosom than Krys by quite a bit, and as I matured, less superficial in my looks. Why even Rick liked me, though not in any way that was illegal, immoral, or fattening. He really turned out to be somebody worth talking to, whereas if you engaged Krys in conversation you might get a comment on fabric colors that complemented her eyes. That was a heavy conversation with her.

So I hadn't felt much curiosity when Mom took me to one side. I was being invited to Grandma's in Mississippi (better than the other one who lived near Shreveport). And certain things were going to happen that I needed to know about.

"You're mature enough I think you can handle this," Mom said. "We're going to a party, it'll last all weekend, and people are going to have sex with each other."

I was staring at her with wide eyes. Sex? Sure, I was interested. What girl my age wasn't? But Mom was missing one fact. I was a virgin. I'd kissed boys, but that was it.

Part of that, I think was that Mom saw my body and thought I'd done what any healthy girl with access to birth control would do, gotten with a boy. She knew I was on birth control, she'd gotten me started when I was 14 and three girls in school got pregnant. But Krys, with modest bumps for boobs, and a skinny frame, was sexually active, kind-of-sort-of, well, she'd done it a couple of times, and I was told was very good at giving a hand job, so why shouldn't her younger sister be? I was an inch shorter, but had bigger boobs, a smaller waist, and legs that attracted eyes every time I wore a skirt (I liked wearing skirts for just that reason).

I somehow didn't have the nerve to tell Mom that I was totally inexperienced. I didn't have a hymen—lost in either dance class, gymnastics before my boobs came in, or hoseback riding in Girl Scouts—so there wouldn't be that problem, and I'd had a pelvic the week before during my annual physical, so maybe she assumed what she shouldn't have.

After she told me that, I kept thinking things over. My first experience with a boy was going to be at a party. I'd be intimate with someone I'd probably know for five minutes before we actually did it. I wasn't sure whether to be scared, frightened, or what. This wasn't quite what I'd had in mind.

Krystal was indifferent to a weekend at Grandma's. I think, if the trend setter in her group had gotten laid at a party, she'd be all for it. As we crossed the state line I gave way to my curiosity. Okay, this was going to happen, and that was that. How were we going to do it? Just how did you meet up with a guy at a sex party? Did he walk up, talk with you, and you did it right there, or was there more involved?

Rick had been to the parties a couple of times, but he couldn't really explain. "You get to talking," he said, "and then you sort of touch and kiss, and then, well, things happen."

That was real informative. I pretty much had that part figured out. Of course Rick would look at it from a guy's perspective. He wouldn't know what thoughts were going through the girl's head, especially if she'd never done it before. I mean I was just past figuring out where noses go when you kiss someone. How was I supposed to be familiar with the mechanics of getting laid?

Mother presumed the school, and we all got out of classes in the early afternoon. That was a shame because my last class was a computer one, and it was a lot of fun. Krystal objected, of course. She and her friends had planned to spend the weekend hanging out at the mall. Rick was the real help.

"Don't pack much," he said. "You won't need it."

That was actually sensible advice. That meant I'd be naked, which meant I was going to really get laid. I could feel my temperature rising just at the thought of it. Isn't it interesting how easy things can get when you accept a few things?

"What do you suggest?"

"A couple of pairs of underwear, swimming stuff, shorts and a couple of tops. Remember, we have to get there and back."

Okay, that made sense. I had two bathing suits, one that was your stock go-to-the-public-pool tank suit in dark red. It was considered quite acceptable no matter what kind of figure you had. The other was one I had only worn in the privacy of my own room: a black two-piece with a thong bottom and halter cups that covered, but didn't support; and I was big enough on top that support was an issue. But a bathing suit doesn't require much support. After all, you're going to spend most of your time lying on your back getting a tan. You get more concerned with the tie-string, and how easy they are for you to work. The tie-string at the back of my neck was matched by one on each hip. It was the only bathing suit I'd had that required some adjustment when you put it on, tugging here and there to make sure certain places on your body were covered. They were, but barely, and if you stared hard enough, not really. You could see every fold and whatnot, and in certain places on a girl's body that's what you have.

So with just the minimum packed, off we went to Grandma's. Her house was on a lake. The one unusual thing about it was the privacy. This wasn't just the hedges that bordered the property, but included the shore. There were two beaches, one with a dock, and one that was set in a little cove that was screened by trees. You could cavort naked there and nobody passing by on the water could see you. That wasn't the case with the dock and the power boat tied up there, and I had a feeling there was going to be more than a little naked cavorting.

Grandma's house was a two-story affair with a hot tub and large rec room in the basement, letting out onto a patio. The upstairs had the usual kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, and so on. There was also a small deck and a patio, just the sort of ideal thing you want in a home where you can relax and do just about anything you can imagine.

When I got back to the house there were about 20 kids my age or slightly older. The adults were upstairs mingling and doing the cocktail/get acquainted thing. I ignored them, at least for the moment. The crowd of my peers was vastly more important.

First, every girl was either in a skimpy bathing suit, topless, or naked. Some of the boys were naked, too, and from the bits and pieces of conversation I'd heard I had a feeling Rick wasn't the only one who'd gotten an early start.

There was music playing, and snacks and punch on a side table. This was clearly a mixer for teenagers, but given the state of (un)dress, one with a definite purpose. Before the evening was over just about everyone here was going to get laid, and probably several times over.

I drew a deep breath. Things were what they were, and I decided that this weekend that was going to include one Amber Tolliver, a.k.a. me.

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