Chapter 1: Growing Up

Woohoo! Finally ... I was fourteen, finished with eighth grade meaning I was now officially a high school freshman. Needless to say, passing this milestone made feel me extremely mature and grown-up. I was already taking advantage of my new social status to look down at those little immature “middle-schoolers”. Well, I really didn’t treat them THAT badly but you know what I mean.

On this warm June day I’d just finished taking my morning shower after sleeping in a bit late. Back in my bedroom I stood stark naked in front of a body-length mirror, my hair still wet. Frowning, I took stock of myself with the same analytical eye every teenage girl possesses and trust me, nobody is more critical than she is of herself!

On the one hand I was pleased with some of the more obvious changes finally taking place. It was sport of amazing how my body was magically transforming from that of a skinny little flat-chested waif to one of a sexy teenage girl-next-door (with more than a little help from my somewhat fertile imagination). Granted, my boobs were just starting to make their appearance and my body curves only showing the promise of the future. My thin coltish legs were slowly taking shape although I still wasn’t shaving them. I couldn’t help but smile though seeing my pussy had an ever-thickening covering of fuzzy black pubic hair. It may have been more like fur than hair but I still enjoyed running my fingers through it. It’s sort of funny when I look back at things. Now at the mature age of fourteen (or so I thought at the time) I considered my emerging pubic hair a sign of maturity thinking it made me look sexy. Little did I know at the time only a few years down the road I’d be shaving off most of that very same hair which I’d waited so many years to appear!

Overall I think I would’ve been happier with myself except most of my friends already looked like they were sixteen or older with perky firm breasts, curves resembling an Alpine mountain road, and long lithe legs to die for. It was probably fortunate I didn’t know then I’d be spending most of my teenage years in a perpetual state of angst as it seemed I was always at the trailing edge of the development curve. If I’d known how many times I’d be trying to hide myself feeling embarrassed in the locker room at school with my undersized boobs, well ... I don’t know what I might’ve done but it wasn’t good.

As I continued to gaze at myself in the mirror I subconsciously ran a single finger down from my neck, through my newly forming cleavage (what little there was of it), and then down my flat tight stomach. A little circle around my belly button until I reached my fuzzy little pussy. Playfully running my fingertip through the short coarse hair covering it, I started tracing circles and shivered just a little from the sensations starting to emerge further down between my legs. True, I was still a virgin but that didn’t mean I didn’t dream of what I wanted a boy to do to me down there.

Speaking of “down there”, although I wasn’t sexually active in terms of intercourse, I was practically addicted to masturbation. Fortunately for me, sex and nudity were nothing to be ashamed of or treated as taboo so far as my parents were concerned. On the other hand, one of the most important things my mom taught me was sex wasn’t something to be flaunted all the time either. My parents were most definitely NOT nudists and I don’t like to describe us as being an “open family” or any of the other silly euphemisms people use when they wink at something kinky going on in their homes. It seems when people say they have an “open family relationship” it’s a not-so-subtle thinly veiled reference for incest, nudism, and all sorts of things for which I have a hard time relating as I’d never describe my family life this way.

To illustrate my point, as I stood there stark naked in my bedroom the door was wide open - just as it always was. Even though my dad was away at work, even if he’d been home the door would’ve still been in the same position. While I didn’t hide myself from him, at the same time I certainly wasn’t about to put on a strip show for him either. The same concept applied when I was in the shower. My dad felt no embarrassment or discomfort in coming in to shave or whatever if I was in the shower and the same applied to me when my dad was in there first. There were no sexual overtones whatsoever, we simply didn’t have clothes on and nobody made a big deal over it. Well, OK ... maybe a little bit but certainly not to the degree people seem to think when I tell them about it.

As I said, we were not a nudist family by any stretch of the imagination. My mom and I typically wore long T-shirts around the house although my mom almost always added a bra and panties as well. A bikini top with short shorts were my most common outfit of the day depending on the weather. I’d say about the only time we deliberately did anything together nude was when we were in our hot tub. Since I could remember my dad had always imposed a strict no-clothing rule, claiming the laundry detergents and chemicals embedded in our suits by the wash cycle contaminated the water. When I was younger I believed him hook, line and sinker but as I got older I started to question how the minuscule amount of cloth in the tiny bikinis my mom and dad bought me could possibly cause a problem. Oh well, it didn’t really matter I guess.

While there were no overt sexual activities in the tub (not even between my parents, at least not when I was around) one thing I DID discover about the hot tub was the jets could feel mighty darn good when directed at the right places! Parents teach their kids about sex at different times for different reasons. In my case, “The Talk” was initiated after I saw my dad masturbating in their bedroom for the first time. To say I was fascinated would be a gross understatement.

Later that evening in the hot tub my mom clinically instructed me to properly hold my dad’s penis. It the first time in my life I’d touched a man’s cock, well at least deliberately, and experienced first-hand (pardon the pun) the amazing transformation a man’s penis undergoes when he gets sexually aroused. Of course with my hands on him my dad was soon sporting an enormous erection but who could blame him? Actually he was pretty average in size but my hands were pretty small so it seemed huge to me, especially since I’d never even seen another real one other than his, let alone hold it.

As you might expect, I was extremely naive so I had no idea what it was that REALLY had my dad so excited. My mom acted as a sort of combined chaperone and mentor, watching my every move and explaining to me what was happening in rather boring clinical terms. She allowed me to stroke my dad’s hard cock until he erupted and so for the first time I witnessed up close and personal his sperm erupting like Old Faithful from his penis. As thrilled as I was at my “accomplishment”, my mom was VERY adamant this was the only time I was to do this sort of thing. She told me years later that her intent that day was NOT to initiate a sexual relationship between me and my dad but rather for me to simply understand the mechanics of the male animal. To this day I can still remember like it was yesterday the sharp look she gave my dad when she warned him that the same restrictions applied to him too!

Now that the ice had been broken I soon learned my parents masturbated frequently as they no longer worried about me seeing them doing it. They treated it the same as being nude, something that didn’t need to be hidden but not to be flaunted either. Inspired by my parents, I began to masturbate in earnest. As always, my mom seemed to have this sixth sense about what I was doing and so she made it a point to be there to guide me as needed - not to mention seeing to it I didn’t do it at inappropriate times as well.

As a mature fourteen year-old masturbation was a daily activity for me, as routine as brushing my teeth. Actually, probably MORE routine considering I typically only brushed my teeth twice a day whereas I often masturbated multiple times. My parents always encouraged me to satisfy my needs whenever I felt the urge, even it was in the family room while we were all watching TV. Still, I never felt like I was doing it for THEM, it was only for ME. If they just happened to be around then what was the big deal? After all, it was only masturbation, not like I was having sex!

Speaking of needing to masturbate, I hadn’t done it yet that morning so I was feeling a little tense and edgy. It was sort of like when you need to go to the bathroom, something that won’t go away and just get worse until you take care of it. As my fingertip traced my little circles in my short fuzzy pussy hair my finger began to wander further down until I touched my hooded clit. Mmmmmmm, I drew in quick breath as it responded the way it always did. It was such an impatient little thing and I’d kept it waiting longer than usual this morning so it was letting me know it was feeling lonely!

My desk and chair were right next to the mirror so I sat down and leaned back in the chair, spreading my slender smooth legs apart as my hand reached between my tanned thighs. My other hand moved to one of my small boobs and held it with the nipple firmly between my fingers. My nipples hardened quickly at this age when I played with them and I felt a tingle as I squeezed them between my fingers. My lower finger ran up and down my pussy which was feeling warmer with each movement I made.

Deep inside my pussy I could feel myself responding with that rather odd sensation I knew from experience meant it was getting moist. My finger gently pushed its way between my swelling pussy lips and then pressed such that it was just inside my wet pussy hole. God it always felt incredible when I touched myself there! A zillion nerves must end there, every last one of them just begging for me to stimulate it. They rewarded my attention by sending a surge that felt almost like electricity, moving outward from my crotch to every inch of my body; from the tips of my toes to the ends of my long blonde hair.

I gasped for air as for the past few moments I seemed to have forgotten to breath as I concentrated on touching myself. My eyes were squeezed tightly shut and I felt these incredible sensations pulse non-stop from my horny teen pussy. Using my wet finger, I lubricated my pussy lips and then finally my sensitive clit. Rubbing my clit, my back arched upwards in the chair as I squeezed my little boob tightly. God it seemed like I was going to go right through the ceiling! Mmmmmmm, I just loved to touch myself this way.