Chapter 2

When I told him I was still raw he reacted just as I had hoped – just as I had known he would. First, he kissed me again– a rich, warm kiss. I continued rubbing his fount with my rose. Then it got all turgy again. I almost bloomed and let him slip inside, but I wanted to wait a bit.

We hugged and kissed for several minutes. It was actually more romantic than sexual, although I kept up the sexual pressure by doing my best to massage his stame with my pets. It wasn’t bad for me either since his fount kept rubbing my coquette.

While we made out we talked about my sex life. I told him about how I had been dying for him to make some kind of obvious move on me ever since I had pubed.

He began stammering so I bussed him a bit to stop his embarrassment. I told him how I had figured out the problem as I had grown more sexually active. Then, when I came to Europe at fifteen and took my first official older-man lover (he was

35) I started to understand that America is laboring under the delusion that we teens are somehow innocent children. Ha!

There is more public nudity and sex at a 16 year birthday party than in most of the porno films I have ever seen. The AIDS vaccine and the BC pill has turned my generation into a fuck- fest that makes the Summer of Love look a Shaker prayer meeting.

The folks in Dave’s generation have no idea how casual and universal sex is. Hell, I’m 16 and I’m the only post-pube oyster I know! I do know a couple of femmes that are exclusively girlie-girls, so I suppose that makes them technically raw, although they do have their noses in each other’s thatches at the drop of a hat!

But exclusive homo-sex is about as rare as exclusive hetero-sex amongst my friends. I’m about as hetero as you can get and I’ve had my rose nibbled by several femmes and I’ve eaten my share of flowers too. It’s all right, but not as exciting as drinking at the fount when it erupts inside my mouth.

Girls just don’t do that. Unfortunately. Oh – except Jacqueline. Her coquette does ejaculate a tiny, tasteless, little stream. But it’s just not the same.

About the only person in my age group whose pubes I haven’t had in my mouth is my brother’s. Teens are uninhibited about sex, but we still draw the line at incest. There are some exceptions. We aren’t horrified by it – just not interested.

Maurice and Michelle finally arrived, carrying their cam.

I had invited them to come by, but I hadn’t told Dave, so he was quite surprised when these two teenagers entered the clearing while we were kissing.

Dave was immediately embarrassed and tried to move away, but I held on and won’t let him. He had to get over his reticence about public nudity and sex.

“Bon jour,” they said.

“Bon jour,” I returned, finally letting Dave stand up.

I went to them and greeted them both with kisses. I made sure Dave saw me hug Maurice tightly, letting his turgy stame press against my pets. While he was kissing me, he grabbed my cush and pulled me closed to him, flattening my boobs against his chest. I kissed Michelle, also on the mouth, and we ground our flowers together a bit. I took her cush and let my boobs press against her long, hard nips. Then I introduced the both of them to Dave.

Michelle went to him first. As I expected, Dave demurely tried to move his completely rock-hard fount out of the way as he hugged and kissed her. Michelle, of course, would have none of that. She blossomed completely and his fount slid right between her petals into her open rose. He stopped before plunging all the way in, but I think that was because Dave skillfully manipulated his stame so that its head bumped against Michelle’s coq, and couldn’t go in any further. She let him get away with this because Dave’s fount feels so good grazing your coquette, as I well knew.

Eventually Michelle released him and he went to greet Maurice. Dave stuck out his hand and Maurice grabbed it and pulled Dave closer in. They kissed on the mouth, and I was surprised that Dave handled it so well. There was only a minor moment of confusion as their two stiff swords dueled each other, but eventually a truce was declared, and they pressed against each other.

Maurice and Michelle are a remarkable couple of kids. They look like brother and sister, with their jet black hair and dark brown, almost black eyes. And their skin is so pale, despite being out in the sun so much.

At 5’ 10” Maurice is a tall for a French man. He has a strong face and thin lips with just a hint of a moustache growing above them. He is lanky, with an athletic build. He’s a runner, so his muscles are long, rather than bunched together like a like a body-builder. His stame, like the rest of him, is thin and powerful. Fully turge, it looms over his rather small pods, covered in his black, wiry foliage.

At fourteen he is the elder. Michelle is just thirteen and much shorter than Maurice – somewhere around five foot. She has a very round face with her short black hair plastered against it. She looks like one of those old film stars: Clara Bow or Louise Brooks or Christina Ricci. Although she is not fat, she is round in all the important places. Her face is a round, somewhat flat, oval. Her cush is an almost perfect hemisphere.

Her boobs are wonderfully round, but close to her chest. The circles are enormous, compared to her boobs, and are a rich ochre. The only exception to her roundness are her nips, which are long and pointy, a lot like her boyfriend’s fount. Then there’s her thatch. A suppose when it’s fully grown it will also be round, but right now there’s just a few wisps of straight, black hair. On her it looks good. A dense thatch, like mine, would hide her large, puffy petals. She has the best looking pets of any girl I’ve ever seen – including professional models.

“Nice to meet you,” said Michelle. She’s the more talkative of the two. Maurice is good at other forms of communication.

“We hope we aren’t imposing on you, but Corrine, would you take our picture,” she asked, handing me the Cam.

“I’m no good at these things,” I pleaded. “Dave is much better.” I handed the camcorder to Dave.

“Si’l vous plait, Monsieur?”

“Sure. OK. D’accord”. How could Dave resist such a cute young girl – especially after the wonderful greeting she had given him.

Dave took the camera and pointed it at their heads and began taping. They stood real close to each other, mugging at the camera. They waved, turned to each other, and began kissing.

Maurice had to bend down to kiss her. It was a long, loving kiss. Dave continued taping their kisses so I had to tap him on the shoulder to get him to pan down to their lower bodies where the rest of the show was happening.

The long-tapered fingers of Maurice’s left hand encircled

Michelle’s left boob, with his thumb frigging her fully erect nip.

Speaking of erect, a further tilt revealed Michelle’s small hand languidly pumping Maurice’s fount. Maurice’s other hand was resting on Michelle’s rose, with his thumb doing to her coq, what its brother was doing to one of her nips.

Michelle sighed and clamped down on Maurice’s stame, bringing out a large, clear drop of early sap. She used the sticky stuff to lube his stame and she soon began pumping it again.

I sat down directly in font of them to get a good view. I began to pick my own flowers. It was that nice to look at.

Dave tilted back up to catch Maurice licking Michelle’s large circles and nips. She was furiously pumping and the muscles in her arm stood out – well developed from so much practice.