Part 1

Preamble

I lived with sexually active parents, and my mother was an “at-home” indoor nudist. Dad had a lifetime subscription to Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I started looking at the back-issues I found in boxes in the attic. After years of seeing my mother naked, I was amazed to find out that women came in many, many different varieties.

The older issues were pretty tame compared to the porn available in print and online nowadays. While showing breasts and pussy hair was acceptable at that time, wide open pussy shots were still frowned upon.

I was 12 years old when I found the first Playboy magazine. I was looking for comic books that were still in storage in the attic after our last move. Imagine my surprise when I found boxes and boxes filled with mostly naked women!

I looked at every picture in every one of those magazines. I removed all the centerfolds and carefully stored them in the bottom of a box of comics. No one but me read the comics and the pictures were safe and sound under the pile of comics.

Chapter 1: Another Move

Another move. My father worked for a bank and was transferred to a different branch every few years. It always involved a higher ranking position and a pay raise so it was kind of a mixed blessing sort of thing.

The new (for us) house sat on one side of the end of the street, facing the houses on the other side of the street with the river running behind those houses. It was a 3 bedroom house with a combination kitchen/eating space, a front room, a laundry room, and a bathroom all on the main floor. Downstairs had a family room, an office, another room that could be used for laundry that was far larger than the one upstairs, and a recreation room. At one end of the recreation room, a small room branched off of it. No door or anything. It was not meant to be used as a bedroom and I immediately claimed it as my own personal recreation room. Seeing as there was no door (or door frame for the matter) for privacy my parents agreed to let my claim on the room stand.

This house had no attic so all the extra boxes were stored at the opposite end of the recreation room from my claimed area. This worked out great for me as I could get into the boxes of comics and the boxes of Playboy and Penthouse without ever worrying about getting caught at it. The recreation room did have a door, but closing it would invite suspicion and I didn’t want that. The comics and skin magazines were right beside each other and it was easy for me to pull a stack of comics out of a box if need be.

New issues of Playboy and Penthouse continued to arrive every month. Once a new issue had arrived, the previous ones were likely to be boxed up as well. This was fine by me ... I was now almost 15 years old and was starting to look at the pictures in a new light. For one thing, both magazines were showing a lot more nudity, especially in the pussy area. In the Penthouse magazines particularity, it was more often than not that you could see the whole pussy in many of the shots.

For reasons I didn’t yet understand I was really examining these more revealing photographs. I also started reading some of the columns in the magazines. Hitherto they had been completely ignored ... now they provided an erotic and evocative education. The letters columns were interesting to read as real people were writing in with real questions that were being answered by real women. And the answers to those questions were an education in itself.

I started reading all the columns in both magazines from the oldest issues stored away until I had caught up with the current issues of both magazines. They were always “hidden” under my parent’s bed ... not a terribly hard place for a teenage boy to find them. After reading and viewing them, they went back under the bed in the same position I had found them.

I would go to sleep at night with a panorama of naked beauties playing across the insides of my eyelids. I almost always had a good night’s sleep.

Chapter 2: School Starts

My parents had planned the move to coincide with the resumption of school for my sister and me. She was 12 years old; 3 years younger than me and went to a county public school. I was 15 and was going to be entering grade 9 in my first year of high school; my birthday is in September, so I am ‘late’ getting into the school year. Most of the people my age are already in grade 10.

We lived in a small town and the two of us were bussed to school. My sister’s school was only a 15 minute trip straight to her school while mine was 45 minutes of boredom; picking up all the kids who lived in the country before dropping us off at the high school, located on the very edge of the city.

At lunchtime, I went outside to the smoking area and had a smoke. It was a small area adjacent to the parking lot and the football field at the rear of the school. There was 1 picnic table to sit on and that was it. I later learned that most of the smokers walked to the other side of the parking lot to sit on the gentle rise of a smallish hill. But ... it was the first day for me and I was sitting on the top of the picnic table with a small group of kids the same age and grade as me.

We engaged in small talk about classes and teachers and the location of all the rooms in the two-story school. After we had finished smoking everyone went back inside to sit more comfortably in the courtyard at the center of the school. I lingered a while, looking around me, taking in the view and trying to remember where everything inside the school was. I’m sure you will remember your first day of high-school and how hard it was to remember where everything was.

Just as I was getting up to go inside a girl came out and sat on the picnic table top beside me.

My initial impression of her was that she looked a bit like a female version of your average teenage boy. Her dirty blonde hair was short and untamed; it looked, as my mother would say, as if “A hurricane had gone through it”. She had freckles on her face, small, and low in number. She wore no makeup at all. In fact, her face seemed a bit dirty. It was hard to tell the freckles from dirt spots.

A school football jersey covered her upper torso. It was at least 2 sizes too big for her, trimmed in the school colors and was a dull white color. And it did nothing to hide the fact she had large breasts. After seeing them protruding outwards, the rest of her clothes and looks became a bit of a side note. She wore blue-jeans, straight-cut, not tapered, had on blacks socks and black weathered short-back style shoes baseball shoes. I tried to see more of her, but my eyes were drawn like magnets back to her breasts.

She noticed me staring and gave me a hard look. “It’s not polite to stare you know” she stated in a low, quiet voice.

I looked away as she flicked her cigarette out of her hand. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. I risked another look at her face to gauge how angry she was with me. Instead of the expected frown, there was a small, somewhat grim-looking smile.

“What exactly did you find so interesting that you had to stare?” she queried.

Completely flustered, I managed a weak reply, “Your football jersey”.

“What about it?” she asked after a few seconds. Her voice was still quiet but now carried a menacing overtone.

I was completely at a loss for words, a previously unheard of event in my life. I thought quickly about an answer, thinking and discarding them one after another. There seemed nothing I could say that would appease her so I decided to go with the truth. My mother always said it was best to go with the truth if you have no other options.

“Well ... it really doesn’t flatter you” I managed.

Her eyes immediately flashed and her visage darkened. “WHAT?! What do you mean by that?!”

Speaking quickly I spurted out, “Well, it’s too big for you and really hides the beauty of your breasts”.

She sputtered and looked at me in disbelief. “Say what?! What are you talking about, ‘my breasts’?”

“Your boobs I mean. I’m sure they are beautiful and would make you look even better than you do now if you had on a shirt that was much smaller and made them stick out more”.

I wasn’t sure that there was anything that could be done to make her look better than she did right then, short of a complete make-over, but I was skating on really, really thin ice.

She looked straight at me, her expression still dark for what seemed an eternity, although I’m sure it was only a few seconds. I held her stare, unwilling to give up after having committed myself with my bold words. Slowly something happened that I can still remember and see to this day ... a small smile slowly crept across her face. It was like watching the sunrise as her smile softened her hard look and the grim lines around her eyes faded away.

“You’re kinda cute, you know that?”

Now I was the one sputtering and blushing. I quickly dropped my gaze straight to my feet. This was the longest conversation I had ever had with a female I wasn’t related to. I could feel the blush burning across my face. I never expected her to say that! I really had no idea what she was going to say, but that sure the hell wasn’t it.

She placed her hand under my chin and raised my head back up to the same level as hers. Peering intently at my eyes she asked, “You’re not shy, are you? You sure look shy. How can you be shy after talking about my boobs like that?”

I looked again at her face. It was closer now and I could see mischief in her eyes as her smile widened. I had no answer for her; I had never felt this way before. I did notice that she looked less like a boy from this view.

“Come with me”, she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the table. Having no choice in the matter I stumbled along behind her.

“Where?” I managed to squeak out.

“Shhhh”, she whispered, turning around and putting her finger to her lips in the universal gesture of “be quiet”.

It was then I became aware that she was quite strong; she had no trouble pulling me along behind her.

My view of her from behind her as I was led along did somewhat change my initial assessment of her physical build. Although she was bigger than me, she was also built very well. The jersey did nothing to compliment her torso and hid most of her back as well. I could see the shape of her ass and a bit of her hips as the jersey rode along with them. What I could see looked good.

We traveled alongside the school in the direction of the football field, making a quick right turn at the back end of the school. About 10 yards away was a small shed, hidden away in the shadow of the school building. She looked carefully around and after determining the coast was clear led me to the small door on the side of the building. She slipped the door open just enough to push me through it before entering herself and closing (and latching) the door.

It was not very light in the small shed. The only light came from a dim light bulb attached to the wall near the top of the shed. Looking around I saw some old football equipment that was covered in dust sitting atop a very small bench.

She knocked the stack off the bench and sat me down on it. She sat down astride the bench and turned me so that I was facing her.

“So ... you think that my ‘breasts’ are beautiful eh?” Although it was quite dim in the shed, I was sure I could see a twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m sure they are”, I started. “Even with that big football jersey on I can tell that they are big, round and firm.”

Again, there was that look in her eyes as she tilted her head a bit while looking at me. After a while, she seemed to have come to some sort of a decision. She was again looking me right in the eyes.

“Would you like to see them?” she asked quietly with no menace in her voice.

“Oh yes please”, I replied as I thought to myself, “Do I want to see them? You’re damned right I do!”

That seemed to be the right answer as she smiled again and pulled the jersey over her head and off of her body, setting it down on the bench behind herself.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Right there, less than 2 feet from me was a girl smiling at me; wearing a bra and no shirt. The bra was a somewhat dingy shade of beige and well-constructed. Much like the football jersey, it did nothing to flatter her considerable assets.

“What do you think”, she asked in earnest.

I thought for a few seconds and said, “Honestly, I can’t tell. Your bra is doing a wonderful job of supporting your breasts ... uh ... I mean boobs, while at the same time doing a really poor job of showing them off”.

There was no hesitation or tilting of the head before she turned away from me, reached back and undid the bra, adding it to the jersey on the bench behind her. As she turned back to face me, I was able to see...

WOAH! NICE BOOBS!

And they were! Larger than my mother’s, perfectly round and the diameter of large cantaloupes. Her nipples had to be at least half an inch long ... far longer than anything I had ever seen before. They were also far larger in diameter than even the ones in the skin magazines. And ... There were just a few tiny, thin, and very blonde wisps of hair sparsely growing in the large, dark circle around them.

“Damn”, I thought ... these are really nice!

I looked a bit longer, moving my head up and down and side to side in an effort to see these wonderful mounds in all their glory. I wondered a bit about the hair, but only briefly. I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not and I sure wasn’t going to risk my view by spending too much time looking at it.

“They are truly quite stunning”, I said, a real note of awe in my voice. I had never been this close to exposed breasts before, and hers were really something to see.

I leaned over a bit, slowly, watching her face until my eyes were close enough that I couldn’t focus on them if I moved closer. They looked even more amazing up close.

She watched me marvel at her assets for a while. “Would you like to touch them?” she asked, the mischief clear in her voice.

“Oh ... yes, please. I would like that very much”.

She took my left hand and guided it to her right breast, placing it palm opened, and dead center on it. My hand was barely big enough to hold all of it at once, but she seemed not to mind.

“Your hand is very warm”, she said quietly.

“Yes, I have been told that I am a very warm person”.

“I bet you are”, she quipped. I didn’t know at the time what she actually meant by that.

Still with her hand over mine, she pushed my palm down more firmly on her breast while manipulating my fingers to give it a rudimentary sort of massage. After a while she slowly removed her hand from mine, making sure that I didn’t stop what I was doing.

She quickly put my other hand on her other breast, and I started massaging it as well, correctly surmising that was what she wanted me to do.

“Ooh ... that feels nice.” She shuddered a bit, continuing, “Yes ... very nice. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Quite sure ... I’m sure I would remember doing something as nice as this”.

She leaned into me, her face just an inch from mine, before closing her eyes and giving me my very first kiss from a female who was not a relative. I could tell this kiss was going to be different. For one thing, it kept going on. For another thing, her tongue was soon questioning at my lips for entry.

I was seriously out of my depth by this point. I would like to say that I instantly recalled everything I had ever read about kissing and french kissing, but that was not the case at all. My memory was a muddy swamp, refusing to allow any information to breach its murky depths.

Purely on instinct, I allowed my lips to part and her tongue was soon saying ‘Hello’ to mine. I pushed a bit to see if I could get my tongue into her mouth but that didn’t work out. She would allow my tongue as far as the undersides of her lips, but no further. I then retreated my tongue with hers right behind it. Back and forth this little dance played out as I continued to fondle her breasts.

I had started moving my palms around them a bit ... getting the lay of the land so to speak. I was soon feeling their firm undersides and pressing upwards with the palms of my hands and all the while continuing to move my fingers around. I gently held one nipple and twirled it around a bit, squeezing softly.

She broke the kiss, and said with a touch of surprise in her voice, “Oh! That feels good. Can you squeeze just a bit harder though?”

As she resumed our kiss, I complied with her wishes and soon she was making little moaning noises. My other fingers quickly grasped her other nipple and began squeezing and twirling as well.

She again interrupted our kiss long enough to order, “Oh fuck ... that feels good! Don’t stop!”

I had no intention of stopping as I moved my palms around and twirled her nipples. After a bit, I squeezed them a little bit harder. She paused with her tongue, and I backed off on the pressure. As soon as she started with her tongue again I tried to get my tongue into her mouth again. Again I was denied. I retaliated with a quick tweak to both nipples.

“Wha... ?” she blurted out in surprise. As soon as her mouth opened to speak I quickly shot my tongue between her lips and into her mouth. She was momentarily rattled by my actions and seemed unable to decide what to do next.

Another quick pinch to her nipples as my tongue quickly moved back to the neutral zone on the outside of her lips, and then a continuation of the twirling motion but with more pressure than before on her nipples.

She shuddered and moaned as my fingers and palms gave her breasts the best time they had ever had.

She stopped kissing me and smiled, “Would you like to kiss my breasts?”

“I would like that very much, ‘Please and thank-you with sugar on top’.”

“Your sure are polite!”

“My mom told me to always be polite to a lady.”

“A lady?”

“Yes, a lady.”

“Kiss my boobs and suck my nipples, you little charmer.” I heard her whisper faintly to herself, “A lady my ass.”

She leaned back a bit so I could better bring my face to her breasts. I brought my face up to her right one and began to softly suck on it. I left my other hand doing what it apparently did best on the other one.

I expanded the area I was sucking on while moving my tongue as fast as I could across the top of her nipples.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I read it in a book”, I replied.

“A book?!” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, a book.”

She clasped my head to her bosom and continued to moan and sigh. After a little while, I moved my face and mouth to her left breast and switched sides with my busy hand and began anew on the other side.

“Oh God...” she sighed as another shudder of pleasure traveled through her.

I was starting to wonder what would happen next when suddenly the bell rang. We both snapped up straight on the bench and looked at each other.

“That was really, really, very, very nice”, she purred. I could see something else in her eyes now, the twinkle was still there but something else as well. I didn’t recognize the look of lust when I first saw it there.

“It was really my pleasure you know”, I replied as she quickly strapped the bra back on and pulled the jersey back over her head.

“I’ll see you later, or else tomorrow, okay?” It was more of an order than a question, and I happily nodded my head up and down while smiling broadly at her.

Suddenly it occurred to me I had no idea what her name was. “What’s your name?” I quickly asked. She turned to look at me and shook her head from side to side while smiling like the proverbial cat that had eaten the canary. Whatever her name was, I wasn’t finding it out at that point in time.

We made our way back to the picnic table and inside the school with no one seeing us. We headed off in different directions as we both made our way to the next class. My next class was English and was on the second floor. The teacher’s name was Ms. Somebody or another and a mental vision of an ugly old woman droning on about English punctuation rules sprang to mind.

As I got to the door to the classroom I slowly turned the knob and carefully pushed the door open. A female voice soon began, “I don’t tolerate late students, but I will allow you this one exception because it’s the first day of school.”

I already had my head lowered as I walked into the room so the teacher could see that I knew I was late and probably in trouble.

“I am really...”, I started as I slowly brought my eyes up to look at her.

I gulped ... and stuttered out, “Really, really sorry Ms...” I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me.

Would I would remember is that she was a stunning young woman who looked like she had just stepped off the pages of Playboy magazine and put some clothes on. Her hair was flowing golden yellow with a loose ponytail hanging down her back. She had on a tight red turtleneck sweater that did everything to complement her. Smooth round hips covered in a pair of white corduroy pants. She had a pair of red ‘Elf’ style boots surrounding her feet. She looked unlike any teacher I had seen before (or since now that I come to think of it).

As I blinked at her, I could see in my mind’s eye exactly what she would look like with no clothes on.

I quickly lowered my gaze to her feet ... I surely didn’t want to get called out for staring again.

“All right, all right. Find a chair, sit down and be quiet.”

I quickly sat in the first available seat, right in the front row. There were only two other people in the front row ... a mostly skinny girl in a bright yellow sundress to the left of me and her identically dressed twin sister to the right of me. I quickly gave the one to the right a quick look up and down, filing the information away for later. After quickly dismissing them from my mind I found my English textbook, my notebook, and a pen. I looked up to see what the teacher was writing on the board.

I sort of drifted through that class and the rest of the afternoon thinking about the girl from the picnic table and daydreaming about seeing the English teacher in the buff.

Chapter 3: Waiting for the Bus

After school had let out for the day I headed out to the front of the school to where a large number of yellow school buses were lining up in the long circular driveway at the front of the building. I walked along the line of buses, looking for the bus driver who had picked up a group of us in the morning beside the arena.

As I spotted her I started walking towards the stairs to the bus.

“You have to wait for the late bus”, she said, not unkindly.

“Why?”, I asked.

“Because you got picked up this morning at the ‘late bus’ stop at the arena there.”

It was obvious I had no idea what she was talking about. That was the first day I had ever ridden a school bus and knew nothing about ‘early’ or ‘late’ buses.