"You know, you've never made me come in your hand."

"I can fix that."

I sat on our bed and he stood in front of me, between my legs. I could smell myself, the smell of excitement rising from my pussy. His cock bobbed in front of me, stiff and eager. I fought the urge to kneel, to slip off the bed onto the floor and take him in my mouth. The urge to run my hands up the back of his thighs, over his buttocks, while I kissed around his groin. The urge to plant kisses along his shaft from base to head, to play with him, wetting him, before taking him, swallowing him whole.

How long had it been since I gave a guy a hand job? I did it so often in high school. I remember the first time my boyfriend (of the time) opened his pants. We had been kissing, deep passionate sloppy kissing. He had reached into my shirt to squeeze my breasts through the padding of my bra. That night I took the step of unhooking the clasp and letting his hand slip the sweaty cup off my breast and feel me directly.

As his hand found the hard, tingling mountain of my nipple I gasped. Suddenly I had to have my hand similarly occupied with his flesh. I wanted to explore by feel the contours of his erection, just as he was exploring the surface of my breast, tracing the transition from smooth taut skin to rougher aureole, from rough aureole to stiff nipple. I wanted what I knew was straining for release behind his zipper. I wanted my hand to experience what I had only seen in pictures, the veined shaft, the smooth space below the head, the bulge of the head itself. I wanted to cradle his cock head and feel it's blood warmth.

He gave my nipple a tentative pinch between his thumb and forefinger. I slipped one arm from around his neck and let my hand fall against his pants. I ran the back of my fingers along the bulge that his erection made in his jeans, that was all the prodding he needed. We broke our embrace as he unbuckled and unzipped himself. I pulled off my shirt and bra. He stopped to admire my breasts for the first time before pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. I shivered from the sudden coolth on my skin mixing with the warmth and ache in my pussy. He responded by gathering me into his arms again.

I resisted. I wanted to look at him. I reached down and pulled at the elastic band of his underwear. His cock swung completely free.

Starting in about the fourth grade, the girls in my school began sharing rumors about boys, and what they had in their pants, and what they wanted to do with it, to you. "Don't you know, it's huge! And they want to put it into that little hole that's behind where your pee comes out, there's no way it fits. And after they push it all the way in and you feel like your gonna break in two 'cause it's all the way inside you then it shoots all this milky stuff inside you. And that's what babies come from." This nugget of information was passed around the school yard, causing squeals of terror and revulsion by myself and my classmates. But whenever we told it over to each other, there was always a certain breathless excitement to the teller's delivery that belied the shared reaction. These tales always made us blush, but not the blush of embarrassment.

I would lay awake at night and think about what "all the way inside you" meant. Meditating on this mantra, I would pull up my nightshirt and trace the naked lips of my pussy under my covers. Into this hole, where my finger barely fit? I probed there. It was damp inside there, and tight around the tip of my finger. If I held the tip of my finger inside and thought about "all the way inside you" it got tighter all of a sudden and a little shiver went up my spine.

There was this other place inside my pussy that I found then, because it tingled when I did these things. It was a kind of buried itch. I used to rub myself outside my pussy to calm that itch, but when I started to explore that damp hole I discovered that my dampened finger, rubbed between my lips, made the itchy place feel so much better. It made my whole pelvic area feel warm.

It all came back to me when I saw his cock swing free. I wrapped my hand around the base of it. He reached for my breasts again and we resumed kissing. He fondled me as we kissed, and my hand crept slowly up the length of his cock. Finally, I had his cock head cradled lightly in my hand. I could feel the sweat on my hand. He squeezed my breast and I responded by squeezing his cock. We began trading squeezes. His fingers found my nipple and stroked it. My hand curled around his cock till my thumb lay in the cleft of his cock head. I found a dot of fluid there. I wiped it onto my thumb. He pulled at my nipple and nibbled my lip. I wiped the fluid down his cock. He pulled at my nipple again. I rubbed the wet streak of skin.

He was breathing heavily into my mouth. He pulled, I rubbed. He pulled, I rubbed. Suddenly, he grunted and I felt his come spilling onto my hand. I was afraid I had hurt him somehow. I looked down, my hand frozen, watching the white come ooze out of him. We both said, "I'm sorry" at once, and then giggled at our shared unease. His come was sliding off my wrist into the hair of his balls. With my other hand I unclasped my pocketbook and reached for the tissues my mother insisted I always carry. Together we cleaned up his come.

That night I lay in bed after I was dropped off. I kept smelling the back of my hand as it traveled between my pussy and my mouth. Finally, I switched hands and put the one that was marked with the smell of his come over my nose while I stroked my clit with the other, till the thought of him all the way inside, spilling that odd smelling stuff into me, made me convulse.

Over the course of several boyfriends, I learned how to lubricate my hand, and when to make a ring of my thumb and forefinger to slip the head through. How to catch the come as it spurted out and use it as a lubricant itself. How to finger myself to sleep with one hand cupped over my nose to recall the smell of their come. When I was very familiar with how it smelled and what it felt like in my hand, I began to take the first steps beyond hand sex.