Chapter 1

I don't really remember when I first discovered that it felt good to touch myself "down there". It seems to me now that I've always known it. I do remember that around the age of 8 or so I became aware that whenever I woke up in the morning my left hand was always clamped firmly between my thighs, and I remember my first orgasm. I was 11, and we had just moved into our new house on Ravalli Street. Actually, it was just new to us. I think the house itself was built back in the late 40's. All of the houses on our street were exactly the same. There were 2 bedrooms and a bath upstairs, a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom on the first floor, and a full basement with 2 stairways, one that went up to the kitchen and one that went out to the back yard. After growing up in an apartment it seemed like a mansion to me. My sister, Debbie, was a new born when we first moved in there so I had the whole upstairs to myself. My bath had one of those detachable shower massager heads and once I discovered what it could do to me I became the cleanest little girl on the block. After that first time it seemed like I could never keep my fingers out of my panties. It just felt soooo good. Other than when I'm being punished, I don't think there's hardly been a day since then that I haven't cum at least once.

My stepfather, George, was a used car salesman and rarely got home before 9pm, which was fine by me. My mom worked as a legal secretary for an attorney in Missoula and by the time she picked up Debbie, from her friend Karen's, day care center, it was usually 6 o'clock by the time she got home. So every day I would race the 5 blocks home from school, dump my backpack on the kitchen table, my dress and panties down the laundry chute, and diddle myself to heaven on my bed or in the tub. By the time my mom would get home I would be dressed in my sweats or a t-shirt and cut-offs diligently working away at my homework on the kitchen table.

About the time I turned 12 my boobs started to grow. And grow. My mom said I was an early bloomer just like her. I guess I was. By the time Christmas rolled around that year I was already a B-cup and all my girlfriends were still in training bras. It wasn't too long after that, that I noticed how hard my nips would get every time I got horny, and discovered how good it felt to have one hand pinching one of them while the other one was strumming away like a guitar pick on my clit.

To be honest, I guess I was already a slut even then. School was boring, and it seemed like I just couldn't stop myself from daydreaming about playing with myself. As soon as the thought would cross my mind, my nips would turn into rock hard little eraser heads, my pussy would start to juice, and it would be all I could stand to wait until lunch time, so I could duck into the girl's bathroom and bring myself off in one of the stalls. And now that I think about it, I guess that is when I first discovered that cumming in a public place like that, instead of alone in my bedroom, made me cum even harder. I suppose it was the danger of getting caught that did it to me, but once I started doing it at school, it wasn't very long before I got the idea of finding other places.

In our part of town the neighborhoods all had alleyways that ran between the backyards. Every other house on our block shared a common driveway that split in two about halfway from the street and ran back to the detached garages. Between our garage and Mr. Sanders' there was a grass strip about 4 feet wide that ran back to the lilac bushes that bordered our backyards from the alley. I think it was April the first time I did it because I remember it was warm and that all I had on that day was my blouse and jumper. The fastest way home, of course, was to cut down the alley and through the bushes between the garages. I had been coming home that way since we first moved there.

That day I had almost been caught by my teacher, Mrs. Destry. She had given me a pass to the girl's room during reading and I had obviously been enjoying myself too long without realizing it, (prolonging it to make it even better), and she came into the girl's room looking for me, just as I was about to cum. So, by the time I pushed through those lilac bushes my panties were soaked, my nips felt like they were going to rip through my bra, and my legs were shaking so much it was all I could do to drop down on my hands and knees and bring myself off right there on the grass between the two garages with my backpack still on my back. It was, without a doubt, the best orgasm I had ever had up to that point. There were cars going by on the street out in front and the thought that one of them might drive in and see me back there had me gushing like a fire hydrant. I don't even remember when it finally stopped. The next thing I do remember is realizing that I was face down on the grass with my left hand between my legs and that my panties were very VERY wet. My legs felt like rubber but somehow I managed to get up and go inside. But just as I was going through the back door my pussy started to gush again when I heard the sound of Mr. Sanders' car pulling into the drive way. Just knowing how close I had come to getting caught drove my pussy crazy and I loved it. I watched him get out of his car and go into his house through our kitchen window as I brought myself off again, thinking about what he would have done to me if he had caught me back there.

Mr. Sanders was a widower. I never met his wife. She died when his sons were still in grade school. He had raised them by himself. I've never met the oldest one. He was married and lived in Texas I think. The youngest one, Tom, was in the Army. I only met him a couple of times when he was home on leave. I think Mr. Sanders was in his mid to late 40's when we first moved there. He worked at the Stone Container plant out in Frenchtown on the day shift and usually got home about 15 minutes or so after I did. He was tall and strong, with bright blue eyes that always seemed to be laughing at me when I looked at him. I think he knew long before anyone else what kind of a girl I was going to be. He had blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard that somehow made him look much younger than he must have really been, considering how old his sons were. He and my parents became good friends as soon as we moved in. My step father and him were both car nuts and were always borrowing tools from each other or going to car shows. In fact the whole neighborhood was pretty close back then. As soon as the weather would warm up it seemed like every weekend somebody would have a cook out in their back yard.