I didn’t think of myself as a nerd, but I guess I was. A bit. So were my friends, I suppose. I accepted that I was never going to be the life and soul, so when I got an invite to go to Camilla’s pre-spring break party I was frankly astonished. I could only think that it’d been the result of one particular occasion at school, about a week earlier.

I’d been chatting with my friend Sophie, but in all honesty not paying all that much attention to what she was saying. Camilla Anderton had been a little further up the corridor with a group of her friends. She was looking particularly lovely wearing a cute lemon-colored skater-skirt and a boob-hugging white T.

I may have been somewhat lacking in confidence, but I wasn’t entirely innocent, at least as far as solo sex was concerned anyway. I’d discovered the joys of masturbation long before, having had my first orgasm courtesy of our handheld showerhead. I’d had my fair share of innocent crushes too, on both boys and girls, and I regularly awoke from torrid dreams with a pounding heart and a warmth spreading out from between my legs.

Camilla was my latest fantasy, with her long, lightly tanned legs, cascading rivulets of blonde hair, lovely elfin face, and huge dazzling blue eyes. But then I don’t think there was anyone at our school, boy, girl, or indeed probably teacher, who didn’t have the hots for her. She was, of course, so far out of my league that she may as well have been a different species.

I was daydreaming about what it must be like to be kissed by her sensuous and oh-so-soft-looking lips as I watched her gradually move around her coterie, brushing an arm here and a cheek there until she was facing away from me. I could just make out the shape of her bottom through her skirt and I felt a little tingle between my legs. Then she reached back and smoothed the material down with her hand, following its delightful curves lovingly and then cupping her cheek.

I could feel my clit swelling as I imagined what it would be like to stroke my own hand over that incredible butt. The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background as all my attention was focused on her hand as it continued to caress her lovely ass.

Then, all of a sudden, it just stopped moving. I looked up to find that she was looking over her shoulder straight at me! Oh Fuck! She’d caught me checking out her ass! My face flushed bright red and I waited for the killer flash of annoyance that I’d seen her use on boys who she’d caught in much the same position, but she just smiled sweetly at me and blew me a little kiss! I knew that couldn’t be true, and I looked around behind me to see who she’d really been smiling at, but there was no one there.

When I looked back they were all moving off down the hall.

“Are you OK?” Sophie asked me, bringing me back to my senses.

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I muttered, my brain seemingly turned to mush.

“Idiot,” she hissed under her breath, and I followed her to the next class in a daze.

I can’t say that I forgot about what had happened, but each time I ran over the events in my mind, I became more convinced it must have been my imagination. Camilla Anderton, smiling and blowing kisses at me, a nerd two years below her. Insanity.

Then, on Monday of the following week, one of Camilla’s group, who I thought was called Ella, came up to me. “Camilla wants you at her party on Friday,” she said charmlessly, already starting to move away as she did.

“Wait,” I said, not believing my ears. “Really?”

“No dumbass, I like wasting my time finding little brats like you,” she said, virtually spitting the words out.

“But I don’t know where she lives.”

Ella sighed hugely, as if I really wasn’t worth the effort. “So, find out. Or not. I don’t give a fuck.” And then she walked off.

I agonized over it for days, alternately convinced that it was a ploy by Camilla and the pretty girls that always surrounded her to embarrass me in front of everyone, and then hopeful that maybe she had somehow taken a liking to me, and it could be the event where I might finally come out of my shell.

I turned to my Mom to find out where Camilla lived because she seemed to know everyone. She did, of course, and then asked why. I really should have anticipated it and, since I couldn’t think of any other plausible explanation, I told her about the party. That was it, Mom wouldn’t hear of me not going.

“There’ll probably be beer and boys,” I told her in one of my more panicked moods.

“You’re a good girl, Jessica,” she said, stroking my face. “I trust you.”

I’d never been to a proper party, and there was indeed beer and boys. Everyone seemed to be much older than I was and I couldn’t see anyone else from my year at all. It was very loud and very intimidating, and I found somewhere to sit in a corner and sipped juice while I watched everyone having fun.

Camilla herself looked gorgeous in an almost pornographically short pink ruffle skirt and a white crop top which showed off both her magnificent breasts and her toned, taught tummy. The way her boobs moved as she danced was intoxicating, as were the frequent flashes of her tiny white panties as she twirled, knowing exactly what she was doing, I was sure.

There were other girls there, and boys too, some of who were cute, but it was Camilla that my gaze kept returning to.

In the end, the juices had their inevitable effect, and I had to go in search of the bathroom, apologizing as I had to squeeze past couples making out on the stairs. There were several doors along the hallway above with no indication of what was behind them.

The first one that I tried was a closet and the second was pretty obviously Camilla’s room: pink, soft cuteness everywhere, and a vast collection of fluffy toys. I shut the door and hurried to the next, which thankfully was the bathroom. As I sat there emptying my bladder, the urge to go back and have a look around Camilla’s room just grew and grew.

After I’d finished up, there was still no one about and I quietly opened her door again, ready with the bathroom excuse if anyone was inside. It was empty, and I was trembling just a little as I pushed the door closed behind me, telling myself that I just wanted a small insight into Camilla’s mind.

I crossed the room and was looking at the titles of the books on her shelf, surprised to find some Harry Potter there, when I heard the door opening behind me. I turned and it was Camilla. The embarrassment of being caught snooping was huge and my face burned.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“On my bookshelf?” she asked pointedly, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. I looked down at my feet in shame. “I’m only fucking with you, Jessie,” she said, giggling. When I looked up she was smiling, which calmed me a little. “Please, feel free to look around.”

I nervously went over to the shelves of stuffed toys, reaching out to stroke a bunny’s nose. “I can’t bring myself to throw them away,” her voice said, right next to my ear. I turned slowly around and she was close, very close, so close that our boobs were almost touching.

“You could look so pretty, if you changed just a few things,” she said softly, brushing some hairs that had escaped from my ponytail away from my cheek and tucking them over my ear, just grazing my neck as she did. It was just a simple touch, but it made me feel all weak and trembly. “And your lips,” she whispered, drawing her thumb over them, barely touching. “Just a little lip gloss, maybe?”

I couldn’t speak. I could hardly breathe. She was so close that I could smell her perfume. Her fingers traced around the line of my jaw and then down my neck, easing my cardigan away from my small breast. “And this bra,” she said disparagingly as her fingers ran in circles around the offending article, making my nipple raise and harden. A familiar warmth started to spread from my belly, and my pussy began to tingle. “You can get some lovely smooth bras now that look so much nicer.” The circles got slowly smaller until she was grazing my nipple and I whimpered. “You have lovely breasts and darling little nipples,” she whispered. I’d never been so excited. “The boys would love to see them. You do like boys, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I told her, breathlessly.

“And girls?”

I could only nod.

“Good girl,” she said approvingly.

Then, still stroking my nipple, she leaned forward and her lips touched mine, delicate touches like a butterfly’s wings. My lips parted slightly and she dotted kisses over them, squeezing impossibly gently. My whole pussy was a mass of tingles and it clenched hard as I felt her other hand brushing my thighs, seeking out the hem of my sensible skirt. I squeaked in panic but she shushed me, her breath in my mouth tasting so, so sweet. “This skirt,” she said, her fingers now under it and tickling my inner thighs. “Oh dear, oh dear.” Oh God! Oh God! She was going to touch my pussy! My pussy which I could feel was so wet! I wanted her to so much, but I just couldn’t!

“I’m sorry!” I squealed, pushing her hand down and wriggling away from her. “I’m so sorry,” I added, almost in tears as I ran for the door.

All the way home my mind was in a shambles: was she just playing with me, teasing the plain girl? Or maybe she did like me? How could she though, she was like a princess and I was just a toad! Why hadn’t I stayed? Would she really have touched my pussy? Oh lord, would she have kissed it?! I almost stumbled as that idea caused a colossal wave of arousal that made my pelvic muscles contract hard.

By the time I got home, I’d calmed down enough that Mom accepted my feeble excuses for being early. I went to my room and threw myself face down on the bed, screeching into my pillow, cursing myself for a fool: why hadn’t I kissed her back? Why hadn’t I put my arms around her? Why, oh why, hadn’t I let her touch me between my legs?

Eventually, I had a shower, and I looked down at my pussy, trying to be objective. It was nice. It was very nice: sparse but very fine hair, soft and puffy vulva, and neat little lips. I apologized to her for depriving her of her first sexual encounter (with another person) and stroked her gently until some of my earlier feelings returned.

I sprayed the shower head over her, imagining it was Camilla’s soft caresses, and then came hard as I exposed my little clit and fantasized that it was Camilla sucking and licking me.

At school on Monday, I was terrified of seeing Camilla, but she spotted me first and just smiled at me. I did my best to smile back as my tummy turned somersaults, which just got worse as she extricated herself from her friends and came over in my direction.

Putting her hand gently on my elbow, she drew me off to a quiet corner. “I’m sorry if I frightened you the other night,” she said softly.

“No, no. I’m sorry I ran away.”

“Why don’t you come over on Friday?” she suggested. “Something much quieter.”

“I-- I-- I’d love to,” I stammered, scarcely believing my ears.

“Good,” she said, smiling happily. “About eight?”

I was pretty much floating on air for the rest of the week. I persuaded Mom to buy me some bras like Camilla had suggested, and some lip gloss. She was already asking some questions that I was trying to avoid answering, so I couldn’t really get any new skirts.

When I arrived at Camilla’s on Friday, I was vibrating with excitement. She looked me up and down and smiled. “Better,” she said and then took me up to her room; there was no one else there.

“Erm ... Is it just us?” I asked, confused.

“I did say, quieter,” she replied. “Is it OK?”

“Yes, yes,” I told her, secretly thrilled.

“I love the lips and the bra,” she said, smiling. Then her smile wavered. “Shame about the skirt though. I tell you what, let’s try one of mine.” She opened her wardrobe and selected a bodycon skirt that was tiny.

“Maybe a bit short,” I suggested. “For me, I mean.” She put it back and pulled out a white skater skirt that still looked short but not outrageously so. I smiled and nodded.

She handed it to me and I hesitated. She smiled encouragingly at me and I gulped at the idea of undressing in front of her. Be brave, I told myself, slipping my skirt down to my knees and stepping out of it. As I stood up, I peeked at Camilla and she was staring at me quite unashamedly. I loved the way she was looking at me and took my time pulling the skirt on.

“Twirl,” she instructed, waving her finger in circles. I span on the spot, loving the way that the skirt lifted, showing even more of my legs. “Lovely ... but...” she said, kneeling down in front of me.

“But?”

“May I?” she asked, indicating the skirt.

“Yes?” I answered uncertainly, not at all sure what she meant.

“These panties will never do,” she said firmly, and I had to stifle a squeal as she reached up under the skirt and expertly whipped them off. She’d barely touched my skin, but where she had it left me trembling. I was standing there, my pussy naked, with Camilla’s head scarcely a foot away! She must have seen the look of horror on my face and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I have some more here,” she said, turning on her knees and rifling in a drawer. For a moment I quaked as I thought that she might come up with a thong or something, but the panties that she held up were cute, white ones, if very much skimpier than any of my own.

“Lift,” she said, looking down at my old panties puddled around my feet. I lifted my right foot, acutely aware of the shortness of the skirt and my state of undress. I was actually a little disappointed when she just slipped the old pair off and the new ones on. I raised the other foot and soon had the new pair around my ankles.

She took either side in a thumb and fingertip and then looked up at me questioningly. My clit was tingling madly at what was about to happen. I nodded eagerly and she smiled as she drew them up, very, very slowly, her other fingers brushing my legs all the way up. She settled them in place and then arranged the back, by feel alone, until they were settled to her satisfaction. Her soft fingers on the cheeks of my bottom had felt simply gorgeous and I was ridiculously turned on.

She sat back on her heels. “Look,” she said indicating her full-length mirror. With shaking hands I lifted the skirt and turned slowly on the spot, adoring the sexy girl in the mirror and the hungry look on Camilla’s face behind me. The panties hugging my pussy were so thin that my slit was clearly visible, and my barely-covered butt cheeks looked so sexy.

“Perfect,” she said, getting to her feet. “But let’s go and see what a boy thinks.” She took my hand in hers and started to pull me toward the door.

“Wait! What?” I said, resisting her.

“We’re going to see my brother, Simon,” she replied and basically dragged me along behind her.

She stuck her head in a bedroom doorway and then carried on down the stairs with me in tow. In the lounge was a boy of about eighteen I guessed, looking at his phone.

“You haven’t met Jessie, have you, Simon?”

He looked up, his expression initially a little surly and irritated, then looked me up and down. “No I haven’t,” he said, suddenly grinning widely. “Hello there, Jessie.” He put the phone aside and continued to look at my boobs and my legs. I’d never had a boy look at me like that, and it made me feel terribly self-conscious ... but pretty, and I loved it.

“Hi,” I said, trying not to simper under his gaze, but pretty sure that I was failing.

“Sit, sit,” Camilla urged me, indicating the couch opposite Simon. I sat down carefully, but his eyes were still fixed on the top of my legs.

“Jessie’s in the tenth grade,” she told him.

“Really?” he said, and his eyes traveled up and down me again. “She looks older ... and very sexy.”

Sexy? I didn’t think anyone had ever called me that. Camilla leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Open your legs, just a little.”

I giggled, as if she’d said something funny to me, but did as she asked. His eyes were between my legs in a flash. The effect I was having on him was thrilling, and I was feeling unbelievably horny.

“She’s trying out a new look,” she explained to Simon, “what do you think?” She nudged my thigh with a finger and I separated my legs a little more, feeling my inner thighs lose contact, sure that he’d now be able to see my new panties.

Simon spluttered as he looked up my skirt. “Beautiful,” he managed a little hoarsely. “Simply beautiful.” As he stared at me I got more and more turned on.

“Gotta go,” Camilla announced suddenly, jumping up and pulling me up by the arm as well. As I struggled to keep my balance, my legs came way apart and Simon’s eyes were on stalks as I totally flashed him.

Camilla dragged me over to him and it was my turn to stare: the erection stretching his pants was blatant and very, very large.

“See ya later,” she told him and then scampered off with me in her wake.

By the time we got back to her room, we were both giggling madly. She jumped onto her bed and then sat up and grinned at me, her eyes wide.

“Did you see that?” she asked.

“Oh my God, yes!”

“How do you feel?”

“Totally turned on.”

“If I were to put my hand up your skirt, would you run away again?”

I went and lay down next to her.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I said softly.

She rolled over and put her arm around my waist before kissing me oh, so sweetly. I felt myself melt in her arms as her tongue snaked into my mouth and this time my own joined it in a thrilling dance.

When I felt her fingers brush my inner thighs, just below the hem of my skirt, all I did was squeal happily into her mouth and let my legs move apart. The anticipation as she caressed her way agonizingly slowly upwards was maddening and yet incredibly exciting. Then her fingers were brushing the front of my panties and all thoughts fled my mind, driven out by the most exquisite sensations. Having another person touch my pussy for the first time was thrilling beyond words, but when she slipped her hand down under my panties, I thought I might die.

I was trembling almost violently as she stroked my pussy lips and pressed gently over my clit. I knew that I was so, so wet inside and quaked as I felt her finger at my entrance. The moment it slid inside, my juices gushed out, running over her fingers and down between my cheeks. When her lips left mine and she pulled her hand out of my panties, my stomach lurched with fear: Was she grossed out? Was I some kind of freak? But then I watched, stunned, as she lifted her hand to her mouth and put her fingers inside.

“Gorgeous,” she said before taking another suck, and the breath that I’d been holding burst out of me in relief. “Do you mind if I...?” she asked, looking directly between my widely spread legs.

“No ... yes ... no,” I squeaked in a panic. “Oh, God, yes. Yes, please.”

She kneeled between my legs and peeled my panties down, and again I had a moment’s uncertainty as she stared at my naked pussy before she looked up at me and said, “Very, very pretty, sweetie,” before lowering herself down. The moment her tongue dipped between my lips, I knew I’d never experienced pleasure anything like it in my life.

“Oh God, Camilla,” I gasped and, as she sniggered into my pussy, my eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy. Her lovely tongue entered my vagina and I clasped her head, stroking her hair as an orgasm I knew would blow my mind rushed up at me. “Hmmmm,” she moaned, apparently loving my taste. Then her lips covered my clit hood and she fluttered her tongue over it, and I saw stars as my climax crashed through me. The sensations were too, too much, and I had to push her head away as my whole body spasmed over and over in ecstasy.

When I opened my eyes, Camilla was looking down at me, smiling fondly.

“Oh, God!” I cried, covering my face with both hands - she’d watched me cumming!

She peeled my hands gently away and grinned at me. “You look beautiful when you cum, Jessica.” I threw my arms around her neck and clung to her as the last few aftershocks of my orgasm made me judder.

“That was incredible,” I told her when I felt able to speak, leaning back so that I could look into her eyes. “Can I do that to you?”

She giggled and kissed me. “I’d love that,” she said, and then began to lie back. My clit was still tingling like mad, confusing me, but there was something that I desperately wanted.

“Could you--” I began and then lost my nerve.

“What, sweetie?” she asked, looking both a little puzzled and amused.