"That Ginny is one fine piece of ass, Ernie."

"What did you say?"

"I said... Hey, what the fuck did you hit me for?"

By that time, I was flat on my back and Ernie had his knees on my chest, punching my face as I raised my arms in front of me, like a boxer feebly defending himself. My best friend in the world had cold-cocked me and was bent on murder, though he might have called it 'justifiable homicide.' We were both on the junior varsity football team, only I was a running back-a damn good one, if I must say so myself-and he was a lineman. There was no way I could win a fight with him, and I gave up quickly. Once he had spent his fury, I pushed him off me.

"Do you know who that is, you stupid prick?"

"Of course I do; I've known her for five years. She's your sister."

As though that were a sufficient explanation he punched me again.

"Hey, I just said that she's fine looking, I didn't say that I wanted to fuck her."

"Oh." He helped me up and began to brush the dirt off my clothes.

I wondered what he'd really do to me if he knew that in fact for the last few days I had been fucking her blind, his dear sweet sister Ginny, the love of my life, the one who had taught me all I know about sex; fucking, sucking and all the rest.

I was about ten or so when Ernie and his family moved next door to us. It was just a cross-town move for them, but for me it was a life-turning event. I had known Ernie for a while, but not well; both our families attended the same church, albeit with no particular regularity. All the kids, and probably some of the grownups, called it the 'Church of the Thou Shalt Nots', because it seemed like the Reverend J. thought that the Ten Commandments weren't part of the Bible, they were the WHOLE Bible. Whatever it was, I grew up thinking that if it was pleasurable, it was a sin. It was years before I even began to curse. If the Reverend J. had heard my words to Ernie at the beginning of this little saga, he would have had a coronary.

Besides Ernie and his parents, there was one sister, Ginny, about ten years older than us, who was away at college. It was from Ernie that I learned 'Hi, my name is Virginia. They call me Virgin for short, but not for long.' Of course, he never said that line when she was around, nor his parents. I saw his sister every once in a while, in church, but she was just another pleasant looking woman with a nice body; it was quite some time before I came to realize her beauty.

Ernie's my age, and since we live too close to school to qualify for bus transportation, we walk together almost every day. That continues even into high school, since it's in the same building as the middle school. With the passage of time, we became best friends. We played together, joined the Scouts together, went to ball games together, stayed over at each other's homes all the time. It was Ernie who showed me my first ever Playboy, borrowed (without permission) from his father's stash; I wonder what the Reverend J. would have said about THAT! And as naturally as the night follows the day, that magazine led to our first masturbation together.

DON'T LAUGH! Every boy that age, and I'm damn sure every girl also, begins to enjoy sex with the aid of his or her own fingers. The day was routine; after school, Ernie and I were up in his room, playing on the computer. No sex stuff; his parents had put in some tough parental controls, and any site containing any of it seemed like a million different words was locked out. Still, after a little time playing games, Ernie got this wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Lemme show you something, Ryan." With that he ran out of the room and was back in a flash, holding something behind him.

"What'cha got, Ernie?"

With the flair of a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, 'Ta-Da' Ernie's hand came forth with a magazine, its title hidden. Then, holding the edge between two fingers, he allowed the pages to riffle down, suddenly presenting, in all her loveliness, Miss September.

"Holy shit, Ernie, where'd ya get that?"

"It's my father's; don't get it messed up," he said, handing it to me.

BOING! Yes, that's what my cock did, pressing out hard against the front of my pants as I carefully folded up the picture and began to turn the pages, looking for all the other naked women. By now, folks, I've learned the old joke about 'I just buy it for the stories.' but believe me, I wasn't looking for anything quite so enlightening, I was looking for bare tit. I glanced up to see Ernie giggling.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Look at your little dick poking at your fly."

"I bet it's bigger than yours."

"I bet it's not." With that, he unzipped his fly and took his cock out of his pants, then dropped his drawers to the floor. What with the desire to show me up, and the knowledge of what was in the magazine, his cock was at full attention. I stripped likewise, and we faced each other, head to pubic hair, as it were, seemingly the easiest way to measure.

His 'Aha' was more a gloat than a cry of discovery. "I told you so, 'little dick'.

I tried to save my dignity. "Well, not by much."

Then I threw down the challenge. Actually, for a fraction of a second, I though about suggesting that we jerk each other off, but that feeling passed quickly. "I bet I can cum faster than you." Now that I'm older and wiser, I realize that it's not the sign of victory, that quick cum, that I thought it was at the time. But neither did Ernie, and with the magazine, opened to the centerfold, spread between us, the contest began.

"Hey, Ryan, don't get any of your jizz on the magazine or my father will kill me."

I nodded and stroked. It wasn't my first experience at jerking off, nor his, just our first together, but I hadn't yet taught myself the additional pleasure of playing with my balls as my hand raced up and down the length of my cock. My hand wrapped around my meat in that familiar grip, moving rapidly up and down, rubbing against the sensitive head on each upstroke. My eyes fixated on the enormous nipples reflecting off the glossy magazine page, the models arm coyly shielding her snatch from the camera's lens. My breath came rapidly as I pictured my cock inside that face, and I felt the first tingle of satisfaction as my cum made its way up from my balls to daylight. I gasped in surprise when Ernie's hand dove down between his legs to jiggle his nuts; the delay as I absorbed the sight gave him a lead that he never lost, spurting two shots into his hand before my first blast spat out.

"I beat you, little dick, little dick."

"Quiet, you bastard." But I was laughing by then.

Those first couple of years, I rarely saw Ginny; as I said, she was away at college, just coming home for some vacations and holidays. I could see that she was pretty, and I gradually began to notice that her melons stuck out in front of her a lot more than the tits on the girls in my class. That was about when the girls in class were getting information about menstruation, 'having the rag on', and the boys were beginning to notice that girls could be something besides pests.

One day, school let out early, and when Ernie went to his father's closet, the stash was gone. After a thorough search of the house, like a narcotics cop with a search warrant, we concluded that the magazines were not to be found.

"I've got another idea, Ryan. Follow me."

We went upstairs to his sister's room and I watched as Ernie opened one of her dresser drawers and began to carefully place some bras and panties onto the top of the dresser. My eyes were bugged out at the sight of the frilly things, black and white and pink, with an occasional baby blue. My cock was bugged out too.

"Wanna race again, Ryan?"

By that time, I had jerked off enough to know that it was more fun to proceed slowly, to take my time and make it last.

"This time I'm gonna try to lose." Ernie nodded; he understood.

I did win the race to be naked from the waist down. Then I picked up the laciest pair of baby blue undies that I could see and put it to my cheek. It wasn't as soft as I had hoped for, because of the edging needed to create the lace, but at that age, I didn't care. Although Ginny hadn't been home in weeks, my imagination still conjured up the faint scent of her pussy as I moved the panties to my nose.

"Hey, are you smelling my sister's panties?"

My face reddened, and I nodded. Ernie picked up a pair.

"OK, I'll try it... Damn, I can't smell anything."

I shrugged. My cock was as hard as usual. I began to stroke it, slowly, savoring the gentle friction as my hand rubbed against the sensitive purple crown. Beside me, Ernie's eyes were narrowed, his teeth clenched; he understood my desire to go slowly, but he didn't intend to delay his own spurting. Even then I had somehow learned that girls like it real slow; I don't think Ernie knows that even now. He had returned his pair of panties to the pile and was supporting himself by holding on to the edge of the dresser, his legs slightly parted.

My eyes were open, staring at the collection of Ginny's 'intimate apparel', but then they went totally out of focus as Ginny's face-not her body-appeared before my subconscious mind. This was a first; all my previous fantasies had been about girls in school or actresses on television. This was my first time masturbating while thinking of a grown-up girl who I actually knew, with her panties in my hand.

As I stroked, I heard Ernie grunt, and turned to see his cum spurting into his cupped left hand. When he was finished, he used the heel of his hand to wipe the remaining drop from his piss slit. He saw me looking down at his cream-filled hand and offered it up to me. I shook my head violently.

"What's the matter, Ryan? You never tasted cum?"

"No fucking way!"

He laughed, and withdrew his offer by moving the hand to his own mouth and licking it clean, carefully, like a cat washing itself. UGH!

Still, the thought was erotic enough for me to speed up my own right hand. The vision of his sister faded, and all I thought about was how fast I could get my cum out of my balls and through my cock into my hand. Ernie saw my speed.

"Hey, don't cum in my sister's panties."

I shook my head, put the garment back of the dresser and positioned my left hand to catch the drops as they shot out, enjoying the thrill of another orgasm, the throb of my balls as they emptied themselves. And quickly the cum came, coating my palm with the white sauce that I knew one day would be used for making babies. Ernie listened to my panting as the strings of semen exited my body.

"Are you going to taste your own, Ryan?"

"Nope!" I reached onto Ginny's dresser to take a tissue from the box.

Ernie is my best friend, my confidant. Yet there are some things you never share with anyone, even your best friend or, I guess, a psychiatrist. Like for instance maryjane has never told anyone about these stories that she writes. One of those things I don't share is the idea of me licking up my own cum. And that's why I didn't tell Ernie that I intended to taste my sperm when I masturbated by myself at home, which I planned to do within the hour. I figured that would be long enough for my nuts to regenerate some cum; maybe not the full load still in my hand, but enough for a decent taste.

Ginny

Ryan's gutter language offends me, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"Please Timmy, don't."

My boy friend was standing behind me, lips nuzzling the side of my neck. His right hand was under my sweater and his left hand was rubbing the front of my slacks. He had pushed my bra up over my breasts and his fingers were seducing my nipples, bringing them up to attention. That part I loved.

But even as my legs spread involuntarily, it was the hand rubbing my nether lips, albeit through two layers of cloth, the scared me.

"Why not, Ginny, why not?"

"I'm just not ready, Timmy."

"Shit!"

"Please watch your mouth."

We had just come up to my room to do some studying. Ernie was next door at Ryan's house, and my parents were at work. I was still in high school at the time, a Junior, and Timmy was in three of my classes.

You can guess that his hands on my body were not a novelty. We had been dating for maybe a year, working our way gradually toward the eventual loss of my maidenhead. I'm sure that there was some large degree of Reverend J.'s Fire and Brimstone sermons in the back of my mind, though I had long since decided that I didn't intend to maintain my virginity until marriage. Still, I felt that I could take my time; my own fingers sufficed. And they would for another while, I was sure.

Why should Timmy care? I had for two months been regularly fellating him, actually enjoying the feel of his ejaculate in my mouth, the thrill of seeing those last few drops fall onto my face from the tip of his penis. That part was only until I learned to suck him dry before I took my mouth off him. Still, I was not ready for the ultimate submission. For one thing, he was a bit older than me, and I felt cowed; I feel more in control with younger people. Secondly, he was a little too crude for my comfort. I had told him that if he ever called it a 'b___ job' again, I would bite off his penis the next time I had it in my mouth.

Oh, I guess I shouldn't have been so tough on him. That first time, when his tongue in my mouth had distracted me so that I didn't immediately notice his hand unhooking my bra and caressing my breasts, that first time was exquisite. And when his sweet lips began to suckle at my breasts, it was almost enough to bring me to a climax. Maybe that was part of the maternal instinct that makes me more comfortable with younger people.

But the bottom line was that I graduated from high school with my virginity still intact. And the best part of that was that it was of my own choosing. There were more than just Timmy seeking solace in my loins, but I went on to college with my purity intact. Well, possibly 'purity' is not the right word, since there was a lot of fondling, together with all that C__k-sucking, but my hymen was still unbroken.

I was glad that my parents had agreed to a sleep-away college. I was ready for the freedom to let my hair down, to use my body as my peers did, without sermons about sin. I did not however just jump into the first bed offered; I did date a good bit-I'm told that I'm easy on the eyes, and that my breasts are 'perky'-but I cut off the relationship quickly if I decided that the young man was not to get the prize I carried.

My first roommate was a lovely young woman, though I did not look at her in that way. Bobbi and I double-dated often, and she soon became part of a couple with Larry. He was two years ahead of us and lived in his own room off campus. Bobbi had given up her virginity while still in high school, and at least once a week she would spend the night with her beau. This was very disconcerting on evenings when we doubled, since my date would know that they were going to sleep together and he would get the same idea about me, only to find me fending him off, allowing him no more than getting his hands on my breasts. Alas, I was still looking for Mr. Right.

The months passed. Other than the tension I felt about sexual contact, dorm life was fun. Bobbi and I shared a comfortable room and we got along well. Then, one evening...

I was sound asleep when I felt a drop of water hit my face. I shook it off, then felt another and another. I sat up and turned on the light.

Bobbi mumbled in her sleep. "Hey, what's the light for?"

She sat up and together we found the source; a wet spot on the ceiling. We threw clothing on over our pajamas and went upstairs, where we found two young women who were busy popping up, an obviously futile chore. They told us that they had already called maintenance to fix the leaking pipe. There was nothing for us to do, so we went back to our room.

As we undressed, I said, "I can't sleep under that drip."

"Come share my bed. It's big enough."

"Thanks." I crawled into Bobbi's bed and was asleep in no time. About two in the morning, I felt Bobbi's lap spooned against my bottom, with her hand around me, resting on my breast. I lay there motionless; the sound of her breathing told me that she was fast asleep. I guessed that this was the way she slept with Larry. Still, one nipple hardened to her touch, and my vagina began to secrete that same lubrication as when I masturbated.

Questions abounded. Should I move her hand off my breast? Could she feel, in her sleep, the hardening of my nipple? And suddenly, unexpectedly, do I really want her hand removed? Then, not knowing what I was doing, or maybe realizing it full well, I pressed my bottom back into her lap.

She stirred, gently squeezed my breast and kissed my back, through the pajama top. Then she whispered, "Take off your top, Ginny,"

I took in a sharp breath but didn't move for a moment or two, wondering where this encounter was going. I felt my heart pounding. Then I sat up, my back to Bobbi, and began to unbutton the filmy garment. As I did so, her soft hand caressed my back. I tossed the top across to my own wet bed and lay down facing her. Our lips met silently, her hand kneaded my breasts, and I knew that the night would end far differently than when I had Timmy's penis, or the penis of one of his successors, pulsing in my mouth.

As Bobbi's tongue flicked out, touching my teeth, my hands were pulling her top off over her head. She pulled her head back, to allow the garment to be removed, then returned it to my face, where my own lips were now open to take her tongue inside. I sucked as though it were a penis, but a softer and much wetter one, one that I knew would not spit sperm into my throat. Our naked breasts pressed and slid against each other's nipples and my hand pulled her bottom toward my soaking loins.

"Bobbi, Bobbi, Bobbi." I said her name so softly that I wasn't sure she could hear me, except for her moan and the renewed touch of her fingers on my nipples. She pushed me onto my back and rose to her knees, looking down at me, illuminated only by the sliver of a new moon. Her breasts stood out proudly. Her fingers were in the waist of my bottoms and I lifted my buttocks to allow her to slide them off. Her own bottoms came off without my help. I inhaled; the aroma of her desire rose to me, an aroma I knew from my own fingers, from my own body, but never from a stranger; male genitals were more pungent. Like powerful hands, the scent alone spread my legs to welcome those fingers, to accept a touch that I had never before enjoyed, save only by my own fingers.

Her head bent, lips nibbling my inner thighs. I had never seen pornography, but had read enough novels, some even 'racy', and spoken to some friends. I knew what to do. My hands pulled at her hips, inviting her to twist and to suspend her loins over my face. I had no idea what to do, yet I knew without thinking. My tongue flicked upward, through the damp pubic hair, to lick at her clitoris. She sighed, she moaned. Her mouth reached down to the center of my soul, to lick at the entrance to my tunnel of love, to suck on the little nubbin that was meant to bring me to orgasm.

Her loins oozed, as did mine. For want of a better word, I slurped, doing something I had never done, savoring someone else doing the same to me, something I had never experienced. Yet I took to it like a newborn to the nipple. 'Sexual pleasure awaits, no experience necessary.' Yes, that would make a fine sign in the window of a brothel. I could tell that Bobbi did have the experience, and not only with the male of the species. Her touch was knowing, gentle, caring; she wanted to teach me, to please me, even as my mouth feverishly attacked her pink nether lips.

My fingers massaged those lips, spreading them, invading between them into a wet cavern. Imagine if you will the surprised reaction when she tried to reciprocate, only to be foiled by my hymen, sign of virginity, implying purity. Yet the scream of my orgasm was nothing new; I had enjoyed it often by my own hand. I wondered even if she had heard the muted noises in the past when I had pleasured myself in bed. I've never asked.

I collapsed after my climax, forcing Bobbi to gratify herself by humping on my face, like a male dog on a human leg. Her low wailing moan told me that she had joined me in that temporary heaven that exists after sexual satisfaction. We lay alongside each other, head to toe, breath slowly returning to normal.

"You've never been f___ed, have you?" She used the full word, and I cringed.

"Not yet. I'm still waiting for the right young man."

"Wait until my brother Joey comes here." A junior in high school, he was due to visit in two weeks. "I know we were going to bunk him in with Larry, but maybe I should stay there and he'll stay here. He'll really take good care of your p___y."

"Don't tell me you've been having sex with your brother?"

"No, but I'm sometimes tempted; he's a real stud." Was she lying?

"I know. You've shown me his picture."

He really was gorgeous looking; rugged, handsome, yet with a baby face. As the two weeks flew by, I masturbated often-when I wasn't in Bobbi's bed, pleasing and being pleased--picturing Joey and wondering if I actually would give my virginity away to a younger boy. Sometimes in bed I put my finger inside myself, toying with the idea that it was Joey and wondering if I should deflower myself before he arrived, but I chose to wait.

Bobbi must have told Larry about her plans, for he became very solicitous, anxious that I be willing to let Joey stay with me so that Bobbi would spend a few nights in his bed. Still uncertain, I was equally anxious on the appointed day.

I gasped when he got out of his car. Taller than I had expected, more handsome even than his photograph, the sight made my virginal-female love with Bobbi didn't count--vaginal lips wet with anticipation. I glimpsed his knapsack in the back seat, wondering if he planned to take it to Larry's or would be so bold as to take it immediately up to my dorm room. Instead he did neither. We shook hands and I kissed the air alongside his cheek, while all the while Bobbi grinned like the mother of the bride. After a few minutes of pleasantries, Larry showed up in his car, and we all went out for a pizza dinner.

I was enraptured. (I almost said enamored, but that word, from the French 'amour', seemed a little premature.) Dinner was delightful; Joey was intelligent, mature beyond his years. We danced to the music of the juke box; he held me so lightly, yet our bodies molded into one another. My mind was made up even before I finished the first slice; he knew it when I wiped a bit of sauce off the side of his lip.

Bobbi had missed the exchange. When we went to the ladies room, she said, "Well?"

"Leave your cell phone on just in case."

After dinner, Larry said, "Where to?"

I looked at Joey, barely hiding the lust in his eyes. Then I spoke to Larry. "Why don't you and Bobbi drop us off at Joey's car to get his knapsack?"

Joey kept a straight face, but Larry's lit up with the realization that he would have the pleasure of Bobbi's company in his own bed, at least for one night and maybe more. In my own mind, though, I couldn't help but wonder what the rupture of my maidenhead would do to my soul, especially at the hand, so to speak, of a young boy, one I had never even kissed. Yes, I was studying to become a teacher, possibly of high schoolers; still, was I ready to give my singular gift, my virginity, my hymen, my cherry, to use the vernacular, to a high school lad.

But in Larry's car, with Joey's arm chastely around my shoulder, the dampness between my legs told me that I was oh so ready. I leaned against him; his hand turned my fact toward his. That first kiss was soft, sensual but not erotic. My hand rubbed his leg, but stayed far from his penis. Larry parked behind Joey. When we got out, Bobbi said, "Be a good boy, Joey."

"Yes, sis," he answered with a smile in his voice. We held hands as Joey carried his bag upstairs. Other girls from the dorm watched with bored expressions; it was no big deal to them, and Joey was tall enough to escape questions about his age.

In my room, I melted. I had necked with boys in the past, allowed them to fondle my breasts, even sucked them to climax at times, but never had I been in this position. I was fully clothed, with a young man I had never kissed, except that once in the car, who had never touched my breasts, and with almost no words we both knew that we would soon be naked and that he would enter my body, converting me from virgin girl to fallen woman. Of course, I did not think I would be 'fallen', but the idea was fun.

What would he do? Would he use his mouth on me, as his sister had done? I wondered if he knew about that. Would he expect me to take his member into my mouth? If so, would he expect to ejaculate in there? If so, how long would it take for his body to regenerate another erection so that he could accomplish what I had been waiting for? Would he use adult words, or gutter talk? Would he say 'f__k', or would he say, 'make love'? At that moment, I didn't care about anything except to feel his blood-filled manhood inside me.

Joey glanced around, threw his bag into a corner and took me into his arms. As we kissed, my hand held his cheek, pulling his head to my face. His tongue stayed in his own mouth, and I heard him sigh as a hand went to the small of my back, pulling my genitals toward his own. When the hand slid down to my buttocks, I pressed my groin so hard into him that I thought I would come through to the other side. The hand went under my sweater, to rub my bare back, with no attempt to unhook my bra or to fondle my breasts.

I stepped back from him and had my sweater over my head in a single swoop, tossing it onto the floor. He looked down at my chest.

"Yes, 'perky' is a good word for these."

"Does your sister tell you everything?"

"Is there anything else to tell?"

I ignored the question as I worked on his shirt buttons. When that was off, he reached behind me to unhook the bra. Suddenly it felt hot in the room, the air too stuffy to breathe. Is that always the prelude to sex, the inability to breathe normally? Joey's lips were on my nipples, sucking for milk. My eyes closed, my hand drifted down to caress the large bulge in the front of his pants, signaling a ready penis. I wanted it in me so badly, to rip through my thin membrane, to pour its offering inside my vagina. I walked backward, pulling Joey toward my bed; when my legs hit it, I let go of him and fell backward.

"Make love to me, Joey. Fuck me." Even as I uttered that dirty word, I knew that it wasn't a curse word at all; I felt no shame, for it was the perfect word to describe the first union of that young man and this woman. My mouth had whispered it; now my mind screamed it: Fuck me, Joey, fuck me, fuck me.

He stood over me, his eyes caring as he slipped off his jeans and dropped his shorts. I reached for his penis, his Cock, head glistening, the vein underneath pulsing. What was happening to me? How did this beautiful boy bring my mind down to the gutter? His hands worked the buttons of my jeans and they were off me in a second. Only skimpy panties, selected for the occasion, protected my lips, the panties dark with the moisture from inside me. Wordlessly, I pressed the soles of my feet down to lift my body up, so that he could roll down the damp garment...

"Fuck me, Joey; fuck my cunt!? I blushed inwardly at my mouth spat out another once-taboo word. I could not believe that imminent sex would so corrupt my mouth. I remembered the old rebuttal to curse words: 'Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?' But now that I was about to abandon my virginity, my entire gentility fled. Was I about to become a slut?

He straddled my chest, one knee on each side. I could feel the words bursting from me, as though a dam holding back the bad words had been ruptured. "Do you want me to suck your cock, Joey? I'm good at blowjobs."

He grinned and nodded; my hand held the length of his meat as my mouth swirled over the crown, licking away the pre-cum.

"Don't cum this way, Joey. First I want you to fuck me, to break my cherry."

He crawled down to put his lips to my pussy, the damp hair washing his face. His tongue worked my clit; I was so hot that it seemed like mere seconds before "AAAAAIIIIIIEEEE." He lifted his face, glistening with my pussy juice, to kiss me.

"Fuck me now, Joey."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"NOW!" I screamed it at him, blushing as I wondered if the sound had carried outside the room.

His fingers were at my lips, spreading them. Then he lined up the head of that beautiful cock, but instead of slamming it in to me, he slid the meat of his hand between my teeth. I understood, and nodded; his cock blasted into me and I bit down, avoiding a scream but still moaning. My eyes teared and he leaned over to kiss the droplets away; it took a while for the pain to subside, and he stayed in me, motionless, until it passed and I nodded again. Then he fucked me like a jackhammer, his fingers bringing me to another orgasm as he continued to thrust.