Chapter 1: Awakening

I think I first became aware of myself as a sexual being when I was around sixteen years old. Crampy periods and small breasts had appeared at age twelve, so I was capable of childbirth, but I wasn't interested in motherhood and babies.

My mother had given me her brown eyes and olive skin, with thick and wavy brown hair that hung to just above my butt. At 5'10" and 135 pounds with a size ten shoe, I didn't think of myself as ugly, only ungainly and awkward. I also inherited a little extra body hair, so trimming and shaving was a frequent task.

Slender and shy with a vivid imagination, I read romantic stories and imagined myself the heroine. I discovered the tender bump at the top of my little cooter and the dampness that came when I touched it, along with the pleasant glow from rubbing my nipples. I also took a little green or blue pill each morning without fail because my mother insisted. Months before when we left the clinic, my crotch tender from the Doctor's probing, I had asked why.

My mother replied, "You'll see."

My family lived in Sedgwick, New York, near the Finger Lakes. The old two-story house at the edge of town was the only home I'd ever known. I longed to travel and see distant places and things, often doing so in my mind. In reality, I shared a bathroom with my brother, Chad, who worked afternoons at the hardware store my Dad owned. He was due to leave for boot camp soon and I'd have the whole upstairs to myself. We were civil to each other, but we didn't run in the same social circles. He teased me unmercifully about my looks and body, seeming to relish seeing me cry. Mom kept the books, and I was occasionally called on to help in the store.

School was a long bus ride away and my after school activities were at a minimum. I found the forest preserve near our house to be a quiet, undemanding companion and walked there often, lost in reverie about my latest book. Our parents were from the "old school", requiring our best efforts at grades and behavior. That meant I often got yelled at for daydreaming.

My sophomore year ended and I had my sixteenth birthday that June. For the summer holiday, in the mornings I had some chores to do around the house, but afternoons were to be mine. Every day I would take a book and a large towel into the woods, walking the trails that meandered through the preserve until I found a spot to sit in the sun and read. Not bothering with a swimsuit, I undressed and sprawled on the towel, anxious to continue with the adventures of the characters in my novel. As they were besieged by foes they would eventually conquer, I had many fluttery orgasms induced by my fingers.

One afternoon I was far inside the woods on a trail that was unfamiliar, and I came across a pool of water. Square and obviously man-made, it was about 50 feet each side and three or four feet deep. It was fed by the trickle of a small stream, and the outflow was a brick affair with a pipe sticking through. The sun shone brightly through the canopy, and I settled in for a good read. The warm sun felt good on my naked body, and I spent the afternoon reading and playing with myself, wading into the cool water occasionally to cool off.

The pond became my favorite place, a haven for thoughts and deeds that I could not do elsewhere. I began riding my bike instead of walking in order to spend more time at the pond. I brought some oil and a blanket, sometimes food, but never any companions. I didn't know anyone well enough to share my love of nudity. I went there every day I could, picking a spot on the far side to lay out so I could see anyone coming. I had explored the perimeter of the place and I knew I wasn't the only one who came there.

As July began, I was a month into a deep dark tan, humming softly to myself as I walked around, picking up other people's trash. I saw a tent set up some distance away and went to investigate.

I had a habit of talking out loud when I was alone, and as I bent to touch the flap I asked, "I wonder whose this could be?"

I screamed with fright as a male voice behind me said, "Mine."

I whirled around and dropped the trash bag, attempting to cover myself with my hands.

I turned crimson and yelled, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

He was leaning against a tree, legs crossed, smiling.

"Same as you, I think," he said.

We locked eyes for a second and he grinned. He was nude, dark brown all over, and cute. He was my height with a wiry build, and I thought him handsome. His body was almost hairless except for a tuft at the base of his stomach, and his circumcised penis, about the size of my thumb, was resting on the bulge of his testicles, which my inexpert eye judged to be the size of small plums.

I was scared and said, "You shouldn't be sneaking up on people like that!"

He smiled and walked toward me, holding out his hand. I backed up a couple of steps and tripped over a branch, landing on my butt with my legs in the air.

"Oh, shit!" I yelled, more embarrassed than ever. He reached down and took my hand, pulling me up and inclining his head to the pond.

"Let's go into the water," he said. He held my hand as we waded in and knelt in the water.

"Is that better now?" he asked, still smiling.

He couldn't see my nakedness anymore and I relaxed a little. My hair was spread over the water and I gathered it into my hands and flipped it to my front, hopefully concealing my breasts. The coolness had made my nipples hard, and I shivered.

Inspecting him, I saw a boy with big brown eyes and longish hair. He had a nice smile and white even teeth.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Kevin," he replied.

"What are you doing here?" I inquired.

"As I said, same as you, enjoying nature," he smiled back. I nodded, and he said," I also enjoy looking at pretty naked women."

I said, "I'm only sixteen!"

He shrugged and replied, "You're still very pretty."

A compliment always made my ears turn pink, and he smiled again.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Seventeen," he replied.

"Where do you live?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"I'm a runaway," he said.

I decided that if he didn't want to give out any more information about himself, I wasn't going to divulge anything but my name.

"I'm Cassie," I said. He nodded and said nothing.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence ensued and then he said, "I like it when you read out loud, especially the poetry."

I hadn't read any poetry that day, so I asked, "How long have you been watching me?"

"A couple of weeks, I guess," he replied.

I cringed, thinking that he had watched me as I fingered myself, invading my private moments of pleasure.

I got angry and yelled, "You goddamn pervert!"

I stood, not caring what he saw, and waded in the direction of my blanket on the far side. Standing there shaking, I dried myself and quickly dressed.

He came up behind me as I snapped my bra shut and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

I barked, "Well, you did, damn you!", picking up my things and cramming them into the basket. "You're just like my brother, peeking at me while I'm in the bathroom!" I yelled.

I glanced at him and saw that his penis was larger than before; it was angled out from his body, swelling further as we spoke.

The unbidden thought that his penis looked nicer than my brother's made me blush again. I blushed and wheeled my bike around, simultaneously embarrassed and vaguely proud that I could have that effect on him.

As I rode away, he called, "Are you coming back tomorrow?"

I didn't answer and pedaled faster toward home. I got to my room, threw myself on my bed and tried to sort out my feelings. Pleased that he thought me a woman and attractive, but very embarrassed that he had seen me doing private things, my mood was ambivalent. I was quiet and thoughtful during the evening, sorting through my memories of the day. As I went to bed I decided to return to my pond, regardless of what he thought.

The next day I put on my white two-piece swimsuit under my clothes and rode slowly to the pond. I spread my blanket and undressed, thinking, 'watch me if you want'. I got the oil from my bag, applied it and lay on my stomach, reading. Minutes passed and I couldn't concentrate on my book. I found myself re-reading the same paragraphs several times. I put the book away and stretched out, enjoying the heat. A rustling of needles close by made me look up, and there he was.

He was standing by the edge of my blanket, nude, with his pack in his hand.

Smiling, he said, "Hello again."

I mumbled, "Hello" and tucked my head into my arm, turning away from him.

"You really ought to take your suit off, you know," he stated.

Angrily I said, "Why, so you can stare at my boobs some more?"

"It's only skin, Cassie. It's only skin," he said tiredly, and walked around the water to the other side.

I spent the afternoon sunning, and when I left I saw him sitting near his tent.

I missed the next couple of days at the pond. Saturday was yard work and shopping with Mom, and Sunday was church and family dinner.

When I came back on Monday, he was nowhere to be found. His tent was still there, but Kevin was gone. I searched the entire area, finding a small trench in the ground hidden behind a tree, close to where I usually spread my blanket. There was a forked stick jammed in the ground next to it, holding a partial roll of toilet paper wrapped in plastic. I had been peeing in the pond near the outflow. I was damned if I wanted to give him the satisfaction of seeing me do that; he'd already seen enough! I tried it and pushed some dirt into the hole from the small mound nearby, covering the evidence. Try as I might to be angry, I was pleased he had thought of me.

I didn't see him again until late in the week at mid-afternoon. He was fully clothed and dirty, but smiled at me and said "Hi." Stripping off his clothes, he got a small bag from his pack and waded in, standing near the outflow. He washed and I could see bruises on his thighs and arms. His hands were raw and red.

I asked, "Where have you been?"

"Workin'," was his muffled reply.

He sat and dried off, sighing with relief. I had decided that the only way to open him up and learn anything about him was to be open myself, so I turned my back to him and said, "Undo me, please."

"What?" he asked.

"I said, undo me, please," I repeated. He untied both knots on the top of my suit and I shrugged it off. Standing, I stripped off the bottoms and sat back down. A little nervous but determined, I asked, "Why do you come here?"

"Aside from the view, you mean?" he grinned. Blushing, I nodded.

"I live here," he said.

"All the time?" I asked incredulously. He nodded and I asked, "Why?"

He took a deep breath and said "Because of my family." I gestured, 'come on, tell me more', and he said, "I don't have the body weight to play football, or the co-ordination for other sports, and my dad thinks I'm gay because I like to play the piano and read a lot. I couldn't handle the snide remarks anymore, so I ran away."

He was thin, true, but gay? I didn't think so from the looks he gave me!

"What are you going to do when winter comes?" I inquired.

He shook his head and said, "I don't know."

"I live close by," I said. "I could sneak you food and stuff."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll figure something out, don't worry."

He relaxed and stretched out on the blanket close to me, I think relieved that I knew the truth, and closed his eyes. I wrapped the blanket around him before I left, letting him sleep as darkness fell.

For the next weeks, we saw each other every day I could get away and slowly became friends. We read to each other, and I checked books out of the library and brought them for him. I quit wearing my suit and was more comfortable nude around him.

As we played in the water, he would accidentally brush my chest or butt with his arm and say, "I'm sorry," giving my insides a twinge.

My nipples were constantly hard and I played with myself at night, fantasizing about his penis. If I wasn't in love, I was surely in lust. From our beginnings of not wanting him to see me nude, now I wanted him to touch me.