Chapter 2

Carrie went home after her second meeting with Michael with her head reeling with unanswered questions. What strange force had made her want to see and handle Michael's dickie? Did he really enjoy what she had done with it or had he said that just to be nice? What would happen if she let Michael see and fondle her own tingling orifice? Would Michael even want to, or would he be shocked and ashamed of her forwardness for daring to suggest it? What was the real purpose of those vastly different, but still vaguely similar organs? Her mind was careening with questions as she awaited her mother's return. To occupy herself while she waited she began doing the dishes in the sink that were left from breakfast. After she washed, dried and put them away she decided go up upstairs and take a quick shower. Just in case there were telltale odors from her afternoon with Michael.

She was just finishing up and was drying her hair when she heard the front door close and her mother call out, "I'm home."

"I'm upstairs mom. I just got out of the shower. Be down in a little while."

Still nude from the shower Carrie was toweling her hair. Most of the water droplets had dried, but there was still a drop of two clinging to various parts of her body. Suddenly Carrie caught sight of her image in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. Oddly enough, up to now Carrie had not been one to gaze at herself in the mirror, nude or otherwise. It had never occurred to her to dwell upon her physical appearance. But after her afternoons with Michael she found herself with a renewed interest in seeing herself as others saw her. And so she went over and stood in front of the mirror. And she gazed at her image it was as if this was the first time she was seeing it.

Of course, other people didn't get to see her naked as she was seeing herself. She gazed at the image projected in the mirror. She was a moderately tall girl, five seven, slim but not skinny, with fleshy thighs and hips, a nicely rounded bubble butt, and of course the two lemon-sized titties which had so captivated Michael over these past two days. She had worn her hair in a long braid which had hung down her back earlier that day. Her hair was still in the braid as she hadn't wanted to shampoo her hair during her shower, but she had flung it to the front, and it was partially covering her left titty.

She studied those two little hillocks which Michael had seemed to enjoy so much. The flesh was firm, and the strawberry-like nipples were almost fully developed. In the mirror she could see a slight rise around her bellybutton (which was an innie) and below that her belly sloped until it reached her pubic mound, at which point it rose once again. There were two faint parallel lines visible on her belly. One about halfway between her bellybutton and the lips of her pubes, marking the bottom of the curve of her belly. Another line, about halfway between the first line and her pubic lips, announced the beginning of the swell of her pubic mound. Both of these lines seemed to draw attention to her mound, and to that mysterious pair of lips which lay beneath.

She had never paid that much attention to the lips of her sex. Her mother had tried to discourage her from paying them any mind at all save for washing to keep them clean. Of course, on her own she had discovered some of the pleasures playing with it could bring her when in the bath or in bed. But in these last two days many things which she had formerly ignored and taken for granted, now seemed to take on entirely new meanings.

At this moment she found herself very, very interested in most everything about her body, and particularly those nether lips which are normally hidden away between her legs. Carrie dragged the bench from her vanity table over to mirror and plunked herself down on it. Looking at her image in the mirror she opened her legs and leaned back until she had a clear view of her underside. And there it was on display as she had never before seen it. At the top where the lips began there was a small wand-like piece of skin poking out between them, looking not unlike the head of a tiny cobra peeping out as if on guard. The lips that surround it were crinkly in spots and took on a slightly pinkish tinge. Carrie reached down and opened the lips with two fingers. She could see her tiny channel very clearly. It was pink to red, moist looking, and somehow reminded her of a piece of raw meat. And then she thought, of course it looks like a piece of raw meat, because that is exactly what it is. She idly continued to let her mind wander aimlessly while she gazed at her image in the mirror. After a couple of more minutes she sighed, stood up, moved her vanity bench back, and began to put her clothes on.

Lying in bed that night before sleep took over, her mind flitted around recalling her two days at Michael's. That night she dreamed that she got completely undressed before Michael, and let him fondle and caress her between her legs. The next day at school it was only by using great discipline that she was able to keep her mind focussed on the lessons of the day, rather than having it spin out of control with thoughts of Michael. In study hall, which was her last period, she quickly finished her day's assignments and only then did she permit herself to daydream about Michael. She thought of many possibilities, but decided to leave it to Michael to decide if he wanted to do anything. She fussed at herself for having been too aggressive in their first two meetings, and vowed to herself she would follow Michael's lead on this day.

Michael was on his front porch swing as usual when Carrie arrived. She waved to him, and he asked her if she wanted a coke. "Sure," was her answer as she swerved onto the walkway which led to his front porch. Michael held the door open for her, and followed her inside, closing it behind her. While she went into the living room, he ducked into the kitchen to get the two cokes. He opened them, and brought one to Carrie in the living room, taking the other for himself. As usual they drank wordlessly, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. When they were finished Michael took the bottles to the kitchen to dispose of them. When he returned Carrie was still sitting in the same place on the couch, her teeshirt still concealing her budding mammaries from his view. "How are my favorite little titties feeling today," he said, walking over and sitting down next to her on the couch.

"They feel great. But what I can't figure out is why they feel so much better when you do them as compared to when I do them myself."

"Well, for one thing, when you do them your mind knows just where your fingers are going to go, so there's no element of surprise. But the most important difference is when I do them my fingers are talking the language of touch."

"The language of touch?"

"Yeah, there's a certain electricity that goes on between my fingertips and your titties. That's the main reason my doing you feels so much better than you doing yourself. And the same goes for when you did me yesterday. Your fingers, your touch made all the difference. I never felt better than when you were playing with my dick. And doing it on bare skin is another secret. That fills up two layers of our senses, sight and touch. And that's really important."

"You kind of got gypped yesterday," Carrie said, with a twinkle in her eye. "I mean you got to see my top half naked, but I got to see your bottom half naked, and you didn't get to see mine."

"I know. I wanted to more than anything, but we just sort of stumbled onto your seeing my bottom half, and playing with my dickie and all, and after I came like that, the bottom sort of dropped out of the possibility of our doing anything else. But I sure would like to see your bottom half, to see how well it goes with your top half. I'm sure it goes beautifully, but there's no way to prove it except in the seeing. As they say 'seeing is believing'."

"I kinda agree with that. I mean, I kinda felt bad afterwards that I got to see you, but you didn't get to see me. Would you like to, you know, see me, naked today?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? Sure. God that's all I've thought about for days now. I was a little backward about asking you, 'cause I felt guilty about getting you to take off your teeshirt the other day, and then letting me play with your titties like that. I guess 'cause I'm four years older than you, and I felt responsible and all. But, I have to admit that you did seem okay with it. You didn't show any signs of being upset or anything."

"'Course I wasn't upset. Those were the greatest feelings I've ever had. I never dreamed those little things that are always itching, making me uncomfortable could make me feel so good. But after I went home yesterday I felt guilty that I got to see you down there, but you didn't get to see me. Then I got afraid that maybe you wouldn't want to. Maybe you might think I was ugly down there, or something."

"Not very likely. But I guess there's only one way to really find out. Except maybe we better go up to my room to do it. At some point I'm probably gonna shoot my load, and I wouldn't want to get that stuff on the couch."

At this Michael stood up, as did Carrie, and she followed him up the stairs and into his room. Once there they stood about four feet from one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. After a moment Carrie spoke: "Why is it that all yesterday afternoon all I could could think of was letting you see me naked. I even looked at myself in the mirror after my shower, to make sure I look all right. But now I can't seem to make a move."

"Maybe I should go first? I'm older, and you've already seen my dickie, so there's no surprise there." So saying Michael reached down and grasped his teeshirt, pulling it over his head. Carrie looked carefully at his chest. She saw the ripples of his muscles, and felt a familiar tingle down below. Next he sat down on the side of his bed, untied his shoelaces and took off his shoes and socks. Standing up again he undid his belt, unbuttoned the top button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Then he pushed his jeans down to his ankles, and stepped out of them. Carrie was admiring the bulge that his not yet aroused dickie was making in his jockeys. She couldn't wait until it, too, joined his jeans on the floor.