Chapter 1: Karen

I guess they meant well - my parents, that is. I refer to their naming me Aubrey Morgenthall.

The Morgenthall was their surname, so that would have counted anyway you look at it, but Aubrey ... well, it was all right until I reached seven. I mean, kids under seven usually don't pick up on ways to make fun of one's name until a little later. In my case, later came soon enough.

I was 'Audrey this' and 'Audrey that' until I hit a nice growth spurt at fourteen. It helped that I was taking some karate classes too. My mother only allowed that because I agreed to continue with my dance lessons. Oh, yeah, dance lessons, which only prolonged the "Audrey" cat calls in the school corridors and led to guys challenging my manhood, forcing me to fight or flee.

I lost more than I won. That got me to demand — well, begging was more like it - those karate lessons mentioned earlier.

At fourteen, early puberty for me, I was suddenly being called "Bree" by my friends and "Handsome" by a few girls. The latter was a direct result of the dance lessons I had taken since I was eight, and a nickname bestowed on me by my Aunt Nicole. It seemed that very few guys in my class at school could dance, and those that did were fairly poor at it. As for me, well, I could do all the latest steps and was fairly graceful on the dance floor. After all, I had participated in the annual "Nutcracker" and several other ballets for several years, working up to the male lead. At fourteen, and following a growth spurt with what some called spectacular results, I handled the male lead in a ballet performance calling for wearing tights and a bulging codpiece. And that, earned me the nickname, "Handsome" from the young ladies.

Not that any of this got me anywhere with the ladies sexually. Well, that's not entirely true. I was still very much a virgin and would have remained so until God knows when, had it not been for Aunt Nicole. I'll have more, much more to say about that wonderful lady later, but for the moment I'll stick with the girls I knew back then. I guess it might be best to take them in order, so first off, there was:

Karen

One day I was playing in the woods behind my house with my new Daisy air rifle. I had set up several old beer cans on a stump and was taking some practice shots when a girl named Karen suddenly popped up from nowhere. At least it seemed that way, as I was intent on my practice with the rifle. Later I recalled having seen her from a distance as I walked to and from school several days before. Karen started a conversation with me and, as she was about a year younger than me, I refrained from throwing any sticks or rocks at her. Let's see, I was twelve, going on thirteen and Karen eleven, two months shy of turning twelve. She wanted to know why I was shooting the rifle, and I told her it was practice for when I joined the Marines. She appeared fascinated and, of course, I ran on about what a war hero I was going to be. The fact is, I never did join any military force; my father was killed over in Iraq, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Karen kept staring at me, and I felt myself getting nervous. It finally occurred to me to ask myself, 'Why she had followed me into the woods?'

I was twelve and direct. So I asked her, "I was just wondering, why are you lookin' at me like that?"

She giggled and dropped to her knees to sit in a cross legged position. I wondered briefly why she was wearing a dress and not jeans but was more concerned about getting back to firing my air rifle than anything else. I studied her face. Her excitement was written all over it, though I suspected she was trying her best to hide it. She was a pretty girl, tall and kind of skinny, with dirty blond hair. Her figure was stick-like, no bumps in her chest, and a raw scrape on her left knee, probably caused by a fall. One attribute stood out; her smile. It was a very winsome smile, and I have never forgotten it, or her.

"Can I shoot it?" she asked in a friendly tone.

"Nope," I replied, for I was overly possessive about my air-rifle.

"C'mon, let me shoot at one can, one time," she whined.

I relented and was about to hand her the rifle when it occurred to me that she might not know the first thing about firing a weapon. I did the obvious thing.

"You ever fired a rifle before?"

"No. Is it hard to do?"

"Not really, but there are some things you need to know."

"Like what?"

"Like not pointing it at anyone, especially me," I told her.

"Okay. What else?"

"Do you know how to hold it?"

"Um, maybe you'd better show me," she said, and thereby hooked me.

I moved in close and gave her the rifle, found myself pressed against her thigh and rear-end. I kept talking, but could only think of her flesh in contact with mine. I had the mother of all hardons as I showed her the proper way to squeeze the trigger. She missed the tin can, and I felt awful. It was as if I had failed her, and so we continued to rub against each other as the lesson continued until I was down to my last four pellets.

"Pling!"

The can jumped in the air and spun several times before hitting the ground. Karen committed a sacrilege and dropped the air rifle. I didn't notice for she was hugging me with joy and admiration for my teaching expertise.

And she felt my hardon, full force, and quickly moved several feet away, then sat down and hugged her knees to her chin. I had a great view of her white panties. We were both embarrassed. Time seemed to have slowed down as we looked at one another, and then off into the trees. My rifle lay on the ground, untouched.

I can recall waiting for one of us to speak. The birds were chirping again, now that the rifle was silent, and to this day when I find myself in a quiet place I can summon up their twittering songs and fill the soundless void.

Then, out of the blue, Karen said, "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

Now I realize those same words have been spoken time and time again, generation after generation. But to me it was as if they were being uttered for the very first time in recorded history.

Certainly I was confused. Later in life, I would realize that women used this tactic of circling the wagons for a time and then coming directly to the point at the very moment it was least expected. It was a means of attaining, or keeping the upper hand in male/female relationships. But at twelve, I was merely confused.

Well, maybe confused, but not stupid. "You go first," I told her. At twelve I could be direct myself.

Evidently, that was fine with Karen, for she raised her dress, exposing her white cotton underwear. I was entranced by what lay underneath those white cotton panties, and didn't hear her the first time she spoke.

"I said, 'now you.' C'mon, drop your pants, Aubrey!"

"Well, uh, I..." I stammered.

She went back to hugging her knees, cutting off my view.

"You're chicken!" she yelled, and I grinned at her to let her know I was just teasing. She punched me in the arm and was about to lower her dress when I finally reacted.

"Okay! Okay!" I said, and unbuckled my belt, unhooked the snap to my jeans, and lowered the zipper. Karen's eyes were riveted to my crotch. The jeans sagged down around my ankles and I stood there in my Superman boxers.

"There, satisfied?" I asked, somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing, but reluctant to end it without having seen my first pussy. It didn't matter to me how old she was; a pussy was a pussy, and that's what counted. I was already picturing myself regaling the guys about having seen my first pussy, when Karen interrupted my daydream and brought me back to reality.

"Do you hear somebody coming?" she cried out, and the fear in her voice jolted me back to real time. My senses peaked, and I strained to hear if anyone was headed our way. I must have stood there, jeans around my ankles, listening intently for a full minute before Karen said, "I must have been mistaken, sorry."

"Yeah, all right," I said, trying to disguise my nervousness. "You were gonna show me yours ... right?"

"Uh, huh," she said, and stuck her thumbs into the elastic at the top of her underwear and nudged them down to her knees. Karen, being eleven, was hairless. I must have gawked at her pussy's crack for a minute or so before she broke into my thoughts, saying, "Now, yours please."

Her politeness startled me, and I quickly shoved my boxers down to join my jeans. I had been waking up with a stiff hard-on for several weeks at this point but, for the rest of the day, my dick normally remained a limp noodle. Not that day, however. I had my first full-fledged boner, and Karen was there to see it. She saw it all right. It frightened her to the extent that she backed up several steps, almost tripping over her panties, but managing to retain her balance. Her right hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were wide as saucers.

"It ... it's so big!" she said after a long silence.

"Um, yeah, it's been growing faster than I am," I told her. "I mean, I've been waking up each morning and finding it stiff like this, and ... and I really think it's gotten a lot bigger over the last few weeks."

"Really?" she said, looking thoughtful. "Maybe it's like boobs."

"Boob's?" I said, this being a new term to me.

"Titties," she said, and I immediately understood.

"Oh, yeah, do you have ... boobs?"

"Of course I do, but they're not really developed yet. Maybe they'll pop out in the next couple years. That's what my mother tells me anyway. She's got nice ones. I hope mine are as nice as hers."

I had seen Karen's mother, and she did have nice ones. If Karen was going to have them too, I decided then and there to be nice to her from then on.

"Um, Aubrey?" The intensity in the air was so thick you could cut it. I noticed that her hands were trembling.

"Yes?"

She bit her knuckle nervously, and hugged her arms to her chest. She didn't answer. She just shrugged. She was sort of smiling a little bit though. It was very exciting.

"Whew," she said, "it seems to have gotten hotter."

"No kidding," I replied.

She looked at my erection. It was pulsing and twitching with the beating of my heart. It cried out for attention like the spoiled little brat that it was.

"Can I touch it?"

"Sure, why not?" I said.

Her hand reached out, very slowly, very hesitantly. The moment was torture and exhilaration at the same time. Her fingertips were almost there. I held my breath, waiting to feel her soft warm fingers touch my dick. She stopped however, inches away from it.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, but she would not continue. Her hand remained frozen in air like that, like a photograph, the kind that frustrated me, so close to touching but frozen, torturing me with anticipation.

"So do it then, Karen," I stammered. "Do it!"

Finally she stretched out her hand and I felt her fingertips touch its head, confirming for me in an instant that this wasn't all a delirious dream. I released a heavy sigh. I felt the electric tickle of sexual contact for the very first time.

She tried to put her hand around it, but couldn't. She tried two hands, but her hands were kind of small. She was what I'd call petite today, and her hands didn't quite make it around my boner. I couldn't have been more pleased.

"It's so hot," she whispered. "Wow, it feels funny, like it's alive, or something."

"Yeah, I know." I had no idea what she was talking about, but I wasn't going to do anything to disrupt the mood. Karen held it like that for the longest time, and then reached up with her other hand and began massaging a nipple, rotating it beneath her fingers as she gently squeezed my cock.

I reached over and took hold of her ass, which was the only part I could reach from that angle. She shuddered and jumped a bit at the contact, but seemed to enjoy my touch as much as I enjoyed hers.

Karen had a skinny little ass, but it still felt nice. It was smooth and soft, and very warm to the touch. I gave it a little pinch, and she giggled. Then, to my delight and amazement, she scooted her pelvis over a bit so that I could reach the rest of her.

From there I reached around beneath her rear end and stroked the delicate little peach fuzz of her puffy pink little pussy. She flinched a little at this as well, but did not tell me to stop. Instead, she squeezed my dick even harder, allowing me to fondle her sweet little cunny (her word for it, not mine) with my inexperienced hand.

I was surprised at its warmth and moistness. I couldn't believe what was happening as I rubbed my fingers back and forth across her folds, exploring its varied textures, and she began to tremble and shudder at my touch.

"It feels nice," I said, "so soft and puffy."

She turned crimson, partly from sexual excitement, partly from self-consciousness, but she did not respond. Instead, holding me with both hands, she began to stoke her trembling little fingers up and down my rigid pole. Suddenly her touch felt even more amazing, now that it was in motion. I'd masturbated myself a hundred times in my room at night, but it had never felt anywhere close to what her small feminine hands were achieving with my dick.

"Do you want to lick it?" I asked, my voice cracking with desperate longing. "For real, I mean."

She shook her head from side to side, but did not speak.

"Please," I begged, "it would feel so nice. Just once, please?"

She shook her head again, and I resigned myself to what was still the greatest feeling I'd ever known, hoping she would relent later on, and I resumed my exploration of her pussy, not knowing that a thing called a "clitoris" would have hastened everything along if I began teasing it.

Still and all, her rate of breathing had intensified, and that gave me hope.

""C'mon, lick it, just the one time," I said, trying to overcome the notion that she wouldn't.

"No."

"C'mon, you know you want too. You don't hafta do nothin' you don't want too."

"You promise?" she asked. I realized she was actually considering it, and I almost exploded right then.

"Of course," I said.

"You want me to lick it?" she asked.

I just smiled and nodded my head. Karen studied my face, mostly my eyes, looking for truth in them. She must have found it, because a moment later she gripped my dick at the base, and gave it a slow, deliberate lick. It was the very first time a tongue had touched my cock and it was paradise, if only in my mind.

Unable to contain my excitement, I pushed my pelvis up, causing the head of my dick to come in contact with her tongue. Karen backed away, although still holding tightly to my cock, and rebuked me with a disgusted grimace.

Somehow I realized she was not really angry with me, only warning me against being too forward with her. And then she slowly closed her eyes, put her mouth over the head, and went down just a little, maybe an inch or so.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, and I started coming.

I guess she had to swallow some of the first jet. I remember she gagged a little, before spitting some out. But I was still spurting into her open mouth.

The next thing I knew I was flat on my ass. My legs had gone weak and given out on me. I lay on the ground next to Karen, who was still on her knees, a look of amazement on her angelic face, cum running out of her mouth and down her chin.

I helped her clean my seed off her face and hands; and we sat there for a few minutes, each of us thinking about what had just transpired.

"I think you should lick me now," she said, a slight whine in her tone, as if she never expected me to follow through.

"What do I do?" I asked, genuinely interested in what lay in store.

"Just stick your tongue out and start licking right there." She was pointing at her clit.

I moved in for a closer look. This was a part of her that I had missed earlier.

"There?" I said, puzzled, and pointing at her clit.

"Yeah, there. It's my clittie," she told me.

"Lick you, like a Popsicle?"

Karen giggled, and said, "Like a Popsicle."

As I moved closer, she spread her legs further apart. And, with my tongue straight out, I tentatively gave her hooded bud a soft lick.

"Mmmmm, feels good," she moaned. "Again, do it again."

In no time at all I was lapping away at her, moving from her suddenly blooming nub to her hot, moist folds, suddenly proud of the power I felt from making her shudder with certain touches of my tongue, hearing her moan from still other touches.

"That's soooo nice, Aubrey, soooo nice!"

I noticed that her hips had begun to churn, sort of grinding her pussy into my mouth.

"Oh, yes," she cried quietly, "lick me ... yes, lick me faster ... lick me harder."

Soon it didn't matter if I was licking her or not. Her hips began bucking, and my mouth was on her one moment and off the next.

It dawned on me that Karen was coming as I had only she came differently than me.

She shoved me away after a while, and I watched in awe as she continued to shake, rattle and roll through her orgasm.

When she calmed down, she reached out, pulled me to her and kissed me. "Thank you. That was wonderful. The best ever," she sighed, and noticed that I was hard again.

"Want me to do you again?" she asked.

I nodded my approval, and she wormed her way between my thighs and leaned down. She took more of me into her mouth this time. I had a better view this time too, as I lay back and only had to look down at - or toward my feet to see - her mouth bobbing up and down on me.

For her part, Karen was a willing explorer. She had never attempted a blowjob before, and while unable to accept more than an inch or so down her gullet, she willingly ran her mouth and tongue up and down the length of my hardon. I guided her head with my hands and apparently, she reacted to the tenor of my moans and spent more time at the base of what I would later learn was my corona.