Ann Fraye's post-Thanksgiving arrival at Brearleigh, my Manhattan girls' school, caused a sensation. For one thing, she was a rowdy among the demure — she played basketball as a contact sport, pulled practical jokes in chemistry lab, and laughed raucously at double entendres and smutty remarks.

And for another, she was unabashedly, openly, talkatively, interested in sex. Unlike repressed me.

"I'd have gotten laid by now if mom hadn't sent me to that all-girl's camp last summer," she complained at lunch the third day after she arrived. "I was giving my boyfriend handjobs and I let him finger me. I figured we'd do it when I got back from camp, but by then he was dating someone else. I didn't have a replacement before dad decided I should come to New York."

Soon we were studying together after school, either at her apartment or mine. We discovered common interests in politics (liberal), music (folk), and art (pop and abstract). We puzzled about the world our parents inhabited — activist politics, civil rights, dinner parties, the newest books and movies — but mostly she carried on about sex.

"Janey Bernstein is really going out with that dope from Dalton? What's she see in him?" I asked one day, puzzled why Janey was mooning around and sighing a lot.

"Probably a big cock," Ann leered, and I blushed. She was so direct it made me uncomfortable.

"I can't stand this sex talk all the time," I grumped at Ann one day. "Why don't you DO something about it?"

"C'mon, Laura. I've been here less than a month. It's Christmas. I've got two families to visit, shopping to do. But after New Year's..." and her voice trailed off.

In late January, as the Democratic primary campaign for mayor was heating up, we decided to get involved. Our parents were social with the Congressman who was running, and Ann and I liked him as well. So, with our parents' encouragement, we signed up as volunteers.

Among the dozens of other volunteers there were maybe 20 our age. Ann developed a crush on Josh, and soon they were taking any assignment they could to work together.

Maggie, Ann's step-mother, allowed Ann to set her own after-school schedule, so she could be at headquarters every day if she kept her grades up. My parents were more reluctant, but they agreed I could go to headquarters during the week only because I was with Ann. But I had to toe the line about my grades or I'd have to come right home.

We did our homework quickly after classes and handed it in on time. Our mid-year report cards were excellent, so we got expanded permission — not only weekdays but also weekends at headquarters.

Early in March, Ann confided that she had the chance to spend next Saturday alone with Josh at his parents' apartment. "They'll be gone from Friday night till Sunday brunch. Will you cover for me?"

I was afraid. Of course I wanted to help my friend, but I worried that I'd mess up and we'd get caught. Ann had it all figured out.

"Saturday morning we'll say we're going to a museum instead of the campaign. I'll go to Josh's place and you'll go to some museum. We'll meet at that coffee shop across from the Public Library at 3:30 and you'll tell me what 'we' did so I can have my story straight. Okay?"

"Are you and Josh going to, uh, do it?" I asked, tremulously.

"Yes! I've jerked him off twice this week in one of the unused offices! This is our chance to be completely alone. He's even gotten rubbers!"

I'd never spent a whole day alone in the city. Ann and I had had a couple of encounters with strange men, so I knew to look like I knew what I was doing. I was at the Metropolitan Museum by eleven, wandered around several of the halls, ate lunch, wandered around some more, and was in a small booth at the coffee shop by 3:15.

At 3:30 Ann flew in. "You're never gonna believe this!" she whispered. "It was great! It was everything I hoped for! And we went shopping at Bloomingdale's!"

My jaw must have dropped because Ann giggled and reached over to push it closed.

"After I hung up my coat and got out of my boots, he led me to his bedroom. At headquarters we'd always worried that someone would interrupt us, but now we could do whatever we wanted.

"We lay down on his bed and kissed and kissed. After a while I reached over for his cock. 'Please Ann' he said, and I unzipped his pants and pulled it out.

"It was huge! I'd only felt it, never seen it. But it was bigger than my old boyfriend's. I'd never had the time to just, you know, examine one before, right up close. I started right in, stroking him."

"'Slowly, nice, oh yes, that's it, ' he said. It was so warm and so smooth. 'Faster, faster, FASTER! Oh Ann, you're gonna make me cum.' I was pumping as fast as I could and then he groaned like he always did just before he came. 'Oh god yes, don't stop, feels so good, faster, faster, OHHHHH!' and he came!

"I'd never seen a guy cum. I'd made my old boyfriend and Josh both cum, a lot, but always inside their pants. I'd never watched it happen. It shot up in the air two feet, like a white rope, then plopped down on my hand and all over him. He must have spurted five times before he made me stop." She paused, savoring the memory.

"He was completely wiped out! He just lay there and puffed. The look on his face! It was like he was in pain, real pain, when he was coming, but afterward he had this beautiful smile.

"We went to his bathroom and he cleaned us up. He took his pants and briefs off, since they had cum on them. I nearly stopped breathing! His balls were huge!

"We went back to his room and we got each other naked. We kissed, and kissed, and touched each other all over. It was heaven!

"He put his finger in my pussy and got me really excited. I grabbed his cock and started pumping again, but he made me stop. He reached under his bed and pulled out a box of rubbers.

"'Put one on me, ' he said, and showed me which side was up. I rolled it all the way down. The wrapper said 'lubricated' and it sure was.

"He had me lay back and he got into position. He started to push in. The pain was pretty strong, and he stopped when I asked him to. I was really tense and he pulled out and we kissed a lot and he worked his finger in and out of my pussy. I relaxed and we tried again, but it was the same, even if he got in a little further. He put two fingers inside me this time and it felt really nice.

"The third time he was pushing in pretty steadily when the pain really hit me and I started to cry. He stopped, then all of a sudden he pushed harder into me. It HURT!

"I hit him! On his face! He HURT me! I was crying and he just sat there with this 'what'd I do?' expression."

"'I TOLD you, "take it slow, let me get used to it." We agreed! You promised! That really hurt! That's why I slugged you.'"

"'You're okay now, right? That's the worst part, you'll be fine, ' he said, and he was kissing me.

"And it was! It took a while for the pain to go away, but when I felt better he got back on top of me and started to move. It was glorious! We moved against each other and I felt wonderful! We danced! I nearly had an orgasm and he came while I was thrashing around.

"We took each other's virginities! We rolled onto our sides, staying hooked up. 'That was sooo nice, ' I said, just stroking his face. 'God I wish we'd done it sooner.'"

"He was so sweet! He put his lips right up to my ear and whispered, 'Ann, did you cum? I wanted to make you cum, but I wasn't sure.'"

"'Oh god yes, your cock got me to cum. And I got you to cum too, right?' And we laughed.

"'God, yeah, I did. You're so warm around my cock. I never knew it'd feel this good.'"

"We lay there for the longest time. He got soft and I rolled the rubber off him. His cock was slick and I got some of his cum on my hand. I made a big deal of licking it off. It was salty and thick, but I liked it, especially since I knew he was watching. I wrapped the rubber in a Kleenex and put it on his nightstand."

I was surprised at the effect this had on me. I was excited. I'd never gone out on a date, never been kissed by anyone other than my family, and had only lightly played with myself.

"What was that about Bloomingdale's?" I reminded her.

"Well, when we got up, we saw that there was a lot of blood on the sheets. Josh got scared. 'My mom will kill me when she sees this! We have to clean it up!'

"But the blood had started to dry. We wouldn't be able to get it all out.

"'What're we going to do?' he was really scared.

"Don't you have more sheets?

"'Sure, but she'll see one set is missing. Oh man, am I in trouble!' That's when I thought of Bloomingdale's."

"Huh?"

"Maggie had taken me there when I first came to New York. She let me pick out my sheets, pillows, curtains, carpet, everything. We'd spent a whole day there.

"'Get dressed, Josh, ' I told him, 'we're going shopping. We'll buy a new set of sheets. Find the label. Hurry, let's go!'"

"We took a taxi to Bloomingdale's. It took a while, but we got lucky and found the same sheets. We were back at his apartment by one-thirty. We decided we wanted to fuck once more on the old sheets before we changed them, so we did.

"It was a lot easier this time. I rolled the rubber onto him while he was stood in front of me. He pushed me back but then had me get on top of him. I wound up sliding up and down on his cock. It was a little twingy but not much, and I bounced around on him. God it was great! You have no idea! I came twice! After my second orgasm, he started humping up against me and he came! I collapsed onto him and felt like I was gonna die!"

I must have looked exhausted myself, because Ann reached over and patted my hands. "It's fun, Laura, you've gotta do it. We'll talk about it some more, later."

I briefed her on "our" day at the Met and we went home. On Monday she told me Maggie had bought the story.

Ann began her campaign. "Do you play with yourself at night?" she asked, nonchalantly, at lunch. Her tone was matter-of-fact conversational, but she didn't care who heard.

"ANN! That's private! You can't ask me that," I hissed at her.

"Don't they do sex ed here?" she deadpanned.

"Yes, last year, in freshman health," I admitted.

"Well, then they must have brought up masturbation, right? And they must have told you everybody does it, right?"

"Well, yes, but they didn't go around the room and get everybody to say so," I defended.

"Because if they had —" she said, and let it drop.

Over the next week she pushed me harder and harder about my experience. She also got much more explicit about what she and Josh had done and kept on saying how much fun it was.

"I came three times last night," she said in the hall the next day after first period. "How about you?"

It was getting to me. By the end of the week I was cumming in bed at night and in the shower in the morning. Ann told me how she controlled the onset of her orgasm and even how to do it during my period.

And she kept rhapsodizing about what she and Josh were doing every chance they got. They were taking real risks at headquarters.

Once they were caught when Josh made too much noise as she jerked him off. Muffie, the volunteer coordinator, who assigned us to various jobs, told them to behave or they'd have to leave. Another time, on an errand downtown, they took so much time that Peter, the scheduler, called Josh's teacher and told him Josh was close to being kicked off of the campaign. So they had to cool it.

I was jealous. Ann was having all this fun and I wasn't. The clincher came when she analyzed why I wasn't dating.

"You're just repressed, you haven't let yourself go. I've seen you in gym — you yell, you cheer, you get red in the face. What you need is a guy to bring you out of your shell." She was right. I gave in.

But there was this problem: I didn't know any guys. Being an only child of only children, I had no brothers or sisters or cousins to introduce me to their friends. I'd been at Brearleigh since kindergarten. I didn't go to the mixers with the boys' schools because I didn't like to dance.

What to do?

Ann discarded the male teachers at school as too old and too risky. "I think the weatherman on channel 4 is really cute," I ventured, but that seemed hopeless. Ann suggested a couple of the volunteers at the campaign, most of whom were from Josh's school, but we decided the gossip mill would be hurtful to us both. Besides, they were likely to be virgins themselves, and Ann said I needed an experienced guy.

We had pretty much exhausted the known universe when I realized that the answer was right under our noses.

Peter, the scheduler, was a nice, fun guy. Ann and I had done work for him, filing and copying. I'd stood in line at the photocopier with him a couple of times and we'd kidded around. He had black hair and a beard and was always tossing around off-beat quotations from classic literature and classic movies. Physically he was average and didn't smoke (one of my requirements). And there were no stories about his having a girlfriend.

"Yeah! He's nice. He's older, he'll know what he's doing," Ann said, and she set about devising a plan.

"The next time you're together, you tease him a little. Throw out a couple of movie quotes of your own, do your best to bump into him. Put your hand on his ass and squeeze, that'll get his attention!" She leered but made her point. I tried most of her suggestions or twice but I didn't think he noticed.

Ann made me keep trying. About a week later, on a Wednesday afternoon I got a laugh out of him and the next day he sought me out to top some remark I'd made.

The next day, when I arrived at headquarters, he wasn't there. They said he was really run down and the campaign manager had told him to stay home through the weekend, so he'd be rested for the big push of the campaign.

"It's perfect! We find out where he lives and you go visit the sick. Take him some chicken soup, that's what's good for being sick, right?" We checked the staff list and found out he lived only four blocks south of Brearleigh.

"Okay, tomorrow morning you cut school after home room. You go to his place with the chicken soup. Maybe he'll seduce you." I was dubious but didn't see any other way, so I agreed to try.

"Who's there?"

"Hi Peter. It's Laura. From the campaign. I, uh, heard you were sick, so I brought you some chicken soup."

He opened the door to a studio apartment, one room with a separate bathroom and kitchen. There wasn't much furniture, just a day bed couch with a bunch of pillows, a glass-top coffee table, and a chair. In the tiny kitchen there was a table and two chairs.

"I can only stay a few minutes," I said. "Gotta get back to school."

I spread my tablecloth on the coffee table and laid out a bowl and a spoon in a proper arrangement, then poured the soup and sat next to him as he wolfed it down.

"I haven't eaten in two days, just slept. You're a real angel for bringing this soup. Can you stay a few minutes? What's happening at headquarters?"

I told him about the press secretary having a screaming fight with the political director and how everybody was excited about the Daily News poll that showed us close to the lead. He made a catty jibe about a couple of the volunteers we both knew and we laughed.

He said something about how Ann and Josh seemed to be spending a lot of time together. I must have blushed and he quickly apologized.

I started crying.

"I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to be hurtful," he stammered.

"Ann's got a boyfriend and I don't!" I blurted, and kept on blubbering. He reached for my hand and stroked it. As my tears slowed, he released it.

"That's no problem. You're pretty enough and smart enough to get any guy you want."

"Nobody interests me! My school's a cloister! Besides, I want someone mature." I paused and took a deep breath, then looked him straight in the eye. "I want you to be my boyfriend."

He blushed.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen." (I lied: I wouldn't be 16 until August.)

"I'm 25. Don't you think you should go for someone your own age?"

Suddenly, and without waiting for an answer, he said "Wow, look what time it is! You should get going."

As I gathered everything into my shopping bag, he said quietly, "the soup was great. Could you come tomorrow with some more?"

Ann clapped her hands and laughed loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear. "You are the nervy one! He's flattered, you got his attention. Whether it's your body or the chicken soup he wants, who cares?" She grinned wickedly.

As we walked home, she was more serious.

"I'm not going to give you any advice about what to do except to let him take the lead, since he has to have experience. But you have to insist he be gentle. Promise me!" She poked her finger in my chest to emphasize her point.

"Of course he will, why wouldn't he? He's very nice."

"Josh is nice too, but at first he had to be in charge of everything and if I didn't do it exactly his way, he got rough." She'd never told me this.

"Tomorrow" was Saturday. We decided to get an early start to "our" weekend and meet for breakfast at 7:30. We already had the perfect cover story: our Art Appreciation class assignment for the weekend was to visit the Metropolitan Museum's new exhibit on Etruscan art and the Frick's Old Masters collection. We would rendezvous at the coffee shop at 4:30 for my briefing on "our" day.

By 8 o'clock I was at Peter's door. It took him a couple of minutes to respond as he clearly wasn't expecting me so early.

He was still in his pajamas but looked a lot better. This time my shopping bag contained orange juice, bagels, lox spread, bread, cold cuts, some fruit, and mayonnaise, as well as chicken soup and two place settings.

Peter took my coat and helped me out of my boots, which was encouraging. I set two places on the tablecloth with flatware and napkins. He tossed some of the pillows onto the floor and we ate the bagels and lox spread, nibbled at the fruit, and drank the juice.

When we'd finished washing the dishes, he reached for my hand and said "come sit with me." We walked back to the couch.

"Did you mean what you said yesterday?"

I didn't hesitate: "Yes."

"Are you a virgin?" I blushed, looked down at my hands folded in my lap, and murmured "yes."

He reached over and lifted my chin so that I was looking directly at him. "That's okay. Are you using any birth control?"

"No, but it's okay. My period will come on Tuesday or Wednesday." Ann told me I wouldn't get pregnant because of my time of the month and that she would take me to the same clinic where she had gone to get on the pill.

"You are very self-assured," he said.

"No I'm not!" I said, defiantly. "I'm doing this on nerve! It's like I'm on a high wire and could fall off at any second. I've really exposed myself with you and don't know what I would do if you told anyone why I came here."

"This is our secret, just yours and mine," he said. "We can decide what we want to do, together."

With that, he moved closer, took my chin in his hand, and kissed me, lightly, on the lips. His beard tickled. Since this was the first time a boy had kissed me, I puckered up and sat rigid.

He broke off the kiss, looked at me for a moment, then brought my right hand to his mouth. He sucked softly on the first joint of my index finger, just enough so that I felt it.

"Now you kiss my finger that way," he said.

His hand was warm and his flesh responded to my lips. We did this back and forth a couple of times and he increased his suction.

"Like it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, yes, I do. Am I doing it right?"

"Yes you are. Want to do some more?"

He rolled his sleeve up and had me kiss him up to his elbow. His arm was hairy and he had a slightly salty taste.

"May I?" he said as he moved to unbutton the cuff of my blouse. "Sure," I said, and he kissed me up to my elbow. As he kissed me I touched his shoulder.

"That's nice, Laura. You're so soft," he said quietly.

He went back to kissing my lips. It took me a little while to adjust to the pressure, but he kept at it, encouraging me. We switched back to hand kissing, arm kissing, then lips again, and I got pretty good at it.

"That's very nice. You like kissing, eh?"

"Oh yes, I never thought —"

"And now you have."

Peter unbuttoned the cuff of my other sleeve and kissed me up to the elbow, then had me do the same to him. "Extremity kissing," he called it. We exchanged forehead kisses and cheek kisses. When he kissed my neck, I trembled so much that he stopped.

"You okay?"

"Oh yes, yes, that's so nice."

"Good, there's more to come," he said.

He picked at the top button of my blouse. "May I open this button?" he asked.

Since I was breathing a little heavily, I didn't respond right away. He pulled back.

"No, no, it's okay, I'm just catching my breath." He is so gentle and so warm!

After he opened the top button, Peter slid me down on the couch and lay beside me. He traced circles on my chest with his fingertip.

"Laura, do that to me." Opening the top button of his pajamas revealed his hairy chest and freed his gamey odor. I drew circles in his hairy forest.

We substituted kissing for fingertips and went back and forth as we undid the second button, then the third. We were both breathing heavily when Peter sat up. "The couch is too small. I'm going to unfold the bed."

It was a declarative sentence, but I heard him asking permission. "Sure," I heard myself say, perkily.

He popped a trundle bed from beneath the couch. It came up to exactly the same level, which meant we had more room. He pulled the cover from the couch, revealing a fully made-up bed. As we lay down on the trundle I smelled his sheets. And sweat. Bet he hasn't changed them in weeks! They're gamier than him!

With three buttons undone, my bra was exposed. Peter gently stroked the material, looking into my eyes for resistance, which I didn't offer. I caressed his chest, even tickled a nipple. He giggled.

"Is it okay if I take off your blouse?"

"Yes."

"And you'll take off my top?"

"Sure."

"I think we should stand up for this," he said.

He finished unbuttoning my blouse, pulled it out of my pants and tossed it onto the nearby chair. I pulled his top off and tossed it there as well. I noticed a bulge in his bottoms.

And now my secret was exposed. Even my petite bra was too big because my breasts were so small. The toilet paper I used to give myself some semblance of a bust fell to the floor and the bra sagged limply. I started to cry.

Peter sat us down on the bed and we cuddled.

As I stopped sniffling, Peter took my hand.

"Do you want to leave?"

"Nope, I'm here for the day," I said, adamantly. I sat up, reached behind me to unhook the bra, and it dropped into my lap.

Actually, small wasn't quite accurate about my breasts. While most girls have melon-shaped breasts, mine are more like bananas, hanging four inches off my chest. I'd asked my doctor about them and she said that some girls just develop that way. I never saw any girls in gym with droopy breasts like mine, so I was really nervous about what Peter's reaction would be.

"They're lovely," he said.

"But they're teats, not real breasts, and so small!" I wailed.

"They're fine, and I'll bet they can be as sensitive as any part of your body."

With that he lay down on his back and pulled me onto him. That's his erection! I feel it pressing against my belly!

"Sweep your breasts across my chest," he directed. I lifted myself up and watched his expression as I moved. He licked his lips and I felt a tingle in my nipples as they swirled through his forest. He played with my shoulders as I hovered above him.

"Now lie down and let me kiss you." As I rolled onto my side he began kissing and caressing me all over, from my throat to my pants top, especially my breasts. He gently eased me onto my back and I tingled and squirmed as he worked his way down. I ran my fingers through his hair and arched my belly as his mouth reached my navel. When he stuck his tongue in and blew, I squealed.

"Your turn," he whispered. We reversed positions and this time I kissed him from his unshaven neck through the forest to the top of his bottoms. I had to blow twice in his navel before he squealed. His erection has gotten bigger.

I brushed my palm across it — and it bounced! I pulled back and looked at him, expecting a rebuke.

"Ohhh, that was nice," he said, instead. "Do it again."

I reached over and brushed it again, and again it bounced again. "Take hold of it. You've found my cock."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, nothing you can do will hurt me."

I wonder what it looks like. The end has a knob, but it's narrower lower down. It's warm and strong.

"Squeeze it, please," he said.

I couldn't quite get my fist all the way around it, but I got enough and he moaned in what I thought was pleasure.

"Do it again, but at the top," he said.

That was easier, because the top was mushy. He moaned again a couple of times as I squeezed him.

"May I undress you?" he asked.

I nodded yes and we stood up. I covered my teats but Peter gently pulled my hands away.

"I like looking at them. They are so sexy."

He knelt and rolled my socks off, then reached up and undid my belt, pulled down the zipper, popped the button at the top, and drew the loose slacks to the floor.

"Lift this out," he said, touching my left foot. As I did so he lightly kissed the instep. I trembled all over. He kissed up my calf along the inside, to my thigh, then all the way to my panties. I felt his tongue flicking my skin as his mouth moved up.

"Now this one," he tapped my right foot. His tongue tickled the instep and he ran his mouth up to my crotch again. I nearly lost my balance a couple of times and held his hairy shoulder to steady myself.

When he was done he looked up at me with the most beautiful puppy-dog eyes. "May I?" and I nodded. He hooked his fingers on both sides of my panties and gently slid them down to my feet. I trembled again, but it was wonderful. "You are very brave."

"Now, Laura, step out of them and turn to the left."

I hesitated. "It's okay, just turn." I didn't know what he was looking for. Demurely, I clasped my hands in front of me. "Leave your arms at your sides," he said softly.

"God, you have a lovely profile. Your breasts look so good and your ass is just right." He touched its flesh and I shivered. "Now turn again."

"Did you know your hair almost reaches the divide of your ass?" I took great pride in my long, light brown hair, combing and brushing it twice a day. It was soft, lustrous, and did indeed reach that far. I wiggled my ass and Peter laughed.

"Again."

"Your left breast is larger than your right one. I'm going to have to examine this situation more closely."

"Now once more."

There was a catch in his voice as he said "You are very beautiful." He paused, then "and your bush matches your hair." He had a luminous smile on his face, his hands held my hips, and he kissed me on my belly.

After a few second he stood and looked directly into my eyes. "Please take off my bottoms."

When I couldn't push them over his hips, I got flustered. He showed me where the string was and I undid it. I squatted as I slowly drew them down. I lifted his left foot out and kissed his instep, then did the same with his right foot.

From my position I looked up at the mass between his legs. It, like the rest of him, was hairy, not like a bear, but hairy. His cock stood out from this mass at an angle.

When I'd touched his cock though his pants, it felt big. And it IS big!

I stood up. "Turn, please," and he shifted 90 degrees. I don't know what I'm looking for! He's seen lots of girls, this is my first man. There's his cock! It's so long! I hope it fits inside me. I'm getting light-headed. C'mon Laura, don't forget to breath!

"Again." There's hair everywhere, even on his ass.

"Again." His public hair sticks out more from this angle and I'll bet he's never combed it. Oh, his cock bounced again.

"Now face me."

As I rose he took my hand and led me the short way to the bed. "I'm going to show you so much," he said, "it's going to be wonderful for us both. I hope you will trust me."

"I do — uh, I mean I will," I stammered.

He laughed and rolled onto his back. "Take my cock in your hand." When I hesitated he said "It's okay, you did it already, remember, through my bottoms?" I propped myself on my left elbow and grabbed the shaft. "Ummm" he said.

It's so soft! The head is flaming red, almost purple! And his pubic hair is such a mess! God I love this!

"Now open and close your hand. Oh that's nice. Now do that up on the top. Oh that feels good."