Hide and seek under the stairs - pitch black but for a blinding bright crack from the edge of the door - a thin slice of sunlight - dust dancing across it.
Cousins.
We had always been close but it was changing.
I must have been 15 by then - George a year younger.
Giggling ā¦ but suddenly self conscious for the first time with him ā¦
I had never seen a penis - except in biology where spermatozoa and ovaries dominated - that creepy symmetrical roadmap pinned beside the blackboard.
That canāt possibly be fun - a biological coupling. Reproduction.
Giggles behind hands in the corner of the playground.
Iām not doing it.
I was late blooming. Only in the past year, much later than my friends, had I started to blossom and grow and ache.
I had started to take pleasure in touching myself at bedtime. Every night now. Sometimes during the day Iād push my bedroom door closed lie back, focus on the ceiling and slip my hand inside my panties. It felt naughty still - could God see me? Or my parents? - Iād always been a good girl
but the feeling was coursing through me regularly now and unstoppable.
Pleasure first from the illicit - then from the sheer joy of touch and sex and knowing it was the start of my future life. Being grown up - which I want and pushing out into the world - like my swelling tits - which I donāt.
Why wonāt sex leave me alone to get on with being a good girl - but it wonāt.
Now it was flowing unstoppably through me. Changing me into my future. The monthly pain.
So - back to the moment under the stairs
- Iāll show you mine if youāll show me yours.
An old joke from when we were little
Sort of - but itās different now
Being the elder (it mattered still at that age) I know I have to take the first step
I nudge the door slightly open so we can see a little
It was disappointing - nothing really - a wrinkled thing - smooth but pinched in to a wrinkled end
His hand cupping it self consciously as if protecting a cigarette from the wind.
A flash of my lightly fluffy sex.
He has gone quiet. We both freeze and donāt know what to do next. I giggle from tension.
And suddenly it was a holiday tradition - each time I saw him a little bit more.
Christmas that year I touch it - wrap my hand right around him - felt a pulse, it twitches and bucks and for the first time we both knew it was serious.
He is bigger than the first time - but only because his sap is rising. The noise he makes in his chest, but deeper, moves me - I move my head towards it but lose confidence and we both lose our nerves, sneak out and go for lunch.
We slip into another year.
Flash forward to that summer -
And sex is rising hard in both of us. Another year still an outwardly prissy virgin when all around me are losing theirs.
It is between us the moment we meet again. We are both like frisky animals circling, pacing around each other that.
Straight after church - down by the river, Sunday school picnic - and can hardly concentrate. I want to grab him and kiss him so much
Heās in the water rescuing a ball and I can see it outlined in his shorts. Forgive me Jesus - I need it.
And that afternoon it happens ā¦ Sort of ā¦
Home alone.
The car pulls from the drive - all 4 of our parents out - and we are straight upstairs.
He briefly moves towards my parentsā room but thatās far too wrong for me.
My room - Soft toys pushed off the bed.
I am embarrassed at how childish and girly it feels but I donāt think he notices.
Above the covers we kiss properly - and roll on top of each other. I had been kissed and squeezed - and had my now proud breasts felt by a couple of boys who got close - but no more.
His hand inexpertly up the summer dress I changed into with him in mind and into the front of my panties.
His fingers brush and play with my pussy lips - Iām really wet and gasp and melt in his arms straight away.
Heās bluffing - pretending he knows what he is doing - but we both knew he didnāt - from a magazine - a naive fumble at best.
But I donāt mind and it has me on fire.
I move my hand to slow his - to calm him down - and then to press against his crotch - Sunday suit trousers straining.
So tight the zip wonāt budge with one hand - and I have to shift onto my knees and use both hands help his cock out.
And itās there right in front of me - perhaps 6 inches from my face
Now a glorious thing - his foreskin peeling off a glorious shiney head.
I wrapped my hand around it - scared but excited. That glorious head - I had never seen anything like it - nor been so excited.
It was time.
I leaned forward and closed my mouth around it - just once. I felt him gasp - his whole young life sucked in - but it is only a moment - too intense to bear for long and too much for me - I panic and move away - pull him into me.
We snog and rub and cuddle but his cock is insistent pressing, straining against my belly
My dress pushed up under my breasts, a sheen of sweat on my flat belly, white cotton panties. His hand on my belly, cupping my mound, damp - squeezing ā ooooh.
I want to very very much but my upbringing and fear of my parents return kicks in - and yet again I have lost my nerve.
I take him in my hand, inexpertly pulling at him - hopeless but itās more than enough for him and he sprays my arm - the front of my dress, over my shoulder onto the headboard.
Something changes inside me in that moment and ever since.
I can still feel the power.
The heat on my skin.
The sweet salty smell of it.
I am addicted in that moment.
But it was his cock in my mouth that I remember best
Not even a suck - just an enclosing but my lips canāt forget it now and my mind returns to the memory every time I touch myself at night. I know he must be the same - wanking and spraying young, insistent desperate fountains of sperm ā¦ Every time remembering that gentle wet enclosing.
Coming 3,4,5 times a day in a memory of my young mouth.
Now it is summer again - he is old enough to not come on holiday with his parents anymore but he has.
We both know it is because he has come to fuck me properly ā¦ā¦
Sarah Timpson (28)
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