Touching & Groping

Source: http://frankierosbadgirl-my365dayproject.buzznet.com

I was a precocious teen. Sex interested me from as long as I can remember, which might have even been in my preteen years. It might have been because of the experiences when I was about nine, but no matter what it was, I was interested in sex and I wanted to explore. I guess, just like others, I started first by touching myself. But then the hormones hit and I got interested in boys. Older boys. Boys of my own age totally bored me.

Our neighbors had two sons. One of them was a year younger than I was. The other was five years older. The older one interested me more. I cannot remember if he had ever touched me. I don’t think he did. I do remember that I flashed him quite a lot of times. He stood at the fence, I sat on the steps at our front door and I would spread my legs, showing him my pantiless crotch. Oh, the excitement! I think I was horny most of the time back then, wanting so much to be touched inappropriately.

There was a drive-in not far from where we lived and whenever we were allowed to go there for a movie, we walked there. At the drive-in, next to the cafeteria in the back of the grounds, was a huge grass slope. This is the place where many teenage couples lay on or under blankets. Want to guess what happened there? Yes, I too felt and enjoyed the hands in my bra or panties.

On one of those movie-nights, I ran into the oldest of the two neighboring boys. He was there with some friends, in a car. One of those friends was Joe, a guy who I really liked and had an eye on for some weeks already. He was in the army, just starting the years of obligatory military service. I was only fourteen. I joined them in the car. Neighbor-boy was in the front with a girl in the seat next to him. Joe and another friend were in the back. I sat between them.

When Joe put his arm around my shoulders a thrill went through my body. Knowing myself a lot better now, I think that back then the thrill was one of pure horny feelings running through me. But I was only a child, discovering myself and at that moment I had no idea what the feelings meant. Not long after he had put his arm around me, he bent his head down and I looked up at him. We kissed. Oh my god, we kissed. I was a fourteen year old girl with puppy love feelings for this guy of 18 or 19 and he kissed me!

For years after I felt embarrassed when I thought back on the moments that followed the kiss, but as I got to know more about myself, the embarrassment disappeared and only the sweet memories remained.

Somewhere during or after the kiss I lost some of my inhibitions. Spontaneously I swung my leg over his and straddled him. I was on his lap then, facing him. We were kissing again and yes, I think our crotches must have pressed against each other. That memory is not very clear. I do remember his one hand finding the top button of my blouse, undoing it. His hand disappeared inside my blouse. He touched my shoulder and slowly his hand started to move down. Oh how I waited for him to touch me. You know, right there! To slip his hand into my bra and touch my breast. That was what I wanted. I wanted it so bad.

He was moving painfully slow while constantly kissing me. I guess neither of us wanted to look at the other. We kissed and his hand moved. In my head I yelled at him to touch me, to touch my breast, to feel my hard nipple. His hand moved closer. I felt it on the edge of the bra cup. I felt a finger moving inside, pushing my bra cup down. Still he did not touch my breast. His fingers moved back up, stroking the skin above my breast, making me yearn for his touch. Ever so slowly he moved his hand back. Very softly his hand covered my breast. My small hard nipple was caught between his thumb and forefinger.

The built up anticipation and that delicious feeling when at last he did what I was longing for, were too much. I broke of our ongoing kiss, threw my head back and sighed. The sigh was more like a sound of passion, a sound of climaxing. It surprised even me and I do remember the embarrassment of the moment when everyone looked at me and I realized that they all could see that his hand was still inside my blouse. We all knew damn well what the boys wanted from the girls and what the girls wanted from the boys. It was not about sex, it was about touching and groping. But we never wanted anyone else to see that we were actually doing it!

That evening is engraved in my memories. It might have been the first ever time I made a sound during any kind of erotic encounter. He became my boyfriend for a couple of weeks after that, but eventually we drifted apart, because I became much more interested in the naughtiest boy in my class…

© Rebel’s Notes

The prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was #teenage years.
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