This post was originally published in July 2012, but with the prompt of ‘teenage years’ repeating on Wicked Wednesday, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to update and highlight this post again.
It started before my teenage years
I was a precocious teen. Sex interested me from when I was a preteen, and continued into my teenage years. I know this must have come from what happened when I was about nine years old, as that is what ‘introduced’ me to sexual actions. It awakened my interest in sex and my desire to explore. Just like others, I started by touching myself.
This was in those early years, 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 me, the other five years older. Obviously, the older one interested me more. I can’t remember clearly if he ever touched me, but he might have when we stood talking together at the fence. What I clearly do remember, is that I flashed him quite a number of times. He stood at the fence, in their garden, and I sat on our veranda, facing him. We both made sure there was no one around to see us, before I would spread my legs and show him my crotch. Sometimes I would even pull my knickers aside to show him more.
The excitement of that was enough for quite some time, but there came a time I wanted so much to be touched inappropriately.
This happened at a drive-in not far from where we lived. In fact, from our garden we could see the back of the huge screen. Our parents sometimes allowed us to go to the early show, and then we walked there, taking the footpath through the surrounding bushes. At the drive-in, next to the cafeteria in the back of the grounds, was a huge grassy 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.
A night at the movies
On one of those movie-nights, I ran into the older neighbor-boys, who was there by car, with some friends. Joe was one of his friends, and someone I already had an eye on for some time. He was in the army, just starting his obligatory military service. I joined them in the car, and sat in the back between Joe and another guy, with neighbor-boy in the front, and a girl in the seat next to him.
When Joe put his arm around my shoulders, a thrill ran through my body, and it was only in later years I understood it came from pure horny feelings. At that moment, in those teenage years, i was only yet starting to learn more about my body and what I liked. He pulled me closer, and when 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 young man, 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.
Getting what I wanted
Somewhere during the kiss I lost some of my inhibitions. I swung my leg over his and straddled him, facing him. We kissed again and maybe our crotches touched. That memory is not clear, but I do remember his fingers undoing the top button of my blouse. His hand disappeared inside, found my shoulder and slowly moved 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, and I wanted it so bad.
We still kissed, not looking at each other. His hand moved painstakingly slow, and in my head I screamed for him to touch me. Then, finally – finally! – his hand covered my breast; my small hard nipple caught between his thumb and forefinger.
The built up anticipation and that delicious feeling when at last he touched me like that, were too much. I threw my head back and sighed. The sigh was an audible sound of passion; a sound of climaxing. It surprised me as much as the others, and embarrassment took hold of me when everyone looked at me and I realized they all could see he had his hand inside my blouse.
Teenage years of touching and groping
We all knew damn well what boys wanted from girls and what girls wanted from boys. It was not about sex, not at first. Not in those younger years, even though I know that someone like Joe might have wanted more, but I was still under-aged. No, it was about touching and groping. About exploring. About getting to know your body.
And all through this, even though we all knew what we did, we never talked about it, and we surely never wanted anyone else to see when we were actually doing it! Hence the blankets when we were on that grassy slope, and my embarrassment when I realized Joe’s hand was still in my blouse.
That evening is engraved in my memories. It was the first time I made a sound during any kind of erotic encounter. Joe became my boyfriend for a couple of weeks, but eventually we drifted apart, because the naughtiest boy in my class caught my attention…
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay