Summer’s dying embers had given their last and been replaced by a September mist that painted the landscape with a layer of frost. Maybe a return to school, to normality, would be my salvation. These were the thoughts that came, formed and then vanished like the blue wisps of breath escaping my lips in the chill autumn air, as I saw the lights of the school bus approaching. Guilt, however, is a cruel companion and, even as I boarded my ride to school, I could not hold back the visions of what had happened with my cousin and aunt a few weeks earlier. Yet, despite all my adventures, I was still nothing but a shy, awkward, physically immature virgin of sixteen. More than anything, I hoped that a return to school would relieve me of the masturbatory excesses that had become such a plague, and of the forbidden feelings I’d begun to develop.
Scanning the bobbing heads in search of a free seat as I made my way down the bus, I noted the usual faces; some were smiling, some looked hostile, but most were completely indifferent to me, lost in their own little worlds. My best friends, Marty and Rob, had already taken a seat together, so there was no option there. And of the available seats that remained, none of the single occupants looked very inviting. Then, towards the back of the bus, I was relieved to spot an empty space, but as I approached a copper-haired head came into view. Sunk low in the seat was the tiny frame of the school’s most tomboyish, geeky and bookish girl. To her teachers she was Elizabeth, to her friends and enemies alike she was known as Tribble, but to me she was simply Beth. She was complicated, weird, enigmatic, and funny; she was also my friend of just over sixteen years.
Peering up at me from behind small, wire-rimmed glasses, Beth poked out her tongue and waggled it at me. “What do you want? You’re not seating next to me.” she sneered.
“Go on, Beth.” I pleaded, knowing full well that she was joking and would soon relent.
“Oh, okay. But don’t talk to me. I want to read my book.” she replied, beginning to smile.
Beth turned her eyes back to the book she was reading and pulled her knees up under her chin, but before the bus had even pulled away we were already in deep conversation, catching-up with each other about the events of the summer break. Of course, I couldn’t let even Beth in on my most secret and shameful exploits, but we spent the twenty minute ride to school shooting the breeze and making each other laugh.
Conversation was always easy with Beth; there was no tension, no mind games. In retrospect, I realise now that this was because until around then I’d always thought of her as almost asexual. I could only see her as a friend, although once, about ten years earlier, I had tried to kiss her and received a punch on the nose for the effort. Our friendship had been there for as long as I could remember, and even now when I think back to my childhood, I see Beth there with me, climbing trees, making camps, and trying to feed me mud pies.
Delving beyond the copper hair that hung low over her natural complexion, and the glasses she would so often hide behind, you’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of pale grey eyes that were both mysterious and enchanting. To many, her tiny frame, standing at about 5ft, made her almost invisible. She was, however, quite happy to go unnoticed most of the time, particularly as in recent years she had been the focus of bullies who would call her a ‘dyke’. I never really discussed this with her, but it was clear how hurt she felt by it. Whether she was a lesbian or not mattered little to me.
As the days and weeks flew by I found myself drawn ever closer to Beth’s easy company. Not only would we ride the bus together most mornings, but now more often then not we’d sit together in the classes we shared.
It was a cold day, early in November, when there came a distinct change in my feelings towards this shy girl who I’d known for so long. As usual, we’d taken up our seats together near the back of the classroom and were waiting for the geography lesson to begin. “I wish Jackson would hurry-up and start this lesson,” Beth said as she placed her hands behind her head and rocked back on her chair a little, making her breasts jut out.
Now, for the first time, I really noticed her sexuality. Her breasts were not large, but were round, firm and pert. Surprised by the moment, my eyes traced Beth’s outline down from her white shirt, past her waist, to the point where her purple skirt ended just above her knees. I could not as yet see much of her legs hidden beneath the desk, but when Beth rocked back in her chair a little further and knocked her pen to the floor I got an opportunity.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” I said quickly.
Before Beth could offer a reply I was under the desk on my hands and knees searching for her pen, while she rocked further back on her chair, letting her legs sway open and shut at the same time. As I scrabbled around, I found myself looking at Beth’s scuffed black shoes, encasing greyish, white knee-length socks. With my heart pounding in anticipation, my eyes followed the path upward, beyond her knees and along her smooth inner thighs, until at last a sweet pair of white cotton panties came into view, stretched taut across her bulging vulva. Between the obvious outline of her labia, a damp crease had developed and was clearly visible.
“Come on. What are you doing down there.” Beth shouted, while giving me a tap with her toe.
I jumped to my feet as quickly as I could, in the hope that Beth wouldn’t realise just what I had been doing under the desk, but as I did so I failed to realise that my penis had already become erect in my trousers. To this day, I do not know what Beth noticed first: the redness of my face, the heavy breathing, or the twitching bulge that had grown for her. What I do know is that she was soon looking at my straining zip-fly, and that watching her watching me brought me to an intense orgasm, that sent my penis into convulsions of ejaculation. Whether or not she realised that I’d just filled my boxer shorts with a hot, sticky, mess, I’m not sure.
“Are you okay? You look hot.” Beth queried.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I replied in a terse voice, hurrying to sit down and cover the rapidly expanding damp patch that had appeared on my trousers. Thankfully, the school day was drawing to a close, so I did not have to hide my embarrassment and discomfort for very long.
For the first time, at home that night, I began to think of Beth in a lustful, sexual way that ran wild. I knew at that moment that I wanted her more than anything, as over and over again I’d picture the view up her skirt, and imagine what it would be like to pull her panties to one side and see what I yearned for.
November that year bowed out with a deep covering of snow that closed the school for three days, much to my delight. Early on the first day there came a knock at my bedroom door. “Beth’s here to see you. Can she come in,” called my mother.
“Urrr, hang on a moment,” I shouted back, pulling the duvet up under my chin and covering the furious strokes of my hand sliding up and down the shaft of my about to burst penis. “Okay, come in.”
Wrapped up warm in hat, coat, scarf, and gloves, Beth ambled in and deposited herself on the end of my bed, just as I released several creamy spurts of semen beneath the covers. My heart pounded as I looked into Beth’s eyes and tried to slow my breathing enough to talk to her.
“You’ve gone all red again. Are you sure you are not ill, or something?” Beth asked in a concerned voice.
“Urrr, I think I have a cold.” I replied.
After a short while, Beth told me the reason for her visit. For the last few years she had been trying, without success, to get into the school orchestra for the Christmas concert. Both Beth and I were keen musicians, although only of average ability. She played violin, and clarinet, while I played piano, guitar, and clarinet. “Why don’t we try out for the two free clarinet spots together?” she urged.
“No, I’m not good enough for the orchestra, and I’m not that interested anyway,” I replied.
It was then Beth pointed out that if we spent most evenings practicing together over the next few weeks we might both be good enough to get a place. Just the thought of spending evenings with Beth was enough to reinvigorate my flagging erection.
“Okay, maybe we could,” I said, trying to hide my willingness.
It seemed to take an age for the following Monday to roll around, and for the evening to come. Beth had arranged with her parents that we’d both go straight to her house after school three days a week. There we’d get down to practice the clarinet for a couple of hours. And, so it was that I found myself, on a Monday evening early in December, sat on Beth’s bed, while she went to the bathroom to change out of her school uniform. Lifting the clarinet to my lips, I looked around her room until my eyes came to rest on a large full-length mirror attached to the wall in front of me. It didn’t register for a second or two, but then I started to realise that in the mirror I could see through the wide open bedroom door behind where I sat and to the slightly ajar bathroom door across the landing. Clearly visible in the bathroom was another full-length mirror that revealed Beth as she began to undress. I couldn’t see any real detail of her body, but the building excitement was incredible as I watched her unbutton her shirt and remove it, and then unclip her purple skirt and let it slip to the floor. Free of her school uniform, she reached behind her back and deftly slipped out of her small, grey sports-bra, which she tossed to one side. Next, she slid her hands down her sides catching the waistband of her panties and letting her whole body bend forward as she pushed them to the floor. At this point I think she must have become aware that the bathroom door was open, as the last I saw was it banging shut.
Minutes later Beth, now dressed in a loose T-shirt and jeans, sat herself beside me on the bed and we began our practice session. But the rapidly growing bulge in my trousers made concentration impossible. “Can I use your loo, Beth?” I said, forming a plan.
“Of course, it’s just across the landing, in the bathroom,” Beth replied, unsuspecting of my motives.
Closing the bathroom door behind me and locking it, I unzipped my fly as fast as I could and popped out my fully-erect penis. Holding it tight, I looked down to see clear fluid trailing from its tip. Catching my breath and trying to hold back my ejaculation, I eagerly looked around the room in the hope of finding Beth’s dirty panties. In the corner there stood a laundry basket that made my heart skip a beat when I saw it. Soon, I was lifting the basket’s lid and peering down at a wondrous sight: Beth’s bra and pink-edged, grey panties were crunched up and sitting on top of the other washing. Gingerly, I took hold of the waistband of her knickers and raised them up to my face, stretching the gusset open to examine the slick juices that drenched it. With her sweet scent pervading my nostrils, I buried my face into the still-warm material and let my tongue glide over her moist sexual deposit. It tasted lovely. And as I sucked it in, spurt after spurt of semen shot from me and covered Beth’s bra and skirt.
Two days later I was back at Beth’s, and as we sat on her bed planning our clarinet practice I kept hoping that soon she’d change out of her clothes so I’d again have the chance to taste her most intimate discharge. Nothing much happened, until after about an hour of practice Beth slumped back on the bed. “I’m so tired. I can’t play anymore tonight. Can I just listen to you?” she said.
“Okay, lazy.” I replied.
Beth lay back with her knees bent over the edge of the bed so that her legs dangled, while at the same time stretching her arms up above her head, as I played on. Finishing the piece of music, I turned to her and asked, “What do you think of it?”
There was no reply. It was then I realised that Beth’s eyes were tightly closed; she was fast asleep, her head in some far off dream no doubt. All of a sudden the urge was there to lift her skirt and see what I desired, but the danger of it all screamed through my brain and pounded my heart like a runaway steam train. Daring a little, I prodded, but there came no movement or sound from her. Going a bit further, I took hold of her arm and shook it lightly, but apart from a slight increase in her breathing there was no reaction.
Keeping my eyes firmly fixed on Beth’s face, I tentatively reached for the hem of her skirt and finding it I began to pull it up towards her waist, until the smooth skin of her upper thighs came into view. I knew that a few inches more and I’d be able to see her panties, so I pressed on. Slowly, the material at the point where Beth’s legs came together began to appear. She was wearing the pink-edged, grey knickers that I’d masturbated over the sight of two days earlier. By now, the front of her skirt was at waist level, so I moved in closer to take in as much as I could of the heavenly vision. As I traced the shape of her ballooning, outer labia with my eyes, I noticed that where the material had ridden up the cleft of her vagina, there was an obvious wet patch spreading from the centre of her panty gusset. Beth groaned a little and parted her legs slightly as I leaned in to sniff at her juices, but I was too intent to care now if she awoke or not. Getting closer, I wondered if I dare let my tongue slip over her wetness. Just the thought of it brought me so close to orgasm that I lost all control. Ripping my trousers open, I lent forward over Beth, letting my aching penis escape and brush against her knickers. Masturbating with fast, firm strokes, I looked at her and hoped she would not awake, but just as I reached my climax her sleepy eyes opened to see me jerk violently and send several jets of semen shooting over her panty covered vulva, and a couple more over her skirt.
“What are you doing?” Beth shouted with a start, as she sat up.
“Sorry, Beth. Sorry. I couldn’t help it, I’m so sorry,” I pleaded.
To my utter amazement, Beth wasn’t angry; if anything she seemed pleased. She lifted her cum streaked skirt towards her eyes and began to examine it. “It’s okay,” she said, after a brief pause. “But I want to see you do it again, and watch as you cum this time,” she continued.
Despite being exhausted, I didn’t need any encouragement. Standing before her, I once again began to build to a crescendo, pulling my foreskin back and forth as fast as I could, while my slim hips jerked forward. Within seconds, pearls of lust were pouring from me and splashing over Beth’s bare thighs, before trickling down onto her white, knee-length socks. Breathing heavily, I slumped onto the bed and lay there feeling my weeping penis turn limp in my hand. Beth fell back next to me and for an hour or so we remained there, saying very little to each other.
And so it went on for the next couple of weeks. Every other day I’d go straight to Beth’s from school, and we’d make a pretence of practicing the clarinet for half an hour, until our urges built up to the point where I’d expose myself to her and start masturbating. Each time we became progressively more daring.
By the start of the following week, Beth was feeling relaxed enough to show me her breasts. I was already masturbating, as she sat on the bed in front of me, and slowly unbuttoned her white shirt to reveal a light yellow, cotton bra, covering heaving mounds. “Do you want to cum on my boobs?” she said in a slightly embarrassed voice.
“Yeah,” I gasped, trying to hold myself back.
Beth let her shirt slip off over her shoulders and then reached behind her back to unclip her bra. With my eyes firmly fixed on Beth’s small, pale breasts, I moved closer to her, increasing my masturbatory rate all the while. I looked at her tiny, puffy, pink nipples and then at her expectant face. Pressing forward, I was now in a position to stroke her nipples with the tip of my penis, first her left one and then her right. It was all too much. With tightening balls and clenched buttocks, I released squirt after squirt of hot cum, and watched as it slithered down off her nipples and onto her tummy.
Of course, I loved every moment of what was happening with Beth, but as the days went by I had a growing desire for more, and with it a growing frustration. I wanted Beth to use her hand on my penis, I wanted her to suck my penis, I wanted to finger and lick her wet slit, but most of all I wanted full sexual intercourse. Beth, on the other hand, had become reluctant to go further, leading to a tension between us, that had never been there before.
By the last day of the school term, our relationship had become very strained and we were hardly talking. More than anything, I didn’t want our friendship to be spoiled, but it was looking increasingly likely. That afternoon as we travelled home on the bus together, not talking, I took the opportunity to hand Beth a small gift I’d bought her for Christmas. As she accepted it, I noticed that there were tears welling in her eyes. She lent over and kissed me on the cheek.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Beth,” I whispered back.
With those words still ringing in our ears, Beth looked around the school bus to see that towards the back where we sat it was empty, apart from one girl about two rows ahead of us. Beth smiled at me and before I knew what she had in mind she had unzipped my trouser-fly and was delving inside my boxers with her right hand. She soon held my aching shaft and popped it free of its restraint. And there I sat, at the back of the bus I’d ridden to school on so many times, with my penis exposed and erect in Beth’s hand. She’d watched me masturbate for her enough times to know exactly what to do. With her hand gently clasping my bulging and slippery sex-head, she slowly slid down the shaft, before gripping tighter at the base and drawing my foreskin back up. Again and again she did this, building her speed until the inevitable. I ejaculated with such force, that my first jets cleared the back of the seat in front, while the final spurts ran down the knuckles of Beth’s closed hand.
Neither of us had noticed that the bus was coming to a stop, so it was a shock when I realised I needed to get off. Wiping cum from my splattered trousers, I zipped myself up, gave Beth a kiss on the cheek and headed for the exit. “Come over tomorrow afternoon for our final clarinet practice,” Beth cried after me. “You might get another Christmas present, too.”
“Okay,” I shouted back, with a wave.
Bounding along a quiet street early the next morning, I could not help but wonder at what Beth might have planned. It was the Saturday before Christmas, and I was heading to her house, ostensibly for a final clarinet practice session before the school orchestra auditions that afternoon. Knocking at her door, I could already feel my anticipation starting to build.
Beth’s mum opened the door and invited me in. We exchanged the usual pleasantries and she asked if I wanted a drink or something to eat. “No, that’s okay, thanks. I better get on with the practice,” I said with a smile. If she’d have known what I was practicing, I’m sure she wouldn’t have waved me up the stairs to Beth’s room quite so willingly.
Closing Beth’s bedroom door behind me, I looked at her for what seemed like an age. That vision remains indelibly printed on my mind to this day. It’s not as if there was anything different about her that I could pinpoint, but something had changed. She dragged me towards her and flung her arms around my neck, and so began our first passionate kiss. Her tongue swirled around mine, while I drank from her, before edging her back to the bed. On my elbows, I hovered above her and looked down over her waiting, breathless, nubile body. There was no turning back. With a swift movement I caught hold of Beth’s skirt and pulled it up to her waist, to reveal, plain white, virginal panties that were already wet. Another deft hand movement had me clutching at their waistband and, as she lifted her bottom to help, yanking them down to just above her knees.
Beth was only a few days younger than me, and like me at sixteen she was somewhat physically underdeveloped, so it was not too much of a surprise to see tiny wisps of straw-coloured pubic hair on her mons pubis, while the outer lips of her vagina were almost completely smooth. With her legs slightly parted, I could clearly follow the line of her slit down to her little pink anus. Looking more closely, I could see opaque, milky fluid welling in the cleft between her labia and beginning to ooze. Now, kneeling in front of her, my right hand resting near the top of her left thigh, I let my thumb glide over her most intimate place, before easing her vulva apart. Then, leaning in, I lapped slowly from her perineum along the entire length of her slit and came to rest on her clitoris, which I circled firmly with my tongue. I repeated this several times, and on each downward movement I went a little deeper into her and a little further back, until eventually my tongue was also flicking at her anus.
Struggling back a little further on the bed, Beth reached down and pushed her panties to her ankles and let one foot slip out of them. As she did so, I eased the forefinger of my right hand gently into her tight, ballooning vagina. Instinctively, I knew she was ready, as I explored her wet, crinkly depths, before removing my now glistening finger and bringing it to my mouth to lick.
It was time. With my left arm outstretched to support me, I positioned myself above Beth and with my right hand guided the swollen head of my penis between her parting labia. As she stretched, I felt my shaft ease in inch by inch, until my foreskin was pulled back as tight as it would go. Beth squirmed beneath me and even gave out a little cry as I began a gentle rocking movement inside her, that within seconds had me pumping my cum into her depths.
Exhausted and panting I collapsed on top of her, as she looked up into my eyes with a pained expression on her face, that soon turned to a reassuring smile. As I lifted myself off of her, I peered down to see that my penis had traces of her virginal blood around it, and there was quite a lot more on her upper, inner thighs and around her vulva, too.
“Are you okay,” I said softly. “Have I hurt you?”
“It’s alright,” she replied in a low, distant voice. “It only hurt a bit. And don’t worry, I’m on the pill now.” Stupidly, I hadn’t considered that what we were doing could get Beth pregnant, so it was a relief to find out that she had been more sensible.
Beth and I never did make the audition for the school orchestra that day, and I don’t think I’ve picked up the clarinet since. With a still distant look in her eyes, she said that I’d better go home, as she had some important things to do. It seemed to me that she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
“Can I come over tomorrow, Beth,” I begged.
“No, we’re going away tomorrow for a Christmas break, but I’ll be in touch when I can,” she said, blankly. “I won’t see you out,” she added.
I was blushing bright red, as her mum showed me to the front door and out. “You must always keep in touch, Beth thinks the world of you,” were her words as she waved me goodbye. Those words didn’t strike me as unusual at the time, but it turned out that I would never see Beth again. She and her family moved away to Australia over the Christmas holiday, and although we kept in touch for the first few months after, the letter writing became more infrequent and slowly faded as time went by.
Looking back now, I can see that my panty fetish had formed a few months earlier when an incident had occurred with my cousin and her friends. Likewise, my anal urges had formed at the same time, when my cousin’s friend, Juliet, had squatted over me. With Beth, these fetishes became firmly established, and part of a loving relationship.
Above all else, I remember Beth as a friend: a shy girl that I’d climb trees with and who would make me mud pies. More than that, she helped me along on that slow journey to becoming sexually mature. Despite what had happened with my cousin’s friend, Lucy, five months earlier, when I ejaculated against her clitoris, it was Beth that I truly lost my virginity to. Until Beth, I’d always been the subject of sexual advances, the dominated one. Those experiences were quick and not of my planning; it was as if I’d been a bystander. With Beth, I felt in control, like a lion taking its prey. And yet, as I muse on it now, I see that she was not the submissive, fragile innocent I once thought, but rather a she-wolf.
A.E. Housman’s poem always reminds me of Beth and those lost days of innocence:
“Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.”
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