Two Random hikers, a secluded spot, a field manual.
By HectorBidon. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
One of the big lessons I learned the summer I graduated from high school was that if something is worth doing, it's worth doing even if it was your mother's idea. The Park Department was putting on a series of new events for young adults, and my mother kept bugging me to go to one of them. "It will get you out of the house," she'd say. "You love the outdoors. It will give you a chance to meet people." By people she meant girls. Here I was, eighteen, and I still didn't have a girlfriend. She was afraid I'd be a bachelor all my life.
I think she was trying to correct her mistakes from the past 5 years. Until the past few months, she tried to keep me from anything that might conflict with her frigid attitudes on dating and sex. Now she was often suggesting that I ask out some girl who met her qualifications. What teenage guy wants to let their mom be their matchmaker!”
My dad left my mom when I was 13, and married a woman in another state. Mom never dated any men since then. So mom tried to find good male role models for me. Scouting was okay, because my buddies were there. But other than the scouting idea, I resented her socialization initiatives. Dad rarely visited, once his new wife had a baby; nor did he arrange for me to come visit him. But he paid for my prep school, and I got a car for my graduation/18th birthday present.
The fact is, I was dying to get out of the house. I did love the outdoors. I desperately wanted to meet girls. The only reason I was dragging my feet was because it was her idea. It began to dawn on me that this was not a very grown-up reason.
So I took a look at the schedule. One of the events was going to be an orienteering hike in Twisty Creek Park. It was a new county park and nature preserve & endowment that some rich widow gave to the county, upon her death. The terms required the county to provide educational experiences for reintroducing young people to nature, through hikes and other activities. The hikers would be divided up into teams, and each team would have to find their way around an eight-mile course using a map and a compass. It sounded like it might be fun. So I signed up online. They sent me a topographic map of the park and a list of directions that we'd have to follow to get around the course.
On the morning of the hike, I got to the park a few minutes late. There were half a dozen cars in the parking lot, but I didn't see any people. I got out to take a look around. Another car door opened, and a girl got out. She was wearing khaki shorts, a light blue polo shirt, and a brimmed hat.
"Are you here for the orienteering hike?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied. "Have they left already?"
"I don't think so.” She guessed. “I've been here for ten minutes, and you're the only other person I've seen." She had a pretty face with freckles and light brown hair. She looked both shapely and athletic. Her hair was flowing halfway to her waist.
"Do you think it got cancelled?"
"Usually they let you know." She said. “The weather is fine. Maybe someone had a personal health issue?”
"So what should we do?" I sought her advice.
"Keep waiting, I guess. See if anyone else shows up."
She got her backpack from her car, and we waited in the shade of some oak trees. We looked at our maps and oriented ourselves with respect to a few of the taller hills that could be seen from the parking lot. I was usually pretty shy around girls, but since we were both interested in figuring out the map, I was able to hold my own. I hadn’t done this kind of nature stuff since my scouting troop disbanded, two years ago, when the leaders either moved or had health complications.
Eventually, fifteen minutes had gone by, and no one else had arrived.
"Well, I guess we're it," she said. "What do you think? Shall we just go ahead and try to take the hike ourselves?"
It was an exciting prospect. She was friendly and very pretty; and we seemed to be getting along well. "I guess that's what we're here for."
So, with both our compasses out; we headed out down the trail. It was a fire access road, actually, wide enough for the two of us to walk along side by side. She introduced herself as Heidi. She was outgoing and friendly and easy to talk to. She'd just graduated from the public high school. I'd just graduated from the Catholic boys prep school. We were both going to the State University, the next year.
"I thought everybody from St Francis went to some big name college," she said.
"Some do, but not everybody can afford it," I explained.
"Wasn't it weird going to a high school with only boys?" Heidi asked, in a platonic tone.
"You get used to it, I guess."
"But you had girls in your grade school, didn't you? I don't see why they separate you in high school. I mean, the real world has boys and girls both. Shouldn't high school be the same way?"
"I guess they figure we'll catch up eventually. They probably want to save our eternal souls from sexual temptations." I said, the mocking tone of a fundamentalist preacher.
"But you guys did do things with Carlmont, didn't you?" That was the nearest Catholic girls high school. "Dances and things?"
"They had dances and things. I didn't usually go."
"How come?"
"Too shy, I guess."
"Oh come on. You don't seem that shy. Did you go to the prom?"
"Nah." I was surprised at how personal her questions became; and to be truthful, the thought of going to the prom had never even crossed my mind. But now I felt embarrassed that I hadn't at least considered it.
"Because you were shy?"
"I didn't really have anyone to ask."
"Couldn't you have asked one of the girls you went to grade school with?"
"I guess I haven't kept in very good touch with them. In Junior high I was terrified of girls. I certainly didn’t have any girls in my 13 year old social circle, let alone a female whose friendship had any lasting connection.”
"Well? See? II you want to have someone to ask to the prom, it's going to take a little effort on your part."
“Yeah, I got it.” I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable being in the spotlight.
"What about you?" I asked. "Did you go to the prom?"
Her reply surprised me. "Not really."
"Not really, or No?"
"Nobody asked me."
"Really? I mean, seriously. You're so pretty. You're so nice."
"Yeah, well, a lot of shy guys at my school too, I guess. I was a bit of a tom-boy, in my youth. I have 3 older brothers, and no sisters.”
The first few legs of the orienteering route were pretty easy to figure out. They had us going along a ridge with nice views of the creek and the hills beyond. It was a pleasant day with big fluffy clouds in the sky. We didn't see another soul on the trail.
Then one leg took us down into a big open meadow. It started off along an unofficial path that wasn't too hard to follow. But when we got down to the meadow the trail became sketchier and sketchier. Finally it disappeared altogether, and we had to bushwhack through tall grass in the general direction of the creek. The ground was swampy in places, and swarming with mosquitos.
"I wish I'd worn long pants," Heidi grumbled. Eventually we came to firmer ground, and we struck the creek right at a stand of shady sycamores. It was a pretty site with a rough little beach of pebbles and coarse sand.
According to the directions, there should have been a bridge there, but there wasn't. We studied the map, and Heidi finally figured it out. We weren't where we thought we were.
"Here's the bridge," she said, pointing at the map. "If we were there, then Grizzly Peak would be west of this hill. But it's east. So we must be over here somewhere."
"Right," I said. "And look, the creek takes a big turn here. So maybe this is where we are." I indicated a point on the map only about two-thirds of the way toward the bridge. We decided that we must have taken the wrong side trail down into the meadow. It hadn't been a real trail at all, just an animal track. That's why it had petered out in the tall grass.
"So what do we do now?" Heidi asked.
One option would be to retrace our steps through the meadow, but neither of us much wanted to go back that way again. Or we could try to follow along the creek itself, but we had no idea how rough the terrain might be.
The third option would be to cross the creek where we were and then cut across country to intersect the trail again about a half a mile ahead. That way didn't look to be as overgrown as the meadow had been, and in fact it looked like it might be our best bet. The problem was the creek. It was pretty wide here, and no telling how deep. We decided to reconnoiter a bit to see if we could find an easier place to cross.
Heidi bent down to tighten her shoelace and let out a little shriek.
"A tick!" she cried. It was in the cuff of her sock. She brushed it off and stomped it with a vengeance. Our instructions had warned about the possibility of ticks. The ones in our area weren't thought to carry Lyme disease, but they could carry other diseases, and they were just all-around nasty creatures, burrowing into your skin and sucking your blood.
Heidi sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree. She took off her shoes and socks and found one more tick. I stepped out of my own shoes and found one of the little buggers myself. "We must have picked them up in the meadow," I said.
Heidi was checking the legs of her shorts. She spotted another one, right on her inner thigh. "God," she said, "I've got one on my leg, too."
I was wearing long pants. "They can't get inside your clothes, can they?"
Heidi was standing up again. "They can get anywhere! We probably need to check ourselves, all over." She sounded very serious. She began to unbutton her shorts, but she didn't want to pull them down in front of me. So she turned her back, and then looked over her shoulder to make sure I turned my back too.
Was she really going to take off her shorts right out there in the open? Well, it was the only way to know for sure. The spot where we were was pretty secluded. We'd turned our backs to give each other as much privacy as possible.
I started to wonder if I shouldn't check myself as well. I took off my tee shirt and felt around my chest and armpits. Could they really have gotten inside my pants? I unbuckled them and tried to look down inside. It felt kind of silly undressing in the out of doors, but I carefully stepped out of one leg and then the other. I took a quick glance around to make sure Heidi wasn't looking.
She still had her back to me. She'd taken off her shorts, and everything else! I could see her bare, split bottom. She was completely nude! That must have been what she meant by checking herself all over.
I was shocked that she'd taken her clothes off, and I was just as shocked that she'd thought it necessary to check herself all the way down to the skin. I turned quickly back away from her. I looked down inside the waistband of my underpants. It was a rat's nest of pubic hair down there. Could there be ticks? The only way to know for sure would be to take a closer look.
Keeping my back to Heidi, I slid my underpants down. And right there on the underside of my penis, right where it emerged from my balls, was the horrid little black watermelon seed of a tick. It had already started to latch on. My heart skipped a beat.
Heidi must have heard me gasp. "Don't try to pull it out!" she ordered. She was looking right at me. "You might break it, and then we won't be able to get the head out. Hold on. I've got some tweezers in my first-aid kit."
She crouched to open her backpack, split bottom and all. Then she stood back up with the tweezers. She had breasts real breasts and, down where her bikini bottom should have been, a fuzzy little patch of hair. I'd never seen a girl naked before. I'd never seen the way her breasts swell so naturally from her chest, the way they sway as she hastens toward you, the way they're capped so frankly by their pink little buds. Her boobs were each very wide and came together in a cleaved valley. They started high and sloped low, but without sagging at all. Every move she made had a resulting jiggle.
"Sit there," she commanded, indicating the tree trunk. Her face was full of concern, her voice charged with the authority of someone who has recently read the field manual. She knelt down in front of me. No girl had ever seen my penis before. But now I had no choice but to show it to her. I lifted it up and let her see even the underside.
She assessed the situation. "Keep the skin stretched tight," she told me. So I held my dick up with one hand and used the other to pull down the saggy skin of my balls. She held the tweezers parallel to the skin, right down touching it, to grab the tick as close in as she could get. She pulled slowly, tenting the skin at first and then plucking the tick right out. She inspected it closely. "I think we got it all," she said with freckled concentration, holding it up for me to see. She squashed it between the jaws of the tweezers, then dropped it on the ground and smeared it with a rock.
She looked back up at me, still crouched between my legs, deliberately ignoring the fact that we were both naked. "I should probably check to see if there are any others," she said, speaking still with the authority of the field manual. I could see that she was probably right. She could check me much more thoroughly than I could check myself. I let go of my dick and spread my legs farther apart.
She bent in close. She started with my pubic hair, using both her hands to curry through it. Just a minute ago we'd been hiking down the trail, chatting about high school, and now we were naked and she was fiddling around with my crotch. All I could see from my vantage were her brown tresses and her broad, bare back. But I could feel her careful probing. No one had ever touched me where she was touching me. I could feel myself starting to stiffen. There was nothing I could do to stop it. She finally had to move her head back to dodge being slapped in the cheek. I was too embarrassed to even apologize.
She kept working as if protruding dicks were nothing out of the ordinary for her. She had me spread my legs even wider so she could check where my balls tucked up against my thighs. She was still using her fingers to curry the hair, but very timidly, trying hard to avoid touching my scrotum. I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed. Or so erect.
She scrunched way down, trying to see the underside of my balls. "Um, " she said.
It wasn't really possible for me to lean much farther back. "What if I turn around?" I suggested.
We stood up. I turned around and bent over the tree trunk, planting my hands on the ground on the other side. I don't know if asses blush, but it sure felt like mine was as red as a beet.
She gingerly swept her hand over my thigh, first the back, then the inside, right up to the seam. Then she cautiously parted my butt cheeks. Christ! She was looking at my asshole! Not even the guys in gym class had ever seen my asshole! Then she went even further down. I tried to think what was even down there. My butt crack must end somewhere. She was inspecting places so private I'd never even thought about them before.
Finally her probing stopped and her hands withdrew. "I don't see any more," she said. I stood back up. My dick was as rigid as a fire hydrant, and there wasn't anything I could do to hide it.
"So," she said, hesitantly. It was pretty clear now that the only way to know for sure whether she had ticks would be for me to check her. But she was too shy to ask. I tried to muster up some of her field-manual confidence. I gestured for her to sit down on the trunk.
I did my best to follow her example. I made myself focus on the individual sectors rather than the girl they made up. Her skin was so white and so bare that it was easy to see that there were no ticks on her chest, on her bosom, on her sides, on her stomach. I moved my focus down to her fuzzy triangle.
I knew absolutely nothing about girls down there. We'd had sex ed in school, of course, but there had only been diagrams, and pretty schematic ones at that. Besides, it had been way back in sophomore year, when sex had seemed about as relevant to my actual life as medieval history. So I was venturing into uncharted territory.
Her pubic hair was a lot coarser than I somehow thought a girl's would be, almost as coarse as mine. At the top of the patch, where it came near her faint tan line, the coverage was wispy and you could see through to the whitish skin underneath. Further down, especially along the midline, it was bushier and more concealing.
I went slowly, checking every square inch, using my fingers to gently curry the thicker spots, making sure that nothing escaped my notice. I began to see that the dimple along the midline was actually more of a gash. At first I was horrified that it was the lingering scar from some unspeakable injury. But then I began to realize that it must have something to do with her vagina, that it might even be her vagina itself. I blushed and hoped she didn't notice.
"You'll, have to check there too," she said in a brave voice, the voice she must have used in the doctor's office. She put her fingers on either side of the gash and spread it a little ways open for me. It was deeper than I had thought, and much more elaborate, with different overlapping folds of pinkish skin, like the petals of an exotic, fleshy flower.
"Is it Okay to touch you there?" I softly asked.
"You'll probably have to."
I took a deep breath and tried to pretend that I knew what I was doing. I used just the very tips of my fingers to gently peek down between the different petals. It was pretty clear now that these were her most private, private parts, nestled away here at the very heart of her lap. It would have been obscene for a tick to even presume to enter there. I was relieved I didn't find any.
When I was done she stood up, red faced, and forced herself to turn around and present her bottom. The first thing I saw, right toward the top of her crack, was a little black watermelon seed. She heard my gasp. "Another one? Did you see how I removed it?" she asked, nervously.
"I think so," I tried to reassure her. I spread her bottom with one hand and slid the tweezers along the crack. I didn't squeeze tightly enough the first time, and the tweezers slipped off. I tried again, squeezing more tightly, and this time I managed to pull it out. It looked like I'd gotten it all, but I took it around for her to double check. Then I pounded it with a rock like she'd done.
“Look really close, to make sure nothing is still attached to my skin.” She encouraged me.
I continued my examination, but there was no way I could avoid seeing what I was seeing. There was her asshole, cuter, more feminine than I might have expected. And below it, somewhat surprisingly, her gash again, upside down now I guess, rimmed by tightly curled stiff hairs, but not nearly as camouflaged in this position. In fact, it made more sense this way. I could see right where a penis would go.
I didn't find any more ticks. She stood up again, still red with embarrassment. But she held it in and issued one last field-manual directive. "We should probably check our clothes too." She happened to be standing right by to my clothing pile. "Shall I check yours? Can you check mine?"
I'd never paid much attention to clothes before, let alone girls' clothes. But now I had to carefully inspect every stitch, every seam. Her shorts, her shirt, her panties, her bra. Inside and out.
I was surprised by how plain and simple her panties were. I guess I'd always thought that girls' panties were silky and frilly, but these were just plain white cotton, not that different from my own. Skinnier though. It was hard to believe they would cover anything at all.
Her bra was simple too, soft and cottony, not at all like the severe harnesses I'd always pictured. Her bra and her panties were just underwear, I realized. The comfy clothes she wore closest to her body.
I emptied the pockets of her shorts. Car keys, wallet, pocket knife. I opened her wallet to make sure there were no ticks hiding inside. That's what the folds of her vagina were like the different little pockets of her wallet. I probed them gently. Fifteen dollars in cash, her driver's license, her health plan card.
Almost hidden in the innermost pocket was a photograph: a younger Heidi with her parents and 3 older brothers, outside on a sunny Spring day, laughing happily about some merriment taking place just off frame. Heidi was a bit ganglier, but just as earnest, just as pretty, just as full of confident expectation. It was in some ways the most intimate view of her I'd had yet. It made me feel as if I'd known her my whole life.
I ended up finding one tick in Heidi's shorts, and she found two in my pants leg. We smiled shyly and exchanged the items we were holding; my tee shirt for her bra. She didn't put it on, but she slowly brought her arm up to cover her chest. She slowly lowered her other arm to cover her patch of fuzz. She did it demurely, not as if she were trying to hide anything but just in a sort of muted acknowledgement that our excuse for being naked was drawing to a close.
I took it for granted that she must know the rules about boys and girls being naked together, better than I did. So I followed her lead and tried to nonchalantly clasp my hands together in front of my cock. It was a bit awkward, though, since I had to clasp them so far out in front. Heidi looked at the bra. She didn't seem at all enthusiastic about having to get dressed again.
But then I thought of something. "If we're going to ford the stream, shouldn't we wait to put our clothes, on until we get to the other side?"
She had to agree that it made sense. Otherwise our clothes would get all wet. But that meant that we would have to stay naked a while longer. Apparently the field manual wasn't altogether clear about mixed nudity in non-emergency situations. So we stood there, a bit awkwardly, covering ourselves with our hands, staring at the ground, not exactly sure what to do next.
We'd been thrown together as partners that morning; pretty much just by the luck of the draw. But now it felt like we knew each other more intimately than we knew anyone else on earth.
"I suppose you've seen a lot of guys naked," I said, trying to cut the awkwardness just a bit.
She gave a little self-conscious laugh. "Hundreds," she said. Then she blushed. "Not really."
"How many really?"
"Counting today? One."
"But, you seemed to know your way around pretty well."
Her blush deepened. "I was just checking for ticks."
I had to believe she was telling the truth. I really had thought she'd known her way around. But I guess she'd just been faking it, the way I had.
"I kind of wished I had a topographic map," I said.
"I know." She scuffed the sand with her toe. "They should have a hike where we get to orienteer each other."
She was making a little joke, but it was a pretty risqué one. There was nothing to stop us from doing just what she was suggesting. My dick twitched, right there behind my hands.
"'Proceed south twenty finger paces,'" I quoted from the imaginary instruction list.
She caught on right away. "Find your way through the great mangrove forest."
"Identify these two breathtaking landmarks: the Grand Canyon del Norte, the Grand Canyon del Sur.'"
"Be aware that the elevations of certain features can change without warning."
I'd never joked around with a girl like this before. So raunchy, So mutually. So nakedly.
"Do you want to," my heart was pounding, "keep on exploring a bit?" I asked.
It took her a second to realize what it was I was actually suggesting. Her voice quivered between hesitation and excitement. "Okay."
I let my hands drift slowly back to my sides.
She let her hands drift slowly back too.
We looked at each other, not as first-aid givers, but as the boy and girl who'd met in the parking lot, who'd chatted along the trail. The boy who wished he'd had the opportunity to ask her to the prom. The girl who might very well have said yes.
She was beautiful: her shock of golden braided hair; her bashful, freckled smile; her skinny, girlish arms; her earnest, forthright breasts; her fashion-model waist with its fashion-model belly button; the breathtaking curve of her hips and thighs; her shy, fuzzy mangrove triangle. Friendly, pretty, outgoing, companionable, and, at the same time, naked, alluring, fully a woman.
She was taking a closer stock of me, as well. Shy, tall, slender, somewhat of a nerd, that couldn't be denied. But neither could the fact that just like she was fully a woman, I was fully a man.
Her gaze fixed on my erection. "It got so big," she said. "Can I, touch it?"
I stepped in, so I was within her reach. Touching is what orienteering is all about.
She touched it reverently, on the shaft and then on the head. "It's so hard, and so soft at the same time."
"I didn't mean to poke you with it," I blushed. "It kind of has a mind of its own."
She put her hand around it, just barely grazing its circumference. "Did you ever, put it in a girl's vagina?"
"No!" I said, kind of surprised at how shocked I sounded.
"I just didn't think it would be so big." She glided her hand softly up to the mushroom cap. "The sperm and the pee both come out from the same hole, right? How do you switch between one and the other?"
I'd never really thought about it. "It's just automatic, I guess. I just pee and pee comes out."
"And how do you make the sperm come out?"
"It just comes out on its own. Some forms of touching can eventually induce it. When it's ready to come it just comes."
She was still holding my dick in her hand. She looked up at me to make sure she understood what I was saying. Then she reached with her other hand to gently touch my balls. "And this is where the sperm comes from, right? Your testicles?"
"My balls, yeah. I'm pretty sure that's where it comes from." Even just an hour ago the subject of human reproduction would have been of only mild academic interest to me. But now I was finding it a very compelling topic.
She fondled my balls, pensively. "I’m really enthralled by your anatomy . It's so weird that this sack is just hanging here, on the outside."
"I know. Not like you. Everything of yours is so neatly tucked away."
"My boobies aren't exactly tucked away."
"Everything else, though." She let go of my dick and balls, and they were missing her touch.
"I guess," she said. "Although it doesn't feel that way when you're wearing a skirt. It's like, Hey, guys. Guess what I've got under here." She swished her hips in a provocative way. Then she covered herself with one hand and wagged the finger of the other. "'Oh, no no no! Mustn't peek.'"
I crouched down to take a peek anyway. She took a step backwards and sat on the trunk, keeping her legs demurely together, knees touching, very ladylike. She smiled in a coquettish way.
"Hey, girl. What have you got under there?" I put my hands on her knees and urged them open just a crack. She relented and I opened them wider. There was her bushy gash. There were her exotic pink petals.
"You're the first guy who's ever seen me down there,"
"I never thought it would be anything like this." I admitted.
"What did you think?" She wondered aloud.
"More like just a hole, like your," I tried to remember the proper term "your anus. I wondered how guys would be able to know for sure which was which."
"They figure it out, I guess." Then she reached down and touched herself toward the lower part of the gash. "This is where the hole part is, down here."
I could sort of see how it would work. "That's where a guy would,"
"Um-hmm."
I touched her there myself. Ever so gently, using my finger and thumb to gently separate her fleshy petals. It was indeed an entrance, a mysterious one, but at least now I knew where to look.
I traced my fingers gently around the full circuit of her petals. She fidgeted slightly. "I’m enthralled by your anatomy. Very much! And what's all this for?" I asked, hoping she wasn’t aware of my throbbing purple cock.
"Decoration," she said.
I looked up from my crouch. But my eyes only got as far as her breasts. They were hovering now right in front of my face. I'd always pictured a girl's breasts as hanging down under their own weight so that there would be something for the bra to lift up. But hers didn't hang at all. They arose so gently and so sweetly that you couldn't really say where they started.
"They're not as big as some girls'," she said.
"They're perfect. They're beautiful." Her nipples were perfect too, puffed little buds, like juice-plump raspberries. I had actually seen a breast before, when my aunt had nursed my little cousin. And Heidi's breasts reminded me of that.
"If somebody sucked them, would milk come out?"
She started to reply, but then, instead, she turned her torso and leaned toward me, just enough to present one of her breasts to me. I leaned closer and put my mouth to its soft roundness. I pursed my lips around the nipple. It was soft but rigid at the same time. The perfect size and texture for sucking, for licking. I remembered how intently my little cousin had sucked away. Heidi drew in her breath. Her hand gently reached around my head and held me there. Her breathing was obvious. But she quickly regained her self-awareness and didn’t allow herself to give in to these urges; yet.
I backed off, afraid I'd hurt her. Her eyes were closed. She opened them dreamily and then blushed when she saw me looking.
"I could feel it, all the way down to my toes," she said, shyly. Then she shyly offered me her other breast, closing her eyes again in anticipation. I put my mouth to it and found the nipple and kissed it and licked it and sucked it. No milk, but satisfying nonetheless. It continued a bit longer; then she removed her hand from behind my head.
I stood slowly up. She opened her eyes. She took my arms and drew me down beside her on the trunk. She bent over and put her mouth to my nipple. It had never even occurred to me that there was anything there worth sucking, but she found it, and licked it, and teased it with her teeth. It tickled in a way. And I felt the soft whispers of a tender feeling that I thought I remembered from long, long ago.
"You felt it too," she said, in a hushed, solemn tone.
I didn't deny it.
"It feels like, the start of something. But I think your body response was far more intense. It does feel like;"
The answer popped into my head. "The start of sex."
"Yeah," she realized, still solemn, still hushed.
We straightened ourselves up. We tried to resume our roles as hiking partners taking a little rest on a big old fallen log; along the trail. But it wasn't much use. We were naked. Our shoulders were touching. Our thighs were touching.
"Have you ever kissed a girl before?" she asked. "You can kiss me if you want. Her platonic tone now had a tinge of passion."
She pursed her lips into a soft bull's eye. I pursed mine too and touched them to hers. Was that a kiss?
We tried again. This time instead of just touching her lips I gently caressed them, the way I'd kissed her nipple. I tasted them with my tongue. I gently put my nearest arm behind her head, to hold her steady. Her lips were softer this time, more luscious. She began caressing my lips back. It was like we were a blind boy and a blind girl trying to see each other, using our lips. She moved her near arm up and ran her fingers along the back of my head, My other hand seemed to find it’s way to her chest, fondling each of her young tits.
She tasted me too. We let our tongues meet. Shyly at first, and then more brashly they touched and caressed and shared their secret wetness.
We pulled apart. Her expression was misty and out of focus, just the way I felt too. She trailed her other hand down my arm, over my knee. She slid off the trunk and crouched down on the ground.
"Come on," she whispered in a somewhat hungry tone.
She knelt down on the soft, sandy area. Then spread her shirt out, finally laying on her back, with her head on the shirt. She was facing me.She spread her legs and bent her knees up, just enough to make a cozy spot for me. Her pretty bare feet, her smooth white thighs funneled my attention right up to the fuzzy heart of her lap, right up to the rosy petals of her femininity.
I saw it all so clearly. This was an open invitation for sex. This was how sex would happen, even to someone like me. There would be a woman, a woman wanting me, and she would lie down, and just like that all the seeming impossibilities of meeting her in the first place, of overcoming our mutual bashfulness, of knowing the what, and the where, and the how, would be resolved in plausible, almost inevitable ways.
I knelt down into the space she'd made for me, between her knees. Her cunt was in full blossom, spread wide and glistening. I saw just where my penis would go. I leaned on both arms, each one planted in the sand, just under her armpits. Looking intently into her lusty eyes for a moment. She smiled warmly, then raised her eyebrows in a nonverbal pleading for me to fill her. I looked down to see my cock’s tip hovering just an inch above her sopping wet cunt. I lowered my body to her spread. My cock descended and touched her there with it, nestling its proud, flushed purple head right up against her mysterious opening. She kissed it with her rosy petals. I looked up into her eyes.. Her freckled face was wracked with the same conflicting emotions that I was feeling too. I lowered myself down over her, hoisting my hips just enough to bring my stiffness safely away from her opening, leaving it to fend for itself amidst the fuzz of her mangrove forest.
I settled down onto my elbows, embracing her naked torso, in its entirety. She put her arms around my neck. She clasped my outer thighs tightly with her inner thighs. I rubbed my chest against hers to better feel the nubbiness of her nipples. She pulled down more of my weight upon herself. I rocked my hips against hers to better feel her fuzziness. She rocked me back, kissing me with her lap as well as her lips.
The tender feeling washed over me again, more beckoning this time, more insistent. There was something timeless about it, something familiar, something, I suddenly realized what it was. Without warning, her legs raised up, and her calves wrapped around my upper thighs. My pelvis was slammed down as my cock impaled the depths of her virgin cunt. She suppressed a grunt as our pelvises rubbed together. My cock was tingling in her hot depths. Her arms wrapped around my back, pressing her tits to my chest. She tensed, her breathing was rapid. Her cunt throbbed, then her thighs spasmed a bit. Finally, she let out a deep sigh. Her legs relaxed. I lifted myself away, but before I could descend again, my proud, stiff penis, fed up with being so ignored, erupted there between us, spurting its gallons of sticky goo up between our bellies. I tried again to lift myself away from her arms’ tight embrace, but instead I shot another load. And then I shot another.
Heidi was breathing heavily. She hadn't relaxed her embrace, even now, goo coated as she was. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. This must have been her first sexual experience, and I'd made her waste it on me.
But she kissed my cheek, sweetly, affectionately, and pulled me closer. As if to say that ‘yes’, this was her first sexual experience, and she was giving herself to it fully, and so should I.
I was embarrassed that my jizz was smeared over her lower torso. But she reveled in the anointing. Her womanliness was now affirmed by the creamy evidence.
After about five minutes, we got up and bathed in the cold shallow stream. We gathered our stuff and waded over to the far side, then sat on another fallen tree trunk to allow ourselves to dry off in the sun, and enjoy our packed lunches. Heidi was intrigued to see that my penis had shrunk down again, and I felt pretty man-of-the-worldly, that it stayed that way even when she touched it. Finally we were dry enough that we got our clothes out of the backpacks.
And beyond that, we'd proven ourselves off trail as well. We'd whacked bush, we'd interpolated contour, we'd forded a stream, we'd performed mutual field tick-ectomy.
And beyond even that, Heidi pointed out that orienteering hikes are supposed to have checkpoints along the way where hikers get their instruction lists stamped to document their progress. She proposed that we ought to document our progress too. So, instead of putting on her panties, she handed them to me.
"You can hang them next to your Science Fair trophy," she teased. I stuffed them down into the very bottom of my backpack, just imagining what my nosey mother would say.
I hesitated to offer Heidi my old, raggedy underpants, but she didn't seem to mind. She held them up and grinned. "I think I'll start a scrapbook collection. You know; sorta like the one I did in 3rd grade, where I collected leaves of various types." She winked at me; “What other designs might I discover, given the opportunity?”
“Would you like me to start my own scrapbook too?” I asked.
“Oh, I see,” She acknowledged; “I wouldn’t want you showing your buddies my undies. That’s a gift I want only you to appreciate.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And believe me. I will never forget the gift we shared, today, Heidi. Never.”
We finally got around to putting our shirts on. It felt kind of unnatural, though, kind of sad, after being naked for so long. Heidi didn't bother to put her bra on. I don't think she was used to going without it. She kept twisting her shoulders and her chest subtly to feel the fabric rub against her nipples. And she kept giving herself, and me, little surreptitious glances to try to gauge how conspicuous she was. You could definitely see a little contouring in her polo shirt right at the peaks of her breasts. She didn't try to hide it.
We weren't in any hurry to finish dressing. We checked our shoes and socks again. And then we fiddled with our backpacks. And then Heidi noticed a pretty wildflower, a white one, and I picked it for her and put it in her hair. She danced a little grass-skirt-less, split-bottom hula, and I kissed her on the cheek, my dick bobbing around the whole time as free and easy as a rattlesnake on vacation. And then we consulted the map again to finalize our route.
We heard a fella in the distance, yelling to someone. That jolted us from our post-coital bliss, and we finished dressing ourselves in 30 seconds flat.
And only then, finally, reluctantly, wistfully, Heidi put on her shorts, and I put on my jeans, and we headed off across the rocky terrain.
Later that afternoon, back in the parking lot, Heidi and I were leaning back against the trunk of her car, savoring our accomplishment. We'd successfully completed the orienteering circuit, visiting every checkpoint, siting every bearing, reckoning every traverse. (Well, mostly. As far as we could tell.)
"I am a little nervous, I suppose," Heidi said; "Being away from home and all. And I'm sure that college will be a lot harder than high school.
"But I'm ready. Actually, I'm looking forward to being on my own. My mom and I, well, we've been having some issues lately. It will be good for both of us to have a little break. I need more independence and she needs to get used to that."
She was twisting her chest gently as we walked along. My balls were gently swinging along the seam of my pants.
“I love how you look in your polo shirt. It fits you nicely. Better than it did when the hike started,” I winked.
Heidi beamed. “Yeah, I feel daring. I feel like I’m doing what I want to, not what everyone wants me to conform to. Sometimes, in high school, I couldn't tell if I was really being myself, or if I was only being the person that everybody expected me to be. You know what I mean? You walk into a room and everybody there just assumes that they already know exactly what you're going to say, what you're going to do."
"Well," I said, "I didn't. You walked into this room today" I spread my arm to indicate the trail, the green hills, the fluffy clouds "and everybody here was enchanted to make your acquaintance."
She smiled, self-consciously, and took a graceful swishing step, the kind an actress might take during an ovation. Earnest, pretty, full of confident expectation. Then she said; “You were different. We met today with a blank slate. You didn’t try to conform me to what I used to be. I love how it turned out. Are you okay with how our adventure went?”
That's when I had my other great realization of the summer. Making space for a new kind of socializing. I wasn’t going to suppress natural desires, just because I wasn’t familiar with how I was supposed to act. Even if there hadn't been in my past, there were going to be in my future; things that I would really, really care about. And I didn't have to just sit in my room and wait for them to happen.
It was getting time to go. We were still leaning back against the trunk of her car. She still had the wildflower in her hair.
"Hey," I said.
She turned her head and arched her brow.
"Want to go catch a movie tonight?"
She considered for a moment. "What's playing?"
"I have no idea. But I’m hoping a certain pretty girl will be there."
She grinned. "Sure. I'd love to."
I grinned too. Like a third grader. Like a third grader with a popsicle. Like a third grader with a popsicle who's just won a sheaf of prize tickets at the party arcade.
"What?" she laughed.
I got up and stood in front of her, as close as I could get, straddling her shins, hands around her hips.
She arched her brow with an expectant smile.
"Hey," I said, softly.
She was listening.
"Have you ever kissed a guy with your clothes on?"
By HectorBidon for Literotica.
