His First Time Almost Wasn't Pt. 02

Sorry – should have given Part 1 a different subtitle – out of practice!

*****

As he got into the car his heart was beating quickly. He glanced discreetly down at Brenda's plump thighs again, partly bared by the riding up of her skirt hem. She started the car engine and, waving back to his grandparents, they pulled out of the drive and drove off along the road.

He shot glances, too, at her modest but shapely breasts under her polo shirt. He felt a flush of embarrassment and excitement at being alone with her for an extended period of time. He had never spent over an hour on his own with her, and the prospect felt deliciously intimate.

"Your grandparents were very appreciative of being given a lift home."

"Yes, it was very kind of you to offer, Brenda."

She smiled. He thought she caught his gaze on her thigh. He made himself look away.

"That's fine. It was good of your mum to suggest that you come along for the ride – to keep me company on the ride back."

She made light conversation, but all the time he was highly aroused, torn between looking at her fleetingly and forcing himself not to. He joined in the chatter half-heartedly. Each time she pressed on one or other of the car pedals his eye was drawn to the way the muscle of her leg or thigh tensed. His excitement was heightened by shame, by fear of being spotted, and by her being twice his age.

Part of him wanted the journey to end; part of him wanted it to last for hours. All the time he was painfully conscious that the legs and breasts he had wanted to touch for a long time were just inches from his hand.

The tense debate in his mind – whether to risk advancing his attentions upon her or not – was approaching its conclusion.

"Are you all right, Stephen?"

Her face was kindly and she smiled at him.

"Yes. Yes, Brenda – why?"

"You just seem... I don't know, distracted..."

"No, sorry."

"If something's on your mind I'd be happy to listen."

His nerves were almost at screaming point, but he decided to risk all.

"Well, Brenda... I've been... er... wanting to do this..."

He placed his trembling hand just above her knee & stroked her thigh. She gave a low intake of breath and laughed nervously.

"I see."

She pushed his hand away. For a few agonising moments, he fought with himself as he tried to decide what to do next. After all she had pushed his hand away. But then again, she had not gone crazy at him, or even sounded offended or shocked.

"Sorry, Brenda. But you wanted to know what I was thinking. I was... being driven crazy by the fact that your legs are just inches from my hands..."

He placed his finger on her warm thigh again and caressed her plumpness, thrilling in the soft smooth skin. She thrust his hand from her.

"No, Stephen! That's enough. You mustn't... you shouldn't even be thinking like that!"

"I know you're a lot older than me, Brenda, but... I can't help it..."

She felt herself flush with shock, and with fear. She was alone with him, and his forthrightness and sudden change in his behaviour alarmed her. She saw his eyes rest on her thighs again.

"You CAN help it. And you MUST. I... I'm flattered that you find me attractive. But... but that's enough now. I MEAN it..."

She knew that her voice was tremoring slightly, and hoped that he didn't mistake her shock and outrage for excitement. He was torn for a few moments. Her reaction left little room for interpretation, but he knew that if he delayed any further now it would be hard to make a further move. His arousal made him cast caution aside.

"Okay, Brenda. Sorry if I shocked you. But... you asked me to share what was on my mind. I told you."

He tried to sound confident, though in fact his bravado was shrinking. Nevertheless, he raised his hand once more, and this time he placed his hand just below the hem of her skirt, and stroked her inner thigh, thrilling in the warmth and softness of her skin. She grabbed his hand and pushed it firmly away from her. She glared at him, and her eyes flashed.

"Keep your damn hands off me, Stephen. I mean it! YOU might think it's funny, but I damn well don't!"

She was shouting now, the car swerved slightly, and her partly-lisped words were racing from her. He glanced at her face; it was flushed and her small eyes blazed. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. He silently cursed his stupidity and wished he could turn back the clock five minutes.

"Twice you've touched me, and twice times I've pushed your hand away and told you to stop, yet you grope me again. Which... which... BLOODY... part of 'NO' don't you understand? In fact..."

To his horror, she slowed the car down and pulled in.

"In fact, you can damn well make your own way home from here. There's a bus stop just ahead. And touch me one more bloody time EVER again and I'll tell your parents! I... I'm disappointed and shocked, Stephen. I'd always thought what a nice young lad you were. And all the time... you've been thinking about me like... THAT! And thinking I might even welcome your touching me!"

He felt himself flush with embarrassment and shame. He had never heard her swear before, and although her language was fairly mild, it was uncharacteristic and a potent sign of her outrage.

"I... I'm sorry, Brenda. I... I don't know what came over me..."

"Get out of my damn car, Stephen... I mean it!"

"Okay. Okay. I've said I'm sorry. But..."

"Never mind 'but'. Get... get the hell out!"

He swung the car door open.

"Okay. Sorry if I misunderstood. But... I didn't THINK it was funny. I was quite serious about finding you sexy, Brenda. Very serious in fact... b-but I'm really sorry..."

He almost stumbled out of the car. He couldn't bear to look back and headed slowly and wretchedly towards the bus stop with his head down. He had no idea when the next bus was due, and knew as well that the journey would take far longer than by car.

He wondered whether Brenda would tell his parents. Even if she didn't, he felt ashamed of himself for upsetting her. Sure, she was one of his abiding sexual fantasies, but she was, after all, a friend of his parents. She was a genuinely nice woman, too. He wondered how he could ever look her in the face again.

He expected to see her car pass him, but the minutes passed and there was no sign of her. He imagined her in tears, confused, angry, and upset. He felt terrible.

Another thought crowded in on him. If he was late back, what should he tell his parents? Even if Brenda didn't tell them, his story may not be corroborated by hers if they were to speak to her!

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Brenda dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Her heart was pounding. She was shocked at his actions. Yet, rightly or wrongly, she partly blamed herself for having encouraged him.

She should have known better, but she was conscious of her plain appearance. She had felt flattered when, the first time she had offered him a lift to college she had noticed his eyes resting on her breasts and on her legs. It had been a long time since she had had that experience, and even longer since she had been in a relationship. To be the focus of attention by a lad half her age was extremely flattering. She jokingly described herself to others as "married to her work", but the truth was that her devotion to her work was partly a substitute for what seemed likely to be a lifetime of being on the shelf.

Since that first lift she had given him she had flirted with him. It had been very low-key and subtle, but their conversation had been more light hearted, and they had made increasing eye-contact. She had found herself looking forward to the prospect of seeing him at the bus stop, and disappointed if he wasn't there.

She also found herself choosing slightly shorter skirts to show off her thighs as she drove, and slightly tighter fitting tops.

Yes, she told herself as she tried to regain her composure, it was largely her fault. He was in his teens and his hormones were all over the place. She was twice his age and should know better than to lead him on. There was no way she could tell his parents. They would be shocked, and might even blame her, anyway. No, she must just put it down to experience and move on, she told herself.

She would just need to avoid being on her own with him, at least for a time, to take an alternative route to work to avoid the embarrassment of seeing him and driving past without stopping on the one hand, and finding herself in a compromising position with him on the other.

She took several deep breaths and started the car engine. She told herself not to look as she approached the bus stop where he was now standing. Her heart was still pounding. Despite her intentions, they exchanged half glances as she drew level, then passed him.

Along with her shock, the truth of the matter was that she was also actually feeling aroused. His trembling, tentative touch had stirred a longing within her that had been buried for a long time. She dismissed the fact that his youth was also part of the appeal. And, although she remonstrated with herself for encouraging him, the undeniable fact remained that he was hot for her and she knew deep down that she had never encouraged him to touch her as he had done. That had been a step too far. But it was a step that half of her wanted him to take again. In truth, it was a step that she wanted to be followed by further, more adventurous ones.

She felt slightly light-headed to feel desired. She had almost forgotten the feeling it bestowed. She didn't want to count the years since she had been touched and caressed. He was her friends' son and half her age. But he had awakened a latent need within her.

The road bent to the left and he was thankfully now out of sight. After a few hundred yards, though, she found herself pulling in to the verge. Her pulse was racing and, for what seemed ages, indecision tore at her. The tension made her perspire. Then, checking the mirror, she made a three-point turn and headed back to the bus stop.

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Not too long to wait, it seemed. After seeing her car go past, he steeled himself for the twelve-minute wait for the bus. He was lucky; they only ran about every fifty minutes. He felt thoroughly wretched and alternately reprimanded himself and tried to think about something else. At least his arrival home may not be too delayed and require an explanation to his parents.

The road was fairly straight, and he contented himself with looking back in the direction from which they had come from his grandparents' house, watching for the bus. At last, he saw it in the distance, and watched it slowly approach from a few hundred yards away. Fear of how the next hours or days might unravel gripped him. So did his self-recrimination for his stupidity.

Brenda saw him as she neared him from the opposite direction, and noticed the approaching bus also. She slowed down and stopped the car. She sounded the horn.

He glanced across, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognised the car. Doubt flooded his mind, though. Had she returned to berate him? He looked from her car to the approaching bus, and back again. If he missed the bus he would have to wait another fifty minutes for the next...

Brenda sensed his uncertainty and was herself aware of the fleeting opportunity. She opened her window.

"Stephen... get in!" she called out.

He still hesitated. The bus was getting closer. She had a sudden idea She hiked up her skirt a little higher and swung open the driver's door.

"Don't you want a lift home, Stephen? I... I'd welcome your company, you know... REALLY..."

She shuffled a little in her seat, causing her skirt to ride up still higher. To her relief, she saw his doubting eyes upon her thigh, and, checking for traffic, he stepped across the road.

Her heart was pounding now, and she sensed that his was doing the same. He got into the car sheepishly and closed the door, briefly looking at her and muttering, "hi", before looking out of the window.

"Brenda, I... I'm really sorry... I don't know what came over..."

To his surprise, she took his hand in hers and placed it on her bare thigh. He gazed at her pale, bare skin, and at the retreated hem of her skirt. He looked into her plump face and her small eyes.

"It's okay, Stephen, it's okay. It was a shock, that's all. Just don't move your hand too much. We don't want to have an accident!"

They drove along is strained silence, but the atmosphere was now laden with sexual tension rather than awkwardness.

He kept glancing at her breasts under her polo shirt, and at her fleshy thigh, less furtively than before. She caught his glance and smiled encouragingly. He stroked the top of her thigh and the soft skin of her inner thigh, but making sure not to venture too high.

Brenda gave a low sigh of pleasure. His caresses on her sensitive skin felt delicious. She briefly stroked his thigh through his trousers in return, and in reassurance.

"Just answer me this, Stephen. Have you felt about me this way for long?"

He felt a shudder of excitement down his spine, but was afraid of spoiling things.

"Yes. Yes, Brenda."

"And... and you've wanted to touch me? And... and see me naked?"

"Yes."

"And... how far have you imagined going with me, Stephen? Just petting or..."

Her voice tailed off. She cleared her throat.

"or... or... all the way?"

He half wanted to tell her more explicitly how he fantasised about her legs, how he tried to imagine her pussy, how he imagined himself thrusting into her, to pour out the intensity of his desire for her. He didn't, though.

"All... all the way, Brenda," he replied, terrified of giving the wrong answer, yet unable to lie to her. His throat was dry and the words came out quietly and slightly hoarsely.

The image of himself jerking to mental images of her came to his mind; ashamed of himself now, he tried to dismiss it.

Brenda's head was swimming. She knew that she ought to resist, tried to tell herself that she should not have turned the car round, that she shouldn't be encouraging him futher. She reminded herself of the age difference between them, and the faces of his parents came to her mind. Here she was, their friend, encouraging their son to have sex with her. For all she knew he might even be a virgin, and his first experience would be with a woman twice his age – though with little experience herself.

To his surprise when they reached the second crossroads, she indicated right and turned into a quieter road rather than carrying straight on. His pulse quickened as, a few miles further, saw a conifer forest. She gave him a knowing glance and a coy smile.

A little further along, he saw a sign that indicated a car park and picnic site. He felt he needed to let her take the lead after his earlier, clumsy near-disaster.

"There. there's a lane not far from here and a parking space just off the road. But it's just this once, Stephen, never EVER again. And if you say anything to anyone, I'll tell your mother you tried to force yourself on me. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

A few hundred yards down the road, she turned into a small car park. No other cars were there. She was breathing quite quickly in her stifled excitement.

"Have you... have you done it before, Stephen?"

"N-not really. Only... only kissing and touching. Never... never actual sex..."

She stopped the car engine and swung her door open. Almost in a daze he did the same and got out. She stepped to the back of the car and from the boot she lifted out a tartan picnic blanket.

She smiled nervously at him. He returned the same nervous smile.

She folded the blanket over her arm and they walked apprehensively up the forest track. Guilt gripped her, but there was no going back now. Besides, if she were honest, the shame was part of the thrill of it. She felt nervous, too, conscious of her own lack of experience.

She gave his hand a little squeeze. He clasped her hand in his, but she pulled it free, murmuring softly that it wouldn't look good if they were seen like that.

A little way along the path she glanced round and, stooping a little, headed off between the rows of pine trees. The ground sloped gently downwards, and they had to push their way through some of the branches. Neither of them spoke, partly out of furtiveness, but partly because neither knew what to say.

She turned and satisfied herself that, as the path was no longer visible, they too must now be out of sight from the path. She stopped and spread the blanket out under the dense tree branches. She could still hardly believe what she was doing as she sat down with her legs stretched out before her.

He sat down awkwardly beside her and ran his hand up her skirt, gazing with excitement at the movement of his hand. He had wanted to do this for a long time, had acted it out in his mind times without number, and he could hardly believe that it was now happening for real . She shuddered with delight at the feel of his quivering fingers. His evident nervousness and excitement were intoxicating, and reassuring.

He ran his hand right up to her crotch and stroked her through the cotton of her knickers, and his boldness and inexperience caused her to give a stifled gasp.

She nudged his exploring hand a bit lower down her thigh and led it in little circular movements.

"Not too fast, Stephen... let's take our time a bit, and... and prolong the enjoyment, shall we?"

She sighed at the feel of his young, inexperienced fingers on her inner thigh. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face to hers.

He gave a low murmur of pleasure at the feel of her fingers on his nape. He brushed his lips against hers and gently tugged on them with his. Her rebuttal, and the self-recriminations and anxiety it had caused, and the unexpected release from them fed his desire for her. He was rock hard and he was eager to take her, but satisfied himself with letting her dictate the pace. In any case, he was determined not to repeat his earlier clumsiness and ruin everything.

He cupped her breast and kneaded it through the warm fabric of her polo shirt. It yielded deliciously to his touch, and he felt her nipple against his palm. He rubbed it with his fingertip and she whimpered encouragingly.

They were kissing more ardently now. She parted her lips and fleetingly and tentatively ran her tongue over his lips. He groaned and reciprocated. Their tongues met briefly. He licked her teeth and, becoming more confident, reunited his tongue with hers.

His eager fumblings intensified her desire for him, too, and she pushed his hand up inside her polo shirt. She crooned as his hand caressed her through her bra.

"Oh Brenda..." he murmured. "Oh, Brenda, I love the feel of your breast... I... I'd love to see it, Brenda..."

Take my top off, Stephen... I... I want you to see my breasts, too... but... I... I'm a bit shy... YOU take it off – love!"

A shudder ran down his spine, as much at the term of endearment as at her coyness and invitation. She had never addressed him in that way before. He shuffled behind her and as she raised her arms, he slid her polo shirt off and dropped it onto the blanket beside her.

He knelt before her and kissed her on the mouth again, his hands pushing up underneath her bra-clad breasts. He kissed the top of her left breast above the lace trim of her bra. Her skin felt soft and her orb gave way deliciously as he nuzzled it.

"Can... would you like me to take your bra off as well, Brenda?"

"Yes. Yes, love."

He'd done this four times with a girl before, but now, to his annoyance, his inexperience and excitement made him all fingers and thumbs, and Brenda slid her hands behind her back and unclipped it.

She smiled kindly.

"It's okay, Stephen. Do you like them?"