Riverside Afternoon, w/Marshmallows

Then as she leaned towards him to resume, his hands clamped down solidly on her hips, lifted her easily, and set her down astraddle his crotch, her legs widespread and with that mysterious bulge in his shorts pressing soft-hard against her most sensitive spot. The bulge was shaped and positioned just right to apply pressure most effectively.

Lightning. Progress! Evil, wonderful, stunning. It flashed from their point of crotch contact outwards through her entire being. She watched his face, wondering what to do next. Surely he would give her some guidance, just as he had earlier? YES! But it wasn't what she expected... she didn't know what to expect anyhow, but this wasn't it. His hands cupped her bottom, one per buttock. His grip on her was solid, possessive, and HOT! She actually gasped as he wriggled his hips from side to side beneath her. This position, astride Jimmy, was exactly the one she used with her biggest pillow when she wanted to masturbate without the hardness and specificity of fingertips and zucchinis.

Whatever she had imagined about being held by a man, it was NOTHING compared to this. His hands seemed to reach right through her flesh and grab some vital thing deep inside her.

He pulled her down hard, plastered her against himself, and as she was wondering what to do, her body took over and she bent forward and dissolved into another of their patented kisses. The belly-lightning intensified. She felt if a switch had been thrown that cut off communication between her brain and everything south of her navel. Her bottom half was now pretty much flying solo and in control, it could SEND messages, she found... it could SEND just fine. But its former Command-and-Control Center up north seemed unable to push any coherent instructions down south to the lower half.

She began to rock, pressing against him, her bottom and crotch and hips and thighs working for all intents and purposes independently of her brain. Jimmy's hands on her bottom were helping, pressing just right, setting up a rhythm. It occurred to her once again that he knew exactly what he was doing. Now, that could be either a good thing or a bad thing, couldn't it? She chose not to worry about it right now. Instead, she just kissed and rocked and rode him, excitement and tension rising, rising, going all breathless, waiting as if for a summer storm to finally get its act together and break out into thunder and lightning.

Big, warm hands flowed up and down the back and sides of her legs, as far as he could reach, stroking and scratching lightly with his fingernails, making intense shivers rush through her. His fingertips were on the inside of the tops of her thighs now, right at the edge of the fabric. They were stroking, stroking on the delicate skin there. He was so incredibly close to her sensitive spots, he obviously knew precisely where they were, and in the most urgent, strident way she wanted him to touch them, but... Ohmigawd! What would, what could (what MUST?) happen next, beyond those first touches?

The eternal nice-girl problem. Good-girl/bad-girl be damned, there was no conceivable way she could tell him to stop that wonderful touching. None. Nor could she break her home-and-church training and ASK him to touch here where she so badly needed it.

But now he was pulling back from her frantic kissing and whispering "Fingertips okay?" She nodded once, whispered with a serious face "This isn't coercion! Please do continue!" then plastered herself back into the kiss.

A segment of her brain told her "Julie, I do believe that this is where we good girls start to really get into trouble. Careful! Are you sure about this?" But she didn't really hear the warning.

Then, gently, the all-knowing fingertips slid beneath the fabric that covered her mound and openings and converged in her midline wetness. The fingers knew exactly where to go and what to do. It was purely awesome, the fact that this almost perfect stranger beneath her knew her body at least as well as she did herself! She was aware that IF she had been just a little bit sane right now, that realization would have been a great thing to contemplate. But she also knew that she wasn't truly sane. Not for the moment. And how incredibly much she didn't care about the insanity!

The fingertips did their magic, touching, circling, pressing until suddenly she was soaring, entirely out of body, her spasms and cramping far, FAR more intense than ever she had been able to bring on by herself. She wondered, as her whole body contracted around her Jimmy-pillow, whether she could squeeze him hard enough to do any permanent damage?

His fingertips kept moving just exactly right for her needs. She floated, drowning in the sensations, rising, falling. Her actual being, her soul she thought, had left her body (she was absolutely certain of that, both then and later), returning ever so reluctantly. His fingertips and tongue were in charge now. For the moment anyhow. Again. Again. And yet again! It was almost agony. Chocolate-coated agony. Yummy.

So slowly that it was hard to perceive the changes, Jimmy was letting her alight, bringing her down as if she were a kite on a string of sensations being reeled in gently, gently. She returned to the here-and-now that she had so unexpectedly left.

He hugged her hard, and she was consumed in the glow from between her legs, and his heartbeat, and her own panting whoosh of breath, all intermingled.

Then, suddenly, through all the wonderfulness, she was embarrassed! Where had THAT come from? Was it because Jimmy had not only participated in, but caused (and watched her all the way through) this private, secret thing? She raised her head and peeked at his face. He shook his head at her and whispered "That was the most INTENSE, and the most beautiful, string of climaxes any woman has ever honored me with!"

Climaxes? So that was the word for those things! It made sense, didn't it. And how come he was saying that SHE had honored HIM? Wasn't it the other way around? He was the one who had made HER feel good! Unless he meant by trusting him so much. Which she did. And which she utterly did NOT understand! They would have to talk about this later, if she could ever figure out what the actual QUESTION was! Meanwhile, she was going to relax right here on his chest, and just listen to him breathe and to his heartbeat for a while.

Her mind was split - it was becoming almost 'usual', this fragmentation of her consciousness to follow different aspects of her experience simultaneously. Quite an odd thing, to be remembered and analyzed - later. Part of that mind was in a whirl, soaring high from the sensations. Another part was calm and still and clear, contemplating. This whole business they were about was incredibly, wonderfully complicated, wasn't it? Or, perhaps, it was exquisitely simple!? She KNEW that what they were doing, what SHE was doing, was somehow against much of what she had been taught.

But she knew with even greater certainty that it was also very, very RIGHT, not just right but also GOOD. It was difficult, having these two contrarieties facing off inside her brain. If she let them just run free, she was going to get a headache!

Jimmy let her lie there and think for long minutes, his one hand stroking her hair, the other gently fondling her bottom. Which did she prefer? It was hard to tell, so she was glad she didn't have to make the choice. Zing, zing, zing - more lightning between his hands. She hoped it wouldn't ever stop... this was awfully comfortable.

But it did change shortly - he was rolling out from beneath her, laying her down on her stomach in the warm, pillowing her face on her hands. Then he was beside her on his knees, and his hands were roaming, up and down, across, cupping and stroking and fondling. Every square inch of her skin seemed to be separately ALIVE and standing up to request more touching. Especially the skin on the back of her knees. And her insteps. And when he ran his fingertips in between her toes the goose bumps positively had a field day over her thighs - she managed to keep from jerking away, but only just barely!

After a short time, when she was half putty and half live electric-wire, his hands rolled her over onto her back, and he knelt there looking at her with the oddest expression. She studied him, silently, waiting. He looked like he was thinking, debating inside.

Finally, she asked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

He smiled, his concentration broken, and looked as if he had made a decision. Little chills ran over her spine when she saw that. It was like the feeling you got in a science fiction movie when the big alien ship suddenly looms overhead. He tilted his head and asked "Trust me?"

She nodded.

He set his hands on her waist, fingertips hooked into the waist of her shorts, and said very low and precisely, "Will you help me take these off? It's not a requirement, but if you want to, well, there's lots more to learn. Lots. And it's very interesting stuff, too."

He waited patiently as she studied him some more, doubts swarming. This was really, truly dangerous, her little voice screamed. But he was asking permission, not demanding. No coercion! She knew, positively knew for sure, that she could say NO and he would stop. He'd be disappointed, yes, but not angry.

A niggling little thought popped up and demanded release. "Jimmy... Are we going to... You know, do IT?"

An awkward query: she knew other words, fucking and making love and going to bed and sleeping together, but she couldn't use them, because she didn't really know which to use when, and didn't want to feel foolish. Plus there was the fact that they just wouldn't come out. So this silliness, "IT" (in capitals, of course!), was the best she could do. She bit her lip, waiting. She really WANTED the answer to be yes, and simultaneously sort of hoped it would be NO, and hated herself for being so torn. Why did all this have to be so complex? Couldn't they just proceed with things until they were done? Damn!

Jimmy seemed to understand. His hands left her body, and that body practically cried with disappointment at the ache, the emptiness.

He settled beside her, hands in his lap, and said "Perhaps we will make love. If you want to. But I really would have to know for sure that you had thought about it and understood what you were doing. It's a very important thing, you know, deciding that you are ready for this. So, Julie, IF - just IF- I were to ask your permission to teach you to make love, and IF - just IF, mind you - you were to say yes, well even then we would have to be really careful. It's far too easy to say yes to something and regret it later, you know. I have done it, lots of times. We all have."

He stopped and waited again.

Her mind raced through all sorts of possibilities, mostly ill-formed, inaccurate due to simple ignorance. Half were nice, pleasurable, others purely AWFUL. Then the worst of them popped out of her, almost unbidden. "Would I get... pregnant? If we did IT? That's a scary thought!"

He leaned down and kissed her nipples before answering. Left, then right. Biting gently. Flashbulbs. Then, perfectly seriously, he said "I'm pleased that you worry about that - it means you are more mature than most. The answer is NO, not only no but hell no, not ever! The first thing about making love is to be responsible about it, and I would teach you all about contraception before we even got started! But that's a big IF, isn't it? I haven't asked for permission and you haven't given it. We're having a hypothetical discussion, it seems!"

She mulled that over. Contraception. She knew, in general, what it meant - hypothetically at least. Preventing babies. No pregnancy. She knew it was not only possible but routine, she just didn't know anything at all about the mechanics - her home and public schooling had included exactly nothing whatever about human sexuality. But clearly Jimmy would know everything necessary. He could teach her. Relief! And he was right, the only thing he had done yet without permission was that very first absolutely glorious neck-kiss he had laid on her. Thank heaven he hadn't waited, she would never ever have invited it, she didn't know how, hadn't known she wanted it!

But he had NOT (yet?) asked about "IT", had he? Not yet. Would he? He hadn't said that he was going to ask, had he? So, there was no pressure from him, just whatever pressures there were inside her body and brain. That was good. Sort of. Of course, it meant that she was pretty much in charge again, didn't it! Damn! Complicated, complicated, complicated!

Jimmy watched her face. His hands went back to her waistband, he tilted his head to re-state the question. She thought, hard. Then before she could answer, he said "There's more to learn. Without making love if we don't want to go that far. Lots. You haven't even BEGUN your lessons, Milady!"

From deep inside the calm part of her mind came a command. She obeyed it. Her fingers moved to her waist, undid the snap at the top of her zipper. Now THAT had to be the clearest sort of permission, she thought. What was next? She had no very clear idea. But it must involve getting rid of her shorts - and exposing the panty-less nakedness beneath them!

OhMyGod squared!

Her shorts were in a little heap beside them now. It was odd how un-embarrassed she was by her nearly complete nakedness, even with Jimmy there beside her still fully clothed except for lack of shoes. She watched as if she were sitting, disembodied, in the tree above them - the mental-split thing again and again!

His expression was priceless confirmation of what he had told her, refutation of her own opinion. This beautiful man was absolutely entranced by her body! Was there ever anything more unexpected? And could anything in the world have made her feel better about herself?

He laid her gently on her back, on the towel, and his lips ran down her midline from between her tits (!!) to her navel. His tongue explored that, as his hands laid her thighs apart, exposing her secret places - and still she wasn't the least bit embarrassed!

His mouth moved farther down: she suspected now, with great certainty, exactly where it was going. She was right.

What she didn't expect was being drowned in warm syrup and simultaneously spun around at high speed while feeling like Fourth of July fireworks were going off inside her skull. She arched up against his mouth, a bit of her was taking notes about how his fingers went simultaneously into her bottom and her pussy as his tongue and lips performed their incredible new magic. The intense sensations from the finger-invasions was completely swamped by those from his mouth.

It seemed like hours until she finally came back down. How long, and how tightly, had her eyes been shut? Why were her hands full of torn-up grass, and why this dirt driven deep under her fingernails to boot? When had that happened?

She looked down over her belly to see Jimmy's smiling eyes gazing at her through her little scruffy wisps of pubic hair. Hadn't she crushed his skull with her thighs during her apoplexy? Surely she must have at least tried, but he didn't seem the worse for wear.

He slid up alongside her and bear-hugged her into the longest kiss of the entire day. She got her breathing under control, and began reciprocating his tongue's strokings, but there was something woefully wrong here... his clothes were still all in place! Which was unfair. Unequal. She wanted to touch him just as he was doing to her... partly because she felt a little guilty about doing nothing but receiving, and partly because she wanted to receive even more, craved the sensations of being an active partner for a change.

She sat up, abruptly, and said softly "Hey! It's not fair that you still have all your clothes on. Can I take them off? Your permission, please!"

He grinned at the turn-about and helped her. Her mind was busy, observant. The buckle was complicated, and the shorts were unbelievably heavy. She could feel all the man-junk in the pockets. Males in her classes were always like this, pockets eternally full. Apparently the tendency didn't go away with age! Wallet, keys, heaven knew what else. Why didn't men just give up and carry a purse, anyhow? They claimed to be so SENSIBLE about stuff!

Then it was shirts: his came off first. She looked at his chest, now visible in the dappled light. Little bitty nipples, smaller than hers, at least today. A fine, not-thick dusting of golden hairs. Nice muscles. He took off her shirt, too. Her attention shifted, riveted on his blinding-white jockey shorts and their contained bulge.

Suddenly, she was genuinely nervous. Outside of sculpture and art books she had never seen an adult man naked, and certainly not down there. She took a deep breath and tugged: the undies slid off easily, smoothly, and his cock sprang into view. She was startled at its size. But she understood the SHAPE instantly! The ultimate zucchini! Big, though, compared to her toys. And he was completely shaved, too - where she had a tiny amount of pubic hair, and the men in those crazy pictures had had big, bushy growths, he had absolutely none! She didn't even ask why - clearly he must like it that way. Maybe that was one reason he liked her body, too?

She could ask that later. With Jimmy's help, she explored. It was a complicated device, this thing called 'cock'. Lots of terms for things - new names to learn. He had a nickname for his cock, called it "JT", and said he would explain another time. The idea of another time was quite a good one, she thought.

And this cock-thing had BEHAVIORS! His cock DID things, unlike her pussy which just lay there inert and invisible and uninteresting. This strange changeable tube of his bounced, moved of its own accord, changed shape and texture and color. Her hands explored every little nuance of texture, every bulge and cranny and crevice. She studied his reactions, and they were both strong and subtle. So doing THIS would provoke a gasp, while twisting THAT would beget a very different sort of groan.

Then he was explaining how his body worked and asking if she wanted to see it in action, to give him the same sort of pleasure she had just gotten, and of course she said yes, for she was both really curious and very mindful of the imbalance so far. With his guidance she straddled his legs, stroked him with both hands, watched simultaneously his face and his cock as he did what he had explained so nicely.

His finale was so sudden and so violent that she was awfully glad of the instructions and warnings. First he turned the nicest shade of bright pink, all over his chest and shoulders. He bucked her hard up into the air, and sprayed his belly with jet after jet of semen - semen densely loaded with those evil, microscopic, baby-making sperm. Two hundred million per squirt, she had read somewhere: amazing! She could feel each pulse moving up through the big vein on the bottom of his cock, and the cock-helmet turned the most amazing plum color just before he spurted.

Then, in only moments, the whole texture and demeanor of his cock changed completely, relaxing as if it had just run a marathon and was finally stopping. She dabbled a fingertip in a puddle of his semen. Baby seeds! Harmless out here on his skin in the warm air. Super-dangerous inside her pussy. She was enthralled with her power, too... with so little effort, she had reduced this big, strong, male person into a quivering, helpless Jell-O-Man. How incredibly nifty!

She used a corner of the towel to wipe him clean whilst he gasped and did exactly what she had done herself so many times already today - tried to get his breath back! Turn about was only fair, she thought, and lay down on him, cuddling, feeling his strong chest sucking in air, the results of what she had just done.