Silky Adventures #01

Drawing Close

My name is Silky. I'm 18, and I have a story to tell.

When I was a child, my saintly grandmother would coerce me into naps by "drawing" pictures on my back with her gnarled and arthritic fingers. I would stretch out on the porch swing with my head in her lap, and her fingertips would delicately trace out airplanes and dragons, warriors and maidens, and I would try to guess what was being drawn. I would always get lost in the sheer delight of the feel of her fingers, however, and drift off to sleep with a smile.

Now that I am an adult, I don't take naps anymore; It had been three or four years since my last session with grandma, and I never expected to feel that thrill again, when all these weird things happened to me.

It started with Mom telling me that Grandma had died, and that since I was 18 years old, I was big enough to act like a grown-up at the funeral. So dull! I sat around in stiff, starchy clothes, wearing a bra and pantyhose for two days while others adults came by and told me how sorry they were that she had died. I was sorry too, but this was a poor way to show it. Sit and don't make a lot of noise, and don't play video games and don't watch TV, and be bored, bored, bored! Mr. Mosher came, and he always smells like whiskey, and he hugged me too tight and almost for hours. And Ms. Right always cries about everything, and she smells like she peed on herself or something.

Anyway, I was really sick of the whole funeral thing, ya know? So when they all left to go to the cemetery and mom asked if I would rather stay home alone, I jumped at the chance! They wouldn't even be back until after dark, so I had to fix my own supper. I'm no baby; I can take care of myself. So anyway, I said sure, and I was out of those yucky clothes and into shorts and a tee-shirt before they hit the corner. Fancy hair back into a flame-red pony tail (no longer burning hot on my neck) before they were a block. Watched MTV (Lady GaGa) for awhile, real loud, and played on my Xbox at the same time. Replaced the pearl earrings with two green ones the color of my eyes -peace & harmony - My dad hates it when I wear them both in one ear. That's when the weird shit started.

The doorbell rang, and it was Uncle George. He's not really an uncle; he just lives nearby, and comes over to watch football with my dad sometimes. He had a couple of Klondike ice cream bars with him.

"Is anybody here?" he asked.

"Me." I said (Duh!)

"Well, I see that. I meant anybody else. I haven't been over since I heard about your grandma. Then I saw the cars leaving, and thought I might be too late. Listen, you want one of these chocolate bars?"

"Sure" I said. "Come on in, but you're too late, everybody else is gone and won't be back for hours. And I don't want to hear about how sorry you are, I've already been told enough times." I took one bite of the ice cream, and then I burst out crying for no reason. I felt like a complete jerk. No baby, huh?

"Hey, it's alright. I know how you feel." He put his arms around me, but I didn't think about anything except how sad I suddenly felt.

"I really miss her" I sobbed.

"Yeah. I remember watching her do that drawing thing on your back when you were a kid. It always looked like it felt really good. I used to have a grandfather who did the same with me."

"Really? I didn't know anybody else in the world did that." I sniffed back further tears.

"Sure. Well, I don't know if it was exactly the same... Come over here and I'll show you, and you tell me if it's the same."

And that's how I wound up lying on the couch letting George draw on my back, Ice cream melting in the sink. Right off, it was different. Grandma had a soft lap, but George's was lumpy and hard. But I wanted to see what his style felt like, so I just lay there. He started with the easy stuff, just tracing some letters and triangles and stuff.

I wiggled some, and said, voice muffled by his pants, "Do more."

Then he started walking two fingers up and down my spine. I wiggled again, and realized that my breasts were rubbing in a funny kind of way against the couch. It felt good, too. He ran his fingers all the way from my neck to my belt and back several times. I was loving it, but I felt keyed up at the same time I was getting all relaxed inside. I rubbed my breasts a little more. Real Good! Then he did something Grans never did. He began to drawn up on my neck and the back of my ears. Now, I liked that a lot. But it was real different. A shiver ran down my back, and I twitched; that made my boobs twitch, and that made me twitch again. And then I thought I would die! I realized that I was wet between my legs! I thought maybe I had peed or something, but it didn't feel like that. And the more George touched my ears, the wetter I felt.

He ran a finger lightly down my right arm. Grans never did that either. He ran his fingernails across the palm of my hand. I couldn't decide if I should make a fist or stretch them out; it felt good and too ticklish at the same time. But he decided for me.

"Spread your fingers out where I can touch you better" he ordered in a whisper. His voice sounded kinda raspy, and real quiet.

I did as I was told, and shivered as he traced the edges of each finger, outside, inside, outside, inside. Out, in, out, in.... so ticklish but so good. But I was getting wetter, and I kept just having to rub my boobs a little more.

Then he reached down and stroked my leg, right behind my knee, and slowly ran one finger barely touching me up to the edge of my shorts. My Grandma certainly never did that! And I never got all twitchy and wet when she did things either!

After a few mind-numbing caresses on my legs, he stopped, and pulled me upright.

"So, how is that?" he asked, his eyes searching my face.

"I... I... uh, I really liked it. Do so more." I tried to flop back down, but he held me back.

"So did you get wet between your legs?"

My hand flew over my eyes in embarrassment. "Does it show?" I frantically peeked down at myself, looking for tell-tale stains.

"No, nothing like that. I just know that this kind of touch is very sexual. That's what you're feeling, sex." He sounded very matter-of-fact.

"I thought sex was kissing and taking off your clothes," I said. I sounded like a dumb baby.

"Oh, taking off your clothes is just to make it feel better. Bare skin is better than over clothes. Lots better."

It sure was better on my neck and my bare leg, he was right about that. "So does this mean I'm not a virgin?"

"No, no. Sex is more complicated than that. Did you like the way being wet felt? I noticed you rubbing your boobs on the couch. Bet that felt good too, huh?"

My face was on fire by now. I could only nod in agreement.

"Lay back and I'll show you some more, on your face."

He began to outline my face along the right side of my chin, and slowly drew just the lightest tip of his finger along my jaw to my ear. There he trailed the curves of my outer ear, maddeningly slowly, but ever so ticklish. Then he delineated the edges of my hair and face, sweeping all across my forehead, down the other side, he completed the circle of my facial perimeter, and began to fill in the details. First a gentle touch that sketched my eyebrows; then short strokes that picked out every eyelash, as a vibrant pulsing erogenous zone all to its self. He traced down my nose, wrapping around each nostril, and then began to stalk along my lips, lightly skipping around the line separating skin from mucous membrane, and then faintly massaging those membranes. I could not lay quietly... my lips moved of their own accord to try to stay with the ghosts that passed their way and left only hunger. After several trips around my labial circuit, he pulled back his humming fingers, paused, and stroked, with the back of his hands, my cheeks, moving toward my lips. He lifted his hands, and I, magnetically, rose to follow them. I ran into his downward falling lips, which met with mine, quenching hunger for touch with a new fire altogether. Now I had to confront silken slipperiness that not only touched like a phantom's whisper, but gently sucked me in between his teeth, and gently bit. My entire world existed only at the surface of my lips.

Once again he broke away, and I, foolish child, was like a fish twitching her pouting lips for just one more taste of the bait. "That's, tha's, sooo smooth and soft. I never thought...."

"Your parents did send you away from the public school to keep you ignorant about sex; maybe I'm doing a bad thing here..."

"This is great, I need to know, so get the Hell back over here and do more!"

"OK. Turn around where I can do your back."

I turned, but I liked the face stuff... why did we have to quit what I liked? But he was the teacher.

As he ran his fingers around in circles on my lower back, he said, "Hold your hands straight up" which I did. Then whoosh! like a rocket firing, my tee-shirt flew over my head and over the couch.

"Hey, what's the..." was as far as I got, because he was putting his lips to my neck, back, and shoulder. And he's right, bare skin does make it feel better. I had my hands over my breasts, protecting them from nothing, and enjoying the feel of their happy faces in my palms. As George licked along my neck, I felt hands slide between mine and my boobs. George was now cupping both of them in his hands, with mine over his. He pressed his palms down against me as he kissed, and my nipples got so hard I thought they would burst open. Then he sort of turned me around, and I was kissing his lips again, with my naked tits against his shirt.

He pulled back a looked into my eyes. "Want me to take off my shirt?" he said.

I only nodded, and in almost no time, I was kissing him again, with my boobs rubbing against the hair on his chest. God, that was driving my nipples crazy! He continued to trace his fingers up and down my back, and shivers ran up and down my spine. And every shiver made my nipples twitch, and that set off another shiver... you get the picture.

Then he pulled back again, and stared at my uncovered chest. "Would you like to make me get wet, like I did you?"

Well, how could I say 'No'? Besides, I was loving this. "What do I do?" I asked.

"Well, girls get wet on the inside, as you've noticed." (Boy, had I noticed!) Guys don't get wet like that; they have to be sexually stimulated for a while, and then they get wet all at once." He took my hand in his. "Have you ever felt a man's cock?" he asked.

Ok, I'm trying to be worldly. "Well, I don't think so; what exactly is a cock?" So I'm a child.

In answer, he guided my hand to the front of his jeans, and I realized the lumpy part was where his penis was. (Hey, I do know some things!) But this was more like a banana; lots bigger than the penis I saw on my cousin when he was 6 months old.

"Are they all that big? How can you walk?" I was staring, but then I looked up at his laughing face.

"First I have to see someone sexy, like you. Then it gets big." He smiled again.

Here was a grown man telling me I was sexy. Wow!!

"It's difficult to explain. The best thing is to just show you." and he unzipped. Before I could even think, I was looking at a man's naked cock (now I know the word). It was rose bud pink and smooth, with a swelling on the end like a pure ambergine plum. There was a little hole at the end, and the purple part was so taunt it was shiny. It was incredible, and scary. It was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I stared, and stared some more.

"This is the head" and he touched the purple part. Oh, let those be my fingers! "And this is the shaft." He wrapped his hand around it so there was dark pubic hair below his fist, and purple penis head above. "And my balls, or testicles, are still inside." he said as he ran his other hand over them.

"I'm not stupid, you know." I said. Really, I could have figured that out on my own, even tho' they were still in his pants.

"Now the head is the most sensitive part. When you stimulate me for a while, then I will get wet in a hurry. My wetness all comes out of this hole in the end. That means I'm sexed up, just like you are now. You call that 'cumming,' spelled with a 'u'."

"What do you mean, 'stimulated'?" I asked. I certainly was expecting further instruction.

"Well, kissing you certainly helps for starters" and he demonstrated with another, but brief, mind exploding kiss. "Then, I need to be touched. Almost any touch will do. Here, touch me." And he guided my willing fingers to his cock.

"It's hot!" I said involuntarily, but it was so warm to my hand. I hesitantly ran my fingertips over the smooth head, and I heard his breath suck in, so I figured he could feel it. I sort of drew lines up and down the shaft, and it twitched.

"It feels especially good when you squeeze it and rub up and down, like this," and he demonstrated a few strokes. So I wrapped my fingers around as he had showed me, and squeezed. It was like a soft rock, hard and yielding at the same time. I slid my grip upward over the head, and felt the edge brush under my fingers. He really squirmed when I did that.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked, letting go.

"No, you feel great," he gasped as he frantically pulled my hand back onto his hot cock. "Let me guide you some." He wrapped his big hand over mine, and closed his fingers very tightly over his shaft. Then, with my hand-sandwich, he began to rub up and down over the head. He went faster and faster, 'till my arm was bouncing, and then, suddenly, it happened!

"Aaaaah!" he moaned as white stuff shot out of the end hole. It really shot. The first squirt landed on his shoulder, then the next landed on my left boob. Then one hit my navel, and one landed on his pants leg, and the last two kind of ran down over our intertwined hands.

"That's neat. Let's do it again!" and I tried to rub him. He held my hand still.

"No, I have to wait a few minutes. Men only get wet in cycles. You liked it?"

"Yes, it was very interesting. Scientifically, you know." I sounded very mature.

"Now you need to taste it," He said, as he brought our hands towards my face.

"Taste it! No way!" I jerked my head back, but he was too fast, and his fingers touched my lips. It had a dry sort of flavor, sort of salty, and unlike anything I'd ever tasted. Don't know that I really liked it, but it wasn't gross.

"Lick it off my shoulder," he directed, and I did. Better as I got used to the taste.

"My turn," he said as he leaned over and licked the cum off my breast. He trailed his tongue down over my nipple, and another wave of pleasure soared through me. "Now run get me a damp cloth so I can clean the rest up."

I ran to the bathroom, feeling my boobs bouncing free, and quickly washed my hands and belly and wrung out a washcloth. Then I thought, 'I'll show him who's mature.' So I slipped off my shorts and panties. The crotch stuck to me, I was so wet! Then I walked back down the hall, cool as could be.

Well, I wasn't totally cool. I was real embarrassed, but determined. Then I saw that he was naked, too. I about died, but I had made up my mind not to look like a know-nothing child. As soon as he saw me, I could tell, because I saw his cock swell up and stand out straight. His eyes were locked on my groin, as I handed him the cloth.

"God, you have a beautiful pussy," he said. "You know it's called a 'pussy'? Sometimes it's called a 'cunt' as well. And yours is so red, and tight. It's breath-taking."

I was trying hard to be suave, but I never discussed my pussy before. My hair wasn't the only thing that was red! He quickly wiped himself and dropped the cloth without a thought. Then he gathered me next to him, and kissed me again. I was captured by his lips, but I sure felt that big cock pressing against me as well.

His hands cupped my butt as he breathed into my ear. I tingled and twitched. When I tightened my ass, my pussy would crush against his penis, and that would lead to a twitch, and my boobs were still quivering at the touch of his hairy chest. So I stood there, writhing, and kissed him back. Running my tongue into his mouth was an experience in itself. I couldn't decide whether the attack of chasing into his mouth or the retreat of allowing him in mine felt the best. Both set me on fire. My thigh itched in a maddening and distracting way, but until I had to pull back for a breath, I ignored it. Then I realized I had dripped down my leg from my sodden and aching pussy.

"Now back to the lesson," he said as he lead me to sit on the couch. I sat backwards, so I faced him, while he began to run his hands over my body. His left hand flew to my right breast, and stayed there, gently squeezing while he stroked my nipple occasionally. His right hand traced a line of shuddering pleasure along my spine, slow inch by inch. When he reached my hips, his fingers kept going down over my ass. I knew my grandma had never touched me there, and like he told me, naked is better. I became so lost in the feel of his fingers that the house could have burned and I would neither have noticed or cared. Actually, it's amazing the house didn't burn, as hot as my skin grew under his caressing palpations. Eventually his fingers found their way over to the inside of my right knee, and began a gentle massage of its tender surface. I swear I felt liquid fire burning up my loins. I spread my legs, for comfort and to save myself from spontaneous combustion. So his fingers grazed the skin in slightly higher regions, meandering to and fro, fondling me to a single focus I could hardly articulate. I wanted his hands on my cunt.

After days or maybe weeks of torturing me with faint caresses, I detected the edges of his nails glancing over my bushy pubic hair. I scrunched against his hand, and he rewarded me by making solid contact. For a few seconds I thought I had attained my goal, as we kissed some more, with his palm enclosing my cunt, with his fingers casually between my legs. My juices poured over his hand.

Then his middle finger began to slither between the open lips of my pussy. He took the liquid fire that ran there, and used it to worm his way in so slowly I could hardly tell when it began or ended. Much like a tree sprouting leaves in Spring, one day bare and then suddenly exploding in green, I realized his finger was creeping further inside me. I was mesmerized. Then he touched that spot I hit every now and then in bathing, the one that aches like a tooth and seems to be all raw nerves. He knew what he was doing, because I certainly felt no pain now. To the contrary, I jerked about a foot with the bolt of pleasure that shot through me.

"Wow! Are you going to keep showing me more and more places that feel so good?" I murmured.

"Not so many places, just lots of ways to please them," he replied.

"As long as it's lots and lots," I sighed.

With this encouragement, he slid me around a little further, and began to earnestly handle my spot. I found I breathed only in time to his probing digit, as anything else distracted. The more he rubbed, the more I poured pussy juice in wild abandon, and tensed my body in a rhythm to match his hand. I reached a point where I knew I was clinging tightly with my arms about his shoulders, and then on to the place where I could not breathe at all, as he stoked my raging fires higher with each touch.

Then I, too, twitched and spasmed as he had done when he came. A ripple exploded from the inside of my pussy and roared up my abdomen to my vibrating nipples, and then across my chest and simultaneously up to my face. I sucked in a breath while I couldn't inhale. I locked every muscle solid at the same time I twitched and spasmed everywhere. I threw my head back while folding up like a fetus. I traveled to another world. I floated on an ocean of pussy juice and pleasure, and his hand.