The Deflowering of Youth Pt. 01

I am far from unique in the world, but I have recognized the deep-seated aspects of myself and can relate to them daily, and thus, find a pleasure in sharing these incidents and people with the fantasy-rich audience of Avid Reader, who is abundantly populating the erotica boards. There are always going to be Origination Stories behind all epic sagas, and many who have attached themselves to Sabrina in my Ruthless Tease series, or the awakening of her ability to Tease and torment the men in her life, might find interest to learn of the series of events that shaped my earliest experiences with the genre, that of unrestrained, overwhelming cockteasing, at the hands (and body) of a knowing, and mercilessly bratty woman, knowing she is doing it and loving the power and impact it has over whomever she targets.

My own foray into the world of exhibitionism, voyeurism and ultimately the role of witness to and victim of direct, purposeful sexually charged cock stimulation without touch, and resultant embarrassing and sometimes public impact of that effort...began LONG ago. Prior to the age of cellphones, internet and even silicone enhanced curves...my youth was in the ever-free 80's, and it was virtually impossible to see the likes of Playboy Playmates in your average world. It just didn't exist, and there was no venue for it, especially as a young teenage boy to have ANY access to the kind of hyper-sexually intense emotions that would stem from being near provocative, goddess-formed women. I couldn't purchase a Playboy magazine, having only turned 18 a week prior, and carrying the genetic makeup of a much younger teen despite my legal age, or for that matter the more risqué and libido inciting Hustler or Penthouse or High Society or even OUI, if you, Avid Reader, remember some of those names. The later devotion I would attribute to the onset of 'niche' magazines in my life such as GENT, Score or Juggs...would stem from this first event I will relate—forever fixating me on the power of deep, luscious curves and the women who know they inspire erections—be they privately intimate and furious ones...or public and embarrassing and vulnerable events.

I love the very real art of teasing, no question...always have...going all the way back to my FIRST sexual experiences, and I mean that from the view of like EARLY ages, etc...not knowing a damn thing! Just the lusts and wonderings of a young man, partially in awe of every new experience or view for that matter (consider first deep, downblouse cleavage impact, or first hardened nipple under T-shirt without bra), and partially in awe equally with the inevitable impact these visions would cause his body.

Most of these categories of boys would have furtive rubs and squeezes with an equally nubile young hussy in a backseat; others would clench their teeth and grimace to the unexpected boiling of lust over a close slow dance; and still others would be long-acquainted friends with their young cocks by manually stimulating them to excess in bathrooms and bedrooms across America. But my first ever orgasm was in public! Ughh, right? Let me "paint" this picture, Avid Reader, and I ask only that you consider my inexperience and impressionability, and give my young version of me, some slack for the helpless manner I enter the world of sexual stimulation and gratification.

I, as I soon learned, would not be in charge of my own body, that too frighteningly, was all in the hands of a goddess of a late twenty-something young Mom, lounging on a sun chair somewhere in Middle California, circa 1981, on a sweltering day of clear skies, raucous pool antics, and an unassuming young boy/forming man about to cross a threshold not only of his psyche, but absolutely his body, would never forget or be able to handle.

I was at a public pool in my neighborhood, and sweating mundane things like passing my Driver's Test, and whether to ask a girl to prom, etc! But I was out, sunning, swimming with some random friends from the neighborhood, and this woman, a blonde, busty older woman—to me that is at the time-approached, sunhat, long flowing sun drape racily flowing like a neon tail in the wind behind her as she walked, catwalk style with her feet staying in a line only she knew was there, and passed by me, her red floppy bag slung over her shoulder, and after surveying the lay of the land, chose a chaise recliner chair only two away from me to my right.

I started every single thing in life...late. I didn't even learn how to drive a stick shift until a week before my 18th birthday, making my foray into owning a car something to look forward to still. I hadn't had a first kiss, unless you call my hilariously embarrassing attempt to kiss Beth Armstrong, my babysitter one helpless evening after being watched, which didn't even land on skin! No, I managed to delay anything that involved nerves or getting up the courage to beat them.

So too was my woeful ascent to manhood. I knew what I wanted, I seemed to have telltale pajama dampness very frequently, but I had NEVER experienced a conscious, on purpose orgasm, either solo or with a partner. At least not until this fateful day in the life of Everyday Virgin-Me.

I had no clue that my life, and every relationship from then on, and every fantasy for the next ten years, would either be directly related to this woman, or in some portion to the impact she was about to have on my pliable mind and body. She had an impossibly sexy body, and this girl next door look, but she was a vision. Two other women, lovely to be sure, but nothing compared to the other-worldly level of sexual appeal that she had, would join her minutes later, thankfully sitting on the lounges past her leaving space between us.

I could catch small sections of conversation, but honestly, I hadn't yet fully been captured. I knew she was curvy to some extent, and lovely, but I wasn't transfixed, having only seen the entrance...a covered up one at that. I heard her mention something about how satisfying being a mother is, and other tidbits, but she was a MOM. It made her a whole other level of unattainable in my fledgling mind, and an older woman that I barely even registered at that moment. I should have run screaming for help. Let me share more Avid Reader, let your mind travel back to your beginnings and tell me if you would behave better in my place.

She was older, yes, but at that age, that may have been, oh, 28 or 30 I don't know. Easily older than me and so freaking far outside even my ability to dream of...until then! After those rather mundane first fifteen or so minutes of chatting and pulling out sunning supplies and glasses and water, she began what was my irreversible descent into depravity. She stood, her back to me as she was standing next to her chaise, and I glanced over. She was lifting her long strawberry hinted blonde hair out from under the drape, and leaning her head back, and every so slowly began to turn to her right, so now I have a profile. Jeezus.

She then untied her cover-up and let it fall daintily off her shoulders to mid-back, then with an incidental and uncaring look, she glanced my way, and it was an icy stare, like she knew she would draw attention but argued in her eyes that it was her private time, to bug off. I glanced down ashamed to have been lost in stare, but it didn't last. I peeked back up as she let the wrap fall off her to the pool deck. She then sweetly lifted first one leg, then the other, to remove her deck sandals, a pair of tan, low-rise heels with a daisy flower petal toe-thong, and held them in one hand leaning down to put them neatly under the edge of her chair. The way she meticulously set her sunning area, made me believe was how she cared for herself and that goddess figure she had. It was infectious, like getting to watch the Changing of the Guard, there was a ritualistic manner to her behavior, practiced, swan-like, captivating.

For the first time, I got the raw impact of what her body looked like, and her bikini she chose to frame it in. Devastating is the only way to describe the effect on me. I will forever harden almost involuntarily at anything hot-pink from now on thanks to her. Her bottoms were a wet-look black, tiny, high rise on the hips, with a swatch of hot pink right at the hip bone, and she was sure to lift there, tightening the already miraculous fit they had on her hourglass form. She turned and twisted to peek at her own ass, God yes it was perfect, but it paled compared to her chest.

Her top was all hot-pink. What little bit of material there was to call a color at all, that is. Tiny, string-like straps, curled around her neck, and then began to separate from her skin as they were tautly and almost dangerously so, pulled to the point of struggling to hold the tiny triangles of Lycra material covering her breasts. Did I say covering, I should say barely covering her nipples? I knew nipples existed, sure. Just never had seen one, nor thought so feverishly about wishing I was tasting one, then at that moment.

She then went through an excruciating sequence of stretching the triangles to further cover her spectacular flesh, only making the resulting movement of all that bountiful flesh a form of torture for my feeble mind. Upon satisfaction that she was 'decent', she then picked up her cover-up, folded it neatly, placing it in the bag, and sat, knees pointed directly towards me, but firmly locked together and not budging.

I remember like yesterday the next thing she did, because it was the tipping point. It was "that" moment. The thing locking me forever as hers, and for that moment, as impossibly transfixed to the point of shame. Now, to be clear on the impact of her tits, I need to dedicate a moment to their description and presence. Yes, she was in an overtly sexy bikini, with a scandalously TINY top. Many women had some sexy bikinis there that day, but it was what she had physically that set her apart and made her devastating to me. Now, her tits were big, but this was pre-silicone enhancements, so natural, large bouncing, and moving breasts were not only foreign, but a conundrum.

The thing is, she was an athletically lithe figure. Taut, firm abs that made me sick with an ache I didn't recognize until much later as a bit of jealous and a bit of lust and admiration all rolled into one. And GOD, her tiny, teenager like ass, but so round, firm and muscular too...she was FIT! Then, out of nowhere, these massive, gravity defying breasts, with a gut-wrenching wobble at the top, and a cavernous cleavage that went for at least a foot above the string barely holding them together in the front and another six inches below, was just a contradiction in physics. How did this tiny, sexy woman have the genetic mapping to create the skeleton of a petite angel while giving her the balcony of a porn star gone viral?

At first I was just aware of her and uncomfortable, being so inexperienced, and never seeing a body like that so close. As she was two lounge chairs away, and seemed to not notice me, I grew braver in my longing stares. I think I lost track of time but honestly, I remember feeling a closeness to a God of some sort, feeling for sure there must be one to have made this creature, but then also for allowing timing and fate to put her this close to me.

She then leaned forward, flattening against her thighs as she reached for the sunscreen she had taken out earlier, just beyond reach. I remember feeling my senses reel and going light headed, as those tits smashed into her thighs and splayed off the sides of them and ballooned over the tops of her suit and looked monstrous. I swallowed hard, and lost some concentration, feeling as if I was falling a little bit. I think I was holding my breath, transfixed. She got her sunscreen and started with her delicate feet, which were pointing jauntily my direction and even from my four or five feet away could see a tiny silver toe ring on her second toe on her left foot (my right), and a butterfly tattoo on the top of her other foot about the size of a golf ball, but it was clear, and on her looked so god damn good it hurt.

She worked the white cream, not oil, into her feet and between her toes, slight smile on her face like the pleasure of touching her made even herself happy. I didn't doubt that it did, and believe I offered my soul to whichever deity was listening if I could but once feel a woman like that. Then the smoothing of her lightly bronzed skin moved upwards, from her thin ankles where a small, delicate chain hung with a solitary charm—a clover—dangled.

Then her calves, firm, muscular and lean were liberally doused and then rubbed until they glistened tantalizingly. Then she separated from her thighs, straightening up and squirted new lotion onto her palms and smoothed them together before rubbing them into her thighs, one by one, and, Avid Reader, I had lost all decorum by then as was openly gaping at her miraculous tits, moving and wobbling with each gesture and effort.

To this day, I don't know why she stayed pointed my direction instead of on her lounge, and going about things naturally. But I wasn't complaining either. Oh, the time she spent craning her neck forward to see her own tummy, as she smoothed the lotion on that washboard region, was difficult, but when she then went to her chest, and began smoothing white liquid on, between, under and across her unbelievable tits, I was in trouble, just not knowing it at the time. It was as if all of time stopped, and a perfection of genetics was introducing me to why I'm on Earth...to procreate, make more humans...fuck.

The instinctual "rightness" of witnessing her right there was still out of body, still not real to me. More like a movie or story in a book. But then...and it was an electric shock of horror in realization...I am staring at her as she had risen, straightened her suit AGAIN, and then turned to bend and set her towel straight on her chaise, her athletic body a perfect 90 degree angle with a rear view of a definitive gap between her thighs and where her pussy would be only a flimsy layer of cloth from my lustful gaze, and then the impact of seeing her breasts wobbling and moving visible even from behind, put me mindless. Her body was devastating to me, my heart was racing and I was dizzy as well, I can still feel it. But trust me when I say I wasn't ready for what happened next.

She then sat down, her tits bounced and lolled side to side, with her acting like it was fully normal to be so fucking hot and sexy, and she is wiping little remnants of sunscreen off her tummy (still see it like yesterday!), and she glances over, no big deal, and starts to look away. All this time up until then she hadn't even feigned a glance at the youth having a meltdown mere feet from her. Now with that quick glance, I felt my cheeks flush red, but couldn't stop watching, not aware of privacy or propriety even! I Just was in awe.

Then she double takes and is looking back, but not at ME or I should say not at my eyes. She is looking down, further, and in a moment of terror I realize I've begun to get hard. UGhh. Of course I was, but I genuinely wasn't connected to that thought. I'd never had a woman, girl or even climax, so the preamble to all of that was also oddly fresh and unexpected to me. She is looking and I can't avoid the fact.

Nervously, and unsure even what to expect, I dared to look where her eyes were, and to my horror an obvious tent was forming, the pointing straight up type, and it was NO mistaking I was hardening...Oh my god. I scared myself further inside, afraid to move and acknowledge what is happening, thinking maybe I can act nonchalant and diffuse the situation. It also is that moment that I realize how many people are around...and then fearfully looked back at her and it was crushing! She is slightly grinning!! Oh Fuck!

I didn't need to be experienced to know I was exhibiting a blatantly obvious desire to fuck. My young body was absorbing all the physical impact of this woman who at this point was not attempting to do anything but enjoy a warm California day. It was too much, I felt my cock lurch and stretch fully erect in seconds, straightening and going off to the side at a ribald angle, and hardening into a firm, iron ridge of erection. I didn't breathe, and my eyes were watering. I was frozen.

The internal emotions and feelings of my helpless to stop it reaction was part awe and fully shame as well. I knew it was not right to be so obviously erect over a stranger in a public place like this, but it was something I had no control over and I merely witnessed the effect and shuddered inside not knowing what she would do, say or act like. Would she call attention to it and chastise me? Tell friends and mock me? Would she be disgusted? I had no idea and that perilous feeling while helplessly throbbing, was torment of an unequaled level to me.

She shook her head a little and I heard her giggle and smile bigger and then she looked at me, and winked and put her glasses on and leaned back. I was mortified, scared out of my mind, embarrassed, and impossibly hard (I truly had never had that kind of erection yet in my life) ...not knowing what to do.

Now I don't have a Monster Cock, assuredly. But neither do I have a minuscule one. It is in the just over seven inches and rather thick variety (all measurements I would learn years later when active), so in my youth, and with my younger, smaller body than now, it was quite an obvious condition, and there was no mistaking this woman knew I was suffering a public torment at the sight of her and had then been the victim of an unwanted and intense spontaneous erection over her.

The scariest of all realizations was the poisonous cocktail of emotions racing through me at that very moment. When I realized she KNEW she had made me hard like this, and my profound terror riveting me to my position, breathless and in total turmoil, keeping me prisoner to the moment, I felt the horrific rumblings of what this prelude and result were creating. I didn't know precisely what it meant, I only knew it was something I'd never felt before and most likely it would not end well.

Now, up until this moment I don't know that I had really paid attention to her mouth, her teeth, her smile or her sexy lips. But dazzling, white teeth were also surrounded by plush, naturally hued rosy lips, with what appeared a natural glistening shine on them to inspire with them alone the kind of hardon I had now. It was all too painful to recognize she was coyly toying with her tongue along those lips and from the angle of her head had me in her sights behind her shades, and probably was relishing the exquisite torment her beauty was putting me through.

She could not stop smiling slyly, or touching her tiny triangles of fabric, making a movement, glancing at me, smiling, giggling, shaking her head more, then pretending to wipe sweat from between her tits, rolling her shoulders forward and pursing her lips like she was posing for one of those magazines I later would succumb to frequently with her in mind. And when she did that, I remember going gray around the fringe of my vision, and the ache in my loins and head were simultaneously a formed misery of lust I don't know that I've ever equaled. It was significantly too much. I knew I was headed somewhere horrible and embarrassing, but for money or my life, I would not have been able to avoid it, or even given the option, would have wanted to.

I remember for a fleeting, nearly instantaneous flash of clear thought, that I should run, turn over, hide, die...something! But I was beginning the rollercoaster ascent to a peak I wasn't yet aware of. The slow burn, the climb, was happening—firing signals from every synapse that was possible—that I was racing towards an outcome. I soon would suffer something that would change my social and sexual proclivities and in the short term, scar me and my confidence drastically, to a decidedly bad level, but I had no way, no skill or experience within me to avoid it.