0 comments/ 28736 views/ 4 favorites Alone in August, We Come Together By: ted_marx747 Note: All sexual activity in this story occurs between consenting adults who were at least 18 years of age at the time of all activity. I'm Jill, and I'm a year younger than my neighbor and dear friend Kyle. We grew up in a very repressed environment in the rural Midwest, both with strict Protestant upbringings, and had known each other since grade school. As teenagers, neither of us had much sexual experience. In fact, prior to the events I'm about to describe, Kyle essentially hadn't had ANY. We were very close in so many ways, as our homes were located in an exceptionally isolated farming area in Wisconsin, about a twenty-mile drive from the town where our high school was located. There weren't many other people our age around and really never had been, and neither of us had siblings. As for me, my sexual experience up to now was limited to being brought to orgasm just after my 18th birthday once by a guy who was a few years older than me. It was a few months ago, right at the end of the school year, and it was fantastic! We were in his car kissing and he asked me if I'd ever been made to come by a guy before, and when I said "No", he insisted on doing it to me with his hand. It worked. Oh man, how it worked. But alas, I learned shortly thereafter that he was doing this kind of stuff and more with a few other girls and was disgusted and hadn't spoken to him since. That changed something about me in dramatic fashion all the same: now that I'd felt the intense joy of an orgasm brought on by someone else, through something other than self-stimulation, I was on fire to experience it again and again. I planned on the real thing, the whole intercourse experience, happening soon for me and though I didn't have a boyfriend and didn't really want one, I had a few guys in mind who would surely fulfill this burning need of mine for sex, and had recently gone on the pill just to be ready. I planned to start the hunt for Mr. Right Now in the fall when school resumed. There weren't many guys around in the summer given where we lived, but that would all change once school started again. So, after enduring a few months of this frustration, I found myself with Kyle enjoying a late-August afternoon at the place our families shared at a lake in Wisconsin. It was our last afternoon together there, and after this, Kyle was going off to college. It was a great day, absolutely perfect for lying out in the sun. Our parents were all out fishing on the lake so Kyle and I were sunning ourselves on the dock outside the cottage. The place was located in a very remote little nook and no one could see us. Because Kyle and I had known each other so long, our friendship was almost sibling-like. Some aspects of it had grown confusing as we reached adolescence, as we changed from chasing each other around the woods and fields surrounding our homes, to talking about sex and things sexual. In our younger years, especially from third grade through about seventh, I looked up to Kyle as he was older than me and held the upper-hand in our interpersonal dynamics. Even though he could have dismissed me as a neighbor brat with braces and blonde pigtails, he showed me how to fish, helped bait my hook, didn't make fun of the way I threw a baseball, and stood up for me at school if someone picked on me. He comforted me in the summer when Lassie ran away and in the winter, when the snow monster attacked Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and I screamed, he told me that he'd seen the show before and that Rudolph would be okay, and he was right. As a result he had quite a lot of power over me and I adored him completely. He never abused this, with one exception. When I was about nine, I developed this incredible young-girl crush on him and it lasted for quite some time before transitioning from puppy love to merely liking him in an intense way. That summer in my bedroom, I set up a toy farm where I dreamed that he and I lived together as husband and wife. I remember having my dollhouse completely set up for our lives together. It was gigantic, almost as tall as me, something my dad had made for me in his wood shop out in the barn. I placed a small "Jill loves Kyle" sign hanging in the bedroom of the dollhouse, with two Barbie and Ken dolls lying in bed together. Off in the fields of my bedroom's carpet, I set up neat little plastic fences marking off crops and pastureland, with plastic cows grazing in the fields. It was pure fantasy and I thought only I knew what it meant. The Jill doll made meals in the kitchen while the Kyle doll cut down plastic trees, ran the tractor and tended to the livestock. I took this set-up down every night and stashed it in my closet, but one afternoon, the real Kyle busted into my room right after I'd set it up. I stood in breathless anticipation as he surveyed the scene, awaiting his reaction as his eyes settled on the dollhouse bedroom. To my dismay, he smirked at me and said "That's so stupid!" and went running outside laughing. I was so crushed, so hurt and embarrassed that I shrieked in horror and then cried off and on all night and didn't go outside to play with him at all the next day. When we next saw each other, it was awkward at first, but finally he asked me if I wanted to throw catch and I agreed. It was a hot afternoon and later on, as we drank some juice his mom had made for us, he said he was sorry for laughing at me. I didn't acknowledge this but instead said, "Let's throw catch some more," so off we went, and not another word was said about it. The dynamic of him having the upper-hand over me changed when I reached puberty. Even though he went through most of that before I did because he was older, he looked at me differently and acted almost meek around me as my breasts expanded and my little-girl antics contracted while I transformed into a young woman. It took a few years for all that to sort itself out, during which we didn't interact as much. In those summers, since no one else our ages lived around us, we spent a lot of time alone, not with each other, but by ourselves. Those were dark and lonely times as I recall. Finally, though, we matured physically and to a large extent emotionally, and became close friends again. We'd since had many honest discussions regarding how, despite finding each other very attractive, we could not cross the line and become boyfriend & girlfriend. Our friendship was far too precious to us both, we'd experienced too many pivotal parts of our young lives together to risk it on a relationship that would perhaps fail and ruin everything for good. That doesn't mean, of course, that there weren't interactions of a physical nature between us. These started right after I'd had that orgasm with that guy, and yes, I confess that I initiated this sort of activity as a way to release some of my pent-up desires. We were very "huggy" friends, often embracing each other for long periods, sometimes laying beside each other in one or the others' bedroom, arms around each other, talking about the deepest things in life. We occasionally shared a brief kiss on the lips, something I first initiated, and something that Kyle seemed to enjoy. All the same, these interactions weren't overt and didn't progress to more serious activity, and in fact the dynamic with us in that area was very complex, but it worked. In truth it made perfect sense: two people at the height of hormonal rage, who were the opposite sex and close friends and isolated physically from others couldn't keep all that pressure completely at bay. This closeness between us, despite our mutual understanding that ours was a friendship and nothing more, had recently begun teetering precariously on sexual tension, which is one of the reasons I wanted to wait until Kyle left for college before engaging in intercourse with these other potential mates. I didn't want to hurt him – despite our agreement that he and I were friends and friends only, I knew that if I had intercourse with someone else right under his nose, it would be very hard for him to accept. Kyle was fairly shy and he'd had only a few dates. He talked to me about his lack of action and I knew it was because he just wasn't aggressive enough. Kyle was indeed a good-looking guy, just too reserved. I hadn't told him about my orgasm in the car because I knew if I did, he'd only feel more inadequate since I was younger than him. I really felt bad for Kyle. I could tell that he was very frustrated and also very full of sexual needs. About a month ago, right after I initiated those brief pecks on the lips with him, I walked in on him in his bedroom once and caught him masturbating. I closed the door immediately and walked out, but not before noticing that he was holding a picture of me with his left hand, a wallet-size of my junior class photo. I saw it for just a split second, as he crumpled it in his palm the moment he heard me open his door. That was an awkward moment and he avoided me for several days afterward, though I was pretty sure he had no clue that I'd seen that he'd been holding the picture of me. Finally, I popped over to see him one afternoon and told him that what he was doing was normal, that I wasn't disgusted, and that he shouldn't be ashamed of himself. He broke down and cried on my shoulder over that. Another bonding moment, a pivotal one, like his turn at experiencing the shame I endured with the dollhouse fiasco many years prior. Moreover, though, he often looked at me, you now, "looked" at me. People said I was attractive, with long blonde hair and a favorable build; Kyle often told me I was the prettiest girl around the school. I'd be a senior in high school when classes resumed this fall, and it would be so different now with him in college. We both knew this was a big change for both of us, and that day on the dock, it almost seemed like he couldn't look at me enough. We were both in our bathing suits, lying next to each other, and he kept staring at my chest. I was wearing the skimpiest bikini my parents would allow, and it barely covered my nipples. We talked about many things and he kept looking at my body, and then he'd say he was sleepy and turn to his side, with his back to me. Truth is, he was getting an erection and didn't want me to see it, but his ploy wasn't working too well. I saw it through his shorts, and I felt bad for him because it must have been frustrating. But, being a bit devilish and hornier than ever myself, I didn't make the situation any easier for him. I loved seeing him get turned on by me, and for the last few months, right after I initiated those brief friendship kisses on the lips, we'd begun doing little things to one another in a teasing way, things that would make the recipient blush and start breathing heavy, which would make the provider do the same. We never talked about what we were doing or what the interaction was about, as if we both realized that if we talked about it openly, that would be taboo. We just did it, and built many of these little favors around deals, which I'll explain in a minute. Kyle would give me backrubs, good ones. That summer he often put my suntan lotion on, and he'd do my entire body, like he had that morning on the floor of the family room of our cabin. Slowly he'd rubbed the oil on my back, up my legs, inside my thighs, on my stomach, slowly, methodically, expertly. I loved it. He got right up to my crotch with his hand, and I told him I had sore muscles there, so with his hand pressed right up against my private parts, he rubbed back and forth and I started moving my hips to maximize the sensation. I'd never participated so aggressively in this part of the suntan application ritual though he'd allowed his hand to "slip on up there" before, but now I couldn't resist grinding away as he moved his hand back and forth on my leg and against my crotch, and I couldn't help myself. I knew he knew exactly what I was doing and that he could hear my breathing intensify but I didn't care, and I also didn't mind when all this motion started loosening one of the two knots holding on my red string bikini bottoms. Finally, I got the point where I was about to come and I had to squeeze my legs together so he'd know to stop. I didn't want him to see the wetness he'd made of my bikini, so when we walked to the dock, I kept my towel wrapped around me until I calmed down. As for me, the kisses had opened the door to more, and I soon found that he loved things I did to his ears. When in a conversation about something that would lead to an embrace, I'd playfully nibble on his earlobe, breathing heavily, and he'd freeze like a statue until a shiver would come over him, and then I'd let go. Sometimes I'd stick my tongue inside and go round and round, letting out a soft sigh once in a while, and he absolutely loved that. He'd shiver to where he couldn't speak, and I got an intense feeling of sexual satisfaction out of this. So that day, as we talked, as I saw him staring at my chest, I was teasing the daylights out of him. When he's say something funny I'd lean toward him and whisper "You're so silly" and snuggle up, gently grasping his ear with my teeth and then slipping in my tongue. I did it such that he had a perfect view of my cleavage and also pressed my breasts against his arm. This cycled on for a few hours and each time, he'd freeze up, and I'd notice the tent forming in his trunks, and then he'd turn his back to me saying he needed to close his eyes for a few minutes and snooze. I had a plan, one that I'd been caressing in my mind since we arrived in the cabin two weeks prior. I cared for Kyle, this lifelong friend of mine, so much that I didn't want him to go to college completely inexperienced. So, as a going away present, I wanted to make him feel the joy of an orgasm at my hand so he'd have more of a hunger for action and become more aggressive on dates. I knew this would work for him in that way after what had happened to me, and knew that a handjob would be enough. Furthermore, I knew that he'd like that, a lot. After all, it would be like me making his fantasy of the day I caught him with my picture come true, only he wouldn't be stroking himself and would be looking at the real me during it, not my picture. I didn't want to screw him, no, that would be way too intense and perhaps muck up the chances of this friendship lasting forever. But a handjob? What was that? Basically nothing, the way I saw it. Everyone was giving each other handjobs these days, if not blowjobs. Handjobs and blowjobs had replaced the good-night kiss on casual dates, so why not? We'd progressed from kisses to ear licking to suntan oil backrubs, so a handjob didn't seem like a big leap. I felt certain I could pull this off, so to speak, without it ruining our friendship or leading to anything more intense, especially given that he would be leaving for college in a matter of days. I was sure we would stop there, and furthermore, I knew in my heart that it would be good for him and help enrich his life, not just for that moment, but beyond. Okay, in truth I wanted to fuck the living daylights out of him, to have a screaming orgasm with him in anyway possible, either by his hand, penis or mouth. But I just couldn't. Not with the way we were raised almost as siblings, and with the friendship we so cherished. Because of the way our little games worked, the way we did things for each other but didn't really talk about it, it wasn't like I could just come out and say, "Hey Kyle, how about if I stroke you off?" No, it had to be more subtle than that, had to be a deal of some sort. Tit for tat, you might say. Speaking of which, one thing I really enjoyed was the way Kyle looked at my breasts. I wanted to bare them for him, and I knew he'd like that. I'd sure like that – to see his eyes fixated on the real thing, not just the cleavage, to see his mouth hang, his lips go dry, that shiver come across him. I'd long wanted to slowly reveal myself to him. In fact, I often fantasized about it, masturbated about it. I thought about doing more with Kyle when I played with myself of course, but that one image really held joy for me. But I couldn't exactly just bare them for him without any reason. Thus, the beginnings of a deal emerged. In our games that commenced that summer, we often had deals, as I said earlier. For example, he'd pretend to complain and say he really didn't want to put suntan lotion on me because it made his hands so greasy, but I knew he wanted to anyway, and he knew I wanted him to do it. So, I'd initiate a trade by saying something like, "Kyle, is that pulled hamstring from the track meet still bothering you?" "Yeah," he'd respond, "it's pretty sore today." "Okay, I need some sunscreen, so how about this. I'll work on the back of your leg for a bit if you'll help me out with the sunscreen." And he'd agree, faking reluctance, and off we'd go. I'd rub his thigh very sexually with oil on my hands and he'd get erect and all shaky with joy, and he'd then make me the same way with his sunscreen application. We'd both have a semi-sexual experience, but then again, because of the way we'd framed it, we could dismiss guilt inside because it was seemingly a transaction of functional favors. Complicated stuff, but incredibly enjoyable! So, back to my plan on making Kyle have the ultimate pleasure. His most recent date was a girl named "Kelly" and from what he'd told me, he gotten the furthest with her. They'd tongued each others'mouths in a deep kiss and he'd cupped her breast through her sweater. Big-time stuff for him. Hey, he was making progress. As we lay there, I kept adjusting my top as we talked and he watched every move, straining for a peak at my nipples. I did everything to keep my breasts at his eye level, right in his face, but never revealed even a peak of nipple. This went on for quite some time and I could see him getting frustrated, as if tortured. "Kyle, do you think you'll ever ask Kelly out again?" I asked at one point. "I don't know, she seemed kind of bored with me last time I talked to her," he replied. "Bored? She shouldn't have been, I mean, come on, you got to second base with her and everything." "Yeah, I felt her tits," he said. "Did you see them bare?" "No, I didn't. I told you that, didn't I?" "You like tits, don't you?" I asked. That question sure got his attention. His face reddened as he looked away from my face and back at my breasts, and he sat silently before saying, "What makes you say that?" "Well, you keep trying to look at mine today!" I answered with a laugh. He looked away as if embarrassed and disgusted, so I had to ease his mind. "Don't be shy or anything, it just means your normal." He said nothing and I too stayed silent until he again looked in my eyes. "Is it really second base if you touch a girl's breast but don't see them?" I asked. "I don't know, not sure what the rules are," he said. "I'm thinking I never got to second base with a guy because I've never shown any guy my breasts," I said. It was a lie, but it intensified his interest. "Really? Never?" "Nope. But don't look at me like I'm some kind of prude. I'd love to show a guy my breasts but the situation just hasn't been right." I smiled at him and waited for his reply. "Yeah," he said after a few seconds, "no girl's ever seen my package, either, let alone touched it. But you know that, you'd have been the first I'd have told if THAT were to happen." "Is that something you'd like? To show yourself to a girl and have her touch you there?" "Of course," he answered. "It would be a dream!" "I've never seen a guy's penis before nor touched it. That would be a dream for me too," I said, looking away from his eyes. This one actually was true. I didn't return the favor to the guy that night, just didn't feel like it, and he wasn't happy with me. But so it goes. Alone in August, We Come Together I stretched over to Kyle and hugged him, holding him close, and he returned the embrace as we lay side-by-side. I nuzzled up to his ear and breathed in and out, right into it. With no breeze, it was incredibly still that afternoon and I could hear his heavy breathing and even his heart racing. "Kyle", I whispered. "We could really do each other a favor if we keep it a secret." I flicked my tongue very lightly around the outside of his ear. "I'm listening," he answered, his voice cracking in a strained whisper. "I'd like to show you my breasts to see what you think of them," I said. "Are you sure?" he asked. We weren't looking each other in the face as I kept my head pressed against his cheek to save each other the embarrassment. "Yeah, no guy's ever seen them so your opinion would be important to me if you can be honest." "I'd be honest," he whispered. "But there's something I'd really like, too," I said. "I want to see you, and touch you. Would you be okay with that, or is that just too much?" His entire body convulsed as he grasped me even tighter, and I felt him stretch out entirely as we lay next to each other, arching his back, almost as if he was stretching even his toes. He stayed like that for several seconds before speaking, and then he said, "Is that something you'd enjoy?" "Yes," I answered. "In truth, I don't want to just touch you there, I want to, you know, TOUCH you there for as long as it takes." He convulsed again and buried his chin into my shoulder. Then he asked in a strained whisper, "Why would you want to?" "Kyle," I said, "just tell me if that would make you uncomfortable and we can forget the whole thing. But I think if I did that, you might be better off when you start going out on dates with college girls." "It wouldn't make me too uncomfortable, not too uncomfortable if you did that," he said quickly. "It is just a handjob, afterall, no big deal," I said. "Yep, you're right." Okay then," I said, "but we'd better go up to the loft so we're absolutely sure no one can see us." Without a word we stood up and gathered our towels, and thinking ahead, I grabbed the suntan lotion. Before we started off, we exchanged a glance and I felt the nervousness in my face and saw it in his eyes, and smiled at him. He didn't return my smile but grabbed my hand, which I thought was sweet, though his palm had turned very cold and sweaty. We went into the cabin, climbed the stairs into the guest bedroom, and Kyle reached up to pull down the foldaway ladder that led to the loft. Without speaking I started up first with him behind. The windows were open in the loft which kept the temperature nice and the room semi-lit, and it was very plain up there, no furniture, just a soft, plush carpet, and a few swim toys stashed away from when we were younger. The area was quite small. You couldn't stand up the whole way and with the two of us up there, we would be adjacent to one another. We sat beside each other and sat in silence, and I smirked in embarrassment. I had convinced myself for that moment that this was no big deal, just one of those things we would do, and as thoughts to the contrary entered my mind, I quickly dismissed them within my raging excitement. "Are you ready?" I asked, my mind and heart set on making this transpire. He looked down for a second and said, "Sure." "I'll show you my breasts first," I said. My heart was pounding, and Kyle seemed almost afraid of me and he sort of collapsed back on his elbows as I kneeled before him, and he seemed to be scooting himself back against where the roof and the wall came together as if trying to get away from me. "Sure you're ready?" I asked. He nodded "Yes". Like in my fantasy, I sat before him on my knees with my legs folded under me, arched my back up high, and kept my eyes fixated on his. His were darting from my eyes to my breasts. Slowly I reached up behind my neck, behind my blonde hair, and found where the string tied. I undid the knot, which seemed to take forever, and then brought my hands forward now, and gradually, very slowly, lowered the top of my bikini, exposing myself to him. I saw him shiver as he caught the first glimpse of my nipples, and I leaned forward as I now completely removed my top, putting my breasts within inches of his face. He stared in wild-eyed fascination and I felt an incredible rush of sexual energy with the exposure of myself to him, and I loved that feeling and the rush of excitement it brought to both him and to me. I looked at his swimming trunks and he had a full erection. "Kyle," I said softly, "you can touch them." And he did so, reaching up with a nervous hand, his fingers cold and tentative at first, tapping around on the sides and then eventually cupping both breasts in his hands, pressing them, feeling their texture, and then working on the nipples with his fingers. His eyes were wide like an animal's and I closed mine, enjoying the sensation of Kyle's hands touching me this way. "You can put your mouth on me," I said in a breathy whisper. He did so, gently, first one nipple, then the other, sucking and licking while I ran my fingers through the hair on the back of his head. I breathed heavily at this and for a moment I felt like jumping him, stripping off both of our bottoms and screwing the daylights out of him. But then somehow my senses came back to me and I thought forward to the complexity that might bring, and remembered what this was all about. Him. Me giving him an orgasm. "Kyle," I said, I'll keep my top off and you can keep touching me like that if you want, but it's my turn now. My turn to see you and touch you." He didn't say anything and immediately let go of both breasts, and he went back to that position of putting his elbows into the carpet as if trying to scoot away from me as I lay down beside him. "Are you ready?" I asked. "I think so," he said nervously, now not looking at me but at his own crotch. I noticed that he wasn't erect like he had been, a bit of a bulge but definitely in retreat. "Do you want to pull them down or should I?" I asked. "I don't care," he answered. I wasn't sure what to make of this. I wanted to make him have this orgasm out of loving concern, and honestly, seeing him nude wasn't going to do anything for me sexually, though I very much did want to see the look on his face when he came. I started to worry that this was going to be a bit of a challenge. He seemed uncomfortable and exceptionally nervous, not like anything I'd ever seen before in him. "You okay? You seem really tense." I said. "I am," he answered, biting his lip. "But I'll be okay." With that, he quickly reached down, lifted up his butt and in one motion pulled his trunks down to his knees, and looked away in the other direction. He wasn't erect. I sat silently as I lay right beside him, my head propped up on my hand, staring at his penis and scrotum. Then I looked up at him, noting his heavy breathing, and the way he was seemingly staring away as if trying to separate him from what was going on. I leaned to his ear and said "You're beautiful." He kept his head turned away and said "Your breasts are too." I nibbled on his ear for a second, then lifted my head and reached my hand to his inner thigh. Kyle immediately sat up grabbing my hand and said, "I think we can stop with that now." I didn't know what to do! I had to go through with this, absolutely knew that if I didn't, if we didn't, he'd be even MORE nervous and unsure of himself when he had a date in college. So, I stuck to the original deal. "Kyle, you have to let me touch you like we agreed." "I know, but this is a bit more intense than I thought it would be," he said. "You'll be okay, Kyle. It's me, Jill," I said, whispering very softly in his ear. "I'm your little friend, you know, the girl who goes fishing with you, who used to run around in the woods with you and play catch with you when we were kids." I stopped for a second to let him absorb what I was saying, and then continued, still whispering. "Whatever happens now, this is just you and me. No one will know and I can't possibly hurt you. It's just my hand. You'll be better off in the end if we just do this, you have to trust me. You'll enjoy it, believe me." He sat there shivering, his knees up with his hands clasped around them, not looking at me. Then he said, "Maybe I'm afraid I'll like it too much." "That's the whole idea," I answered. We sat silently as I awaited his response, but he said nothing. Finally, I said, "Kyle, you have to sit back now. I want to touch you, now, come on, this is for you." "I don't want us to do this, Jill," he said, his voice cracking. He took his hands off his knees and turned toward me wrapping his arms around me and buried his head in my shoulder. "Lay back now, Kyle" I said, forcing him back with my body. I put my face right up to his and said very softly and gently, "I'll help you through this. It will be okay. You HAVE to trust me." He said nothing. "Okay?" I asked softly. Finally he sighed heavily and whispered very softly, "Ok." I tilted up on my side and took his hand and put it on my breast and then grabbed his other wrist with one hand, so that I had him sort of pinned beneath me. Before doing anything else, I swirled my tongue in his ear, thoroughly massaging it for a few minutes, saying very quietly between soft moans and purrs, "It will be okay. It won't take long and I'm doing this to help you. Remember, it's just my hand." Then gently, very gently as if not to awaken a prowler, I lifted my head and saw that he was erect again. I gingerly slipped out of his grasp and halfway sat up, grasped his trunks and gently removed them entirely. He kept his hand on my breast the entire time. Then I lay back down and grasped his wrist as I had before, and asked softly, "Are you ready now?" "Okay," he whispered. He was lying on his back and I pulled slightly toward him so that his leg closest to me rested against mine on the carpet, and with my free hand eased his other leg open. With the back of my hand, I began gently brushing his inner thighs, first one, then the other, and then concentrated on the thigh that lay next to me, kneading it with my palm. Slowly I worked my upward and his breathing became heavier, and I brushed the bottom of his scrotum with the back of my hand before turning to cup it with my palm. This caused him to shiver intensely so I stopped there and just held him while he buried his head into my shoulder even harder. "Please just stop Jill" he pleaded in a whisper. Whispering right into his ear, I said, "Kyle, but you just have to trust me. You'll be okay in just a few minutes, just hang in there." I took this interruption as an opportunity to let go of him for a second, and I sat up, and without letting him see what I was doing, reached for the suntan lotion and applied a good amount to my hand. Then I got us back where we were, laying side by side, me grasping his wrist with my one hand after urging him to place the other on my breast. Now I very gently grasped his scrotum with my lubricated hand and massaged it a bit, and he arched himself again, letting out an "Oh God" murmur as he felt the slippery warmth of my palm, and with that, I slowly worked up his shaft, and he kept trying to scoot away from me as I worked my way upward, but he couldn't slip away any further because now the wall was in the way. "It's okay," I reassured him in a whisper. "It's just me, just my hand and fingers, just you and me." Finally my hand reached the head of his penis and when I enveloped it with my fingers and palm, he dug his chin into my shoulder so hard that it almost hurt and said "Good Jesus, oh Jill!" I stopped there to comfort him once again, whispering, "Kyle, it's okay, just enjoy this. Remember, it's just me, Jill." And I firmly stroked downward in a slow but deliberate motion, which drew all the air out of him, and though he again buried his chin into me, this time I didn't stop, but raised my hand again, and now stroked up and down again very slowly. Then again, and then again, then repeatedly, but very slowly, with him groaning in my ear. And finally, finally, I noticed his hips pumping along with me, working with me. That did it for me too, really got me excited, so now I pressed my crotch up next to his leg, firmly planting myself as best I could against his hip, and gently began rubbing myself against him. Then we kissed, not the quick peck on the lips but a long, lasting, deep kiss where we explored each others' mouths thoroughly with our tongues, eyes closed, then open, then shut again. I pulled away and put my forehead against his, my eyes level with his eyes and saw that now he had fire in them, they were wide open now, and I whispered "I want to see your face" and kept stroking while I rolled my hips against him in rhythm. I spread my legs open so that I could place my genitals more firmly against him. Once again, the tie on my bikini bottoms loosened and this time came completely undone, so that now the front fell down. Naked in this way, I couldn't fight the urge to press myself even more firmly into him. I kept stroking him and rubbing myself against him with my legs spread, my thigh draped across his. He had to know what was happening for me, had to feel my wet pubic hairs and bareness against his leg, and as he got more excited, so did I, and it was all I could do to control myself, to keep from climbing on top of him and slipping his penis inside me. As my breathing intensified his did as well, and he finally started shivering intensely, moaning, and he then raised his bottom up and held it there in an arch and I kept stroking, faster now. Finally, with a wince and a hearty groan, he blew his load all over both of us, and we now buried our faces into each other. We sat there clutching each other for several minutes, neither of us speaking, and though he lay still, I kept rubbing myself against him, getting closer and closer to my own orgasm. Finally I said, "Kyle, was I right? Did you enjoy it?" "Yes," he answered. "Like you wouldn't believe." I smiled and whispered to him gently through my heavy breaths, all the while still grinding into his leg, "I told you so, told you that you would. Now remember, you must always, ALWAYS trust your little friend Jill about these things." But it wasn't over, as all those values and concerns about intercourse with him quickly became overshadowed by my own fire. I wanted him inside me, considered begging him for it but couldn't say the words despite my intense desire. So, I continued rhythmically rubbing against him, and he pressed back into me, helping me, urging me on without saying a word. Now he was the nurturer and he took his hand gently down to me and said, "It's all okay, like you said it would be", and after I grasped his hand and guided him to the right spot, he stroked me a few times, which was all it took to bring me to the brink of my own orgasm. He intuitively sensed that I was about to come, and now taking full charge, Kyle rolled me over and gently slid his still-hard penis into my wet vagina while planting his mouth on mine. He pumped away at me, for my benefit and my joy, both of us moaning the entire time, and the feeling of the fullness of his penis moving in an out of me, and the tugging sensation at my already-swollen clitoris, completely occupied every nerve in my body as our tongues again searched throughout each others' mouths.. It only took about a dozen pumps before I became the one stretching out completely, my toes arching and curling downward until they hurt, and as the most intense shiver of the day erupted throughout me, I screamed in orgasmic furry as I now turned him back on his side, pinning him against the wall, grinding and squeezing and pumping, my fingernails digging into his back, and then he shouted as he too came, for a second time. We stayed interlocked like that, still pumping gently, until the intense feelings finally started to ebb. Then we held each other in stillness for many minutes, neither speaking, our bodies as one. Finally we pulled apart. We sat looking at each other in silence, and there was no awkwardness. At last, he spoke. "We should probably go back and sun some more before our parents get back." I smiled at him and said, "Yeah, I suppose you're right." We sat silently again, looking deep into each others eyes. "You know," he said, "I really was sorry for laughing at your farm and the dollhouse that day." "That's okay," I answered. "I'm sorry I busted into your room without knocking, too." He smiled. "You probably saw that I was holding your picture, didn't you? Be honest." "Yes," I said, "I did see it, but I didn't think you knew that." "I wasn't sure," he said. "But I sort of put it all together today." And with that, we gathered up our towels and put ourselves back together, and went back to the dock, and for the rest of the trip and the drive home, though we didn't speak about what happened, our exchanged glances and the look in our eyes had a knowing smirk of mutual joy, deepened love for each other, and anticipation of many wonderful things to come that we would enjoy together. Author's note: feedback appreciated, and please note your gender. Thanks!