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The closeted life of a boy’s boarding school in Yorkshire, with its Dickensian regime, and early morning runs, had ill prepared me for contact with the opposite sex. I knew the physical differences of course, Harrison Marks and Health and Efficiency were the sex educators for boys in the early nineteen sixties.

So what did we know way back then. Well, Health and Efficiency had ensured we knew about breasts, that they came in different shapes and sizes and they almost always involved the throwing of a beach ball at some nudist camp.

How he ever managed to get those pictures in our climate completely eluded us but that didn’t matter. We had pictures of breasts, or tits as we called them. The word boobs was years away in the future.

It was the lower half of the pictures that failed us, the men always had their backs to the camera and the girls just had a uniform, airbrushed area between their legs. Not a pubic hair in sight, and certainly no hint of a vagina. Did girls grow pubic hair? We didn’t know for sure, and what went on between their legs was a complete mystery.

Actually, in the mid sixties, that was pretty irrelevant as our interest was focused on breasts. We all longed to touch one, to feel its texture and marvel at it, was it soft and squishy, or was it firm and hard? The thought of actual sex was still considered as something girls would allow only once they were married, as an unwanted pregnancy was going to ruin both your lives. It certainly never occurred to us that girls might enjoy it.

By now you must be getting a picture of the public face of sex in the early sixties. Among teenage boys there was no knowledge, no porn worthy the name, not even soft core magazines, and definitely no internet. We hoped for a fumble at a party, and the absolute height of our ambition was to be allowed to feel inside her panties, but that was less likely than a moon landing then. Actually just to touch the thigh above the silken top of her stockings was the stuff of many a masturbation fantasy and masturbation was something we were quite expert at.

Term had just ended and I was looking forward to the long summer holiday in my new home. While I was at school my parents had moved to a remote corner of the countryside, six miles from the nearest village and with very few other houses around. It was not only remote, it was actually an island.

It all sounds very Robinson Crusoe but it wasn’t really like that. Several other families lived on the island which was joined to the mainland by a causeway. There was plenty to explore and do, including an old monastery, rabbits to shoot at, if not actually hit, boats to mess about in and so on. So life for a teenage boy was pretty good and it was about to get a whole lot better.

Walking over the hills one sunny afternoon I was hailed by a female voice.

“Shot anything then?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m much better at hitting bottles than rabbits.” And that is how I first met Jenna. Jenna was short and petite with a beguiling smile that produced dimples in both cheeks. Her very dark hair framed her boyish face and her eyes sparkled.

I, of course, was just about completely tongue tied. This apparition was a girl! A girl who was chatting to me as if we came from the same planet, which in those days, we most certainly did not. Anyway, somehow I got over the shock of talking to a real girl. We introduced ourselves and over the next few weeks actually became friends.

We walked over the hills together, boated together and spent a lot of time in each other’s company. We were the only two youngsters, of our age group, for miles around.

Late in July, Jenna suggested we take the boat to one of the many other islands for a picnic. Most of these islands could be walked around in an hour, had ruins of long forgotten farms and were simply fun to explore. A little more Robinson Crusoe, if you like.

It was a stunning day with clear blue skies and the promise of being a real scorcher. I naturally, took a big towel and my swimming trunks along with our fairly rudimentary picnic.

We got into our craft, which was little more than a fibreglass rowing boat with a tiny outboard engine, and put putted for about fifteen minutes to the largest of the nearby islands. I, of course, as the boy, sat at the back in control while Jenna lolled about in the bow trailing her hand in the water.

I tried not to bonus veren siteler look. I tried so hard not to look, but there was an awful lot of leg on display right up to the frayed edges of her skimpy shorts, and my mind set about wondering what went on just out of my sight. What was it that was only just hidden by those shorts?

I realised my thoughts were running away with me as I felt the stirring of an erection. Oh no! Fuck it, please no. Not now. Not here. So I looked around at the scenery, the water, actually anything that would take my mind of those silken thighs.

It worked: just, and by the time we reached our destination my penis was behaving itself. This could have been such a disaster as Jenna was my only friend and she was really good company. She was also very self assured, which I put down to her being a couple of yeas older than me.

We ‘explored’ the island, wandering through the deserted ruins, wondering who lived here, when and what they did for a living. The island was so small it can hardly have provided an income. We ate our rudimentary picnic in the sun, sheltered from the breeze coming up the lough, by the corner of a ruined barn and chatted idly about nothing in particular.

It was a hot sultry afternoon and I don’t remember who made the suggestion, but it was agreed that a swim would be a really good idea, to cool off. The lough was hardly known for its warm waters as most of it was replaced each high tide by water straight out of the ocean, but it would certainly cool us.

So we went for a swim, after modestly changing into our swimming kit with the aid of large towels and convenient walls. The water was cold: bloody cold, hardly surprising in mid July, but what had seemed like a great idea quickly turned into something of a torture session.

We swam around for a while and, as expected, the water was freezing.

“Bit refreshing!” Said Jenna, as she made a few powerful strokes away from the rocky shore, “in fact a little too refreshing for me.” And she struck out for the shallows again. I, not being conscious of any etiquette, got to the shore first.

She struggled a bit over the larges pebbles and, as she passed me, I couldn’t help noticing how much her nipples were sticking out. I’d never heard of this phenomenon before and certainly never witnessed it. I was fascinated: too fascinated.

“Hey! Stop staring at my tits will you.”

“I wasn’t.” I lied, somewhat unconvincingly.

“You were too! I saw you. Eyes out on stalks!”

“No really.” I blustered trying vainly to cover my embarrassment.

I had grown very fond of Jenna, in a brotherly way. OK I admit it: I fancied her but I wasn’t about to ruin our friendship by being stupid.

I loved spending time with her: she was so worldly, such fun to be with and now I was in danger of spoiling it all just by ogling her tits. Her rather delightful, and obviously delicious looking, tempting to touch, young tits.

“Actually, I was. I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. I’m really sorry. I’m such a wolly.”

“Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. It’s not as if I was naked or you were peeking at me getting changed or anything.”

That, of course, sent the image of her standing there dripping wet totally naked, dancing through my brain. What were those lovely little breasts like to ogle or even to touch? What went on between her legs? What did a vagina look like in real life?

My day dream would have had a disastrous effect on my cock had the water not been so cold. I climbed out and we dried ourselves off. We spread our towels out, side by side, on the long grass in order to warm up with a bit of sunbathing.

“Anyway, it’s natural to be curious,” she continued, “it wouldn’t be normal not to look.” The relief at being let off the hook was enormous and I stammered something inane before she came out with.

“So what do you call a man looking at a naked girl?” She continued. The brazenness of the question took me by surprise and I failed to register that it was a joke.

“Don’t know.”

“Anything you like! He’s not listening.” She chortled at her own wit and I joined in. She lay face down on her towel and unhooked the top of her bikini. This was too much, I immediately rolled on to my stomach so as not to reveal my growing excitement. “No peeking at my tits now.”

“No of course not.”

“Lying bastard!”

“Jenna?”

“Yea?”

“How bedava bahis come you’re so confident and relaxed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just caught me ogling you and now you’re making it a bit of a joke.”

“Probably because you are a bit prudish.”

“Prudish! Me?”

“Yes you. You were ogling my tits and then tried to deny it. I’ve got tits, you haven’t, you’re curious. So what’s so wrong with that. Don’t think I haven’t taken a peek at the front of your swimming trunks from time to time. Anyway I know things about boys from Paula.”

“Paula?”

“Paula is my big sister. She’s six years older than me and we chat. You know girl stuff.”

“Mmmm?”

“Paula got married a year ago and we still chat about girl stuff.”

“Mmmmm?.”

“I’ll tell you more, if you tell me stuff about you.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“Well I’ll tell you about my chats with Paula if you promise to keep it a secret for the rest of your life and if you tell me, absolutely honestly, the answer to the next questions. OK?”

“Sure.” I said feeling a little vulnerable but a too curious to turn down such an offer.

“Paula told me that the doctor gave her the pill just before she got married and that when they went on honeymoon they did it all the time. First thing in the morning, last thing at night and several times in between. She said the feelings were fantastic and much better than just touching yourself.”

I am lying on my stomach, next to a pretty girl who is, at best, half naked describing her sister’s sex life. The tension was nearly unbearable.

“So my question is. When you are, you know, excited and touching yourself. I mean rubbing your thingy, what do you think about?” Shocked! And trapped! She had just asked me about my fantasies, and I had agreed to play a truth game.

“Do I have to answer?” I said, playing for time.

“Of course you do. You promised. That was the bargain.” I summoned up my courage with all my strength.

“Mostly breasts.” I said with a dry mouth.

“You naughty boy. I bet you are going to rub yourself tonight and I bet my tits will feature in your fantasy.”

“Sorry, but you did ask.” Ducking what could be a very awkward moment.

“Paula says she rubs Dave when she’s on the curse. He plays with her tits while she rubs his cock and…….er by the way what do you call it? Your cock, your dick or what?”

“Harry.” I said the first word that entered my head. She burst out laughing.

“HARRY! You call it HARRY!” More peels of laughter.

“No not really, that was just a joke. I suppose cock or prick usually.”

“Well from now on it’s Harry to me.” And she dissolved into laughter again.

“Just think of the fun I can have with that. I can say ‘How is Harry today?’ Anytime, anywhere and only the two of us will know that I’m talking about your cock. That’s priceless!”

“It was supposed to be a joke. You were telling me about Paula.”

“Yea, well she rubs his ‘Harry’.” More laughter, “till he,……….you know,………. Jizes then touches herself until she’s satisfied. So next question. How often do you play with Harry?”

“What?”

“You heard. How often do you play with Harry! You have had two bits of information so I get two questions. Out with it: how often?”

“Quite a lot.”

“Quite a lot is not a number. You promised me an answer. Now give.”

“Well, probably most days.”

“Oh good, I’m normal then.”

“What!”

“Me too. So it’s normal. I thought I might be over doing it, but it’s such a delicious feeling I just can’t resist.”

This was getting out of control. I was having a conversation, with a lovely girl, both half naked, and we were discussing our masturbation habits: bizarre.

“Have you ever sunbathed in the nude?” I was definitely not ready for this question.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well you really out to. It’s such a wonderful feeling having the sun on your bare skin, particularly your bum. I do it all the time by our pool.

“We could do it now, staying on our stomachs of course. I mean you have a bum and I have a bum. Bums are just bums after all, not particularly interesting.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I croaked, lying on my now full blown erection thinking that Jenna’s bum would be far from ‘not very interesting.’

“Cowardy, cowardy deneme bonus custard. I tell you what, I’ll take my bottoms off first if you promise me, on you honour, you will do it too.” And she slipped her thumbs into her bikini bottoms and eased them over her buttocks, such taught, firm, exercised, firm buttocks, and somehow got them off without revealing anything more intimate. “Your turn!”

“Hang on. I never agreed to this.”

“Well you didn’t disagree: so you agreed. Now off with them or I’ll tell Paula what a spoil sport you are.”

This was my first introduction to the somewhat woolly area of female logic. I knew I had agreed to no such thing, but she was lying there naked, admittedly face down, but naked, and I found the idea very stimulating, and so did my errant cock, who found the whole experience extremely erotic.

I followed her example and slipped my trunks down to my knees, having struggled to get the waist band over the rather obvious protrusion. I shifted sideways, back towards her, to complete the task and dropped onto my stomach as quickly as possible: stark naked and with the firmest, most rigid erection of my young life.

“Good, isn’t it?” She said and I had to admit that the warmth of the sun on my bum was a truly delicious feeling: so wickedly naughty.

“You know what happens next, don’t you?”

By this time I was getting truly concerned as to what might happen next. A few years later and with more experience, I would have been delighted with this situation, but this was my first encounter with a naked girl and I have to admit I was petrified, but in a most enjoyable way. Without waiting for an answer she continued. “We go skinny dipping!”

My jaw must have fallen a foot because she burst out laughing. “Oh your face! What a picture! Only joking, but the look on your face was priceless. I told you you were a prude.”

Before I could muster my thoughts I fell straight into the trap. The words “I am not a prude.” Escaped my lips just as I realised what I had said.

“Prove it!”

“How?”

“Show me Harry,” she chortled.

“I will not!”

“Prude!”

“Well you’re a prude too, lying there face down.” I retorted.

“Not at all. I’ll roll over if you roll over!” And I’d just fallen into another trap but it was my turn to seize the advantage.

“You first!” I thought I’d gained the upper hand, but it was short lived.

“No both together. On the count of three we both roll right over, as quickly as we can, back onto our tums. There will hardly be time to see anything: OK?”

“Er……”

“Prude!”

“No. No. OK.”

“One, two.”

“No, stop. Stop. I’m not ready. Give me a second or two. Er……OK”

“One, two, THREE!”

The next few seconds seemed to last a lifetime and are emblazoned on my memory for ever. The swiftest of rolls presented me with a view of my first real pair of tits. Oh such beautiful, magnificent tits. Small, pert, little tits, that were to become my favourite shape and size for ever. Such is the power of that first encounter.

A much more impressive surprise however, was the mass of pubic hair, dark brown, curly hair in a perfect triangle, that concealed the secrets at the join in her thighs. How I managed to register this much information in the time available is a credit to the power of human observation, but register it did.

I was so intrigued by the whole spectacle that I temporarily forgot about my own nakedness. My teenage penis sprang free from the safety of its lair between my stomach and the ground and with all the enthusiasm that only a teenage penis can muster, pointed proudly skywards to the full scrutiny of Jenna’s curious gaze.

The exposure, mercifully, was short lived as I completed the roll over on to my stomach, trapping my errant member once again between the ground and my stomach.

Jenna was the first to react with a characteristic chortle, but my teenage brain was still trying to compute what it had seen. The flashes of breast and pubic hair caused all my reproductive urges to go into overdrive and without so much as a touch a familiar feeling mounted in my groin.

I knew what was about to happen and had no way of controlling it. The feeling intensified rapidly and I ejaculated violently into my towel. I still remember the intensity. I had had orgasms before, but only through masturbating. This was on a whole new level: the sensation was indescribable and within seconds my cock, having done the job nature intended it to do, shrank back to its flaccid state.

…to be continued.

As always, comments of any sort are welcome. So what did you think?

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