I had been a bit of a frumpy chubby girl, but as happens sometimes, I suddenly blossomed soon after my 14th birthday in 1975 and grew three inches taller in four months. I was still no model but I caught the eyes of a few boys on the beach in Great Yarmouth during our Summer holidays and even let one boy feel my enormous new boobs on the last night.
I had also taken to wearing very short mini-skirts which emphasised my long muscular legs (I played regular hockey and netball at school) and also tight t-shirts that clung to my newly enlarged boobs which had gone from a 32b to a 30dd, which caused endless arguments with my parents. Wearing skirts so short got me lots of new found attention when I walked around our local shopping centre, but not enough to get me a boyfriend. Something else happened at the same time. I now had a constant ‘funny feeling’ in my tummy and between my legs. Some nights it was so bad I couldn’t get to sleep until I’d rubbed my ‘twinkle’ until it made me gasp and get very relaxed.
After reading that first few paragraphs you might think me very na?, but in 1975 I was an only child to mature parents and attended a strict Catholic Grammar School run by Nuns. I knew absolutely nothing about sex or what these feelings might be and even less about boys; but I knew I wanted to know more about both.
On my return to school for my last year of A Levels I had to get two busses there and back. I travelled with a younger girl from our housing estate but there would also be a large group of kids from the local Secondary School too. Hazel and I kept ourselves to ourselves and I don’t think the others even noticed us.
Then ‘it’ happened!
We had already taken our seats one morning when a tall skinny boy, with long cork screwed haired and wearing a burgundy sweater from the Secondary Schools uniform which signified that he too was in the third form; got on my bus. As he walked passed me he looked into my eyes and gave the faintest of smiles and mumbled a “Hi.” I smiled back and Hazel elbowed my ribs to confirm that she had witnessed this momentous moment too. I had seen him before and vaguely knew that he lived somewhere near my house but on this particular morning I saw him in a completely different light. We both giggled all the way to her bus stop, which was before mine.
He got off the bus first and kept about 12 feet in front of me as we both slowly walked down three streets before he took a left and I took a right turn. I was blushing madly and my heart was thumping; but that was nothing compared to the tingling that I had between my legs.
As soon as I entered our empty house I flew upstairs and flopped onto my bed thinking about ‘him’. He was gorgeous, a bit like Marc Bolan from T Rex. As I lay there looking at my pop star posters I slid my hand up my skirt and began stroking my twinkle through my knickers. I don’t know why I did it; but it just seemed natural as I pressed my fingers across my pubes then down between my legs. I was slightly surprised to feel that the gusset of my knickers was damp but kept stroking because it felt luscious; just as good as when I did it to make me go to sleep. Somehow stroking myself through the thin nylon made my knickers get even wetter and the tingle got so bad I began wriggling across the bed as I scratched and stroked to relive the itch; but couldn’t take my hand away. Soon I’d slid my hand inside my pants and was now scratching at my curly pubic hair then one of my fingers touched my ‘button’ and I abruptly arched my back and raised my knees making my twinkle spread itself. I closed my eyes as my middle finger pressed against my opening. My heart was pounding and I could feel the blood coursing through my veins as I tentatively pushed my finger tip past the tight muscles until it slid inside the sticky slit. My eyes were closed as tightly as I could make them and I was biting my bottom lip as I slowly moved my finger inside my twinkle. It felt weird; hot and wet and the sides felt very soft and a bit like velvet but not as tight as I’d imagined. I slightly pulled my finger backwards and the grip from the muscles at the opening was nearly overwhelming. I was still frightened that I was going to hurt myself but continued examining my insides until my palm pressed against the ‘button’ again. Without knowing what I was doing; but knowing that it was dirty and nice in equal measures I plunged my finger into my hole as deep as it would go and feverishly rubbed my palm over the button for a minute or two until I had an awesome feeling of elation and all of my adrenalin suddenly evaporated from my teenage body leaving my in a heap with my legs clamped around my wrist keeping my finger in my hole.
When I took it out I could feel the muscles of my twinkle contract, leaving me feeling strangely satisfied.
I lay shaking on my bed trying to catch my breath for another couple of minutes until I finally composed myself and eventually changed out of my uniform into my jeans and a t-shirt. I was still grinning from ear to ear when Mummy arrived home an hour later.
After tea I did my homework but struggled to concentrate as I was desperate to play with myself again. This time was a lot more deliberate and I took my jeans and t-shirt off and just lay on my bed only wearing my new pale blue bra and my favourite purple nylon knickers with white daisies on them. I was already very excited at the thought of what I was about to do and started by rubbing my aching boobs, which gave me some mild relief but made the tingle between my legs become incredibly irritating and even more in need of scratching.
It felt incredibly naughty rubbing my slippery twinkle through my mess of curly pubes and squeezing my boobs at the same time; but that just made me do it faster. I soon slid my finger into my sticky hole again and violently pressed my palm against the button making it hurt a little. As I did this I pushed my bra up and tugged at my nipples which both felt stiff and sore. The harder I squashed and pulled them the more it hurt and the more it hurt the faster I fingered myself. Thankfully I had an LP on the turntable because I could no longer control my breathing and was panting and grunting as I shoved a second finger even further into my hole. I could feel beads of sweat running between my wobbling boobs as I had that same unmistakable feeling in my tummy until another wave of relief swamped my young body, then another d finally third tiny one.
I was so weak I dozed off for a minute or two and when I woke the sight of my bra around my neck and my knickers around my knees made me giggle very impishly.
Still smiling at my naughtiness I got dressed and joined my parents to watch TV for the rest of the evening. Every few minutes I would sneakily rub or scratch my nose to get a stinky whiff of my fingers which became an increasing turn on as the night progressed. When I eventually went to bed I repeated my playfulness a third time. It was the only way I could get to sleep that night or any night for the next 4 or 5 years.
The following morning the boy with the corkscrew hair was already at the bus stop when I arrived but shyly smiled and nodded his head to greet me. I responded with a smile and a little wave so as not to attract any attention. School was a bit of a chore as I relived the previous evening’s naughtiness in my head and all I could think about was repeating the naughtiness as soon as possible. The return journey that night was exactly the same as the previous day with the boy getting on the bus and nodding, smiling and mouthing ‘hi’ again without sitting anywhere near me, although the seat in front was empty. I mirrored his greeting much to Hazel’s amusement. This time I got off the bus before him and made my way home never more than 10 feet in front of him, knowing that he was staring at my legs as I teetered along the uneven path on my platform shoes and with my school skirt hitched up a couple of inches higher than it was intended to be; but both of us too were too shy to make the first move or speak.
Again I ran straight to my bedroom; but, for some unknown reason I took all of my clothes off including my undies, before putting ‘Electric Warrior’ by T Rex on my record player. When I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the dressing table mirror I did a little naked jig which made my large boobs jiggle as the first chords blasted out of the speakers. 72 hours previously I had been a shy, na? Catholic schoolgirl who wanted to be a teacher, yet here I was openly naked in my bedroom admiring myself in my mirror. As the music continued I began stroking my boobs and brazenly spread my legs until I could see my twinkle peeping out from my hairy strawberry blonde bush.
I couldn’t wait any longer and without thinking pulled my pillows down the bed and lay on my back facing the dressing table. My chest was heaving and I was trembling as I stroked and scratched my pubes before sliding a probing finger along my crack before parting the puffy lips with my fingers so I could see what my twinkle looked like in the mirror. I was shocked to see how reddish pink it was and that there was some white fluid covering the entire length. Inquisitive, I ran my finger tip along the gap then raised it to my nose. I tittered as it was the same stinky smell as the previous evening.
Just like the previous night my boobs were throbbing and my twinkle felt like it was on fire. I could hardly bare to look at my face in the mirror but my stomach turned somersaults as I watched my hands caress and shake my boobs while my other fingers probed and pried my twinkle. In next to no time I easily slid two fingers inside the tight hole as my palm rested on my button which felt like a bullet tonight. I was immediately gasping for air as I furiously fingered my hole making a white froth appear on my fingers as they effortlessly appeared and disappeared right up to my knuckles. I frantically fingered my twinkle for 3 or 4 minutes but it only partially satisfied my cravings and I was still feeling frustrated. My soft palm was doing a good job, as it was a blur rubbing against the ‘bullet’ but I still needed more inside me and stopped playing with my boobs so I could pull my left leg back, which made my fingers go in even deeper. I was now panting and grunting and I knew it wouldn’t be long before that ‘feeling’ took over again, and I was right! Phew! The ‘feeling’ was amazing and just as intense as the best of the previous night. At that moment I knew I was hooked and wanted and needed more and more intense feelings just like these.
That day set the pattern for the next two weeks.
Each day Gary (the boy) would nervously say hello but never speak and I was still too shy to make the first move. So every evening I would masturbate like crazy, sometimes spending an hour or more experimenting with different positions and even shoving the handle from my hair brush, a clothes brush and even a shampoo bottle into my hole; which was great fun, in my quest for the perfect orgasm.
Oddly enough those two weeks also changed me as a person giving me a lot more self-confidence which came into play the afternoon I saw that Gary was carrying a guitar case.