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Diane moved in next door when I was six years old. Being the only kid my age within 5 miles made it inevitable that we’d become playmates. Did I mention that next door was still nearly half a mile away, four-tenths to be exact? Our farm was two miles down a dusty gravel road in central Illinois. Diane’s folks bought my Grandfather’s farm after he passed away.
At the two-room country school Diane and I attended, we mostly played with other kids. After all, she had girl friends there, while I liked to play softball or dodgeball during recess. But once we got home, Diane was normally my only available playmate. The only way another kid could visit either of us was if a parent drove them over, then picked them up later. In farm country most parents had chores that kept them busy all day long
Circumstance threw us together other times as well. There was only one local church, so our Moms often took turns dropping us both off at Sunday school or social events. The modest Baptist church was located in what was laughingly called a town. It had a one-room grocery store, on the first floor of a house, run by 88-year old Mr. Meyer. When he died in his sleep, the entire commercial district closed forever. Unless you count the nickel coke machine his grand niece continued to operate in front of the bygone business. She kept it going for years afterward as a community service and memorial to the beloved town elder.
Diane and I liked each other; we got along fine almost all the time. You’d be hard pressed to prove which of us was the shyest. We were both quiet, well-mannered children. We never fought or tried to impose our will on the other. Case in point, tea parties with imaginary guests weren’t something I enjoyed. Once Diane realized which games that she liked would bore me to tears, she never attempted to foist them on me. Likewise, I learned to hunt at an early age, but she hated guns. Diane wasn’t a wimp; she’d eat a rabbit or pheasant. She just didn’t enjoy hunting.
As I recall, most of what we learned to enjoy doing together came as a result of someone saying, “Wanna play…”, then trying it. Over the years we discovered a number of activities we both enjoyed, mostly with little discussion. We weren’t afraid to try something new. We’d give it a shot, then simply decide if we liked doing it together or not.
Early on we learned that long hikes over the hundreds of acres of surrounding farmland were more fun when we took them together. Combined, our two farms had a couple miles of streams. Minnows, tadpoles, dragonflies, and crawfish provided untold hours of enjoyment. Seeing a pair of foxes seemingly float across a recently harvested wheat field, or a Sparrow Hawk lazily circling above the stubble of a corn field, alert for careless field mice, were typical rewards for hours spent sitting quietly on grassy knolls.
A rusting barrel hoop nailed to a now rarely used Black Smithing/Harness shed gave us a place to shoot a basketball. A baseball tossed onto the roof of her huge old hay barn made for a good game of catch. A series of board games came and went as we progressed from toddlers to teens.
Looking back, I realize we often spoke for hours on end about the world around us, but rarely the worlds within us. I never tried to be her boyfriend; she never tried to be anything but a playmate and trustworthy friend for me. Our friendship was solid as aged oak by the time we graduated high school.
Don’t ask me when it happened, but at some point what I had became hers, and what she had was mine. Whether it was books or bikes, it was normal for us to say “our books” or “our bikes”. The word ‘my’ was rarely spoken between us. It didn’t matter who bought the toy, or whose house it was in at any given time. Totally unselfish would be an accurate characterization of our relationship.
I didn’t pay overmuch attention to the fact that Diane was a girl and I was a boy. It wasn’t that I didn’t have hormones aplenty either. Over the years I’d coaxed several girls to sneak down to the basement at school for a game of “I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours”. There were only forty-something kids in our grades one through eight county school, even fewer in our high school. As a result, I had the almost unique experience of seeing four pussies almost every year from the time they were seven to seventeen.
With three of the four I think it just grew to be a custom. Maybe once or twice a year we’d check out each other’s development. Trust me, there were no Playboy magazines, no cable TV. What most kids knew about sex, or especially the opposite sex, they learned from animal husbandry around the local farms. The only things most Baptists tell you about sex is not to have any.
There was one girl named Margaret that let me finger her a few times, and she had to teach me how to do that. Margaret was a sweet girl, but both slow and homely. Boys weren’t exactly beating down her door, but she needed a little attention now and then like anyone casino şirketleri else.
The high point of my sex life before graduation were the few times Margaret gave me a hand job after wandering away from some social gathering for a few minutes, plus one time we masturbated while watching each other behind a shed at a classmate’s birthday party. She was from peasant stock. Margaret’s bush was so thick I never did learn much about how she looked between her legs after puberty. But that one time I saw a finger disappear into her body was more than enough to trigger the ejaculation she wanted to see.
I never ever kissed Margaret. I feel guilty about it today that I was only curious about her body. I had no actual affection for her, and she understood that. For those who wonder, she did marry a local farmhand who seemed to make her happy.
All fours girls at least flashed their breasts for me a few times, but we’d been pulling our pants down from such an early age, that I was well into my teens before I thought of asking to see their more recent female enhancements.
It was lost on me as a kid, but Diane was always a beautiful girl. Early on, she was as blonde as anyone with her Nordic-Germanic heritage could be. By the time we were eighteen, it had become a silky, shiny, light brown. Our growth patterns had always been somewhat matched. She grew to about 5’8″. I reached 6′. Yet I was almost always 2″ to 4″ taller as we grew. If asked to describe her, I’d say she had an adorable smile. I’d mention how lovely her gray-green eyes were. I certainly could picture her toned, long legs, and delightful face. Despite knowing those facts, I was so familiar with her that I took all her physical attractiveness for granted.
I was certainly no saint. I still recall the first time she bent forward in a T-shirt when her breasts were still small enough that her bra would fall away, leaving her young cones dangling before my eyes. Back then I’d get erections for no reasons at all, seeing anything remotely related to sex was enough to keep me hard until I got home where I could relieve myself. Yet because of our special relationship, it simply never occurred to me to “try anything”. When I saw Diane, I saw my best friend. I didn’t see her as an opportunity.
The day our relationship changed was two weeks after graduation. It was mid-afternoon, a warm but not especially hot day. We’d been shooting hoops, playing a game we called horse where we both had to make the same shot from the same place or cede a point. Where we played was really more of a putting green than a basketball court. The area all around the ‘court’ was a sea of long, lush grass that’d be cut for hay in a few weeks. We couldn’t dribble on the uneven ground very well, but we played fast enough and chased after our partner’s rebounds, so we could work up a mild sweat if the sun was on us.
Needing a drink of water, Diane had gone to the house. She’d disappeared around the corner a few minutes earlier. I could faintly hear her Dad running his tractor. He was plowing a distant field across the road. Her Mom had driven to my house for a monthly baking party with my mother. It was cleaver plan. They both baked a batch of cakes, pies, or cookies at the same time. They could have a nice chat, yet only one kitchen got hot and messy. With two pairs of hands, the preparation and clean up went twice as fast.
I’d been on a bit of a streak. As long as I kept making the lead off shot, Diane couldn’t beat me. Needing only one point to win this game of horse, I grew suspicious that my fierce little competitor had planned this “time out” to cool off my shooting. Finally she returned. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as she stood behind me awaiting my shot.
After tossing and spinning the ball a foot into the air a few times until I felt loose again, I bent my knees slightly as I readied a 14′ shot. Raising the basketball in front of me, I began an easy jump to launch the ball into an arc towards the hoop. Just before my release, a blast of ice cold water hit the back of my neck. “H E Y!!!!”
I knew the ball would hit wide of its mark. I spun around on my way down. Diane was already doubled over from laugher. All her pearly white teeth were flashing my way in a Cheshire Cat grin. Both arms were extended towards me. One hand was palm up; fingers spread like a crossing guard signaling ‘STOP’. The other hand held a squirt gun pointed at my face.
Not a word was spoken. She couldn’t speak because she was laughing too hard. I couldn’t say anything because I was too surprised. Leaning forward, I began a series of short menacing steps in Diane’s direction. Laughing hysterically, she retreated while threatening to squirt me if I didn’t stop. My stalking continued until her feet got to the end of the mowed court. As her right foot felt the drag of the tall grass, her gaze shifted to her feet. That split second was all I needed. Like a big cat who’s prey just zigged when it should have zagged, I leapt. casino firmaları My target was the squirt gun. My goal was revenge.
Diane reacted perfectly; her arms flew above her head, moving the gun out of my reach. She also got off a squirt that hit me square between the eyes, causing me to blink. Having launched myself like a diver into a pool, my hands reached out for her. I grabbed for her waist, trying not to land on my face, but only grasped her clothing. Since she’d been bent over laughing and not in a good position to keep her balance, she went down on her butt, letting out a shriek. As she fell backwards, my hands pulled her sweat shorts completely down.
My momentum carried me forward. When the brief disorientation from the hard landing passed, I found myself staring directly at the most perfect pussy I’d even seen. Her sparse pubic hair was almost as blonde as I remembered Diane being as a child. Her scent filled my nostrils, making my head swim. The shorts were completely off of one leg. I was lying on my belly between her almost closed thighs. My hips began a tiny rise off of the ground, like a car on a lift, as my penis instantly filled with blood.
I never looked up; I was transfixed by the perfection mere inches away. Already I was breathing like a stallion downwind from a mare barn. Feeling my first breath on her exposed genitals caused Diane to fall instantly silent; she froze like a rabbit suddenly aware of a nearby fox. Judging by the lack of tension in her abdominal muscles, I suspect she laid her head back on the tall grass. Neither of us spoke, only the sounds of a day on in the country could be heard.
How many seconds passed as my male brain absorbed each minute detail of the feminine perfection so unexpectedly revealed? I’ll never know. My mind entered a new reality where only Diane and I existed, nothing except us remotely mattered. The light covering of fur did little to hide her dampening slit. Diane’s vaginal lips swelled before my eyes, her pink inner flesh began to slightly reveal itself.
No one had ever told me what I was ‘supposed’ to do, but instinct bailed me out. I kissed the top of her gash. I kissed left then right, lower, then lower still. Diane gradually raised her knees while spreading her legs, granting me full access to wherever my lips wished to taste. Nibbles became interspersed with my kisses. The longer my mouth explored her vulva, the more her slit seemed to open up, inviting ever deeper probing.
When my tongue slid into her gash, I heard the air in her lungs rush out of her body. I certainly didn’t know what I was doing, but Diane’s body told me I was pleasing her greatly. Her hips had begun rolling seductively shortly after first licking her soft, slippery inner flesh. Repeatedly I worked my tongue carefully up and down her slit. This soon taught me she enjoyed being licked everywhere, but some places she enjoyed even more than others.
An overpowering desire to see her breasts urged me to kiss my way up and about her taut abdomen then tummy. My hands pushed her top up just ahead of my wandering lips. Finally the bottom of her breasts began to show. Using just my abdominal muscles to arch my back, I gradually unveiled Diane’s soft, heavenly breasts. Her mounds had a firm, yet unbelievably soft appearance that God gives women that age to make them irresistible.
I exchanged long stares with the inch and a half wide pink eyes below me. The long, thick, darker pink nipple at the center of each areola pulled at me like steel to a magnet. My parted lips were soon drawn to her pliant flesh. Minutes passed as I savored her long hidden delights. There were so many wondrous sensations as I kissed from one tender breast to the other, I couldn’t say any one was the best. My fingers couldn’t get enough of her baby soft skin.
Diane guided my mouth to her engorged right nipple; it was like sucking a large fingertip between my lips. Its texture was completely unique, the warmth and feel of that special fleshy nub caused violent reactions within me. My body trembled. I suckled both breasts until my jaw began to hurt.
Pushing myself up until I was on my knees between her splayed thighs, I pulled my shirt over my head, then cast it aside. I stared down into Diane’s sparkling eyes. Our faces showed passion, yet little expression. Holding my gaze, she pulled her shirt over her head, then lay back silently. The rolling of her breasts as she had moved only served to enflame me further.
Lowering myself until I was back at her breasts, my lips briefly expressed my adoration again, before kissing their way over Diane’s upper chest then neck. As much as I marveled at the softness of her throat, I was driven to find her mouth. We had never really kissed, I had to know what her mouth would feel like pressed to mine. Our eyes met as I slid up her slightly sweating body until our lips were an inch apart. Her hand settled behind my head. Eyes closing, Diane gently pulled us together.
Was it güvenilir casino possible that her lips were softer than anything I’d ever felt? Our first real kiss was a lengthy, tender, pressing of our lips. Soft, so very, very soft.
Diane parted her lips slightly. I had French kissed, briefly, a few times when a girl and I had ducked around a corner at a church social or someone’s birthday party. But I’d never really made out with a girl. I knew how to start our tongue kissing, but I was tentative and inexperienced. Fortunately, Diane was equally unsure. We recognized our mutual naivete. It allowed us to relax, develop a technique, then refine it together. Our tongues drew enormous pleasure from each other. Our bodies were profoundly effected by our intimate probing and moist, breathy contacts.
As our passion increased, Diane’s hands first roamed across my shoulders, upper back, lower back, then finally slid under my waistband. At first her fingers trailed over my buns, but the more labored her breathing became, the more she formed a death grip on my cheeks, pulling my erection hard against her drenched pussy. Releasing my butt, I felt her struggling to lower my sweat pants. The pants caught on my erection. I pushed myself up using both arms, then used one hand assist her.
Diane reached into my pants; her fingers surrounded my penis. I almost collapsed. My sharp inhalation when she gripped my shaft drew her attention back to my face. I gazed down at some one I’d never seen before. Not my friend next door, but the young woman I’d spent most of my life with. So many things snapped into focus.
Together we lowered my pants.
I lay down on top of Diane; she guided me while shifting her hips so my shaft ended up nestled along her slit. We kissed for several minutes longer, tingling head to toe from not only the excitement of our warm flesh writhing together, but also from the heady knowledge that after all these years we’d found each other.
Diane was actually ready for penetration before I was. Her hands left my neck and back so she could reach between us. I lifted my hips thinking she only wanted to fondle me. She did stroke me for a minute. I could sense her gauging my size and heft, but soon she was using her hands to coat my penis with my oozing lubrication, plus adding some from herself. The pleasure of her hands running up and down my shaft was so new and so intense that it didn’t register immediately that she’d aimed my tapered tip at her opening.
Diane’s hips began to rise and fall. Only when my system got its biggest jolt yet, her moist warmth pressing onto, then gradually surrounding my glans, only then did I fully comprehend that I was about to enter her. My hips made tiny, slow pushes, similar to her short pelvic thrusts. Both virgins, we only had instinct to guide us. She was as aroused as a young woman could ever be, but nonetheless virginally tight.
The only thing that saved me from ejaculating was the concentration required as I tried to guess at our progress or increase my penetration without hurting my lover. If I’d allowed myself to think about how incredible it felt each time I pushed my penis a teeny bit deeper into Diane, I never would’ve completed our first attempted coupling. As it was, I don’t recall exactly when her hymen broke. I can clearly recall only the moment that I knew I was completely buried inside of her amazing young body.
We’d kissed a few times as we strove for penetration, but mostly we focused on what our hips were doing. It had been hard to breathe due to the excitement we felt. I tried not to hear the erotic wet sounds my penis made as it moved in and out of her slippery pussy. Once I was at long last buried to the hilt inside Diane, I lifted my head. We looked into each other’s eyes, both of us smiling the wry smile of an athlete who is spent but feels a sense of accomplishment.
Diane wrapped her legs around my waist, holding me tight inside her as I leaned in to kiss her deeply. My body was soon beyond my control. My hips resumed the tiny thrusts that had so recently achieved my first insertion. The mind numbingly intense rapture of having my penis embedded in Diane’s pussy compelled my body to begin the primal thrusting that would bring release.
Tiny back and forth motions became longer and longer thrusts. I wanted to slow down, to make the moment last, but I was too excited, not to mention too inexperienced. My penis felt like it was swelling to the size of a baseball bat; my balls drew tight against me. Judging by Diane’s body movements, she must have known I was about to come inside her. Her hips drove against me at an angle that begged my body to push my sperm into her deepest recesses. She matched me moan for moan; her swaying hips caused mine to drive into her on every thrust.
I felt it begin. Semen left my balls, entered my penis, traveled the length of my shaft, then shot into Diane’s womb. Warmth spread within her as my sperm coated her insides. Gush after gush erupted. I felt like sperm was coming out of me long after it had probably stopped. Her muscles squeezed my shaft like a milkmaid’s hands; her body implored mine to yield every possible drop of fluid I could produce.
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