How to detect fiction in a sex story goes all the way every time. Everyone does oral, even the virgins. Every guy cums at least 3 times. Every girl has multiple orgasms every time. Teenage - and even preteen - girls talk like porno sluts. Girls always beg to be assfucked. Girls always love the taste of cum, and happily suck dick even after its been up somebody's asshole. Guys always measure their dicks, then exaggerate. Well here's some non fiction, for a change. . . Rochelle and Jill, a story of sexual awakening,or Mr Mole discovers the Vagina, and how to make her Cum(Part One)I was 9 when I fell in love with my cousin Rochelle. She's a natural blonde, and gorgeous at every age of her life. She grew up in another city, and we seldom met. She was 6 or 7 when I met her and fell in love. My parents and I visited her family.
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I was put to bed in a spare room. Just before I went to sleep, she arrived at my door with a stack of comics for me. I took them. How I wish I'd invited her in to sit in bed with me and read them. How many times in my teens I'd wanked myself dry thinking of having her close beside me. I'd imagine cuddling her and putting my hand inside her pyjama bottoms, though I still had no idea what I might find in there. I've no sisters, no girls close by, never saw a pussy. She was my first and best wank fantasy. Next time I saw her I was 18 and she was 12. She was wearing dresses and stockings with real suspenders. She was stunningly gorgeous, with long straight pale-blonde hair almost to her waist, shining china-blue eyes and a smile like sunshine. I could hardly speak to her, just looking at her did funny things to my insides. Her brother (about my age) and her pretty brunette friend Jill made a "foursome" and went to a movie. I tried to put my arm around Rochelle, but nothing happened. My heart was pounding.
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After the movie, horsing around, I tried to lift Rochelle off the ground, one arm round her shoulders, the other behind her knees, but I (accidentally) got my arm under her skirt and ended up with my hand on the backs of her stockinged thighs. She got embarrassed and angry and I had to drop her quick and that was all I remember of that except for months of wanking myself to sleep with images of what I might have found if I'd moved my hand up over her stocking tops, and if she'd been pleased instead of angry.
Next visit, I was 16, she was 14. Her friend Jill was there again, and - though I was aching for Rochelle, I somehow believed that it was Wrong to Desire My Cousin. I believed a lot of crap back then. Jill too was beautiful, with straight dark chestnut hair, dark brown twinkling eyes and a cheeky smile. We went to a party, at which all I remember is being very embarrassed, all the boys were older than me, and Jill was flirting with them, sitting on their laps in her short dress - again, with Real Stockings and Suspenders - this was the 60's, and the infuriating pantyhose hadn't quite taken over yet. I spent the entire time watching Jill's progress round the room, first dancing with this boy, then sitting on the lap of another one, laughing, teasing, giggling. Emotions washed over me. Desire, jealousy, embarrassment. But after the party we were squeezed into the backseat of somebody's car taking us back to my cousin's home, where Jill was also sleeping over with Rochelle. Squashed next to Jill I managed to cuddle her a little. Somehow we ended up in the front lounge, with the lights off, and everyone else in the house gone to bed. At last I managed to hold and kiss her. We sat squashed together in a big armchair, hip to hip, with her legs across mine.
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I'd frenched a couple of girls before - the first when I was 18 - and we were kissing long deep and wet. I loved the feel of her close against me, and stroked her back from shoulder to hip. Not knowing where this was going, only that I didn't want it to end, I avoided her ass - though it's where I wanted to go - and stroked her shoulder-to-hip, and hip-to-knee. Once on her knee - that gorgeous stocking clad knee - I started stroking her up and down the thigh, not yet daring to go above her stocking tops. We were still kissing deeply, so no complaints from her. I lingered with my hand on her thigh, then gently brushed across her stocking top onto her bare smooth flesh. She kissed me deeper, sighed a little and parted her legs slightly. I was in heaven, this had never happened to me before. I felt gently, lovingly, lustfully all round her bare thigh above the stocking top before I brushed the edge of her panties. I brushed the front of her panties with the back of my hand, as I reached round her inner thigh. Still kissing, teasing tongues, but all my mind was focussed on the feeling in my hand, and my dick was so hard it almost hurt. I could feel some wetness in my underpants. Fearing she would stop me, I started rubbing the back of my hand on her mound. Then I turned my hand and stroked my finger across the front of her panties. They were damp.
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Somehow I pulled the material aside and found her secret place.
I didn't notice any hair, just soft warm dampness, and my fingers - first one, then two - slipped into her very moist slit. She held me tighter and humped her hips against my hand, and suddenly - though I didn't know the word - I was fingerfucking her, plunging in and out as her breath came in gasps and we stopped kissing, I held her close and she hugged me tight and thrust her pelvis back and forth in rhythm with my fingers, urging me with her body to move faster and faster until she broke the pace with a shudder and a moan, and then she was in tears, cuddling against me, she wouldn't look at me but buried her face in my shirt and sobbed and sobbed. I thought I'd done something terrible to her. I apologised and told her I hadn't meant to hurt her. Maybe I even told her I loved her. It was the first time I'd brought a girl to orgasm, and it still ranks as my most wonderful sexual experience ever. By the time we'd finished, her panties were soaking and there was a very wet patch on the front of my trousers. We went - separately - to our beds, and my head was a turmoil, replaying all we'd done. I fell asleep sniffing the two fingers I'd had inside her. I carefully avoided washing those fingers for weeks, and at least imagined I could still smell her juices as I wanked myself to sleep every night from then on. (Part Two to follow, if anyone liked this) .
