Norma O'Toole - Live-in lover

I soon discovered a gentle but firm touch was best. Using the fluid from my hole as a lubricant, I allowed my fingers to slide easily over the little pleasure nub. This made it quite easy to avoid soreness as I began building up to a steady rhythm. And rhythm was what my body desired. The more I touched it, the more it needed. I was moving toward some unknown mysterious place that my body had never been to before. The prospects were very frightening, but I knew I could not stop.

The intensity of sensations continued to build. I realized I was thrashing around the bed. For all intents and purposes, I was out of control. The only thing that mattered was that my finger give me pleasure. My whole life was focused on that little nub of flesh.

I began experiencing spasms, starting deep within my lower abdomen. They seemed to move downward the area my hand was furiously massaging. It felt like all the heat and liquid were being pushed out of my tiny woman's hole. My entire body was convulsing, my breathing reached a gasping stage, my mind was bombarded with vivid colors and unknown images. Every single nerve ending became sensitive as my body reached upward towards an incredible height – a final explosion.

Unconsciously, I removed my finger from my little pleasure button. I think I might have passed out for a few seconds because I could not remember how or when I rolled into the fetal position and drifted off to sleep.

In the space of one night, my eighteenth birthday, I learned more about being a woman than in all of the previous eighteen years combined. Never again would I ignore or feel guilty about the pleasures my body could bring me. That night was the most enjoyable night I had ever had. I truly loved it. At last, I wad a woman.

For the first time since I entered my room, I thought of Lonnie. I hoped that he, too, was able to experience the pleasure of his sex. Being twins, we seemed to arrive at the different steps of our lives at about the same time. I prayed that this was the case because I dearly needed someone to talk to about the events of the night.

Even though he was a male and my brother, I figured that I could talk to him. We were closer than any brother and sister I knew or sister and sister, or brother and brother for that matter. And since we believed that our friends were as ignorant as we were about sex, it would have been impossible to communicate our feelings to them. Our only alternative was to learn together.

I knew that we would be treading on dangerous water. If society had kept the answers to our important questions hidden from us, I saw no alternative but for us to take drastic steps. I was hoping that Lonnie had arrived at the same conclusion.

My body and mind were totally exhausted. The relaxed, dreamless sleep was the best I had ever had.

Lonnie and I didn't have much time to talk the next morning. We had both gotten up late, and barely had enough time for breakfast before leaving for school. But if Lonnie's sunny smile was any indication, he had also experienced something profound in the darkness of his room the previous night. Knowing my brother as well as I did confirmed in my mind that he had reached the same conclusions I had.

Dad joined us at the table, and he, too, was sporting a bright smile. He explained that there was a guest asleep in the game room, and asked us not to disturb her. Lonnie and I had a difficult time keeping the knowing grins off our faces. We both figured that it would not be a good idea to question him about who she was, or why she was here. Our pretended ignorance was his bliss.

Blissful as Daddy was, it was apparent he was feeling some guilt. He said that it would be better if we didn't mention the guest to Mother. He stated that there was no reason to bother her with the information – "knowing how she would worry about the house not being presentable, etc." During the conversation he did not look at us while speaking but if he had we would have continued to keep our expressions neutral.

School was unbearable that day. I could not concentrate on even the most simple details of my lessons. Flashes of what I had seen and felt the night before constantly invaded my mind. I had to fight off a maddening urge to go to the girls' room, and reproduce those delicious feelings that I learned about last night. And if it were not for my underwear fortunately absorbing my sexual excitement, a stain, I would have found difficult to explain, would have appeared on my lightly colored slacks.

I sighed with relief as I left my last class. Now I could go home and explore the delights of my body again. The conversation I would have with my brother would not take place until later that night when we would be assured of our privacy. Since it was my father's poker night, he would leave the house after dinner, and not arrive home again before the early hours of the morning.

As I was leaving the school, Lonnie suddenly appeared beside me. He was still wearing the smile that had decorated his face earlier that morning.

"Oh, Lana, you would never believe what I did last night," he said.

"I don't know about that," I answered, giving him a knowing smile in return. "I, too, made some interesting discoveries about myself last night."

"Really?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"Really," I repeated, arching my own.

"We'll talk about it later after Daddy goes to his game," Lonnie instructed.

"Okay, Brother," I sung, "we got ourselves a date."

"Oh, yeah, before I forget," he said, stopping me from continuing on my way. "I have to stay late for a history lecture. So what I want you to do is study this book. It will be easier to talk about this subject, if we know the different names and functions. I'll see you later."

Lonnie ran back into the school, leaving me holding a book. The cover was concealed by loose leaf paper scotch-taped to the jacket. I peeled away one corner to read the title. It was "The Complete Anatomy and Physiology of Sex." I had to agree with my brother, it was exactly what the doctor ordered.

I rushed home, not wasting a minute. The anticipation of reading the book and taking care of my bodily demands was overwhelming. After entering the house, I raced to my room, and quickly disrobed. I wanted to look at my body in the light. Never before had I taken the time to really look at myself.

I stood in front of my wall-length mirror. My short, dark, red hair framed a face that other people considered cute. My height was average, five foot four. I weighed just over one-hundred pounds. My figured was still, it seemed, in the process of changing.

Although my breasts in no way compared to those of Mai Widner, they were still quite good, and quite large. They were firm and shapely. I didn't need a bra to support them. The nipples that topped my pale, rose-colored breasts were slightly darker, and swollen, having been exposed to the air and my feelings of inner excitement.

My stomach was tight and flat, my hips curved and shapely. When I looked close, I could see a fine, lightly colored thread of hair, which began just below my navel and trailed to the large thatch of auburn hair that formed the perfect triangle between my legs. The hair was not kinky like the TV woman's or my father's, but more like the hair of a cat, smooth and soft.

I turned around and studied the view of my rear. The cheeks of my behind were small but full, and no sign of flab or wrinkled flesh. My legs, though, were my best feature. They were long and lean, with curves in all the right places. Whenever I wore shorts and there were boys around, I was sure to get a few wolf whistles and complimentary comments about my "gams".

Before looking at my most sensitive and hidden parts, I thought it best to study the book my brother had given me. That way I figure I could more readily identify their mysteries.