Jerry Conners: The naughtiest virgin

It was great, being eighteen, especially knowing that next Thursday I'd be nineteen.

Today was Saturday, and Aunt Clara was doing her weekly shopping. Uncle Harold was talking with the other farmers in town.

School had been out two weeks, and I was visiting the relatives as my father had promised at Christmas.

In January, mother died of a heart attack. Not even she had any idea she had a bad heart. Dad took it hard and, being an only child, it really sent me spinning.

Two days after school was out, he asked if I still wanted to visit Arkansas with Uncle Harold and Aunt Clara. I had answered with hesitation because I felt that should stay and help him out with mother gone.

But I also love to go outdoors and climb around. The creeks are crystal clear and the water is cold. Out in the woods, with no one around, you can slip your clothes off and swim as naked as the day you came into the world. I love to swim nude, then lie in the sun to dry off.

So I had told Dad yes, I'd like to go if he was sure he'd be all right without me. Now I was in Arkansas and had been for three days, without a single walk or swim by myself.

"Sheila, aren't you going to town with Uncle Harold and me?"

"Aunt Clara, I'd much rather not. I'd really like to just stay here, or maybe go for a walk."

"Clara, let the child stay. Maybe she'd like to be by herself a little."

"Harold, it's not good for her to mope after her mother going like she did."

"Clara, let the girl stay. The quiet might do her some good. She is probably sick and tired of everyone making over her as the poor little girl who lost her mother."

"All right, honey! Come on, Harold. Let's get going so we'll be back before dark."

I watched as they got in the blue Chevrolet pickup and pulled down the lane to the road three quarters of a wile away. Then I ran to my room and grabbed a light quilt blanket to throw on the pound after swimming.

There was a pool a half mile back in the woods. It was thirty feet deep, but you could count every pebble on its floor. It was also surrounded by thick foliage and pine trees.

It didn't take long getting there and the hot, noon sun made it a good idea to go swimming. I spread the blanket on the tall, thick grass, making a soft place to lie and laze in the sun. Then, carefully, I slipped my clothes off and folded them so they wouldn't be a mess when I slipped back into them. Then I took my bra off and dropped it to the ground. Hooking my thumbs into the elastic of my panties, I slid the panties off. I dropped them on top of my other things. For a minute, I stood looking at my breasts. The nipples were standing out hard like little buttons. Being alone, I saw no reason not to admire my girlish attributes. I often did at home in front of a mirror when I knew I was alone.

I have perfect tits, a five foot, two inch frame, and I weigh only one hundred and five pounds. My hair is golden blonde, I have sky blue eyes, a turned up nose, full lips, and a small round chin. The rest of my body is well-shaped too; good legs, small ankles and feet, I'm not a tomboy either; I just like walking in the woods and swimming here.

I walked to the edge and drove in. The chill of the water took my breath away, then the shock was over and I thrashed about and frolicked freely. My strokes were long, and I enjoyed using all my muscles – swimming hard and fast, then rolling onto my back and stroking slow and easy while regaining my wind. When I began to tire, I swam toward my clothes and walked out when the water was shallow enough and lay down, rolling on [missing text].

I walked to the blanket to my back. Eyes closed, I enjoyed the sun's warmth on my skin. It felt so good that my nipples were getting hard again. I let my hands stray to my breasts and began playing with the hard buttons, spreading another kind of warmth through me. I'd learned when I was very young how to feel myself and cause the wildly-pleasing sensations that would race through my body until they'd explode in my pussy, nearly driving me insane. Every night I'd finger myself and have visions of being fucked like the other girls at school.

Oh, sure I know all the nasty words for sex, how could I help it with the girls at school talking about sex, and they'd got down with Hank or whoever they were going steady with? Then there was Carrie, bragging about fucking the whole A-string of the football team, Susan talking about sucking Jim's tool, then him eating her out.

I hadn't been so lucky. When I'd tell the guy to quit, or I didn't do those things, sure enough, he'd quit and take me home. The closest I came was the night Tommy came over. Mom and Dad had gone to a movie. I got off again and again, barely stifling my excitement. Tommy thought I was scared and crying, so he quit. I was ready to reach into his pants and get his cock out, I was so turned on, but my parents arrived. Tommy lit out the front door, and I headed for my room so they wouldn't see my hair and clothes in such a mess. For some reason, Tommy didn't come back any more or ask me out.

Yes, I knew how to finger myself, even if I had never been fucked.

Playing with my nipples, I began to get warm and wet between my legs. I let one hand stray down to the soft hairs around my cunt. My mind went to the night with Tommy and my fingers slid to the wet crevice as I parted my legs to accommodate my hand.

The wet, hot warmth was too much, and my clit was rock hard. My hips twitched as my finger touched it and the muscles in my thighs jerked with pleasure. Planting my feet on the ground, I arched my hips into the probing of my fingers, the velvet feel of the slick skin from my juices urging my fingers into the hot cavity of my pussy. I could only get them in so far, then an obstruction would halt the search into the core of my sex.

I loved pushing my fingers into the wet hotness and my hole could take two very easily, my forefinger and index finger. I'd saw them in and out as I'd daydream of a hard, throbbing boy's cock pistoning into me. The wild sensations of a climax would wash over me again and again, making me gasp and nearly scream out at the pleasure. It always satisfied me until the next time. Yet, I wanted to feel a boy's dick pushing into me.

My hips were gyrating to my finger's skillful manipulation of my clit and working into my wet gushy hole. I was rapidly reaching a climax, and for once, with no one around, I was riding my emotions, letting the little animal sounds of pleasure come out instead of holding them back to keep anyone from hearing them. In the freedom of being alone, I let my pent-up emotions run wild as the first showers of my climaxing washed over me. The explosions came one after the other, each a little harder than the last, then I lay still, trying to catch my breath and letting the tenseness of my muscles relax. This is when it feels good, the afterglow – that rosy feeling. I couldn't help thinking that if just my finger made me feel this way, what would it feel like to have a boy's dick in me, flooding me with his hot fluid at the same time I was coming!

The night Tommy had me so hot my panties had been glued to my bottom, I had fingered myself several times during the night, awaking from my dreams to find my fingers digging into my wetness and rubbing my rock-hard clit. Once, I woke up rubbing my pelvis into the mattress.

After lying there until I was dry, I decided to slip my clothes on and return to the house. Getting myself together didn't take long. Folding the blanket, I tucked it under my arm and headed back. When I reached Uncle Harold's and Aunt Clara's house, I went to my room and stretched out on the bed. That's when I noticed someone was baling hay over in the big field.