The Awaening of Jennifer

Jennifer Wyndham-Brent had just turned eighteen. She was the only daughter of Cynthia Wyndham-Brent and Charles Wyndham-Brent. The Wyndham-Brents were an aristocratic family, one of the finest in Hampshire. The family fortune had been made in the steel industry. During the birth of the Industrial Revolution, Sheffield was not the only part of Britain to exploit the manufacture of steel. Algernon Wyndham-Brent had become a multi-millionaire -- and the family fortune had been carefully passed down through many generations. Charles Wyndham-Brent worked in the City and ran a very successful investment business, and under his care, the family fortune had soared to new heights. The Wyndham-Brents were perhaps the wealthiest family in Hampshire.

The days of debutantes 'coming out' were fading, but young Jennifer had been treated to a lavish party, held in the expansive gardens of the country home. Some two hundred guests had arrived, most of them in Rolls-Royce cars or similarly luxurious transportation. A band had been hired to provide the music, a huge marquee had been erected, and a high time had been had by all. The following day, the lawn in front of the manor house was a wreck -- empty champagne bottles, glasses and crockery of all sorts were scattered hither and thither. Charles Wyndham-Brent was fanatical about his lawn. It was always kept in perfect condition, and the sight of the heel marks from the ladies' shoes drove him to despair. Consequently, all available servants were summoned to help tidy up and get the lawn back to its former glory.

Young Jennifer knew the house servants well, but many of the grounds staff were unfamiliar to her. As she was walking back to the house she saw a young man on his knees, filling in holes in the lawn with sand, and then dragging a heavy roller across the turf. She could not recall ever seeing him before. Something about him caught her eye. Was it the mane of thick black hair hanging out from beneath his cloth cap, or his muscular forearms? He pulled the roller behind him, affording her an excellent view of his pert behind, encased in tight green britches.

As she watched he came to the end of a run, turned and began dragging the roller back towards her. Both his arms were behind him, and she noticed his wide shoulders -- his shirt was loose and Jennifer saw that his chest was both broad and hairy. Something within her stirred, and she was quite taken by surprise -- it was an unfamiliar feeling.

Jennifer had led a very sheltered life. She had been educated exclusively at a private girls' school and supervision had been ridiculously strict. The chances to meet boys were limited, and her parents were also very determined that they would see Jennifer married into a suitably wealthy family. Many of the guests at the party had been adults, and although they brought their sons and daughters, Jennifer had not known many of them. She had seen men and boys that she considered to be 'good looking', but none of them had produced the fascination she felt for the young man with the roller.

As she watched, the fellow noticed her and paused.

"Morning, Miss Jennifer," he said, and doffed his cap.

Jennifer felt herself blushing. How did he know her name?

"Good morning," she mumbled, and turned to hurry back to the house. As she drew close, she saw Aggie, the chief cook, striding towards the rear of the house with a brace of pheasant -- perhaps that is what they would be dining on that night?

"Aggie!" Jennifer called out.

Aggie stopped and came over to her.

"Yes, Miss Jennie?"

Aggie had worked at the house since Jennifer was a baby -- she was one of the very few servants allowed to call her 'Jennie'.

"Aggie, who is that -- I don't recall having seen him before?" She pointed to the young man.

"That's Henry, Miss Jennie. Henry Parker. He's new - started a few months ago."

Jennifer went into the Manor House and made her way up to her room. Her bedroom overlooked the lawn, and Jennifer immediately went to the window. Henry was still hard at work. Jennifer was a keen birdwatcher and possessed a very good telescope and tripod that she used when on her frequent trips around the estate, looking at wildlife. The estate was large, some 1800 acres, and with its river, lake and expansive woods, it was an ideal habitat for birds and animals. Jennifer placed the telescope at the window, and trained it on Henry. She felt wicked spying on him, and her heart beat faster in her chest. The power of the scope made Henry look only about ten feet away -- she could clearly see the hairs on his forearms and chest. His hands were large and strong and Jennifer once more felt that strange feeling -- was her heart fluttering?

Henry momentarily looked toward the house and Jennifer jumped back, but not before she had seen a flash of his eyes -- they were a startlingly bright blue. She was sure he was too far away to have seen her, but nevertheless, she moved the scope away from the window and went to sit on her bed. She was breathing faster and her heart seemed to be pounding in her chest.

What was this strange thing happening to her? She had never experienced it before. Jennifer lay on her bed and closed her eyes, and commanded herself to breathe slowly and deeply. After a few minutes, she felt back to normal. She got up and looked out of the window, but to her disappointment, Henry, the roller and all his tools were gone.

She sat back down on her bed, and thought about those strange symptoms -- the quickening of her heartbeat, the slight breathlessness, and a very peculiar sensation, deep in her tummy. Could it be the heat, she thought? Perhaps she had had a dizzy turn? That summer was indeed particularly warm, and Jennifer eventually decided that it must be the heat -- she would go downstairs and get a cool drink -- that would be fine!

A week later, Jennifer took a walk around the estate, hoping that she might see some interesting creatures. She saw a small bird which she identified as a Dunnock, and made a note in her notebook. Dunnocks were seldom seen on the estate and it was worthy of recording. Pressing on a bit further into the woods she heard the sound of someone hacking at a tree, and as she drew nearer to the source of the sound she realised that it was Henry.

Henry was wielding a long-handled axe, and was setting about a tall tree that was clearly dead -- there were no leaves on it at all. It was another hot day and Henry had taken off his shirt. Jennifer stopped dead in her tracks and watched him. Henry wielded the axe with gusto, lifting it high before bringing it down with force on the tree trunk. Blow after blow landed and wood chips flew. Jennifer saw the muscles on his back and arms rippling with the intensity of his exertion, and she felt that same feeling -- a fluttering in her chest and that weird breathlessness.

Jennifer did not want Henry to see her watching him, so she stood behind a large beech tree, and observed Henry by peering around the tree trunk. She was fascinated by his obvious strength, and how he seemed able to attack the tree without needing to pause for breath. The tree gave up the ghost and Henry stepped back as it toppled to the ground. Dry, dead branches shattered, and pieces flew in all directions. Henry was sweating, and took a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow. He must have considered that work on the tree was done, because he picked up his shirt, and with the axe in his hand started walking.

Jennifer was entranced. His back was towards her as he walked away, and she could see it glistening with sweat. Before he was out of sight Jennifer started walking after him. She did not know why, but she felt a strong urge to observe him. By now she was thinking that Henry might be the cause of her strange symptoms -- both of her 'funny turns' had occurred when she had encountered him.

As Henry walked, Jennifer suspected that he was heading for a wooden shack that was in a clearing in the woods. It was used by the grounds staff to rest, have their lunch and have a cup of tea. Jennifer knew it well, as she and her brother, Barnaby, had played there many times when they were younger.

Jennifer was correct; Henry arrived at the shack, went inside and closed the door. Initially, she was disappointed, but then a thought dawned on her. At the rear of the shack, there was a lean-to shed that was occasionally used to store wood from felled trees. Jennifer had often hidden from her brother in there, and she knew that there were quite wide gaps in the shack wall. It had delighted her to spy on Barnaby as he looked around in the shack for her. For some reason, Barnaby had never thought to look in the shed.

Jennifer stepped carefully and silently around to the rear of the shack. The shed door was slightly ajar, and Jennifer gingerly opened it wider, hoping it would not creak. She was lucky -- it did not. The shed was almost empty, and Jennifer stepped inside, and gingerly closed the door behind her -- again it was silent.

She saw that the gaps were still there, but she was much taller now, and she would have to crouch to see through. Jennifer kneeled on the ground and spied through a gap. Henry had put a kettle onto a small gas burner, and he was sitting on a chair, unwrapping his lunch which appeared to be sandwiches of some sort. He had not bothered to put his shirt on, and Jennifer had an excellent view of his bare chest. She watched him eat, and studied his features. His nose was straight, which was unusual as most men in the area seemed to have very odd-looking noses. His jaw was firm and exuded strength. He had not shaved for days, and the dark stubble on his face added to his masculinity. She watched Henry devour the sandwiches, and saw that he had full lips, that would not look at all out of place on a woman.

Jennifer studied Henry carefully. The beating of her heart had not quite returned to normal. After all, she was hidden away spying on him, and the danger of being caught was guaranteed to keep her pulse well above the normal rate, but she did not feel as light-headed as before.

Henry finished his sandwiches and when the kettle boiled, made his tea. There was no milk to hand so he could not drink the tea until it had cooled down. Henry sat on the chair and closed his eyes -- perhaps he was going to take a nap?

Henry did not take a nap. He did something which Jennifer could never have anticipated. As he sat with his eyes closed, Henry reached down to the front of his britches, and began fumbling with the fly. Jennifer almost gasped out loud. Was he going to take a pee? There did not seem to be any suitable receptacle. Henry undid the fly, and then undid his belt, lifted his bottom from the chair, and pulled the britches down almost to his knees.

If Jennifer's heart had quickened before, it was as nothing compared to the thumping she now felt in her chest. She had seen her brother, Barnaby, naked in the bath when they were little children, so knew that boys had a little appendage between their legs, but she was quite unprepared for what she now saw. Henry sat back down on the chair, and spread his sturdy legs. His chair was facing almost directly toward Jennifer, slightly turned to her left, and Jennifer was afforded a very clear view. Henry did have an appendage between his legs, to be sure, but it was long and fat, and lolled down over what appeared to be a full, round bag. Jennifer was a good student and in school biology lessons had learned the proper name for these organs. It's his 'penis', she thought to herself, and his 'testicles'. She recalled the embarrassment of once being ordered - as a punishment for giggling - to say those names out loud in class. The other girls had teased her for weeks, whispering 'penis' to each other behind their hands when Jennifer walked by.

On his lower stomach, there was a dense patch of dark hair -- Jennifer in comparison had a very small patch of pale blond hair over her 'lady parts' -- Henry was very different.

Henry took a swig of tea from the mug and placed it back on the table. He closed his eyes again and Jennifer looked down at his crotch. His penis seemed equipped with a wrinkled floppy bit at the end; Jennifer could not recall if her brother possessed a smaller version. What was that called, she pondered? Ah yes, the prepuce, or foreskin. As she watched, Henry reached down and took his penis in his hand, lifted it up, and began to slowly pull on it, over and over.

Jennifer was stunned as the thing seemed to be growing in Henry's hand. When he had first taken hold, his hand had covered nearly all of it, but now it was extending, growing longer and thicker with every pull.

The light-heeded feeling returned, and Jennifer put her hand to her mouth and she bit her fingers, perhaps out of astonishment, and perhaps to prevent her from making any sound that would betray her position. The foreskin now revealed its protective function as a glistening domed object began to emerge as Henry's penis grew. It was a bluish-grey colour, quite unlike the rest of the white appendage, and certainly not the colour displayed in her biology books. As the dome emerged Jennifer saw that it formed a large helmet-shaped head on the penis. The foreskin now seemed to have retracted, and lay snugly below the head. Henry let go of his penis, but it did not flop down -- it remained erect, standing up proudly all by itself. Jennifer's biology books had never shown the penis erect and the sight of it both alarmed and excited her. She knew that this organ had to be inserted into a woman to make babies, but it seemed preposterous -- there is no way she could ever accommodate such a weapon!

Henry took another swig of tea and then resumed his grip. As his hand moved up and down, Jennifer saw that the bag beneath was lifted each time, as the skin on the shaft was stretched. It was easy to see that the bag contained two large round balls, that bobbed about as the bag moved.

Henry paused again for another drink of tea -- gracious heavens! His penis seemed even larger than before! Jennifer looked at the graceful upward curve of the shaft - the head at the tip had swelled more and looked huge and bulbous, and it had acquired a deeper colour -- it was now redder, almost purple. Red was nature's warning of danger, Jennifer thought -- the sight was indeed alarming. The organ stood bolt upright, with the head almost touching Henry's stomach, an inch or two above his navel. Jennifer looked at her hand and spread her fingers wide. She knew from her dress-making that the span from tip of thumb to tip of little finger was precisely eight inches. She judged the fierce column jutting from Henry's groin to be the equal of that length. Jennifer was sure she could actually hear her heart beating.

Henry took hold of his penis again and began tugging with vigour. Jennifer could not understand what his hand movement was for, but she was certain that Henry was enjoying it. He seemed to be becoming very excited, and Jennifer could detect that his breathing was getting faster. Then Henry paused, lifted his hand to his mouth, and spat into it. Jennifer was taken aback -- what a vulgar thing to do! Henry transferred the spit to his penis, and smeared it liberally all over the head. He resumed his hand movement, and Jennifer could see that the foreskin could now glide over the head with each stroke.

From his expression Jennifer could see that Henry was clearly enjoying the sensation; he leaned back on the chair, and his face began to contort into a strange grimace - his hand moved faster and faster. Jennifer heard him groan, and suddenly his hand stopped jerking altogether - Henry grasped his penis tightly, just below the head. The expression on his face was one of extreme pain -- Jennifer was mightily perplexed.

All of a sudden a jet of pure white liquid shot from the tip of his penis and spattered onto Henry's chest, right between his nipples. Another spurt followed - and another - and another, and Jennifer watched stunned as Henry groaned and covered his chest with the thick white substance. His hips jerked as if he was trying to propel the liquid even further.

The spurts grew weaker, and Henry moved his hand again, but more slowly this time, as if he was coaxing the remaining liquid out. Jennifer watched fascinated as the last of it oozed and trickled slowly down over the back of Henry's hand. His chest was liberally coated with the stuff, and the whiteness was in stark contrast to his tanned chest and the dark hair upon it.

Henry's expression had returned to normal; he let go of his penis, which seemed to be slowly shrinking and drooping, and wiped his hand on his handkerchief. He then attended to the stuff on his chest, but because he was quite hairy the white fluid stuck to the hair and did not look easy to wipe off.

Jennifer had seen enough -- she had to leave. She rose to her feet and stood, but her legs were shaking, and she thought she might fall. Carefully she opened the door, and slipped out. A quick glance around showed that nobody could see her. She started walking back to the Manor house, and when she was about thirty yards away from the shack, she started to run. She ran without pausing, across the lawn, up the steps, through the front door and into her room. She closed the door behind her, and immediately went to look out of the window - worried that Henry might have seen her and was following her.

Jennifer was overwhelmed. Her heart pounded. Her knees felt weak, incapable of supporting her. And her breath! It was coming in short gasps, and she knew it was not all due to her running. What had she seen? She was not sure. But certainly, her parents would not approve of her having seen it. As her fright diminished she became aware of other sensations. She was increasingly conscious of something between her legs; a tingling, burning, stinging feeling. And her panties! My God, they felt so wet. She couldn't have wet herself, could she? Not even in terror. But what had happened to them? She applied her finger apprehensively to the area. Through the material of her soft skirt, she could feel no wetness; but the pressure of her finger on the spot increased the tingling sensation dramatically. Dear God! She had never felt like this before.

Jennifer locked her bedroom door. She had no idea what she was going to do, but some instinct, primal and eternal seemed to guide her. Fragments of dimly remembered conversations with her mother, then only partially understood, were coming back to her. Her heart began to pound again, and a hot, heavy feeling was growing in her stomach. Almost in a trance, she began to remove her clothing. Her panties felt wet; the crotch area was soaking, far too wet to be sweat, even though it was a very warm day. On impulse Jennifer raised the panties to her nose, and inhaled - it was musky and tangy, and the scent increased her light-headedness. She caught a glimpse of her body in the wardrobe mirror and her cheeks flamed and heat surged through her.

Jennifer was short, only five foot two, and her slender body was probably still several years away from full womanhood, but the sight of herself in the mirror, standing completely naked, excited her. She looked down at her arms, and compared the hairs on them with what she had seen in the shack. There were indeed tiny blonde hairs on her arms, but where Henry's were jet black, hers were fair and almost invisible. She had a few tufts under her arms, straight and soft, and also on the mound between her legs, but here they were sparse and curling tightly. Jennifer's breasts had only recently formed, small and girlish, with sharply pointed tips. The rose-pink circles around her nipples seemed raised and swollen, as if stung by bees. Her breasts were smaller than most of her school friends, who had all seemed to develop breasts much sooner than she had. She looked at herself in the mirror again, and lifted her hands to gently touch her breasts. At her touch, the nipples at the tips grew pointed and hard -- erect even, and she thought of how she had watched Henry's penis grow erect. Her breasts ached at the thought and something deep in her stomach fluttered, like an imprisoned butterfly beating its wings against captivity as it awaited release. Would Henry like her body -- were her breasts too small?