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?
