Foreword
These stories are based in Australia and written in the idiom the characters would use.
Some issues in language variations I anticipated and built translations into my narrative. Others have caught me by surprise especially in their intensity. Generally, the intended meaning will be clear from the context if you don't cling too tightly to your usual usage.
Crutch/ Crotch has been a subject of much comment. Australians more commonly use 'crutch' and that meaning of the word is supported by the Macquarie Dictionary.
Introduction
In the "First Summer" series (generally published under the "Erotic Couplings" heading, we have recently been introduced to Jenna, Greg's 18 year old sister.
She too has a story to tell.
Story
I'm not the first to observe that life can be like a pond. If you throw a rock in the middle, multiple waves radiate out having all sorts of interesting flow on effects.
And so it was the year Karen came into our lives and started dating my older brother. Of course dating is not really the word. It was more like one continuous fucking session.
I knew Greg was a virgin before she came along. I also knew, when he came home after lunch on the day he met her, that he'd got himself fucked that morning. At that time no girl had even been mentioned, but there was just something about him that said it had happened. The parentals were of course oblivious to it all -- they always are -- but little sisters don't miss a thing.
I watched as his best friend Kate -- usually so cool, calm and in control - went slightly crazy for a while adjusting to the idea of Greg having a girl-friend like this, let alone him having a sex life that made hers look monastic by comparison -- and that's saying something.
At first the effect on me hadn't been that great. At the start of summer us siblings had been a family of virgins; that's the way some families are; a bit slower about these things. Now one of us wasn't.
Big deal.
But that all started to change when Karen started staying over. They thought they were being quiet. Like sure. The noises they were making in the sand dunes were already legendary; largely thanks to Kate whose normal discretion was temporarily distorted by her craziness. But even in our own house, try as they might, they couldn't help themselves. In the room next door I might as well have been getting a blow by blow description with a video feed for all the difference it would have made. Especially with Karen. I could always tell exactly where she was in terms of her progression to orgasm, pick the exact moment she climaxed and tell you how many more she had. I could probably have guessed to the nearest millimetre how high she arched her back.
When they both emerged in the morning Karen would be her cutest bubbliest self in a tiny bikini which seemed to show a perpetual camel toe and bikini nips like you wouldn't believe. I don't know what her bikinis were made of but they seemed to be some super thin body moulding fabric designed to show the shape of everything they were meant to hide; and frankly, there wasn't much they were hiding. With Greg's speedos moulded around his cock, when they stood side by side at the breakfast counter and you saw his cock next to her camel toe you just couldn't help but think about sex; the sex they'd just had, the sex they were going to have later and the sex I was missing out on.
Even dad was having trouble keeping his dick under control in her presence. I'm sure he and mum were at it a lot more often since Greg had started bringing Karen home.
Me? I had no immediate outlet for the frustration that was building. And at 18 years old, I do mean none, because at the start of all this I hadn't even masturbated yet. So for the first few nights she stayed I just lay there listening to them, getting more and more aroused and not feeling there was any real release for what I was feeling. I grew up quickly during that initial month.
Eventually I had to masturbate; experiencing my first ever orgasm in the process. That first one was just from rubbing my clit but as I did it more often I started to explore my tunnel too. As I listened to Greg and Karen going at it next door I could eventually give myself full on, back arching, multiple orgasms; hoping I was being quieter about it than the others were and wondering if mum and dad had the slightest clue what a sexually charged house our home had become.
In other ways I was changing too; or at least changing the person I projected myself as. As much as I might seem to have scorned her bikini style, long before Christmas arrived, I found myself shopping for similar ones to Karen's; much, much briefer than what I used to wear with really tiny unpadded triangles for the top and I actually found myself testing the fabric to see how thin it felt. I never could seem to match Karen's (it was only months later I saw a couple of pair hanging on the line and discovered they both had the lining of the top cut out and one the lining of the pants too) but what hadn't been important suddenly became important. Same with my undies where I started dumping my thick cotton ones for tiny sheer microfiber ones. And I won't say I started to dress more slutty; just more sexily than I once might have.
In a way that I'm sure would have shocked all those who thought they knew the 'sweet innocent Jenna' they thought I was, I was now seriously considering how to get myself laid and starting to weigh up the possibilities as to who might get the job of doing it. I also put myself on the pill. Even if I used a condom I already had a class mate who (claimed) she got knocked up while using one. Better to be safe.
The next step in my path to sexual awakening came on Christmas Day where, after the adults had lapsed into a food coma inside, the kids started a game of jousting in the river; where a girl sits on a guy's shoulders and you try and push each other off. I suppose being matched with my cousin Phil wasn't the best start; he's not bad looking but I think he's a bit desperate sexually and there's something about him creeps me out.
Still as I sat on his shoulders rubbing my clit up and down on the back of his neck as I urged him forward, it did strike me it was probably as intimate as I'd actually been with a guy. A bit pathetic really!
Things got a bit crazier when my cousins Zoe and Jenny started undressing each other and then everyone else as they tried to pull them off. When they got to me, I was left hanging naked and completely exposed upside down over Phil's back as he pinned one of my legs to his chest while the other dangled wide apart in mid-air while he was fighting off those trying to dack him. After I finally was freed and speared head first into the water, the rest of them picked up Phil, stripped him and tossed him into the water on top of me, leaving our two naked bodies intertwined as we struggled to regain the surface.
Whether accidental or not Phil definitely got in a couple of gropes -- both breast and crutch with his hands -- and I felt his erection pass across my stomach, before we were finally back on our feet and separated. My arousal at that contact was only moderated by my mortification that I was the only girl showing more than the smallest landing strip of pubic hair. I'd actually worn an old bikini because I was so unshaved. I never let that happen again.
And so the focus on how to lose my virginity became more intense. Really if there was an issue at all, it was one of fear; the fear surely all girls must have of that first time. After all, I knew plenty of guys in town who'd be quite happy to add me to their long list of conquests. But most of them I wouldn't trust even if I made the "be gentle, I'm a virgin" declaration.
But there was one contender. Someone who'd been a friend all through school; Cory was good looking enough, a nice guy but painfully shy, I was pretty sure he was a virgin too and probably not gay. So far our relationship had been all conversation and company -- including beach time with a group of friends - but no touching. I'm pretty sure he was at least as attracted to me as I was to him, even if I wasn't sure I'd take him as long term boyfriend material.
The question was how to go about it. I was far too shy to just come and ask if he wanted a root.
So even though I was feeling a bit impatient, I knew I'd have to work up to it.
In this first Christmas period after leaving school, all my class mates were basically on one extended holiday; either starting their gap year or waiting for Uni to start at the end of February; so at least most of us were down the beach every day, and that included Cory. That meant there'd be frequent opportunities to work on it; it's not like I'd have once a week.
On the day after making my decision we were sitting on the beach when I suggested he come in for a swim with me. Then I led him out past the break area to where the waves were first forming. He was taller than me so, while I found I had to jump every wave to keep my head above water, he could sort of just stand there.
After just fooling about for a while, I started putting my hands on his shoulder to give me a little boost as I jumped each wave. He reciprocated by putting hands on my hips to help support me. Bit by bit I let my body drift closer with each wave. Then as a particularly big wave hit, I jumped a bit higher and threw myself at him, basically burying my breasts -- such as they were -- in his face as the wave passed over the top of his head and then sliding down the length of his body to regain my feet.
This time I spread my legs so that they sort of loosely wrapped around his thighs, basically causing my crutch to slide the length of his stomach until either my feet were on the ground or something first caught in my crutch to stop me lowering myself any further.
Since about the fourth bounce I'd known there was a full on erection waiting for me in his pants. There was that completely unmistakable bulge bisecting a line down his shorts that I'd brushed against with what I thought I could pass off as a careless sideways jump. As my thigh passed across, I'd felt it push outwards in response; as if it was a missile automatically seeking out a not yet fully identified target.
I knew he knew I'd felt it; all the more so as a few more careless jumps got the same reaction. As I slid down his body on this big jump, I knew something catching my crutch was more a matter of aim than luck.
