Party Time/Party Time.iso/pt/story/awake1.txt

Internet Message Format | 1994-01-15 | 26KB

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From: [e-mail] (Steven Edwards)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Louise's Awakening: Pt1 - Discovery
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Date: Thu, 13 Jan 1994 17:54:55 UTC
Reply-To: [e-mail]
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Hi everyone,

I am pleased to say that my story "Louise's Awakening" has practically
doubled in size. In case anyone missed the first 3 parts of the story,
I am reposting them (also so they can be archived on the new archive). I
have made some minor modifications, but they are essentially unchanged,
I have changed the subtitle to part 3, I hope this doesn't cause confusion.

The story now has this structure:

Pt1: Discovery    -- Louise discovers that her body can give her pleasure
Pt2: Temptation   -- Louise's date temps her to the limits of self-control
Pt3: Learning     -- Louise learns more about sex, including lesbianism.
Pt4: Decision     -- Louise has a decision about her life to make at a party
Pt5: Caught       -- Louise is caught masturbating, and in bed with Amy!
Pt6: Frustration  -- Louise is horny, but she can't come. Find out why.
Pt7: Betrayal     -- Will Louise betray Amy?
Pt8: Pleasure     -- At last! But is it too much?

It's not everyday that you can read 8 chapters about a virgin's sexual
awakening and find that she is still a virgin at the end of it! Enjoy!

Comments are, of course, welcome. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't have
read access to the alt.sex hierarchy, so you will have to email me.

For those of you who are interested, the only other erotica that I have
written is the 8 part "Susan Starts ..." story which has been posted on
alt.sex.stories in the past.

If the age of the heroine in this story is below the age where it is legal
to do the things that she does where you live, please adjust her age in your
copy of this story accordingly. Thank you.

take care all,

Steve Edwards.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Copyright Steve Edwards, October 1993.

Warning: The following is a work of fiction, which hopefully you will find
erotic.  All characters and places are figments of the author's imagination
and any resemblence to real events is purely coincidental. It contains
explicit material not suitable for minors. Please remember that this is just
a fantasy. In real-life always practice safe-sex, or remain faithful to a
faithful partner.

It may be distributed electronically and archived, but only with these
disclaimers and byline attached. It may not be sold for profit, except
by me. :-)



                                Louise's Awakening


           1. Discovery

            Louise smiled ruefully at her guilty face which was
          reflected back from the mirror. Well she might be shamefaced,
          having spent so long admiring her body in her parents' full
          length mirror. She flattered herself, admittedly with some
          justification, that she was a sane, sensible girl, not given
          to inordinate vanity and ridiculous dreams. Nevertheless she
          couldn't deny that she had just spent an appreciable amount
          of time examining her body with self-satisfaction. She'd
          entered her parents' bedroom that evening with the intention
          of returning her mother's bubble-bath to their on-suite
          bathroom. While passing through her attention had been
          grabbed by her startling reflection. Dressed as she was in
          bathrobe tied loosely at the waist, having come straight from
          her bath, she looked ... . Louise wasn't quite sure what word
          she would choose to describe how she looked this evening. It
          must be admitted that "stunning", "beautiful", and "sexy",
          did occur to her, but each was rejected in turn, mainly due
          to her innate modesty and to a vein of self-depreciation
          which ran through her nature. Any objective observer however
          would have been happy to apply all of these words to describe
          Louise's voluptuous and sensual teenage body. It could not be
          denied, even by Louise herself, that by age sixteen, her body
          had bloomed in a most agreeable way.

            As she had stood before the mirror, admiring her
          tantalisingly revealed cleavage, and the smooth texture of
          her nicely shaped calves and lower thighs, Louise had been
          tempted to untie her robe, and let it fall to the floor
          behind her. Succumbing with alacrity, Louise stood naked
          before the mirror. After admiring herself from every side,
          she had noted with satisfaction the flatness of her stomach,
          and that her soft blonde pubic hair looked a little more
          substantial than when she'd last examined herself. It had
          remained a light fuzz for far too long. She had observed to
          herself on numerous occasions in school changing-rooms that
          most of her friends had veritable bushes while her's had
          remained hardly noticeable. Louise examined her breasts with
          some concern: she was happy with the size that they were now,
          slightly more than a handful, but was worried least they
          should grow much more, and start to sag. At present there was
          no sign of such a fate, they stood firm and proud, thrusting
          jauntily out in front of her.

            Louise held and weighed her breasts. Inevitably, Louise's
          fingers brushed her nipples, and, as was their want, they
          erected themselves. Normally Louise found her nipples
          exquisitely sensitive, and hated it when they stood proud
          from their pink surround, and she could hardly bare touching
          them. Today however, she was captivated by the sensuality of
          the vision they formed. There was something essentially
          sexual about how she looked: her breasts cupped in her hands,
          her nipples thrusting through her spread fingers, and a
          healthy flush on her cheeks. Against her normal practice, she
          touched her nipples deliberately, lightly squeezing them
          between her fingers. Exquisite sensations darted from them,
          pleasure being the dominant component of the thrill. Louise
          was emboldened to press her palms over them, and the
          resulting sensations caused a deeper flush to rise to her
          cheeks. Sliding her palms over her breasts was almost too
          much, and she couldn't help gasping.

            A little bit frightened by the intensity of the pleasure,
          Louise stopped then, and let her hands fall to her side. Her
          nipples were hard now, erect and dark pink, the areolae
          puckered around them, drawing attention to their saucy
          boldness. Louise couldn't avoid recognising that she was no
          longer a girl, she now had a woman's body. "A body men would
          die for", she whispered to herself, with gentle self-mockery.

            It was at this stage that she'd caught her own eye and had
          smiled ruefully. Picking up her robe, she slipped it on. Her
          parents were out and they wouldn't get back for a couple of
          hours yet, having gone out for a romantic meal, but she
          didn't have the house to herself. Her pesky brother was
          around somewhere, probably in his bedroom playing
          video-games, but she could guarantee that it would be just at
          the time that she decided to dart between bedrooms naked,
          that he would emerge from his messy kingdom. He was two years
          younger than she was, and so had already entered that most
          disagreeable of phases that all male adolescents go through.
          Their thinking, feelings, and attitudes were all equally,
          utterly, in-comprehensible to Louise. At least, she assumed
          that they passed through it; there were still enough jerks in
          her class at school who delighted in bothering her to make
          that assumption questionable to say the least.

            As she entered her bedroom, Louise reflected that it was
          only today that the horrible Andrew Manchester had sat on her
          desk, cracking gum in that smug self-assured way that he had,
          and had assured her that she was "drop dead gorgeous" and
          would she like him to show her "heaven" behind the Sports
          Hall at lunch time? Fat chance with a slime-bucket like that!
          What could he be thinking to think that such an approach
          would work? Who in their right mind would be attracted by
          such macho-shit? After he'd gone back to his seat, she and
          Amy Marshall, her best friend who she sat next to in most
          classes, and who had overheard everything, had cracked up
          with giggles. Not very "cool",  but it had relieved the
          tension.

            Louise put on Madonna's "Erotic" CD, before sitting down at
          her dressing table to brush out her long hair. This nightly
          chore of brushing out her hair was often performed to the
          strains of her latest CD. The lyrics, suggesting the
          desirability of hands being placed all over her body, made
          Louise aware that her nipples were still half erect and
          sensitive, and that her vigorous brushing was causing them to
          chaff on her robe. The sensations were not unpleasant,
          indeed, she soon found herself twisting slightly to increase
          the friction.

            Leaving her hair with only a perfunctory brush, Louise
          opened her robe, admiring again her silky white breasts with
          their torrid pinnacles. With engrossed fascination, she
          watched her reflection as she lifted and pushed her breasts
          together. Her cleavage deepened, looking like a buxom wench
          in a medieval movie, Louise noted to herself with wry
          amusement. However, the sexiness of this vision was not lost
          on her. Indeed a rather lewd thought occurred to her which,
          after only a relatively brief struggle, overcame her qualms.
          Acting on it, she quickly licked the forefinger of her right
          hand, and ran it over the tingling nipple of her still
          prominently offered left breast.

            The "Oh" that escaped was quite involuntary, as was the
          flush which quickly rose to her cheeks. After re-licking her
          finger, together with her thumb, she tentatively encircled
          the engorged nubbin of pleasure between them. The sensations
          were intense as the slight pressure was applied, and Louise
          began to feel hot and sexy in way she'd never experienced
          before. She'd hadn't realised that her body was capable of
          producing such feelings! Louise closed her eyes to focus on
          the pleasure as her slickened fingers worked their magic,
          unaware that she was parting and closing her thighs in
          response to a deep primal need.

            Wetting her left hand similarly, she proceeded to gently
          squeeze and caress both of her nipples at the same time.
          Louise was unaware that a soft whimper was forced from her by
          these unbelievable, and previously un-imagined, thrills.
          Driven by urgent passion and an instinctive knowledge, Louise
          pinched her slippery nipples harder than previously, and
          gasped as her nipples slid through her fingers, and erotic
          sensations shot through her body, eventually finding a home
          between her legs. The fire that had been stoked into a red
          hot furnace between her legs now impinged itself upon
          Louise's consciousness. She also became aware of the rhythmic
          rocking of her legs, especially of the stab of pleasure that
          accompanied each closing swing.

            Still keeping her eyes closed and her fingers gently
          pulling and squeezing, Louise consciously controlled the
          movement of her legs. She quickly discovered that the best
          results were obtained from spreading wider and clenching
          tighter. On each outward swing Louise could feel her pussy
          lips parting, her cunt gaping, and on each inward swing there
          was that marvellous sensation of folds caressing each other
          as they came together, rushing towards a slippery embrace of
          her throbbing clitoris. For yes, Louise could feel that she
          was getting wet down there.

            This slowly awakened some curiosity, but it was only
          slowly, as no thought was travelling fast through Louise's
          pleasured fogged mind at present. Louise opened her eyes and,
          catching her reflection in front of her, noted idly how
          aroused she appeared, as she looked from under
          passion-drooped eyelids. Reluctantly she stopped her right
          hand's caresses, ceasing with a last delicious squeeze, she
          slipped off her robe, and then lowered her hand down between
          her still rocking legs. Louise had often touched herself
          between her legs, normally only to wash or to insert a
          tampon, but occasionally to investigate, however never before
          had she found herself so wet. Juices from her vagina had
          flowed freely, coating her puffy labia with a slick film
          which she felt as her hand reached it destination.

            Wonder at the workings of her anatomy was cut short however
          by the thrill which coincided with her closing legs forcing
          her hand against her clitoris. The involuntary "Oohhh!!!"
          which the thrill gave rise to was recklessly loud given the
          proximity of her brother and his congenital inability to
          remember to knock before entering her room. However, before
          Louise could recover enough to realise this, her legs had
          opened and closed again almost on their own initiative, and
          the thrill was repeated. Louise was lost. The throbbing of
          her clitoris had gone into overdrive, and was now almost
          continuous. Her moans were more regular and slightly quieter,
          not from design, but from the shallow panting which failed to
          provide the necessary air for more volume.

            Louise threw her head back as she continued to squeeze one
          nipple more roughly than before, and as she rubbed her labia
          and clitoris with her other hand. She quickly discovered that
          it was that throbbing of button of pleasure that produced the
          most intense feelings. Such knowledge was never destined to
          remain an academic curiosity, but to be applied. She wasn't
          sure how it would end, wasn't sure if she wanted it to end,
          but she instinctively knew that she needed to throw herself
          into the growing wave of pleasure that threatened to break
          over her at any second. Unexpectedly, images of Andrew
          Manchester arose before Louise as her climax neared. It was
          his mouth that closed on hers as her fingers rocked on her
          clitoris, it was his smell that enveloped her, and his tongue
          which entered her mouth as the wave broke, and Louise arched
          and sobbed an "Ahhhhhhh!!" as pleasure racked her frame, and
          her thighs squeezed her hand hard against her pussy.

            Within seconds Louise's head had cleared from befuddling
          passion, and to say that her emotions and thoughts were mixed
          would be an understatement. She was at once amazed and
          dismayed: amazed that her body was capable of giving her such
          pleasure, and that she had never discovered it before;
          dismayed that her thoughts had turned to Andrew Manchester,
          and that she had been so noisy. Dismay got the upper-hand, as
          it was reinforced by doubt, doubt about the correctness of
          such behaviour. Was it right to enjoy such pleasures? Or was
          she in some way sinning, or pandering to vanity or ....
          Louise was just about to settle down into serious
          self-criticism when she heard her brother's door open.
          Guessing that he was coming to see her, she quickly put her
          robe back on, and tried to look natural.

            She'd hardly succeeded when Michael burst in and said "Hi
          Sis!", and flopped down on her bed. Louise's reflection told
          her that she still looked flushed and rather guilty, but
          Michael was far too wrapped up in himself to notice. He
          started telling her how he'd just finished watching a great
          video, a real
          hack-'em-up-&-watch-their-blood-spurt-everywhere movie.
          "Shut-up Michael! You know I hate hearing about those kinds
          of stories", Louise demanded, throwing a nail-file that was
          at hand at him. She missed. "How did you get it anyway? You
          know mother will hit the roof if she catches you watching
          something like that again!", she continued.

            "She'll never know will she!", explained Michael as though
          to an idiot, revealing he had totally adopted the doctrine
          which taught that "if you aren't caught, you aren't guilty".
          Louise didn't share that view, and had told him why on many
          occasions, but she didn't feel like arguing with him just
          now. "Scram, I'm going to bed", she ordered, glad that she
          had a reason for getting rid of him so quickly, eager as she
          was to be alone and think over her recent experiences.
          Michael rose lazily from the bed ... going extra slowly just
          to annoy her ... and said as he was going out the door, "What
          you need is a vibrator!"

            This threw Louise into complete confusion, "How did he know
          ...? What had he seen ...?", until it occurred to her that
          the comment had been in response to her crabbiness, and not
          her recent ... "... `masturbation' I suppose I should call
          it", concluded Louise to herself. Relief made her smile, but
          she made a mental note to herself to be more friendly in
          future ... for although Michael was impossible sometimes, he
          was still her little brother.

            Louise slipped out of her robe, slid on her white cotton
          night-dress, and got in between the clean sheets. She knew
          however that sleep was going to elude her until she had time
          to think through all that had happened. On reflection, she
          wasn't that surprised with the pleasurable sensations, after
          all there had to be some reason why people were always going
          on about sex! She thought a little bit kinder now on some of
          her fellow pupils who had been sleeping with boys .... if it
          felt even better than masturbation it must be unbelievable!
          Not that she'd consider sleeping with anyone apart from her
          husband. No way whatsoever! It might be old fashioned, and
          her friends might consider her weird, but she was sure that
          she was going to be a virgin on her wedding day. She wanted
          wear her white wedding-dress with pride and a clear
          conscience. It occurred to her then, for the first time, that
          it might be hard waiting. This thought, however, because of
          her inexperience, she was able to dismiss quickly.

            Louise's thoughts now turned to a more perplexing problem:
          why had she thought of Andrew Manchester just as she was
          climaxing? She still felt the same revulsion to him that
          she'd always felt, although, if she was being totally honest
          with herself (and that was just what she intended to be),
          there was a way in which his confidence and self-assurance
          was rather sexy. The idea of strong arms and assured kisses
          were potent images to her inexperienced imagination, and
          coincided with what she was sure her ideal man would possess.
          Louise also had the self-understanding to realise that
          subtly, underneath her fury at his approach, she had been
          more than a little flattered that a hunk that many girls in
          her class were drooling over was making such a public play
          for her. Louise played the image she had conjured up earlier
          of Andrew's kisses over again in her mind. Louise had no
          doubt that he would be able to tap that self-confidence of
          his in his kisses to turn his girl to jelly. She could
          imagine what it must be like to be held upright by his strong
          arms, while his drugged kisses made her utterly weak, and
          dependent upon his strength.

            The slide from introspective questioning to fantasising was
          a gradual one, and Louise was never conscious of the change.
          Nevertheless, this didn't stop the fantasies from heating her
          up in a way she had only experienced for the first time this
          evening. Louise didn't identify the throb of her clitoris or
          the ache of her nipples as the cause of her sudden hotness,
          she only knew that she felt an urge to peel off her
          night-dress. This she did in one fluid movement: sitting up,
          pulling it over her, and discarding it on the floor with
          grace. She felt sinful, delicious, and playful, all at once,
          as the sheets slid over her body as she moved down the bed
          again. The rubbing of the sheets over her naked breasts was
          arousing. Her nipples stood-up to ensure that they got more
          than their fair-share of any caresses going.

            Once settled, Louise returned to her fantasy, the energy
          sapping kisses of Andrew. She remembered that he'd promised
          her "heaven" behind the Sports Hall, only now, rather than
          concentrating on the insult, she concentrated on what it
          might mean. Andrew leaning her back against the Sports Hall
          wall, freeing a hand that had been supporting her, so that he
          could cup one of her breasts. As she lay in bed, Louise
          cupped her left breast, emulating the feel of Andrew's hand.
          In real-life, as in her fantasy, this brought a murmur of
          encouragement to her lips. Andrew's large hand squeezed and
          caressed her breast, and then he ran his thumb over her
          nipple which was visible even through her bra and blouse.
          Louise moaned, and incorporated that moan into her fantasy.
          Thus encouraged, Louise imagined him unbuttoning her blouse,
          and his hands closing on both her bra clad breasts at once.
          Louise was beginning to pant from the hotness of her fantasy
          and from the delicious feelings her hands were eliciting.

            In her imagination she kissed Andrew harder, and clutched
          at his broad back, causing him to lose control, and, with
          masculine impatience, to pull down her bra cups, freeing her
          breasts, but leaving her bra on, so that it kept them lifted
          high and thrusting. Her dream felt so real as she imagined
          his hands closing on her naked breasts. Then he broke their
          kiss, and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his
          mouth. Louise emulated this by wetting her fingers with
          saliva, and using them to caress her nipples.

            Louise could remember where she had first heard that men
          like to take a woman's nipple into their mouth and suck on it
          ... it was in a girly magazine that she'd discovered in her
          brother's bedroom ... unfortunately he'd turned up before she
          could study it much, she'd only had time to scan through the
          photographs of provocative models and to read one letter. He
          put a lock on his desk draw after that, and she never got
          another chance. Nipple sucking like a baby had struck her as
          silly initially, but she had slowly incorporated it into her
          beliefs of what "foreplay" must consist of.

            For a second time that evening, Louise was working herself
          into quite a state by the manipulation of her hard and
          sensitive nipples. Louise's low moan of "uuuooohhh", was a
          sign that her right hand was now touching her clitoris. This
          was mirrored in her fantasy by Andrew having slid his hand up
          her leg, bunching her skirt as it went, and now rubbing her
          pussy through her panties. Louise was so wet and excited that
          it took but the briefest of caresses of her throbbing
          clitoris to bring her to a most satisfying climax. The moaned
          "ooohhhh ... Aaaahhh" expressed her satisfaction most
          eloquently. She dropped off to sleep very soon afterwards.
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