Cleaning Up A Few Scattered Memories

Naked Snow Angel. 

A sleepover at a friend’s home turned into being snowed in for a week. As I think I’ve told you, here, it tends to rain for a month pretty much solidly, then the rain stops and the sky looks heavy and oppressing, while the temperature drops like a stone and then it will snow incessantly, and heavily. You wake up and the world is covered in a thick, white blanket. 

Three of us then, ‘trapped’. Well, not trapped maybe, but travel was considered dangerous on the roads. Eventually, though my host’s mum and dad said they’d risk a shopping run and clambered into their Range Rover and drove slowly off. We girls, still in our PJs did what every self-respecting group of teenage girls would do…namely giggle a lot, talk about sex, and dare one another. 

Then someone dared me to run outside and do a snow angel……naked. Well, you should know me by now. Pjs off, out through the patio doors and….FUUUuUUUCK ME!. It felt like the freezing air had slapped me across my tits! Which, in turn, made my nipples stand up and say “More please!” My clit joined the party too, since my little pearl was also wet.

I took three deep breaths and flopped back onto the snow. Angel made, and teeth chattering, I ran back to the house. I was, understandably, fucking frozen, but less understandably, I was screamingly horny! How could so much physical discomfort make me this horny? 

I’d better explain that Gillian and I had shared a bed, and the previous night, we’d indulged in a little side-by-side masturbation. No contact, (that would come later) but sexy, for all that. 

The girls wanted to chatter and know how it felt. (Go out and do it your fucking selves!) All I wanted was a hot shower! In the shower, Miss Brain reminded me that I had been in just the right orientation that when I opened my leg for the Angel, I had given them a perfect view right up between my legs! That helped the following wank no end! 

Writing my name.

I was what…maybe 17…I’d seen a boy write his name in the snow by then, and I myself was no stranger to outdoor peeing, either through need or for sexual purposes, but I had heard girls can’t write their names in the snow with pee. Hmm.. ‘Anna’…two A’s, two n’s. How hard can it be? I drank much more water than usual that morning, and by mid afternoon, was really beginning to feel the urge. 

Tucked away, far from the house, and pantiless (of course) I worked out how to try for my World Record of being the first girl ever to,pee her name in the snow. First of all, it had to be standing up. No way would this work squatting. Second, I knew that if I had a couple of fingers on my labia, I could have some directional control. Not a lot, but every little helps, and…..fuck me, but it was cold, and we all know what freezing temperatures does to the need to,pee.

I figured legs spread, wide, but not so wide as to limit my ability to move my hips forwards, backwards and sideways without falling over.

Finally, I was ready for my attempt….and as soon as I started, I knew I was in trouble. By now I really, really needed a pee, and once I started, I quickly realised I couldn’t stop. Miss Brian chuckled, and said “So…joined-up writing then?” (Bitch). 

The capital A wasn’t too bad, but the rest of it was an unqualified disaster. It must have looked so comical, a 17 year old girl, trying to hold her skirt up with both forearms, two fingers between her legs and gyrating her hips madly. From the back it would have looked like the wank to end all wanks, and from the front it would have looked like a desperate girl, pissing on the snow with absolutely do do-ordination whatsoever. Oh, and why wasn’t she wearing any panties anyway? 

I failed miserably….and I’ve tried a few times since, but I lack the precision. 

Still….it would have been worse for Alison….she’d have had to dot the I !

Gunk, panty-pudding, smeg.

Whatever you want to call the residue that ends up in a girl’s underwear, you can be assured that there are as many names for it as there are girls in the world. It’s one of the first things we notice when puberty is on our radar….that thickening and more heavy discharge that is not only visually noticeable, but now begins to smell sexy. I spoke to a guy who said, rather disparagingly that “Before puberty, a girl’s panties smell of piss and biscuits. I often wonder how he knew. 

But there it is, all day, every day, sometimes barely noticeable, sometimes so heavy that you feel your panties sliding about over your labia as you walk…especially if something happened that day to make you feel horny. Worse still if you’ve succumbed to the feelings and had a silent wank in the restroom. 

Does it smell? Yes, of course. If you’ve eve put your head in a girl’s lap, even if she’s wearing jeans, if you get your nose close enough, you’ll smell her sex. 

Sometimes, if you’re like me and enjoy wearing short, loose-fitting skirts, even sitting with my legs  apart enable me to smell myself, although I do have a hyper-acute sense of smell. After a particularly heavy day discharge-wise, even on the rare occasions I might be wearing pants, sitting cross-legged, I can still pick up on that familiar musky scent. 

And what a scent it is. I had been making out with this boy. The kissing and cuddling had turned to his hand on my boob, first over my top and then under it on the tit itself. Slowly he’d worked his way South and I’d let him take my panties off. He hadn’t a clue what was where down ther and I’d had to gently guide him to my clit. With him I’d got his cock out of his pants and was holding it. Any movements I made were involuntary as I didn’t want to make him cum while I was still in the arousal part. We were never going to fuck, but this was as far as I’d ever gone with a boy at the time.

He moved. He stopped kissing me and kissed lower, pausing in my exposed boob for a while, then he kept going. Fuck..I was going to get my first boy/girl oral! Of course I let his cock go as I lay back and spread my legs in gleeful anticipation.

I remember feeling a kiss on each inner thigh and then he nuzzled my labia before letting out a groan and I felt something warm and wet rolling down my left thigh. Just smelling my sex had been enough to make him cum! He hadn’t been wanking himself, and I had barely touched him. 

I knew by then that I was hooked on the scent of other girls. I had been round that old locker room enough times and had become quite the panty-sniffer myself. I knew each girl smelled subtlety different from each other. I also knew the girls in my class who barely had any musky scent, and those who did. I knew the girls who loathed their vagina discharge to the extent they always wore panty-liners, and those who didn’t. I knew this scent had importance….had power….but until it provoked that contactless ejaculation on my thigh, I had no real appreciation of its awesome power.

Dirty girl

If you met me, you’d find me articulate, intelligent, and polite. Manners matter, and so does breeding. I don’t go around swearing, and I won’t permit bad language from my employees no matter what the provocation. And yet…. 

As I’ve remarked often, sex is about opposites…contrasts…where ‘nice girls’…er…aren’t. 

I have what is sometimes called an ‘upper-class’ accent, whatever that means. Anyway, apparently when someone who normally speaks very well uses bad language it can have quite an impact. I am convinced sex IS opposites. For a girl, we go from ‘always legs together’ to spread legs. Always being clean’ down there’, to being awash with our own girl cum, and, if we are lucky, semen too. Seemingly nom-sexual things can be immensely sexual….try peeing at the moment of orgasm. (I don’t think guys can do this, but do correct me if I’m wrong.) Even the simple, and somewhat rebellious act of deliberately peeing one’s panties can make my heart race, and my clit throb. 

Having my legs wrapped high over a lover’s back, while entreating him or her to “Fuck me…fuck my cunt.(or arse)” is highly erotic to me. 

I was with the Lovely Chris once, and we had spent the day role playing. We had dipped into fantasies each other had, and lived them out to see where they led. With my minuscule tits and no pubic hair, Chris blurted out “How old ARE you….really, I mean?” I instantly knew he was wanting some ‘age play’, so I replied “Promise you won’t stop? Well, ok then…I’m 13” I swear I felt him grow harder inside me which I guess only goes to prove that forbidden fruit tastes sweetest. I know he’d never even think about fucking a 13 year old in real life - but then role play and fantasy aren’t real life. 

We had gone for a walk after lunch, partly to provide some breathing space after our long morning of sex. I was in a skirt, pantyhose, panties and a button-up shirt. We had a long walk too, ending up walking back through my woods. We were holding hands too…almost boyfriend/girlfriend, that is as much as you can be when the girl concerned is married….to another girl. 

“What shall we do when we get back?” Chris’s question may or may not have had a sexual intent, but my reply of “Rape me” certainly did. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me. I repeated and augmented. “I said rape me…..right now.” And took off into the woods. I heard him following me and I felt him grab me and tackle me to the ground. He ripped my shirt open top to bottom, buttons flying everywhere, and then I felt him rummaging low between us. A sudden rip and my pantyhose was torn and. I felt him roughly yanking my panties aside. He impaled himself inside me savagely, with no concern as to if I was ready or not. It did actually hurt….and felt wonderful. 

He banged me for only a few…well…less than a minute I’d say, during which he made me cum twice, the last one coinciding with him cumming in me. We walked back to my home, me with my ripped shirt open, and my ruined pantyhose, and his semen running out of me and down my legs. I felt wonderful! 

First Fingers

Even with other girls, girls are tentative about touching one another…especially during a little adolescent experimentation ‘down there’.

Claire and I had been kissing buddies for a while, and had got to the point where we had masturbated next to one another in bed, and had even..shock-horror - fondled and kissed one another’s tits while the other person came in her panties to her own touch.

We were both used to each other clutching the other girl’s leg as we came, but this time, the whole thing felt different. For a start we were pantiless. How brave! I was Jilling happily, and so was Claire. Fortunately, she was left handed, and I am  right handed, so it worked out well. Except this time, I didn’t feel the usual increasingly tight grip on my thigh. This was more of a stroke, and it was moving really close to my vagina. In fact…I felt her finger actually touching my hole. I wasn’t worried about her hurting me, or me bleeding on her sheet, because I’d dealt with my pesky hymen months before. Then she stopped masturbating, rolled towards me and used her dominant hand to slip a single solitary finger up me. She whispered “I want to finger you.” Bit late to ask now, as she already was, but Miss Brain was screaming that the finger she was using had been up her. (Claire was a heel-of-hand masturbator. She liked a finger inside herself while the heel of her hand dealt with her clit.)  It didn’t take me long, especially when she kissed me at the same time. 

Then, of course, I simply had to return the favour. Actually, I would have loved to go down on her. (We did, weeks later) instead, it was my turn to roll over and I slipped a finger inside her. I felt her hymn, and the small hole in its centre, but I have very slim fingers and managed to get fully inside her. “No-one has ever fingered me before.” I think I knew more about what was where, because I found her g-spot which started her moaning loudly, something she never did when she made herself cum beside me. I kept pressing that smooth little,pad until she begged me to stop “It’s…gonna….make..me..pee.” Naturally I stopped, for about a second or two, but then pressed a couple of times more which made her cum…and cum harder and longer than ever before, from what she told me afterwards. 

Yes, it was a sexual act, but there was also an almost heartbreaking innocence about it, if that makes any sense. My finger was the first time someone else had been inside her. 

The following morning, we discovered the bed was wet, so I guess she either squirted or peed a little. 

When I eventually went down on her, licking her clit, and fingering her now hymen-less vagina with two fingers, I discovered that pressing her hymen hard at orgasm does make her squirt..and pee….and it’s utterly glorious.