Chapter 2
I first saw the light of day in the lovely lakeside town of Lausanne in southwestern Switzerland, the only daughter of a husband and wife team of doctors. With that type of rearing you will understand why I express myself with anatomical bluntness. I learned early about sex and all the sexual aberrations from the medical books around the house.
I had a carefree childhood.
They took good care of me and I was always provided with a lot of clothes from which I could choose.
There's really no story until I reached the age of eleven or twelve. Since that's the subject we're interested in now, you know that a girl usually begins her sex-awakening around that age. And I really awoke with a bang.
I was a day pupil in a religious school (it wouldn't have made any difference had it been a non-clerical school, anyway), and I wouldn't teach you anything if I told you that during pauses and during any free time such as outings, etc., the talk was all about the opposite sex. Or, at least, what they think it's like. And I can tell you they have some strange ideas, some of them.
You know how it is, I suppose: there are always some girls who pose as know-alls and they concoct the weirdest stories and the other girls listen to them with rapt attention, like disciples listening to a prophet.
I remember one of those young girls she was around twelve years old who used to tell us very seriously that men made their wives pregnant by taking them in their arms and kissing her behind the ears. Another said solemnly that the baby came after the man put his forefinger up the wife's asshole. I often wonder what else her father did to her mother. . .
So you see, subjects of conversation did not vary much in girl-schools, and I guess it hasn't changed much now, for, even when they talk a-bout pop music, there's bound to be a man in the subject somewhere usually the latest heartthrob exponent of the "noble" art of rock n' roll, calypso or jazz music.
Naturally, I was as deeply interested in the subject of men as my school-mates were and I listened intently to all their theories. But I had some of my own, which, were much more scientific than theirs, for as I told you, my father was a doctor, and he had a lot of books on anatomy.
As often as my parents' backs were turned I went to my father's library and lost myself in these taboo books, naturally preferring the ones with many drawings and sketches of nude men and women with their sex organs showing. To tell the truth, I didn't understand much of what I read, mainly because I proceeded without method, reading passages now from one book, now from another, and I couldn't really concentrate for there was the permanent fear at the back of my mind, of being found out.
Nevertheless, I didn't fail to boast about my newly acquired knowledge to my school-mates. I took on an important tone of voice and said:
"I know how a baby is made."
You could have heard a pin drop when I said that.
Then there was the inevitable saucy brat who was short and plump with very large titties for her age, who said she didn't believe me.
So, of course, I said I'd seen it in my father's books the day before and I proceeded to reproduce it as faithfully as my memory allowed.
As soon as I had done that, all sorts of questions were fired at me:
"What's that?" (pointing at the prick).
"What's the use of it?"
"What do you call it?"
About the "it" in question, I was really ignorant. But I embroidered on the little I knew, not wanting to show my lack of knowledge.
"Well," I told them, "it's used to pee with."
"Ooh " four or five of them exclaimed, and another added:
"It isn't pretty "
That was my opinion but I wouldn't have expressed it for all the gold in the world.
In short, we exchanged childish conversation taut already one could see the awakening of puberty. The big-titted girl also asked me what the balls were for, but at that time I had no idea what a man's balls did.
But, apart from all the talk about the male prick and balls, I was perfectly pure.
I had a lot of girl pals at that school, which is not surprising, my father being a doctor, and you know how many acquaintances a doctor can have.
With my pals, we used to go for walks or invite each other to tea, and our games were quite innocent and natural, except once.
One of my school pals introduced me to her elder sister Susan, who was about fifteen years old. I was twelve at that time.
I was struck by her beauty. Although still a young girl, she was already a woman with quite a big pair of jutting knockers. She had the knack of those coquettish ways that attract men. You know her look could be pure one minute and provocating the next; and she knew how to make the best of her already important titties by wearing tight sweaters and by walking erect, with the middle drawn in; she also knew the trick of sitting like an apprentice pin-up, that is with her legs crossed and lifting up her skirt just enough to excite men with a peek at her thighs.
Of course, at the time I was too young to notice all that, or rather, to draw conclusions, but I was already subjugated by her charm and the femininity that oozed out of every pore of her youth.
I wouldn't have called myself a sportswoman, but I did like skating, tennis and swimming. Particularly the latter.
One day, one of my school-mates proposed that we should go to lakeshore beach as it was a really fine sunny day.
I accepted with enthusiasm and obtained my mother's consent.
So, off we girls went to the sunny beach.
When we arrived, we each took a cabin.
I got undressed and put on my swim-suit.
As I came out, I saw Susan, who was already dressed (if you can call it dressed).
How beautiful she was. Her breasts would have driven any men wild.
The sun was playing in her golden hair. She looked as if she had been molded into her bikini and had known exactly the moment to say "when." I looked with admiration and envy at her breasts which stood out like two ripe fruits, round and. firm. Her stomach was flat and muscular and adorned in its center by a tiny navel that stood out between her bikini top and bottom.
I stood there for a moment admiring her body.
Then, she smiled, wrapped one arm around me and we ran together to the lake.
We were both good swimmers and we enjoyed ourselves with the classical games of pursuits on or under water, diving, etc.
Susan kept teasing me, placing an arm round me from behind, cupping my small breasts in her hands or caressing my thighs. In spite of my innocence, I didn't fail to notice that whenever she touched me there was a strange light shining in her eyes. She enjoyed holding and cupping my just budding tits, taking the nipples between two fingers and pinching lightly, or she would slide her hand between my thighs and rub my buttock crack or my hairless cunt. Sometimes her fingers would open my cunny lips and poke up my hole.
I remember at one time, while swimming, she put an arm around me, pushed me on my back and slipped her free hand between my thighs, opening them wide and pulling my suit aside, she bent over and put her mouth to my pussy lips, opening them and slipping her tongue up my hole, tickling my clitoris with her darting tongue-tip.
Then, I distinctly saw the fixity of her look. I also noticed that her nostrils were slightly pinched and her mouth half open, revealing small regular teeth like mother-of-pearl when she pulled away from sucking my pussy.
She let me go after a short while, but, a while later, I noticed the same expression on her face when I involuntarily brushed against her and touched her breasts.
We swam a little more, then she told me:
"How about going in now, Rochelle?"
And I was struck by the new accent in her voice when she said that. Its intonation was hoarse, with a mixture of embarrassment and erotic passion.
I would have preferred remaining in the water some more, but my "idol" wanted to go, so let's go.
We ran to our respective cabins you know, at that age, one very rarely walks, one runs most of the time.
As soon as I had come into my cabin, I heard a rap on the door.
"Who is it?" I asked. "It's me, Marie."
I obeyed. She came in, still in her bikini, but with a towel in her hand.
"My dear Rochelle, would you mind helping me dry my hair?" she asked, handing me the towel.
"But of course, Marie. Sit down there."
I started rubbing her hair conscientiously.
From time to time she giggled nervously.
I took pleasure in my task, running my hands in her shoulder-length hair which seemed to illuminate and almost warm up the small cabin with its golden rays.
"You're very good at it, darling," she told me. "You should become a beauty-salon girl."
I noticed it was funny she was calling me darling for the first time. That was very nice of her.
I went on massaging her hair diligently for a while, then she stopped me.
She threw back her hair with a coquettish movement of her pretty head and said:
"You're quite good at rubbing. Could you rub my back too, please?"
"Yes, Marie," I said, as a matter of course. She was my idol and there was precious little I would have refused her.
I noticed a strange glint in her moist eyes.
She slipped off the upper half of her bikini and I gasped, for never before had I beheld the nude breasts of a woman, and, although still only in her teens, she had the body of a woman. I remained a moment staring at her two white breasts with symmetrical red nipples in the centers.
She briskly took me out of my reverie.
"What's the matter with you? Is the sight of my titties troubling you? Aren't they beautiful?"
And so saying, she caressed their nipples with the tips of her red-nailed fingers.
I blushed at that gesture of hers, without being able to explain to myself shy, especially after she had tongued my pussy, although I still just looked at her act as "just among us girls," with no sex meaning.
Then I started rubbing her white back with zeal and concentration, and soon the towel was dripping wet.
"The towel is wet," she said, "do rub with your hands now, darling."
That word "darling" again that was the second time she said it, in the space of a few minutes.
I complied and started rubbing her back with the palms of my hands.
Suddenly she turned over on her back, and she was so quick about it that my fingers naturally came into contact with her naked, yielding breasts.
"Oh" I exclaimed.
"Well, go on," she ordered, "my tits should be dry too."
I reflected that it was a funny way to dry up skin with bare hands.
But I complied, and, without realizing it, I became softer in my touch and gently massaged her two milky globes.
Then I felt that under the palms of my hands her two nipples were becoming harder and harder, and I wondered why.
But I wondered still more at the expression on Marie's flushed face: her eyes were half-shut; her nostrils had a pinching movement, like a twitch, and she left her mouth half-open.
Then, suddenly, she told me, in a far-away hoarse voice:
"More, darling."
Then, nearly in the same breath, she exclaimed:
"Stop, you're driving me nuts."
And she pushed my hands away from the stiffened, jutting nipples.
I was completely nonplussed.
Then she said:
"Come, I'll dry you up now."
"But -"I started protesting feebly.
"Come on, I tell you," she said impatiently, and deftly removed the upper part of my bikini.
My bust was bare. Of course, compared to hers, I was a non-starter: a mere double swelling with two red circles in the middles, more nipple than breast.
But Marie seemed to find them to her taste, for she placed feverish hands on them and caressed them softly.
It was quite a pleasant sensation. It did tickle a bit, but it was very soft and sweet.
But her caresses were far from bringing about the same reactions as Marie's awhile before.
I didn't oppose any resistance as I was affected by curiosity and a pleasant sensation. The contact of two bare feminine hands on my bare titties was quite a new experience for me. Especially when she began to kiss and suck the excited tips, tonguing the hardening nipples.
Young as I was, I could not analyze or even realize Marie's feelings. Suddenly she stopped caressing me and briskly pulled down the lower part of my bikini.
I was now completely naked and Marie's hand was between my thighs. She parted them, completely exposing my delicate, hairless pussy. Her fingers played with the labia and I got excited, my juice making her hand wet. She poked her fingers deep up my vagina, making me squirm.
Subconsciously I felt that what she was doing was bad, but I remained passive, for I was feeling a thrill sweeter still than what I'd felt before. She kept on finger-fucking my cunny.
She went on for a while, then in the same hoarse voice, she begged:
"Do it to me, please."
And she lowered her own bikini, baring her own cunt which was surrounded by a mass of soft, silky bush curls. I could see her own cunt lips slightly parted when she opened her thighs wide for me. Her petal pink labia were moist with excitement.
As I hesitated, she insisted:
"Please, darling."
I obeyed.
Not for long, for suddenly I got a fright. I had hardly touched her wet cunt when she threw herself backwards. There was a flush in her features and I could see the whites of her eyes. She screamed and twitched as she came, frightening me, because I didn't know what was happening.
But she quickly pulled herself together and, kissing me softly, she told me:
"You're an angel, my little Rochelle. Did you like it?"
I just gave a kind of embarrassed smile.
She was now quite calm.
"Of course," she said, "the first time you can't be expected to enjoy it; and then, you're so young. But you'll see. . . soon."
Having uttered those puzzling words she kissed my lips again and went into her own cabin.
Later, I realized that, without knowing it at the time, I had been seeing for the first time a human being experiencing the ultimate in voluptuousness. Although she had finger-fucked my box, it was all so new to me that I was too excited to come.
For all my young age, I had the true reputation of being very intelligent and curious to learn. So, what had taken place in the cabin could not but incite me to explore still further this unknown world of sexuality.
To begin with, I listened attentively to my school-mates' conversation on the subject.
All of them played with their own pussies and the great majority fingered one another off. They would also get down on each other and "blow" each other or they would switch to '69' and suck each other's cunts until they came.
I was rather troubled by their confidences. They were all telling about their sexual affairs with boys.
"It's so terribly good."
"What a wonderful feeling."
"Three times, yes, three times with Roger last night."
Hearing all that, I wondered why they found those caresses so wonderful. What I had felt with Marie was sweet and pleasant, but I honestly preferred a dream bun or a chocolate ice cream. I guess all their mutual masturbating was only to keep from walking the walls between screws by their dates.
When I saw Marie again, she naturally seized the first opportunity to do as we had done at the shore. Again, she caressed my budding titties, my belly and my box. She kissed me for long periods of time on the lips and on my body and, of course, she asked me to do the same to her, and, again, I saw her body twitch in ecstasy, her eyes look up as if to Heaven, and her mouth taking on unnatural shapes and uttering a kind of hoarse moan, when I slid my fingers or tongue on her delicious pussy-lips.
As for me, it had been the same feeling as last time something sweet and pleasant but which was far from unhinging me as it did Marie. I did let her suck my snatch because I enjoyed it, but I still didn't "come."
One day, after such a scene, when she was calm again, she asked me:
"How old are you now, darling?"
"I'll be fourteen next month," I answered.
"Really? That's odd."
"Why odd?"
"Because, you see, when I was fourteen, I wasn't like you."
"How d'you mean?"
"Let me explain when I was being caressed like I did to you, or even when I did it by myself, I can assure you I didn't remain calm as you do I came."
"But I find it pleasing and amusing," I protested.
"Pleasant and amusing. But it's much better than that."
"Is it, really?"
"It definitely is. When you come it's out of this world. But perhaps you're a little late in your sexual development."
She seemed disappointed.
What did she mean by "late in my sexual development?"
I felt slightly uneasy and did my best to try to understand.
I delved into my father's books. A doctor's case histories being complete, I eventually found what I was looking for, or, at least, it seemed to fit my case.
Frigidity: Partial or total absence of sensation during the sexual act.
"During the sexual act," the big book said. Well, then, I had still never practiced the sexual act; no man had ever laid me. All the sexual caresses I had received had been from my school-mates who were of my own sex. No doubt, I thought, with a male partner I would feel these famous ecstasies so much praised by the other girls I knew.
So I decided there and then to find the handsome male who would, I hoped, give me that supreme pussy pleasure.
It had to be a mate to make me thrill, because my girl friends couldn't turn me on. Although they had masturbated me and tongued my twat, I hadn't climaxed. So, I guessed that the only thing that would make me come would be a man's cock in me. I felt that I was one of those girls who couldn't get any sexual kicks from lesbian games and I had been blown by my girl friends and now and then I had gotten down and sucked them too.