Chapter 2

The Initiation

One day Eliane asked me to come to her place for tea. Naturally, her family being of equally good standing with ours, my mother was delighted with the invitation.

I, accompanied by my nurse, went to the lovely mansion at Noordzandstraat where my little schoolmate lived. As usual she was charming and with her lovely, deep, caressing voice she invited me to view her sumptuous home. My nurse in the meantime, being acquainted with her lady in waiting, left us to err alone in the vast estate.

My little friend showed me beautiful antique furniture, paintings by the masters, the garden with its marvelous water fountain and goldfish, etc ...

Then she said:

"Now I'll show you my room."

It was a real jewel: a low bed, white muslin, the really luxurious nest of a spoiled child.

Softly she guided me to her dressing table where an upholstered armchair seemed to be inviting me.

"Please sit down."

I did so with a smile and looked at myself earnestly in the mirror.

Slowly, from behind me, two arms enfolded my shoulders.

"You're lovely, Monique."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes, so beautiful!" Her grave sensuous voice seemed to emphasize every syllable. "I feel like kissing you."

With a fondling, precise gesture, I found myself being tilted slightly backwards and my friend's lips glued on mine.

It was a long time ago, over 20 years, yet I still remember that kiss. Since then, how many lips, men's and women's, have crushed my mouth? I don't even know, I could not count them, but that kiss I can feel even now.

Don't forget I was 11, perfectly ignorant and innocent, and nobody had ever touched my lips. I seemed to feel the smoothness of velvet, I felt a soft caress, so soft, yet at the same time a stiffening, a contortion of my whole being. Provoking, insinuating, her mouth stuck longingly to mine, would not leave me. I felt myself sinking into a sweet oblivion and ecstasy which was not quite sensual but in any case frightening.

Was it childish modesty or fear of the unknown? Abruptly I escaped from her embrace.

"What is the matter? Are you angry?"

Blushing, nearly trembling I mumbled:

"No, no ... but ... "

"Now, now, don't get excited. Haven't you ever been kissed before?"

"Yes, but never like this!"

"Ah, don't you like my way?"

"Oh, no! I did not say I didn't like it, but you must understand, it's so strange, so new!"

Eliane smiled strangely, then insinuating, feline and perverse, she came back towards me.

Tenderly and captivatingly she wrapped herself around me; close to my ear, her warm, honeyed voice whispered:

"Monique, don't you want us to love each other?"

Love! I adored her, this sweet and lovely creature. Only loving did not mean the same thing to both of us. To me, loving meant seeing her, being near, and hearing her bewitching voice; taking her hand and stroking her golden hair. To her it meant something else. I could sense it immediately.

"Then you don't love me, Monique?"

With all the ardent feeling of my youthful heart I pressed myself harder against her and said in one breath:

"I do, I do love you, Eliane ... "

Despite herself, surprised by the warmth of my answer, she hesitated a moment, then suddenly she again pressed her lips to mine. Her right hand wound around my waist, her left took my chin, then slowly crept down. She gently inserted it in my little child's dress and softly caressed my bosom, where two little mounds foreshadowed my future blossoming breasts. It acted like an electric shock; I stiffened. Mechanically my lips opened to let out a sigh and I felt my little friend's tongue searching and exploring my half-opened mouth.

I nearly collapsed.

I felt the hand holding my waist take a stronger grip and push me towards the low bed. I fell on it backwards.

I heard a tremulous whisper saying:

"Let yourself go!"

Suddenly, searching fingers knowingly crept along my legs, then to my thighs, finally reaching my last defenses. They lowered my small panties and gently massaged my most prized possession, until then virgin and intact. I felt a violent sensation of perfect anguish, naturally not comparable with the spasm of an adult, being too young to really feel sexual delectation. Still the pleasure was extreme. I lay quietly on the bed, dazed.

Eliane, her eyes shining and cheeks burning, her face afire with excitement, murmured:

"Like it?"

I could not answer. I smiled and nodded yes. Eliane waited no longer. She lifted her skirt, dropped her panties, and shamelessly, cynically showed me her little belly and lower down her fair pubic hairs.

I looked on with astonished eyes, surprised it was not like mine, completely hairless.

She took my hand and said with a hoarse voice: "Touch me."

I obeyed, and with an inexpert touch began a gentle rubbing.

"Harder, like I did to you."

I caressed quicker. It did not take long. Abruptly she stiffened, let out a soft moan and my roving fingers were sticky.

She took away my hand, put on her panties, let down her dress and, wheedling, took me in her arms:

"You won't speak of this at home?"

"Oh ... no."

"Good, in that case, be discreet and you will learn lots more about the art of love."

Puzzled, I asked:

"Who taught you all this?"

"I'll tell you, but mum's the word!"

"I promise."

"Jose de Kerbergen."

"Jose?"

"Yes, about two years ago she was the first to teach me to do what we have just done." And she burst out laughing.

"Now you do it to others?"

"Certainly. Jose, Susy, Yvonne and Annie have all had a good crack at it."

I could not get over it. All my little schoolmates, all small girls like myself, kissing each other on the mouth, rubbing their growing breasts and caressing their hairless virgin cunts!

I really could not get over it!

Eliane, who had now completely recovered her composure, was calm and serene. In fact, quite a little lady.

"Darling, let's go; tea is ready."

I could see she was used to these sexual fiddlings, as at tea time she had a good feed. It did not seem to have affected her appetite at all!

From that day onward, I, who had been so pure and ignorant till then, began to lead a different life and dreamed much about sex.

Eliane had not wasted her efforts. A furious frenzy of sexual discovery got hold of me. It was my turn now, on every possible occasion, to slide my hands under my little companions' skirts.

I grabbed every possible opportunity. During classes, pretending to look studious, apparently engrossed in my history book, I ogled my nearest schoolmate, and with a tiny smile, whispered to her:

"Your dress is torn."

Nine times out of ten it worked.

"Where?"

She would then slightly lift her skirt.

"There."

Without beating about the bush, I lifted it further, uncovering her pink thighs. I feverishly rested my hand on the choice morsel. Often they were at first astonished, more often frankly curious.

I no longer hesitated. My wandering hand slid along that soft creamy expanse as high as possible.

If there was any resistance (very rare), the skirt was firmly snapped back. I did not then insist; but more often there was none. Then I slid one or two fingers under the panties and at last reached that warm little nest, virgin and generally untouched and free from any fluff.

I had won again! During the next break, my new friend and I would go to the lavatory, where we could compare each other's unformed breasts and fondly caress and rub those little gems, our future temples of indescribable pleasures ; our little virgin pussies!

We used to call those little games "playing rub and wet."