The New Girl And Me
By TCP
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Copyright 2013 by TCP, all rights reserved
*
* * * *
This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of
sexual activity
involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to
view such material or
if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do
not save this
story.
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The New Girl And Me -
By TCP
© 2013 TCP
All of TCP’s stories are just
that - stories. There is a marked difference between fantasy and reality and it
is very easy to fall foul of the real world and what is acceptable in the real
world. I do not condone any abusive behaviour in the real world and we must act
as responsible citizens to ensure the on-line safety of our future generations.
Fantasy is a powerful thing, but let it remain fantasy. Lead yourself not into
temptation - and deliver yourself from evil.
The New Girl And Me -
A new girl joins nine year old
Adam's class...His attempt to befriend her and help her feel welcome does not
go according to plan...
This story is written from Adam's perspective and contains details of
incidents that actually happened to TCP when he was 9 years old...
Main Characters -
Adam - 9 years old, caring, and occasionally mischievous.
Lizzie - 9 years old, headstrong and, well, you'll see.
--
It was back in spring 1984 when my world seemed to change... I was nine years
old then and had never been kissed by a girl. Not on the lips anyway, only on
the cheek. I can remember it quite clearly as a time when I was full of
curiosity at everything going on in the world around me, enjoying my schoolwork
and playing with my friends. I was so happy; interested in football, stamps and
aeroplanes... but especially Star Wars. I was always recreating the original
trilogy in our back garden or at my friends' houses too with our seemingly
endless collections of action figures and space ship vehicles. I still have my Millennium
Falcon (and all my other Star Wars toys) to this day, complete with soil stains
where I had tried to make the original brilliant white plastic become more
weathered and tatty - a keen eye for detail I had.
There were other times too when my best friend, his younger sister and I
recreated the films in their back garden. I was always Han Solo... my best
friend was Luke and his seven year old sister was Princess Leia. She was pretty
(at least to me) and it always made me blush when I got to kiss her... on the
cheek of course. And she would kiss me back. But I digress, this story isn't
about her...
So, it was spring 1984 and I remember songs like 'Innocent Man' by Billy
Joel, '99 Red Balloons' by a German singer called Nena (I loved that), and of
course 'Relax' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. I was much too innocent to
understand the lyrics, but I enjoyed that song for what it was, a catchy tune
with an equally catchy chorus. I think Lionel Ritchie was number one in the
charts with his song, 'Hello...'
Our Easter holidays had just finished and we were back at school. Like I
said, I was nine years old and in what amounted to my second year in the
British Primary education system. Probably 'third grade' for anyone reading
from the western side of the 'pond.'
I sat down at my desk in the mobile 'portocabin' type classroom and I
can remember its distinctive fusty smell, which to this day evokes some
powerful sensual memories. The smell always seemed to be on my school clothes when
I got home and somehow, you just never forget it. On this day, as usual, I
unpacked my exercise books and my smart looking 'Return Of The Jedi' pencil
tin. My handwriting was just about acceptable now to allow me to change from
using 'HB' pencils to my first fountain ink pen.
I was so proud when Mr. Bailey (our teacher) told me that I could start
using pen. It was messy, especially for a left handed boy, but I was proud of
finally writing in ink. I was one of the first boys to write in ink, and it
didn't really sink in until much later in life, but all of the girls were
writing in ink before me.
I should mention a little about Mr. Bailey too, though he is not a
special focal point of this account. He was always nice to me and I found him
to be a great teacher, a good motivator with positive encouragement. Not like
some of the dinosaurs I had come into contact with earlier in my school career
who seemed to take delight in humiliating 'poor performers' and 'slow
learners.' I can recall my first real year at infant school, my teacher (who,
for some reason I liked) Mrs Plockton tried desperately to make me write with
my right hand. I was made to stand on top of the table with my hands on my
head, in front of all the other children while she admonished me during that
first week. I was called 'daft' and 'stubborn' by her... those are two words I
remember anyway. I wanted my teacher to like me, not make me feel so bad about
myself. I was crying.
Damn, I digressed again... apologies for that.
Mr. Bailey... these were times when corporal punishment was still
allowed in British schools. Punishment I saw during this time, included a 'smack'
with a ruler to the offender's palm, or a 'trousers down' (boys) or dress
lifted (girls) spanking with a slipper. Mr. Bailey punished with the slipper. I
saw several boys slippered during my time in his class, though I was a good boy
and although rubbish at maths (still am), I was a decent academic in other
areas, especially receiving praise for creative writing and spelling. I had the
reading age of a 13 year old when I was 9. I wasn't 'dumb' or 'daft' after all.
I never saw a girl given the slipper by Mr. Bailey - and I had to wait until
the following year when I was in Miss Halsey's class to see a girl of eleven get
the slipper. Wow! I was destined never, ever, NEVER to cheat in tests after I
saw that. And I fell in love with white panties...
It was a nice day outside, I definitely remember that and Mr. Bailey
called out the names in the register and at the appropriate moment I said,
"Yes Mr. Bailey."
It wasn't long before the receptionist knocked on the door and entered
the classroom with a girl wearing a totally different uniform to ours. Our
uniform consisted of dark grey or black trousers, white or light grey shirt,
red tie (generally with an elastic neck-string rather than being a complicated full
tie) and green jumper for the boys. The girls either wore a light grey skirt
with white shirt, red tie and green jumper, or a green and white checker
gingham dress.
I don't remember the receptionist's name, but I always remember her
glasses, with 'half moon' lenses and attached to thin little chains to allow
them to rest around her neck and over her ample bosom when she didn't need them
for long distance viewing.
The new girl was introduced as Elizabeth... or 'Lizzie' as she liked to
be called. It was announced that Lizzie would be joining our class and that
although she was English, her family had just returned from Germany. I found
that instantly fascinating and convinced myself straight away that she was
'foreign' and therefore held some interesting mystery. I wanted to get to know
her.
I liked the look of her too... pretty blue eyes, her brunette hair
hanging down loosely to her shoulders and combed smartly and clipped up (pink
clips) to leave a pleasing high forehead and attractive facial features. She
was slim, but seemed to be built slightly bigger than most of the girls in my
class. Her uniform was different as I said. A black skirt, a pale yellow shirt
and a dark blue jumper.
Our tables were arranged in rectangular blocks and Lizzie was introduced
to our table where a place was made for her to sit, opposite me in fact. I
watched her carefully as she quickly unpacked her things. I seem to recall I
had a bit of an instant crush on her... she seemed to be mysterious to me,
'being German' and somebody that I wanted to befriend and want her to like me.
I wanted above all to make her feel welcome. That was my way... a caring boy.
With the hubbub of registration still underway, the other kids at my
table all introduced themselves to 'Lizzie.' I introduced myself too, being
careful to make sure I smiled as sweetly as I could at her as I confirmed my
name. Her eyes beamed into mine and I felt a giddy fluttering in my tummy when
she shared my smile. It was a pretty, demure smile, one where her lips never
parted.
And so, Mr. Bailey commenced our first lesson which focused on our
handwriting. Obviously, with something so pretty and fascinating sat in front
of me, I was finding it difficult to fully concentrate on my work. I wanted to
get to know this new girl and I wanted her to like me. Part of her stationary
set caught my eye in particular, a large rectangular eraser ('rubber' as we
called them) in the colours of the German flag. I had one in the shape of a
yellow and black dart board, and another kid in my class had a similar sized
one in the colours of the Union Jack flag... But Lizzie's really looked
different. Looking back, I am amazed that something as inane as a pencil eraser
could help make somebody appear even more appealing than they already were.
The class progressed and occasionally, Lizzie would catch me looking at
her briefly and I would bite my lip and look away, probably blushing. I'd look
back a moment later and see her smiling nervously and blushing too.
After that lesson, it was break time and we joined other children in the
playground, the girls doing what they did with skipping ropes and roughly drawn
hop-scotch pitches, and the boys kicking a football around or playing 'British
Bulldogs.' You could still get away with playing that game then. I remember
playing other games involving both boys and girls, 'kiss-chase' being a
particular favourite of mine. This was basically 'tag,' but instead of
'tagging,' you kissed the person you were tagging, and always somebody of the
opposite sex. But kicking a football around, playing Bulldogs was definitely 'boys
only' at the time. Skipping was for girls, though I did sometimes join in with
them. Oh, the girls played netball too if the boys weren't already using the
court to play football or another game.
During this break time, I actually played some skipping games with some
of the girls I was friendly with and I was pleased that Lizzie had been invited
to play too. I didn't really know what to say to Lizzie, but I did manage to tell
her that I liked football and aeroplanes and that I wanted to know about
Germany. Due to the game (I think), Lizzie didn't really get to tell me a lot
about Germany and she seemed to prefer talking to the girls anyway.
Back inside, the next lesson was maths and I was a bit of a 'plodder'
when it came to that subject. I really struggled to learn my times tables and
to this day, I don't think I understand long multiplication or long division.
Again, I found myself drawn to look at Lizzie and being brave, I stared and
waited for her to notice me. When she did, I smiled as sweetly as I could and
winked at her. Lizzie's eyes widened and she looked away, her face blushing
once more. And this became a pattern... I would wait for her to look at me,
then I would smile and wink at her... Sometimes she would smile back, and
sometimes she would seemingly frown slightly and look away again some place
else.
Over the next couple of days, my behaviour continued in this manner, me
trying my best to complete my school work (I was a good boy), but at the same
time, trying to make Lizzie like me too. I wanted to be her boyfriend. I had
found that I could get some sort of reaction from her if I smiled and winked at
her. I was being friendly and in my heart, I was trying to help her feel
welcome and get settled into our class. These days, I guess it would be called
sexual harassment or something. I didn't even know at that age what 'sexual'
even meant.
As a result of previous encounters with girls, I knew 'fairly well' what
the physical differences between the legs of girls and boys were, though I had
no clue what they were all for and why. I didn't believe in the 'stork' or the
'cabbage patch,' and I just thought that babies grew inside a woman's tummy
when she wanted a baby. Kind of like 'it just happens.' I thought a woman gave
birth through her navel too. I had no knowledge of infertility, rape, foreplay,
intercourse or vaginal dilation, or anything like that. Girls and their private
parts were still a confusing mystery of delicate little folds, hidden holes and
curious looking slits. I knew I wanted an opportunity to see a girl's 'thing'
again, that's for sure. I liked to see the girls undressing for PE; boys and
girls got changed in the classroom together for PE right up until we left to
start secondary education at age 11. It wouldn't happen now.
On the Friday of that week, it was a very sunny and warm day and I went
to school without a coat on. I had noticed that Lizzie was by now sporting the
correct school uniform. Her mother had kitted Lizzie out with a green and white
checked 'gingham dress,' and she was also wearing a simple grey woolen
cardigan. It was also apparent that Lizzie had settled in well, having made
friends quickly with the other girls in the class.
The routine between Lizzie and I had continued too, where I would smile
and wink at her and she would either smile or frown or blush and then look away.
Though we hadn't really talked much at all during the week, I had convinced
myself that Lizzie might want to be my girlfriend and I would maybe get a
friend of mine to act as 'go between.'
When the school day had finished, I packed everything away and ran out
of the classroom into the afternoon sunshine eager to enjoy the weekend. No
time to think about go-betweens or girlfriends... the weekend was upon me and I
was free to do what I wanted within reason. I walked briskly out of the school
and up to the main road outside the school gates. I exchanged pleasantries with
Mrs Barton, the 'lollipop lady' (the lady who helped us children cross the road
safely every morning and afternoon) and made my way towards the park which was
on my way home.
When I reached the park, I knew I wasn't far from home. About half way
across the grass, I was aware that somebody appeared to be calling out to me
from behind. I looked around and saw it was Lizzie. At first, I was happy to
see her and that she was calling out to me and trying to catch up with me. I
was hoping that this was the moment where I could tell her that I wanted to be
her boyfriend.
"Adam!!" she called. "Stop right there... I have a bone
to pick with you!" As Lizzie got closer, I noticed that she didn't look
very happy at all and I suddenly felt as though I was in trouble. Not knowing
what to think, I turned back round and started to run... "Hey! Stop! Come
back here!!"
I kept running, wondering why Lizzie looked so angry and why she might
be so angry with me. I wanted her to like me, not be angry with me. My
adrenalin was circulating as I ran, my heart beating fast as I made my escape. My
route took me through a patch of waste ground awaiting development and which
was covered in tall wild grasses, shrubs and small trees. It was a patch of
land that was ideal for playing all sorts of children's games and making dens.
It was always the summer holiday haven for the neighbourhood kids to play in
until the site was developed with 'old people's housing.'
"Stop Adam! I want to talk to you!" Lizzie called, still
sounding annoyed and even worse for me, sounding much closer than I thought.
She was gaining on me as I made my way through the long grasses of the waste
land. I was breathing hard and I was a little scared at the fact that I was being
chased... especially by a girl.
Before I had taken half a dozen more strides, I felt myself being pushed
from behind and I tripped over, falling down roughly onto the floor. My knees
grazed over the grass and dirt as I tried to break my fall. I rolled a couple
of times.
"Hey!" I called out in protest as I got quickly moved to get
back to my feet. "You tripped me!" I said perhaps a little
overconfident, using my hands to push Lizzie back slightly. I had no intent of
getting into a fight, but I wanted her to know that I was not happy at being
tripped over like that and that I was quite prepared to stand my ground. Girl
or not. I was actually quite surprised and felt a little intimidated that
Lizzie showed no intent of backing down either... She seemed to be somehow
taller than me... bigger... We both seemed to be looking at each other, in
defiance.
Before I had chance to take another breath, Lizzie scowled at me like I
was some sort of mortal enemy, grabbed the front of my jumper tightly with her
hand and planted her foot firmly on the floor between my feet. With her tight
grip on my school jumper, she began to lean backwards, pulling me forward
slightly and forcing me off balance. When her buttocks were nearly touching the
floor, her trailing foot came forward and pressed up into my belly.
It felt as though we were both going to crash to the ground in a silly
heap, but when Lizzie made controlled contact with the floor, she extended her
leg and maneuvered me over her head... She had thrown me to the floor. I didn't
know it at the time, but Lizzie had been taking Judo lessons while her family
had been living in Germany and I wasn't the first boy who she had demonstrated
her 'talent' to.
So, the 'silly heap,' consisted of me only. I'd been thrown to the floor
by a girl. I was shocked and I was blushing as I lay there on my back, trying
to gain my breath and understand what was happening and how it had happened.
"What's going on?" I asked nervously. "W...why? Stop... get
off... nooo!" As I was talking, Lizzie quickly repositioned herself,
sitting her bottom down onto my lower chest, leaning forward and taking a firm
hold of my wrists, pinning them down at the side of my head with her hands. She
was holding me down in a seemingly classic 'schoolgirl pin.' Her gingham style school
dress had ridden up her legs... right up to expose her powerful looking upper
thighs... As I strained to try and get up, I could see up between her spread legs
and caught flashes of the pale pink panties she was wearing that covered her
badge of femininity. The material that stretched tightly over her 'difference...'
her 'girl thing.'
It was a very strange and new feeling at that point. I was breathing
hard, I could feel the adrenalin coursing through me and I could feel my heart
beating ten to the dozen. I could feel the giddying thrum of nervous
butterflies within my tummy and elsewhere. With my mouth dry, I felt something
naughty much lower down my body. It was in my private parts... a tingling and a
hardening. I was embarrassed at being held down to the floor by a girl and
knowing that something was stirring between my legs. It felt shameful and...
somehow nice.
I didn't want to be beaten by her and I was eager to put things right
and 'show her who was boss.' So I struggled as hard as I could to try and free
myself from under Lizzie's 'heavy' bottom, and to wriggle free of the dainty
girlish hands that were holding my own boyish hands so easily to the floor. I felt
so weak and powerless as I tried to buck her unsuccessfully off my body... and
yet it still felt 'nice' between my legs as I felt my erection continue to
grow.
"Mgghhhh!" I grunted roughly in desperation. "Get off
me... Let me up!" But Lizzie just smiled down at me with an air of
superiority and giggled softly at my struggling.
"I've got you now... You're getting beaten up by a girl!"
Lizzie teased, her voice almost singing in derision at my pitiful struggles.
She was squeezing my hands and demonstrating her physical control over me.
"Weakling boy... losing a fight to a girl! Hahaah!"
"Shut up! I don't want a fight... Get off me..." I protested,
eager to stop her teasing me and laughing at me. "Why are you doing this
to me?"
"You know why..." Lizzie replied, looking down right into my
eyes. I could tell that despite all of my emotions and thoughts, I wasn't far
away from crying with the shame of it all. I wanted her to like me... not be
mean to me like this.
"I don't... I just want to be friends..." I replied quietly
and honestly. I was slowly beginning to realise that I wouldn't be able to get
free until she said so... until she permitted it. I was under the physical
control of a girl for the first time. It was naughty, it was embarrassing, but
it was making me tingle in my private parts. I didn't understand my confusing
feelings... much less than I could recognize that I was gradually submitting...
to a girl.
Up to then, I'd always thought of males as being the superior of the
sexes... mentally and physically. Boys were meant to be strong and brave. Certainly
stronger than girls. I hated... actually, denied the thought that a girl could
possibly be stronger... or be better than a boy. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't nasty
or derisive with it or even disrespectful. I liked girls... I loved my mother
and my female teachers and so on. I was always polite. But somehow, I was
conditioned to believe that since men went to war, men earned a lot of money, men
played football, boys played football and women looked after the home, and
girls played with dolls... it just naturally meant that boys were just
better... stronger. Superior...
I was 'glad to be a boy.' It felt good to be a boy... It was best to be
a boy, wasn't it? It was natural, wasn't it? Of course, being a boy, I was
biased in my immature opinions. For all I know, girls all thought they were
superior when they were growing up too. Why else did the two sexes tease each
other about who was better so often? And still to this day they do. Television
and media often play one sex against the other.
"Well I don't like it when you wink at me," Lizzie finally
revealed, moving her bottom around on my lower chest, making herself
comfortable. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if she was feeling some sort of
stimulation herself given the ease of her control over me and the friction she
must have felt between her legs as she gyrated over my prone body.
"I'm sorry," I gasped pitifully, my exertions beginning to
slow down as my energy receded. My erection didn't seem to show any sign of
receding however.
"I don't want you to wink at me ever again..." Lizzie
commanded firmly, as though she were admonishing her naughty little puppy.
"I won't Lizzie... I promise..." I whimpered weakly, tears
still threatening to shame me further.
"You had better not," she hissed menacingly, looking right
into my eyes again as though challenging me... daring me to defy her. She
leaned in close to my face, close enough that I could feel her sweet breath...
I could smell chocolate... Her hands tightened their grip on my wrists as she continued...
speaking of something that would haunt me to this day... cursing me with a
'fetish' and a fear... "And if I catch you winking at me again, I'll strip
you in front of all the girls!"
"Nooo! Please!" I begged, shocked at the images flittering
through my boyish mind... the terror, the shame... the agony of being stripped
naked in front of all the girls at school. Hearing them teasing me and laughing
at my private parts... Mocking my badges of masculinity... laughing at what I
thought made me 'superior' to girls. "Please Lizzie... don't do that...
I'm really sorry," I sniffed, a tear finally breaking cover and sneaking
down my flushed, roasting cheek.
"Imagine all the girls getting to look at you..." Lizzie
teased again, a playful tone of conspiracy in her voice. And I did imagine it...
over and over... seeing the faces of the girls in my mind all laughing and
pointing and commenting on my little parts of masculine shame. The muscle at
the base of my penis flexed and betrayed me... my erection still tingling and
'proud' within my school trousers as Lizzie held me secure to the floor.
"We'd all get to see your willy... hahaaah!"
"No... please," I begged again... "I promise I won't do
it again... I didn't want to make you mad at me... I... I like you... I'm sorry
if I upset you... really I am... please don't strip me..." I really was
contrite and sincere with my apology, gabbling like a little fool. To be fair
to me, the threat of stripping wasn't really needed. I was a kind and sensitive
boy. I had no idea that winking at a girl could possibly make her angry... I
was just trying to be friendly... and it didn't work.
"I think I could strip you myself, right now..." Lizzie mused,
sitting back up but still holding my wrists tightly. "I beat you easily.
Hmmm?" She was smirking at me and watching my reaction.
"Nooo! You mustn't," I implored with more vigor, my attempts
to get free resuming once more. "Don't... I'll do anything... just, please
don't strip me..."
"Okay... I won't strip you..." Lizzie informed me, much to my
relief. "But stop struggling and I will tell you what's going to
happen." Instantly I obeyed, freezing still for fear of what she might be
able to do to me. I was mortified at the thought of maybe having to go home to
face my parents without my trousers and underpants, let alone the thought of
Lizzie forcibly taking my clothes off and seeing my willy. I briefly caught
myself wondering whether she would laugh and tease me or if she would be
impressed by what she might see between my legs. My confidence had waned a lot
over the last few minutes and I feared that she would just laugh at me, which
would make things so much worse.
Lizzie seemed to think for a few moments, giving me time to catch my
breath and try to put things into some kind of order and perspective. I still
felt ashamed and I somehow still felt 'good' in my privates.
"I'm going to let go of your wrists now Adam..." Lizzie began
quietly yet with confident intent. It was a tone that seemed to try and keep me
calm, but with enough insistence that told me I was still under her command. "Don't
even think of trying to get away... You know I'm faster and stronger now don't
you? And you know I can strip you if you don't do as I say don't you?" She
waited for a reply.
All I could do was pathetically nod my head gently, blinking a tear from
each eye.
"Good... Now hold still..." Lizzie instructed. She finally
released her grip on my wrists and pushed herself into a fully upright position
sitting astride my lower chest. Her thighs seemed to tighten around my body as
she slowly reached back, and planted her hand onto the crotch of my trousers...
and then squeezed me...
"Mmmmggghhh..." I gasped in shock as her hand made contact
with my private parts. A girl was squeezing my balls and my cock through my
trousers... and I couldn't stop her... "Lizzie... no! DON'T!" I
protested weakly as her hand released it's grip and began to rub over the front
of my crotch, exploring me. I tried to tense my thighs tightly closed and stop
her from touching me.
"Let me do it," Lizzie commanded again, more insistent and icy
this time. "Come on Adam... let me do it or I WILL strip you..."
That did it... the threat of worse consequences made me submit to her
eager exploration of my genitals, albeit through my school trousers. I fought
off my natural instinct and slowly opened my legs again so that Lizzie could
touch me. Her hand began to rub over the crotch of my trousers once more,
learning about the bulge within my pants. She giggled as her hand closed around
the bulge and began to squeeze me, let me go, squeeze me again and so forth.
I was powerless to stop a girl from touching me between my legs... I was
feeling so many conflicting emotions as I submitted to her abuse of my body.
Looking back, she was dominating me physically and psychologically... She was sexually
assaulting me. My young little willy was so hard and tingly as she groped and
fondled me over and over again... squeezing, rubbing and squeezing. I blushed
so hard as I succumbed to the thoughts of shame and humiliation at 'allowing' a
girl to do this to me. This is what it felt like to be beaten by a girl... to submit
to a girl... I felt so naughty... ashamed and though I didn't know the word for
it... sexual.
"You feel quite big..." Lizzie teased playfully, stifling her
giggles and looking at me to observe my reaction. All she must have seen was a
blushing boy held captive between her thighs, a tear of embarrassed angst
trickling down his right cheek and gasping through arousal and shame. She
didn't know it then, but I was trying to decide if I was enjoying it or if this
was the worst possible feeling in the world. So many thoughts were being thrown
into the air and then falling back to my mind in a hideously confusing jumble
of embarrassment and tingling loveliness. "Maybe I should strip you after
all and take a look..."
"Nooo! Please!" I cried out in shock and anticipated
humiliation. I closed my legs tightly around her hand. At the same time, she
giggled again and quickly tightened her grip on my penis through my trousers.
The whole effect made my body shudder and it felt like some sort of tickling
electricity was passing through my willy... making it feel as though I was
urinating. But nothing was coming out... "Noooo!!! Plleaasee... stop...
Noooo!! It feels weird... Mmmmggghhh..." My hips juddered and the tip of
my penis throbbed with a sensation that I had felt before but under much
different circumstances.
Now that I am much older, I of course know that I had experienced an
orgasm. Being so young, obviously, this was a 'dry-cum.' Oh how I miss orgasms
like that...
I should explain too that this wasn't my first orgasm. I had experienced
many before, particularly the previous year when I had been allowed to play
with a device that my mother used to soothe a bad back that my father had been
suffering from. It was a small hand held body-massage device that vibrated. It
felt funny when I let it vibrate against my head... against my ears... against
my toes... against my nose... against my nipples... and then... well, you know
where... I would make myself 'climax' many times... sometimes able to keep the
device pressed onto my genitals through three or four climaxes in a row, though
sometimes having to take it away from my groin completely such was the
sensitivity there.
But there with Lizzie was totally different. My mind was dazzled with
the overtly awesome feelings of 'sexual surprise' brought on by the hand of my
conqueress. My inexperienced and confused body rode the final stages of my dry
climax, my thighs pressed tightly together around Lizzie's flexing hand. I
doubt she knew what had happened to me. My thighs pressed tighter still as I
tried to ride the hyper-sensitive feelings radiating from the tip of my cock...
it just wouldn't quit. It didn't give me any more relief and it felt like it
was going to last forever. This whole incident with Lizzie was going to last
forever.
"Please Lizzie... Nnngghhhh," I grunted in my dazed stupor.
"You have to stop... It's hurting me..." But I found that I couldn't
part my thighs to free her hand. The sensitivity in my young genitals was
tingling so much, making me feel so good, but starting to hurt me, that my
thighs reflexively tried to 'crush' the invading hand. I guess it was my body
trying to reset my sexual system.
"Let my hand go then!" Lizzie admonished curtly, before
finally being able to wriggle her hand out from between my thighs. That nearly
made me feel as though I was going to 'pee' again, but it didn't quite get that
far that time.
I was panting and trying to recover my senses from the ordeal and Lizzie
was still sat firmly on my stomach, looking down at me. She would have seen my
tears still flowing down my cheeks and how sorry I looked. But I received no
mercy from her.
"Just so you know," Lizzie began in a confident,
conspiratorial whisper. "I meant what I said... If you wink at me again...
I will strip you in front of all the girls..."
"I won't Lizzie... please believe me... I'm sorry," I sniffled
in response, my breathing still heavy and my genitals still messaging me that
they were stiff.
"Okay... I believe you that you're sorry... But now what's stopping
me from telling everyone what a weakling boy you are? Hmmm? About how you let a
girl beat you up and feel your willy... What about that?"
"Please don't Lizzie... don't tell... I'll do anything..." I
offered, unable to look at her as my blushes re-acquainted themselves with my
cheeks.
"Look at me Adam..." she instructed, making sure that I
obeyed. I forced myself to look up at her and into her eyes. She was smirking
down at me with a look of complete victory. Complete superiority. Right then, I
felt so helpless and weak. "Say that girls are better than boys, and I'll
let you go..."
"Lizzie, please... I..." I whimpered, blushing scarlet with
embarrassment. That would be treason... blasphemy even... I couldn't...
"Say it... or I will touch you again... and strip you... AND tell
your friends..." she insisted confidently.
I sniffled and blinked away as many tears as I could, finally closing my
eyes to hide myself from her pretty, smirking, superior face.
"Girls are better than boys..." I whispered just loud enough
for her to hear. The muscle at the base of my willy flexed again too, reminding
me what a traitor I was to my gender. I was so ashamed... I kept my eyes closed
while I heard Lizzie giggling. I could feel her getting up from my lower chest.
"That's right Adam..." Lizzie sneered. "And don't you
ever forget it..." I heard her footsteps rustling quickly through the long
grass as she made her escape, leaving me still floored and unable to believe or
comprehend what had just happened.
Having taken a little time to calm myself down and conceal the fact that
I had been crying, I slowly trudged my way home. I barely had any appetite for dinner.
I had to make my excuses for refusing my fish and chips, preferring to try and
resolve things in my bedroom. I didn't dare tell my mother, who was asking me
all sorts of awkward questions as to why my school trousers were scuffed and
dirty, why I seemed so pale and without appetite for my favourite dinner... How
could I tell her what had happened? Even an ice cream cone that she provided
could do little to comfort me or get me to tell her what was wrong. Instead,
after she left, I sat there alone on my bed, slowly licking it. Thinking about
things... carefully.
I was so giddy with excitement, fear... arousal maybe too as Lizzie's
words continued to circle in my mind...
"I will strip you in front of all the girls... We'll all get to see
your willy... Girls are better than boys... Don't you forget it..."
I just couldn't get her words or those images out of my head. And all
the while, I still had an erection... tingling and reminding me of what it felt
like to have a girl touching me between my legs and being powerless to stop her
from doing it to me. Her being stronger than me... her being better than me
just because she's a girl... and me admitting it to her...
God it was shameful at the time... my whole world was so 'exciting' and
'arousing' and confusing at this 'revelation.' But it was a world that was now
very different... It was like all of my preconditioned thoughts and ideas were
being torn apart... Girls could beat boys... and beat them easily. Girls could
be stronger... and naughtier... gosh Lizzie had been naughty to me... And
through all that, I wasn't so sure it was better to be a boy after all...
Lizzie had shown me otherwise. It was all I was able to focus on... that one
moment in time. Girls it seemed, were better. It felt to me then like we had
lost the whole battle of the sexes. It affected me... it worried me and I had
always been a worrier.
It was the aftermath of a sexual assault. I realize it now...
Looking back, the way I felt that evening, in my room, or in the bath as
I looked at and washed my genitals, or when I looked at myself closely in the
mirror, and even as I lay in bed and waited to go to sleep, what I really
needed was to masturbate... To feel the ultimate of good feelings that I had
experienced before... I just didn't know how to go about it. Either that or I
was too embarrassed at what I might discover.
I was ashamed to have been so powerless to stop a girl from throwing me
to the floor... the feeling of being overpowered by a girl... feeling her hold
me down to the floor... The feeling of being unable to get away... unable to stop
her from touching me between the legs... Ashamed at how good it felt... yet
feeling so weak and inferior. Feeling inferior to girls... Ashamed to be a boy.
Postscript -
From that day on, whenever I was involved in a game of 'House' or other role playing games, I was
always a submissive character, obeying the girls (including Lizzie) and feeling
'good' about it. I was always the one who played a girl's pet dog, or even a
chimpanzee or the naughty boy who got spanked or sent to his room.
And I never did wink at Lizzie again, nor any other girl and so I never
actually got stripped in front of all the girls. Her threat was enough to make
sure I stayed a good boy, though it cemented a number of kinks and fetishes
that I still fantasize to this day about.
When I finally did discover masturbation for real, the first time was
about the 'scientific discovery' of the whole mechanical aspect of the act -
it's like that for all boys isn't it? But the second time I did it (barely
three minutes later), I fantasized about this incident with Lizzie. Later came fantasies
of other girls I liked doing the same things to me... or beating me at some
strip card game... or strip spin the bottle, or tying me to a tree naked in
front of all the other girls and 'playing' with me etc. Through such
humiliating thoughts... I was always able to make myself feel 'good.' I was
managing my curse...
I had been damaged... I see that now.
When I was about thirteen, Lizzie and I briefly became girlfriend and
boyfriend... But I was too shy and submissive for her and it lasted no more
than a week. I didn't have the courage to hold her hand in the playground, or
even kiss her on the mouth like some other couples seemed to do so brazenly and
easily. I barely had the confidence or courage to even kiss her on the cheek
when she offered it to me in the safety of the cloakroom and away from prying
eyes... Much as I wanted to, I just... didn't have the balls for it. Things might
have been different if we had found some time to actually be alone together, properly
alone... or so I like to think.
Maybe I just wasn't ready... or maybe I needed to be led properly by a
girl...
--
I'll maybe tell you some more stories of my boyhood submissive
adventures another time.
(The End)