I haven’t always been this confident about my sexuality. Nowadays, I get it: I’m attractive and desirable and I can have just about any guy I want, at least for a night. But it’s been a long road to get here.

It’s not that I was a late bloomer, maybe just that I wasn’t interested in sex throughout junior high and even into my freshman year of high school. I wasn’t a tomboy, per se, but I definitely wasn’t – and still am not – a girly-girl. Aside from hanging out with friends and school stuff, volleyball and surfing took up most of my time and focus; boys weren’t even a concern. But early in high school, things began to change.

For starters, high school is just so much more sexualized. Everybody is talking about sex and thinking about it and trying to engage in it, especially the boys. As a volleyball player with long legs and short shorts, maybe I ignored the stares and the comments longer than some, but soon after my 16th birthday I guess I had developed nicely and it quickly came on in full force: guys checking out our volleyball games mostly to check out the players bending over in tight spandex and then all the persistent comments about our bodies. There were times I wanted to quit playing simply to stop being on display.

“Man, that girl’s got a great ass.” “Yeah, too bad she’s got no tits.”

At first, comments like those were just ignored. Then, when I realized they were talking about me, I was horrified. And embarrassed. And angry. And then I built up a wall around that part of me and went back to trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to ignore them. But it seemed to be everywhere. As my friends were subjected more and more to the same thing, they began to turn on each other as well, making fun of some for having small boobs or a big butt or being a little overweight or any other perceived deficiencies. And then you look at the women on TV or in the movies or in magazines: it’s enough to make a girl feel downright bad about her body.

Luckily, I had a savior early on.

My family lived at the top of a cul-de-sac. Down at the corner of a street lived the Wilsons, a family with three children roughly my age. Diana was a year ahead of me, but one of my friends, even though most of her time went to soccer. She had a brother – Paul – who was two years older than us, and then a younger brother, Danny, who was roughly the same age as me, but a grade back. Their parents had divorced maybe three years earlier, leaving the kids living with only their mom. Also of note was the fact that they had a pool, so during summer days, I could often be found at their house.

Of the three, I was closest with Diana, but I was comfortable around all of them, even if Danny was something of a little brat. But, despite my struggles with my appearance – or rather, guys’ reaction to my appearance – I never felt uncomfortable around any of them. Still, I know I wasn’t imagining it early in that summer when I would catch Paul looking at me a beat or two too long when we were hanging out in or around the pool. But, it wasn’t something I dwelt on. Around them I could still remain in my little sexuality-free bubble.

Until one day when that changed, the summer after my sophomore year, just after my 16th birthday. It was maybe eleven in the morning on a non-descript summer weekday. I had no real responsibilities, so much like many other days the plan was to hang out at the Wilsons'. I knew Diana was away at one of her many soccer camps during the days that week, but it didn’t change my plans at all; I had hung out with just the Wilson boys plenty of times as well. Plus, if it got boring I could always just walk back home.

So, I strolled down the street and, as was the custom, let myself in the side gate into the back yard. Finding nobody out around the pool, I slid open the glass door in the back of the house and headed into their living room, looking around for somebody.

“Paul? Danny? Anybody home?” I called out, but no answer. Maybe Paul was at work today. But, just wanting to make sure, I ducked down a short set of stairs into the den and found Paul sitting at the computer with his headphones on. I started walking up to him to tap him on the shoulder and let him know that I was there when I noticed what he was looking at on his computer: porn. Some blonde chick with big tits on her knees sucking some dude’s enormous dick.

I had seen bits and pieces of porn before, but like I said – I was trying to live in a sexuality-free bubble and mostly ignored it. I stopped abruptly to take in the scene and noticed that Paul’s right shoulder was jiggling around. I may have been innocent and naïve, but I knew what was going on, and I wanted no part of it. So I tried to back out of the room and avoid being noticed. Whether through nerves or stupid clumsiness, on my retreat I backed into the edge of a table sitting by the stairs and knocked a lamp off, sending it crashing to the ground, alerting Paul to my presence. Alarmed, he stood up, thankfully tucking himself back into his pants in one smooth motion.

“Maddie! Oh my god. I didn’t know you were here,” he cried out, as his face turned to red.

“I’m so sorry Paul. I didn’t mean… I just… I…” not knowing what to say, I made no effort to finish a coherent sentence.

“How long were you there?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to… I was just…” He trailed off like I had, all the while the video still going on behind his back, him trying to block the screen with his body.

“Can I… Um,” I started. Then stopped. Then started again. “Can I see?”

“Oh, Maddie,” he responded, dismissively.

“No really, I just want to see what it is.”

“Maddie, come on. You know what it is.”

“I just want to see what the big deal is real quick, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Just… Here… Look real quick, but don’t tell anybody,” he relented.

As he stepped aside, I saw the woman was now bent over at the waist, with the guy holding her hands and fucking her from behind as she shook her ass. They were in a dark, shadowed room in the middle of a circle of candles. I was mesmerized.

“Do you know who that girl is?” I asked him as the couple switched positions onto the floor.

“Jenna Jameson,” he replied.

“Do you think she’s hot?” I asked him as I admired her big perfect breasts, so different from my little mosquito bites.

“Okay Maddie, that’s enough,” he said, turning around to stop the video, as I caught a final glimpse of the guy pulling her hair as he fucked her on the floor.

“No, really. I’m not trying to embarrass you or anything. I just want to know if you think she’s pretty?”

“Come on,” he replied. “Of course. She’s awesome.”

“You like her big boobs, right?” I proceeded.

“Maddie, come on. Let’s stop now.”

“I just wanna know what guys like. Sorry,” I said, ready to put an end to it.

“Yeah, guys like big tits. What can I say?” he responded, closing the browser window and shutting off the monitor power.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That’s why guys don’t like me.”

“What?” he exploded. “Oh Maddie. Guys totally like you.”

“But you just said ‘guys like big tits.’”

“Sure. Guys like big tits. And guys like small tits. And guys like blondes. And guys like brunettes. And guys like girls with big butts and guys like girls with tiny asses. But mostly guys like pretty girls. Guys like cool girls. Hell, guys just like girls. And believe me Maddie, all guys like you.”

“Oh come on Paul,” embarrassed by what he had said, but still relieved to hear it. “I’ll never look like that Jenna Jameson.”

“Madison. Just be you. You’re beautiful the way you are. And you’re smart. And you’re funny. And you’re cool.” He stopped a beat, then added “And really, you’re beautiful.”

I could feel my skin tinge with embarrassment, never one to take a compliment all that well.

“Thanks Paul,” I said and began to ask if he really thought I was beautiful, only to be interrupted by Danny and one of his friends stomping in from the front door.

“Hey Maddie!” he yelled out upon seeing me. “Me and Justin are gonna go swimming. You wanna come?”

Such was my plan when I first made my way down the street just maybe 15 minutes ago, but now the thought of getting down to my swimsuit here scared the hell out of me. “Maybe later this afternoon,” I demurred. “I think I’m going to go take a nap.” As Danny and his friend headed out the back door to the pool, I waved awkwardly at Paul, muttered “Thanks” and headed back home.

The whole two-minute walk home my mind was filled with images of that girl having sex and with Paul’s words of “you’re beautiful” echoing in my ears. Once back home, I didn’t know what to do. I sat on the couch and watched some stupid movie for a while as its inanity washed over me. But the whole time I was sort of imagining me doing the types of things that Jenna Jameson had been doing.

Finally giving up on the movie, I got up and headed straight to the computer, opened up Google and searched for Jenna Jameson. After a bit I found what appeared to be a good link to a video and within moments I was again watching this buxom blonde bobbing her head up and down on a big dick. She’s on a boat with the captain at the helm, blowing him right there with such confidence, looking up at his face as she pleasures him, even sucking on his balls. I watched with amazement and admiration.

Soon she’s on her back with the captain going down on her while playing with her boobs, then later jamming a finger into her pussy. Soon, that finger is replaced by his cock, and among other things I was amazed by Jenna’s shaved bald pussy. I was becoming hairier and hairier by the day down there; is that bad?

I dwelled on that for a few moments before becoming transfixed again by the look on Jenna’s face as she got fucked. Finally, the video ends with Jenna dropping to her knees as the guy masturbates onto her face. This confused me to no end, but by this time it is just a drop in a whole bucket of confusion. Certainly I was plenty excited by what I had just watched, but it still remains very much a mystery to me.

Once it was done, I briefly considered watching the next recommended video, but I had had enough of that stimulation for the time. I closed the window, left the computer and headed to go lay down in my bedroom, completely confused, but also excited, by what I had just seen. I crawled under the covers and just let my mind wander, and within moments it had settled on the image of me on my knees in front of Paul, emulating the moves I had seen the porn star do.

Even as I realized in my head that I would have almost no idea how to do what I had seen, my imagination got the best of me and, without even realizing it, I discovered that my hand had found its way down in between my legs. Sure, I had touched myself down there plenty of times before, but this time was different. I had never rubbed myself like this before and I had never felt as tingly and electric as I did now.

Rubbing myself through my pair of basketball shorts and the panties underneath them felt really good, but after a time I slipped my hand in between the two layers, so I could rub myself just through the panties. I rubbed my index and middle fingers up and down between my two lips as the base of my thumb ground against my clit. Little by little I could feel my panties get damper and damper until I pulled my hand out from between the two layers and slipped it straight back in, under the panties, feeling my sweet, wet, furry pussy directly and continuing to rub myself in the same manner, picking up tempo, slowly increasing the pressure on my clit until: Wow!!!! A feeling like I had never felt before, rising up from my insides until seemingly my whole body exploded in a wave of sensation that I had never experienced before. So much pleasure, yes, but of such a different and more intense variety than I had ever known.

At first, I honestly did not know what was going on. I stopped rubbing myself immediately, just holding my tightly hand in place as the waves of ecstasy crashed over me. I thought maybe I had broken something down there for a moment, until, as my mind began to regain its composure and I put two and two together and realized: “Oh, so that’s an orgasm.” And believe me, I liked it.

The rest of that day and the following day, I avoided the Wilson house, for some reason feeling ashamed about my interaction with Paul and my later interaction with myself. The following day was a Saturday and my dad took me on a surfing trip up the coast in Ventura where we spent the night and slowly surfed our way back down the coast on Sunday, meaning I got another two-day reprieve from having to face Paul.

But Monday morning my cell phone woke me with a call from Diana, trying to find out why she hadn’t seen me in several days. So, trying to make everything seem like it always used to, I slipped into my swimsuit, threw on some shorts and a t-shirt over it and headed down the street, again ducking into the backyard and through the back door into their house, where I immediately ran right into Paul.

“Maddie! Long time no see,” he said.

“Hey Paul. Yeah, spent the weekend surfing with my pops,” I explained.

“Good,” he replied. “I was hoping I didn’t scare you off.”

“What do you mean?” Diana asked Paul, as she ducked around the corner into the living room to greet me.

“Oh, I was just joking around,” he replied, apropos of nothing.

Diana didn’t press the issue and instead grabbed my arm, pulling me along with her, saying “Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you.”

We headed into Diana’s room where she told me a couple of interesting stories that had happened to her since we had last hung out; she was having her own awakenings with the opposite sex . But eventually we headed out to the pool to cool off. Danny and his friend Justin were already out there in the pool, so just like usual, Diana and I got down to our swimsuits and hopped in the pool to play around.

After a handful of games of Marco Polo and Shark and the like between the four of us, Diana and I both got out and parked ourselves in a pair of lounge chairs in the sun, just as Paul came sauntering out the back door. I immediately felt self-conscious about my swimsuit and wished I had a towel with me on this chair to cover up with. But, soon enough, Paul pulled up a chair right beside Diana and joined us. He clearly gave me the once over – maybe he had been doing this all the time and I just didn’t notice it – but at least his gaze didn’t linger. And, soon enough the three of us fell into easy conversation as we usually did.

After some time, the topic turned to food, being past lunch time, and the three of us all agreed that the taco joint down the street sounded like a fantastic idea. Paul, being the only one of us with a driver’s license, was up for going and he asked Diana to come along with him.

“Paul,” she whined. “Can’t you just go yourself? I don’t want to have to go put on clothes and comb my hair and all that.”

“I’m not going by myself,” Paul answered firmly. “It would take you like two minutes to put on some clothes over your swimsuit.”

“Oh yeah right. Like I’m gonna go out without brushing my hair and getting dressed up,” she complained. “Maybe have Danny go with you.”

I saw my chance for a little bit of time alone with Paul and, despite some butterflies in the stomach, jumped at it. “Oh, don’t bother the kid. I’ll go with you Paul.”

I stood up, threw on my basketball shorts and t-shirt, stepped into my flip-flops and pronounced “Let’s go” in a matter of seconds.

I followed Paul back in the house and waited for him while he grabbed his keys and wallet, then followed him out the front door into his beat up old hand-me-down truck. As he got in, he looked at me quickly and said: “Thanks for going with me Maddie. You know, that’s another thing I like about you,” referring back obliquely to the conversation we had a few days prior. “You’re just laid back and normal and totally cool. You don’t always worry about wearing the perfect clothes and having your hair all perfect.” He paused for a moment as I tossed over in my mind whether that was a back-handed compliment or not, but then he put a bow on it that made me feel great. “And you’re still like the prettiest girl on the planet,” he tossed out offhandedly as he backed out into the street.

I didn’t know what to say at first, coming up with – and quickly discarding – a few possibilities in my mind before regaining my composure somewhat. “Thanks Paul. You’re so sweet,” I settled on, before continuing again, this time a little more tongue-tied. “But, like, I’m just… I dunno… I’m just sorta normal looking, right? Like, what’s so good about me?”

Paul looked at me quickly out of the corner of his eye, as if he were trying to figure out if I was being serious or not. He then looked back at the road and quickly pulled over to the side of the small, quiet street, put the truck in park and turned to face me.

“Madison. For the longest time, you were just sorta my little sister’s friend. I always liked you, but you were just a little girl,” he started. “Now, over the past year or so, you’re no little girl anymore. You’re hot. You’ve always been pretty, with those beautiful blue eyes and that perfect strawberry blonde hair, but you’re just so damn attractive now. I love your smile. And your cute little cheeks with those sexy little freckles.” He was laying it all out on the line and, while I was a little embarrassed by the compliments, his earnest manner kept me at ease. “And your body? My god, Maddie. Those legs of yours just don’t quit.”

“But I’ve got these tiny little boobs,” I protested. “I…”

He cut me off. “Madison. Seriously. Your body is perfect the way it is.

You’re perfect the way you are. You’re gorgeous. You’re cool. You’re funny. You’re smart. You’re just….” He trailed off.

I was on the verge of tears. I leaned over to give him a big hug as I told him with nearly cracking voice: “You don’t know how much that means to me.” It felt so good to have my arms around him, and I leaned my head on his shoulder briefly, then pulled back away and looked into his face. He looked back into mine for what seemed like days but was probably just a split second, then put his right hand back on the gear shift and said: “We better go get some tacos.” And we drove off again.

It wasn’t but a couple minutes until we were parking at the taco shop. After placing our order for numerous tacos (carne asada, al pastor, carnitas… the works), we took a seat at a little table in the packed taqueria to wait for our order – number 22. Sitting there across from each other, awkwardly silent at first, I leaned in and told him: “You know, I like you too.”

“Do you really?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about you these last couple days,” I replied. “Ever since… the other day.” Now it was his turn to turn a little red. “Paul, have you ever had a girlfriend?” I asked, not knowing him to ever have anybody come around the house very often.

“Not really,” he responded, offering nothing more.

“What does that mean? ‘Not really?’ Either you have or you haven’t.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve gone out with girls and stuff, but I’ve never, like, officially dated anyone… No.”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” I pressed on.

“Of course.” He quickly responded, following up with a question of his own: “Have you ever kissed a boy?”

“No, I never have,” I replied.

“Really?” He seemed amazed.

“Yeah, I’ve just never been into it, I guess,” I answered hesitatingly, as if just now considering the possibility. After a beat of silence, I took it one step further. “Have you ever had sex?”

“Maddie, Maddie, Maddie,” he said, shaking his head as if disappointed in me for even asking the question. He let another moment pass before answering. “Yeah, I’ve had sex a few times. Not nearly enough for my liking,” he laughed.
“How many times?” I asked, continuing my interrogation, but as soon as I got my question out, the lady behind the counter called out “Veinti-dos!” indicating that our order was up.

The quick car ride back to the house, with the tempting aroma of the tacos distracting us, was mostly silent, but as we pulled into the driveway, I repeated: “So, how many times?”

He looked at me, confused at first, until a light bulb went on over his head. “Oh, just three,” he said as he opened his door and swung his legs out onto the pavement. We headed back into the house and enjoyed a delicious lunch.

All I wanted was to be able to spend time with Paul and continue flirting, but we never got any time alone until just before I was heading back home for dinner. Diana was taking a shower, Danny and Justin were still in the pool, so Paul walked me to the front door, both of us awkwardly making small talk the whole time until, at last, I mentioned I had to go. Quickly, taking advantage of our dwindling time together, Paul leaned in, wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me tight to him and gave me my first kiss, my soft lips rising to meet his, then parting to allow our tongues to meet. It was quick, just a moment or two, but when I was done I stared up into his brown eyes, just transfixed. I slipped out the front door without another word and nearly floated home.

The ensuing days were filled with aggravation. All I wanted was to spend time alone with Paul, but every time I’d go over to the Wilson’s house, Diana and Danny were around as well. Paul and I would exchange glances, but were only able to get an occasional minute or two alone. By Wednesday night when I left their house to head home for dinner with my parents, I was ready to take matters into my own hands. Once home, I texted Paul, asking him if he thought he’d be able to get free that night.

Me: OMFG, how can we get sum time 2gether?

Paul: I know, huh?

Me: Do u think u can go out 2nite?

Paul: Yeah

Me: Ok, pick me up at the corner of Palm. I’ll try to b there by 830

Paul: Ok. Cool.

My whole body was tingling with excitement through dinner as I anticipated a chance to kiss Paul again. The time between the end of dinner and 8:30 seemed to pass so slowly. I didn’t know what to expect, I just knew I wanted to be near Paul. I wanted to see his eyes, his smile, hear his voice. I wanted to smell him. I wanted to touch him. I just wanted to be around him. And yeah, I wanted to kiss him again. I guess this is what love is all about?

I changed my clothes three different timesbefore deciding on a simple pair of short jean shorts and a t-shirt, in part to keep any suspicion from the parents to a minimum, in part to just be myself. When 8:15 came, I told my parents that I was going down to the Wilsons' to watch a movie and headed out the front door and down the street, but instead of ducking into the Wilsons' house, I turned left and walked down to the next corner to wait for Paul. I was about ten minutes early, and he was clearly anticipating our meeting as well, as he rolled up in his truck about five minutes early than we had agreed on. I hopped in the seat next to him, leaned over to him and immediately planted another kiss on him, this one unfolding in a slower and more unhurried manner than our previous kiss had. After a wonderful kiss, Paul pulled away and asked: “So, what do you feel like doing?”

“I hadn’t planned that far ahead,” I laughed. “I just knew I wanted to spend some time alone with you. And, you know, to kiss you again.”

“Well, do you want to actually go out and do something or do you just want to kiss some more?”

“Um. Really. Just kiss some more,” I answered truthfully.

“Okay, let’s just go find some place up in the mountains,” he said, shifting into drive and heading north into the foothills above our town.

We listened to some old classic rock station that my parents would have appreciated as we drove, but beyond that were mostly quiet, as the anticipation built. Paul found a nice, dark, secluded turnout, backed the truck in, put it in park, but left the battery running so we could listen to the music quietly play. I recognized the song as “Where the Streets Have No Name” by U2; it seemed appropriate up here, off the grid.

“Come here, let me show you something,” he said, opening his door and getting out of the truck. I opened my door and followed him. He went around to the back of the truck, opened the tailgate and sat on the edge and I joined him for a view of the city lights below us on a warm summer night.

“Oh, this is nice. I bet you bring all your girls up here,” I teased.

“Nope,” he replied. “You’re the first. But I do come up here to smoke a joint every now and then.”

“Oh, you smoke pot, too? You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you Wilson,” I teased more.

“Okay, enough small talk Madison. I want to taste those lips again,” he said, wrapping his left arm around my shoulders and moving in for the kiss.

With some privacy – aside from the occasional car that would whizz past on the mountain road – and what seemed like all the time in the world, we took our time, starting with little nibbles, moving on to bigger tastes and then eventually into a voracious meeting of our tongues. I was in heaven, wrapping my right arm around his waist so we could be an extra inch or two closer as we explored one another’s mouths. He moved his right hand onto my bare knee and I shuddered with excitement at the feel of his skin on mine and I squirmed a bit closer as he massaged my thigh from knee to where my shorts stopped. I suppose I had never consciously put two and two together until that moment, but I suddenly remembered: “Oh yeah, kissing can lead to other things.” While the thought sort of scared me, it also intrigued me and I began rubbing Paul’s back as we kissed.

As we kissed some more, Paul’s right hand moved from my thigh to my left shoulder, and from that point he began a charge to my boobs. Within a minute he had his hand on my left breast, massaging the tiny lump of flesh through my t-shirt and bra. “Oh Paul,” I moaned, as each of us lost some focus on the kissing and paid more attention to what his hand was doing. My nipple rapidly stiffened and Paul massaged it lightly with a pair of fingers.

Seeking further fun, he moved his hand to my waistline, causing me briefly to ponder which direction he was headed in and whether I was going to be okay with that, whichever way he went. But as he pulled my shirt away from my body and I felt his warm hand touch the soft flesh of my belly, any inclination to resist disappeared. His hand softly zig-zagged up my stomach, lingering here and there, but always irrevocably moving upwards until he found the fabric of my standard-issue 34B bra, which was, to be honest, probably slightly overkill for what I was packing.

But, despite my self-consciousness about my breasts, Paul was clearly enjoying them, moving from left breast to right, grabbing each in his hand and massaging me as we continued to kiss. Soon enough, Paul was moving on to his next goal as, no longer content to massage my boobs through the bra, he slid the bra up, letting my boobs slip free. He went immediately to my left nipple, which was rock hard. The sensations I felt, merely from feeling his somewhat rough skin on my nipple was intense, and I moaned out my approval softly.

I pulled away quickly and asked: “Can you help me take my bra off?”

It may as well have been a rhetorical question, for we both knew the answer. He withdrew his hand from my shirt and stood up immediately, turning to face me. I reached a hand up the back of my shirt, quickly undid the bra and began to maneuver the bra free without raising my shirt, but Paul stopped me with a question of his own: “Can I see your tits?”

I pondered his question for a split second, but was enjoying myself, and his attention, so much that my answer was clear. “Sure,” I responded simply. I lifted my shirt, slid my right arm out, lifted the shirt over my head and then let it fall off to the bed of the truck, then did much the same with my bra, leaving me there, topless, facing him. His eyes were immediately locked on my chest and I was happy to note that there was no visible disappointment. Maybe my boobs, though small, were still attractive. Paul boosted my confidence even more by saying: “Oooh, they’re so hot,” as his hands moved in to investigate further.

To allow Paul access, I spread my legs apart and he stepped in between then, up to the tailgate of the truck. As he explored my breasts with his hands, I perhaps unconsciously slid my lower body closer to him, leaned back some using my arms to support my body and wrapped my legs around him. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And, as I found a hard bulge in his pants that rubbed me in a particularly good place, I was more convinced that it was the right thing to do.

Paul moved in again to resume our kiss, while both of his hands stayed glued to my breasts. My legs’ grip on his lower body tightened, he began grinding his lower body against mine. My arms no longer felt the desire to support my body, so I laid back against the bed of the truck, breaking our kiss. Paul used that opportunity to find a new use for his mouth and soon his lips were around my right nipple as the grinding of our lower bodies increased in intensity. Just then, Paul’s body jerked suddenly, the grinding ceased and his suction on my nipple increased. After a moment like this, his body loosened, and he looked up at me and said “Sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what was going on, so I replied: “Why? What happened?”

“I… I…,” he stammered. “I came in my pants,” he blurted out.

It took me a second to figure out what they meant, but when I did, I couldn’t help but laugh. Unfortunately, when I did that, Paul stood up and I could tell he was embarrassed. So I pushed myself up from the bed of the truck and grabbed his arms and pulled him to me and said: “Don’t worry about it. That was fun.” And then I pulled him in closer and gave him another good kiss, making sure to rub my still-aroused breasts against his chest.

As I pulled away again, I said: “I’ve never made a guy cum before.” I smiled, then added. “Hell, I’ve never done any of that stuff before. And I’m glad it was with you.”

He pulled me back in close and kissed me passionately again. “Oh Madison, you’re so perfect,” he sighed when his mouth was free again.

“So, what do we do about your pants?”

“I think I just need to lose these boxers,” he replied, now laughing at his own expense as well.

He walked over to the darkness on the driver’s side of the truck and began removing his pants. I sat on the tailgate, still horny, thinking about the things we’d done and wanting to do more, then got a brilliant idea in my head. I hopped up into the bed of the truck and crawled over the driver’s side where Paul was changing.

“Can I see your dick?” I asked bluntly, recalling his request to see my tits. Leaning over the side of the truck, I could see he was down to just his tented boxers now.

“Really? It’s all… you know… sticky right now.”

“I let you see my tits,” I laughed, playfully. “You owe me.”

“Okay,” he said, dropping his boxers down his legs, trying carefully to contain the mess he had just made in the boxers, carefully lifting one foot to take the boxers off, then the other.

When he stood back up straight, his erection was still sticking straight out. In the limited light, I couldn’t see a whole lot, but it was definitely there.

“Soooo… What do you think?”

“Can I touch it?” I asked, leaning over the edge of the truck, my bare boobs smashed against the edge of the bed.

“Oh my god,” he sighed, shaking his head slowly. “There’s still cum on it. Let me at least wipe that off.”

He used his boxers to clean up a little more while I hopped over the edge of the truck and stood beside him in the dirt, watching him use the boxers to clean up his cock. When he was done, he threw the boxers into the bed of the truck and said: “Okay. All yours.”

I stood transfixed for a moment, trying to decide if I really wanted to do this, but eventually reached out my hand and touched it gently. His body shivered with delight as my hand barely glided against it. I looked up at his face as I gently pet it, then reached for it and grabbed ahold of the shaft and asked “Does that feel good?”

“Oh my god, it’s awesome, but it is really sensitive right now,” he laughed. “After an orgasm it needs some time to recover.”

I pulled my hand away, saying “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Just don’t get too crazy.”

I leaned against the edge of the truck, pulled him close to me again and gave him another big sopping wet kiss, a kiss that was abruptly interrupted as the headlights of a car pulling into the same turnout as us shattered our illusion of privacy. Great.

Luckily, Paul’s truck provided us some measure of privacy from the car’s beams. Paul immediately bent over to the ground to find his jeans and pull them on quickly. I, on the other hand, was blinded by the car’s lights and was unable to immediately ascertain the location of my shirt. And any attempt to get into the bed of the truck to search for it would expose me to the occupant of the car. By the time Paul had stumbled his way back into his pants, the car had pulled up alongside our truck and stopped, with the front of the car alongside the tailgate of Paul’s truck. The driver’s side door opened and a middle-aged man got out and came around to the front of his car. Paul quickly shoved his way in front of me to shield me and I ducked behind the side of the truck for protection.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt you,” the man said, his gaze darting from Paul to me, then back again. “I’m so glad you’re here. I just ran over a big rock awhile back and I’ve got a flat.” I noticed a woman sitting in the passenger seat. “I’ve got a spare,” the man continued, “but my jack is broken. I’m hoping you’ve got one in your truck?”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. I’ve got one under the truck, give me a second,” answered Paul, and he dropped to his knee and began fiddling around under the truck, leaving me standing there, leaned over the side of the truck.

“Hi,” I said meekly, waving awkwardly.

“Hello,” the man replied.

Paul eventually got back up from under the car with the jack, then walked over to help the man change the tire. I thought that would give me a chance to recover my shirt, but just as they went over to the driver’s side of the car, the woman got out of the passenger seat. She introduced herself as Melissa and proceeded to make small talk with me for awhile while the guys worked on the tire until, after a couple minutes I decided enough was enough.

“Melissa, can you do me a favor?” I asked.

“Sure, honey,” she replied.

“Um, my shirt is there in the bed of the truck. Can you throw it to me?”

She laughed as a look of recognition washed over her face. “Oh, my. I didn’t even notice,” she answered, laughing. “Sure, honey. Here you go,” she said as she tossed me the shirt. I quickly slipped it on over my head as she said “Oh, I’m so sorry we interrupted you.”

From there, the tire change went fairly quickly, the couple were back in their car and gone, and Paul and I were alone again, able to laugh about the interruption.

“I’m so sorry Maddie,” said Paul, as soon as they were gone.

“Oh geez, it’s not your fault. In fact, that was kind of thrilling,” I admitted.

“Really? Thrilling, huh?”

“Well, at least now it seems that way.”

“So, Maddie. You’re okay with what we did tonight, right?”

“Yeah. Like. What do you mean?”

“Like, uh. The sex stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. I would have let you know if I wasn’t okay with it. It was fun. It… You know… I like you. It was good to do it with somebody that I trust like you. And now, you can show me everything.”

“Heh. Well, it’s not like I know everything, Maddie.”

“Sure. But, well. You can show me what you know. Haha.”

He pulled me in close for another kiss, then walked me around to the passenger side of the truck and opened my door for me. When he came back around to his side and opened the driver’s side door, he tossed something my way.

“You’ll probably want this, right?” It was my bra. I slowly put it on as we drove back down the hill towards home.