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Louise's Awakening I: Discovery
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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Copyright Steve Edwards, October 1993.
Warning: The following is a work of fiction, which hopefully you will find
erotic. All characters and places are figments of the author's imagination
and any resemblence to real events is purely coincidental. It contains
explicit material not suitable for minors. If you decide to engage in
sexual activities, please follow safe sex guidelines.
It may be distributed electronically, but only with these disclaimers and
byline attached. It may not be sold for profit, except by me. :-)
Louise's Awakening
1. Discovery
Louise smiled ruefully at her guilty face which was
reflected back from the mirror. Well she might be shamefaced,
having spent so long admiring her body in her parents' full
length mirror. She flattered herself, admittedly with some
justification, that she was a sane, sensible girl, not given
to inordinate vanity and ridiculous dreams. Nevertheless she
couldn't deny that she'd just spent an appreciable amount of
time examining her body with self-satisfaction. She'd entered
her parent's bedroom that evening with the intention of
returning her mother's bubble-bath to their on-suite
bathroom. While passing through her attention had been
grabbed by her startling reflection. Dressed as she was in
bathrobe tied loosely at the waist, having come straight from
her bath, she looked ... . Louise wasn't quite sure what word
she would choose to describe how she looked this evening. It
must be admitted that "stunning", "beautiful", and "sexy",
did occur to her, but each was rejected in turn, mainly due
to her innate modesty and to a vein of self-depreciation
which ran through her nature. Any objective observer however
would have been happy to apply all of these words to describe
Louise's voluptuous and sensual teenage body. It could not be
denied, even by Louise herself, that by age sixteen, her body
had bloomed in a most agreeable way.
As she had stood before the mirror, admiring the clear
white complexion of her tantalisingly revealed cleavage, and
the silkenly smooth texture of her nicely shaped calves and
lower thighs, Louise had been tempted to untie her robe, and
let it fall to the floor behind her. Succumbing with
alacrity, Louise had stood naked before the mirror. After
admiring herself from every side, she had noted with
satisfaction the flatness of her stomach, and that her soft
blond pubic hair looked a little more substantial than when
she'd last examined herself. It had remained a light fuzz for
far too long. She had observed to herself on numerous
occasions in school changing-rooms that most of her friends
had veritable bushes while her's had remained hardly
noticeable. Louise examined her breasts with some concern:
she was happy with the size that they were now, slightly more
than a handful, but was concerned least they should grow much
more, and start to sag. At present there was no sign of such
a fate, they stood firm and proud, thrusting jauntily out in
front of her.
Louise held and weighed her breasts. Inevitably, Louise's
fingers brushed her nipples, and, as was their want, they
erected themselves. Normally Louise found her nipples
exquisitely sensitive, and hated it when they stood proud
from their light pink surround, and she could hardly bare
touching them. Today however, she was captivated by the
sensuality of the vision they formed. There was something
essentially sexual about how she looked: her breasts cupped
in her hands, her nipples thrusting through her spread
fingers, and a healthy flush on her cheeks. Against her
normal practice, she touched her nipples deliberately,
lightly squeezing them between her fingers. Exquisite
sensations darted from them, pleasure being the dominant
component of the thrill. Louise was emboldened to press her
palms over them, and the resulting sensations caused a deeper
flush to rise to her cheeks. Sliding her palms over her
breasts was almost too much, and she couldn't help gasping.
A little bit frightened by the intensity of the pleasure,
Louise stopped then, and let her hands fall to her side. Her
nipples were hard now, erect and dark pink, the areolae
puckered around them, drawing attention to their saucy
boldness. Louise couldn't avoid recognising that she was no
longer a girl, she now had a woman's body. `A body men would
die for', she whispered to herself, with gentle self-mockery.
It was at this stage that she'd caught her own eye and had
smiled ruefully. Picking up her robe, she slipped it on. Her
parents were out and they wouldn't get back for a couple of
hours yet, having gone out for a romantic meal, but she
didn't have the house to herself. Her pesky brother was
around somewhere, probably in his bedroom playing
video-games, but she could guarantee that it would be just at
the time that she decided to dart between bedrooms naked,
that he would emerge from his messy kingdom. He was two years
younger than she was, and so had already entered that most
disagreeable of phases that all male adolescents go through.
Their thinking, feelings, and attitudes were all equally,
utterly, in-comprehensible to Louise. At least, she assumed
that they passed through it; there were still enough jerks in
her class at school who delighted in bothering her to make
that assumption questionable to say the least.
As she entered her bedroom, Louise reflected that it was
only today that the horrible Andrew Manchester had sat on her
desk, cracking gum in that smug self-assured way that he had,
and had assured her that she was "drop dead gorgeous" and
would she like him to show her "heaven" behind the Sports
Hall at lunch time? Fat chance with a slime-bucket like that!
What could he be thinking to think that such an approach
would work! Who in their right mind would be attracted by
such macho-shit? After he'd gone back to his seat, she and
Amy Marshall, her best friend who sat next to her in most
classes, and who had overheard everything, had cracked up
with giggles. Not very "cool", but it had relieved the
tension.
Louise put on Madonna's "Erotic" CD, before sitting down at
her dressing table to brush out her long hair. This nightly
chore of brushing out her hair was often performed to the
strains of her latest CD. The lyrics, suggesting the
desirability of hands running all over her body, made Louise
aware that her nipples were still half erect and sensitive,
and that her vigorous brushing was causing them to chaff on
her robe. The sensations were not unpleasant, indeed, she
soon found herself twisting slightly to increase the
friction.
Leaving her hair with only a perfunctory brush, Louise
opened her robe, admiring again her silky white breasts with
their torrid pinnacles. With engrossed fascination, she
watched her reflection as she lifted and pushed her breasts
together. Her cleavage deepened, looking like a buxom wench
in a medieval movie, Louise noted to herself with wry
amusement. However, the sexiness of this vision was not lost
on her. Indeed a rather lewd thought occurred to her which,
after only a relatively brief struggle, overcame her qualms.
Acting on it, she quickly licked the forefinger of her right
hand, and ran it over the tingling nipple of her still
prominently offered left breast.
The `Oh' that escaped was quite involuntary, as was the
flush which quickly rose to her cheeks. After re-licking her
finger, together with her thumb, she tentatively encircled
the engorged nubbin of pleasure between them. The sensations
were intense as the slight pressure was applied, and Louise
began to feel hot and sexy in way she'd never experienced
before. She'd hadn't realised that her body was capable of
producing such feelings! Louise closed her eyes to focus on
the pleasure as her slickened fingers worked their magic,
unaware that she was parting and closing her thighs in
response to a deep primal need.
Wetting her left hand similarly, she proceeded to gently
squeeze and caress both of her nipples at the same time.
Louise was unaware that a soft whimper was forced from her by
these unbelievable, and previously un-imagined, thrills.
Driven by urgent passion and an instinctive knowledge, Louise
pinched her slippery nipples harder than previously, and
gasped as her nipples slid through her fingers, and erotic
sensations shot through her body, eventually finding a home
between her legs. The fire that had been stoked into a red
hot furnace between her legs now impinged itself upon
Louise's consciousness. She also became aware of the rhythmic
rocking of her legs, especially of the stab of pleasure that
accompanied each closing swing.
Still keeping her eyes closed and her fingers gently
pulling and squeezing, Louise consciously controlled the
movement of her legs. She quickly discovered that the best
results were obtained from spreading wider and clenching
tighter. On each outward swing Louise could feel her pussy
lips parting, her cunt gaping, and on each inward swing there
was that marvellous sensation of folds caressing each other
as they came together, rushing towards a slippery embrace of
her throbbing clitoris. For yes, Louise could feel that she
was getting wet down there.
This slowly awakened some curiosity, but it was only
slowly, as no thought was travelling fast through Louise's
pleasured fogged mind at present. Louise opened her eyes and,
catching her reflection in front of her, noted idly how
aroused she appeared, as she looked from under
passion-drooped eyelids. Reluctantly she stopped her right
hand's caresses, ceasing with a last delicious squeeze, she
slipped off her robe, and then lowered her hand down between
her still rocking legs. Louise had often touched herself
between her legs, normally only to wash or to insert a
tampon, but occasionally to investigate, however never before
had she found herself so wet. Juices from her vagina had
flowed freely, coating her puffy labia with a slick film
which she felt as her hand reached it destination.
Wonder at the workings of her anatomy was cut short however
by the thrill which coincided with her closing legs forcing
her hand against her clitoris. The involuntary `Oohhh!!!'
which the thrill gave rise to was recklessly loud given the
proximity of her brother, and his congenital inability to
remember to knock before entering her room. However, before
Louise could recover enough to realise this, her legs had
opened and closed again almost on their own initiative, and
the thrill was repeated. Louise was lost. The throbbing of
her clitoris had gone into overdrive, and was now almost
continuous. Her moans were more regular and slightly quieter,
not from design, but from the shallow panting which failed to
provide the necessary air for more volume.
Louise threw her head back as she continued to squeeze one
nipple more roughly than before, and as she rubbed her labia
and clitoris with her other hand. She quickly discovered that
it was that throbbing of button of pleasure that produced the
most intense feelings. Such knowledge was destined to be
applied, and not to remain an academic curiosity. She wasn't
sure how it would end, wasn't sure if she wanted it to end,
but she instinctively knew that she needed to throw herself
into the growing wave of pleasure that threatened to break
over her at any second. Unexpectedly, images of Andrew
Manchester arose before Louise as her climax neared. It was
his mouth that closed on hers as her fingers rocked on her
clitoris, it was his smell that enveloped her, and his tongue
which entered her mouth as the wave broke, and Louise arched
and sobbed an `Ahhhhhhh!!' as pleasure racked her frame, and
her thighs squeezed her hand hard against her pussy.
Within seconds Louise's head had cleared from befuddling
passion, and to say that her emotions and thoughts were mixed
would be an understatement. She was at once amazed and
dismayed: amazed that her body was capable of giving her such
pleasure, and that she had never discovered it before;
dismayed that her thoughts had turned to Andrew Manchester,
and that she had been so noisy. Dismay got the upper-hand, as
it was reinforced by doubt, doubt about the correctness of
such behaviour. Was it right to enjoy such pleasures? Or was
she in some way sinning, or pandering to vanity or ....
Louise was just about to settle down into serious
self-criticism when she heard her brother's door open.
Guessing that he was coming to see her, she quickly put her
robe back on, and tried to look natural.
She'd hardly succeeded when Michael burst in and said `Hi
Sis!', and flopped down on her bed. Louise's reflection told
her that she still looked flushed and rather guilty, but
Michael was far too wrapped up in himself to notice. He
started telling her how he'd just finished watching a great
video, a real
hack-'em-up-&-watch-their-blood-spurt-everywhere movie.
`Shut-up Michael! You know I hate hearing about those kinds
of stories', Louise demanded, throwing a nail-file that was
at hand at him. She missed. `How did you get it anyway? You
know mother will hit the roof if she catches you watching
something like that again!', she continued.
`She'll never know will she!', explained Michael as though
to an idiot, revealing he had totally adopted the doctrine
which taught that "if you aren't caught, you aren't guilty".
Louise didn't share that view, and had told him why on many
occasions, but she didn't feel like arguing with him just
now. `Scram, I'm going to bed', she ordered, glad that she
had a reason for getting rid of him so quickly, eager as she
was to be alone and think over her recent experiences.
Michael rose lazily from the bed ... going extra slowly just
to annoy her ... and said as he was going out the door, `What
you need is a vibrator!'
This threw Louise into complete confusion, `How did he know
...? What had he seen ...?', until it occurred to her that
the comment had been in response to her crabbiness, and not
her recent ... `... "masturbation" I suppose I should call
it', concluded Louise to herself. Relief made her smile, but
she made a mental note to herself to be more friendly in
future ... for although Michael was impossible sometimes, he
was still her little brother.
Louise slipped out of her robe, slid on her white cotton
night-dress, and got in between the clean white sheets. She
knew however that sleep was going to elude her until she had
time to think through all that had happened. On reflection,
she wasn't that surprised with the pleasurable sensations,
after all there had to be some reason why people were always
going on about sex! She thought a little bit kinder now on
some of her fellow pupils who had been sleeping with boys
.... if it felt even better than masturbation it must be
unbelievable! Not that she'd consider sleeping with anyone
apart from her husband. No way whatsoever! It might be old
fashioned, and her friends might consider her weird, but she
was sure that she was going to be a virgin on her wedding
day. She wanted wear her white wedding-dress with pride and a
clear conscience. It occurred to her then, for the first
time, that it might be hard waiting. This thought, however,
because of her inexperience, she was able to banish quickly.
Louise's thoughts now turned to a more perplexing problem:
why had she thought of Andrew Manchester just as she was
climaxing? She still felt the same revulsion to him that
she'd always felt, although, if she was being totally honest
with herself (and that was just what she intended to be),
there was a way in which his confidence and self-assurance
was rather sexy. The idea of strong arms and assured kisses
were potent images to her inexperienced imagination, and
coincided with what she was sure her ideal man would possess.
Louise also had the self-understanding to realise that
subtly, underneath her fury at his approach, she had been
more than a little flattered that a hunk that many girls in
her class were drooling over was making such a public play
for her. Louise played the image she had conjured up earlier
of Andrew's kisses over again in her mind. That he would be
able to tap that self-confidence of his in his kisses to turn
his girl to jelly, Louise had no doubt. She could imagine
what it must be like to be held upright by his strong arms,
while his drugged kisses made her utterly weak, and dependent
upon his strength.
The slide from introspective questioning to fantasising was
gradual one, and Louise was never conscious of the change.
Nevertheless, this didn't stop the fantasies from heating her
up in a way she had only experienced for the first time this
evening. Louise didn't identify the throb of her clitoris or
the ache of her nipples as the cause of her sudden hotness,
she only knew that she felt an urge to peel off her
night-dress. This she did in one fluid movement: sitting up,
pulling it over her, and discarding it on the floor with
grace. She felt sinful, delicious, and playful, all at once,
as the sheets slid over her body as she moved down the bed
again. The rubbing of the sheets over her naked breasts was
arousing. Her nipples stood-up to ensure that they got more
than their fair-share of any caresses going.
Once settled, Louise returned to her fantasy, the energy
sapping kisses of Andrew. She remembered that he'd promised
her "heaven" behind the Sports Hall, only now, rather than
concentrating on the insult, she concentrated on what it
might mean. Andrew leaning her back against the Sports Hall
wall, freeing a hand that had been supporting her, so that he
could cup one of her breasts. As she lay in bed, Louise
cupped her left breast, emulating the feel of Andrew's hand.
In real-life, as in her fantasy, this brought a murmur of
encouragement to her lips. Andrew's large hand squeezed and
caressed her breast, and then he ran his thumb over her
nipple which was visible even through her bra and blouse.
Louise moaned, and incorporated that moan into her fantasy.
Thus encouraged, Louise imagined him unbuttoning her blouse,
and his hands closing on both her bra clad breasts at once.
Louise was beginning to pant from the hotness of her fantasy
and from the delicious feelings her hands were eliciting.
In her imagination she kissed Andrew harder, and clutched
at his broad back, causing him to lose control, and, with
masculine impatience, to pull down her bra cups, freeing her
breasts, but leaving her bra on, so that it kept them lifted
high and thrusting. Her dream felt so real as she imagined
his hands closing on her naked breasts. Then he broke their
kiss, and lowered his head to take one of her nipples in his
mouth. Louise emulated this by wetting her fingers with
saliva, and using them to caress her nipples.
Louise could remember where she had first heard that men
like to take a woman's nipple into their mouth and suck on it
... it was in a girly magazine that she'd discovered in her
brother's bedroom ... unfortunately he'd turned up before she
could study it much, she'd only had time to read one letter.
He put a lock on his desk draw after that, and she never got
another chance. Nipple sucking like a baby had struck her as
silly initially, but she had slowly incorporated it into her
beliefs of what "foreplay" must consist of.
For a second time that evening, Louise was working herself
into quite a state by the manipulation of her hard and
sensitive nipples with her slick fingers. Louise's low moan
of `uuuooohhh', was a sign that her right hand was now
touching her clitoris. This was mirrored in her fantasy by
Andrew having slid his hand up her leg, bunching her skirt as
it went, and now rubbing her pussy through her panties.
Louise was so wet and excited that it took but the briefest
of caresses of her throbbing clitoris to bring her to a most
satisfying climax. The moaned `ooohhhh ... Aaaahhh' expressed
her satisfaction most eloquently. She dropped off to sleep
very soon afterwards.
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