Bobby and Helge Ch. 02

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She rolled towards me with a grin and said: “I think you agreed with me.”

I pursed my lips, and we kissed, then lay there just smiling at each other. When she didn’t say anything, I remembered to ask:

“You wanted to tell me something this morning, in the elevator: ‘crazy, silly’.”

“Oh, about my first orgasm. Wow! It had happened. I had been quite happy with everything before, but then I discovered that hadn’t been one. Hm-hmm! I wanted to tell the whole world. Of course, I didn’t. I even wanted to tell my mom that I was now a real woman, but, of course, I didn’t.

Hmm? Hm-hmm! I did tell someone, my uncle.”

“Your uncle?!”

“Oh, I shouldn’t have mentioned him.”

“But you did.”

“Oh, I can tell you, if it doesn’t upset you.”

“Not if you could tell your uncle that you were a real woman.”

Bobbie took a deep breath and replied:

I guess so. Oh, I have to go back a few years about him, my father’s younger brother, much young. just fifteen years older than me, sort of like a much older brother for me. Didn’t have one, only child. So he was around when I was kid, seeing me naked under the lawn sprinkler and like that. Hm-hmm! As a late teenager, maybe he enjoyed that a little differently than I did.

“So, well, he was always around, and then had his own flat. He writes technical books, always at home, and I visited him when I was little older, when I didn’t want to be around the house at home. Yeah, well, we didn’t close bathroom doors, and sometimes we went swimming, changing first in his flat, no doors, we saw each other naked. Of course, when I began to grow …”

She held her breast, continuing:

“I was aware that that wasn’t quite right, but I wanted someone to see them. Nothing happened. And then when I was eighteen, still a virgin, an untouched virgin, not like nowadays. I wanted to know what it was all about. Whom else to ask? Mom’s birds and bees and flowers lecture hadn’t told me anything useful. Whom to ask? I was eighteen and could, if it happened, but what?

“We, my uncle and I, hadn’t been naked together in a year or two. I visited him, very embarrassed, and blurted out that I wanted to know about it, about boys, what their cock would be like. I didn’t use that word. I had always seen his, but it didn’t look like it could do what was supposed to happen.

“He was surprised, of course, very, and asked how old I was. I told him, begging him to tell me. He finally agreed, saying that I was right to know before it happened. Did I really ask him to let me see his? He did, after we somehow agreed to get undressed. Gosh, this is strange that it happened!

“Anyway, there we were. He didn’t have to say that I had grown and look at my breasts, like he did. We looked at each other. Of course, I wasn’t looking at his face, wondering how what he had could stick in what I had. I was avoiding any nouns in my thoughts. I said: ‘It can’t, like that.’ ‘No,’ he agreed with a chuckle, but then it was larger.”

“Of course, looking at you in all your glory,” I remarked.”

“Like I know now, but I asked him what I should do. He asked if I really wanted to know. Of course, I did, and it was looking larger. He replied that I probably wouldn’t have to do anything with a boy, but if I insisted on knowing, I should hold it. Did he want me to hold his? I insisted, probably with a very red face. It was looking even bigger and was looking like it wanted to be held. You can imagine, beginning to stand out.

“Hmm! Of course, now I know that he couldn’t help but want me to. ‘Yours?’ I muttered. ‘If you want to,’ he replied. I wanted to. What young girl wouldn’t, when she saw one, and I has asked him to tell me all about it? Were we already in his bedroom? I had been there before, when we were changing to go swimming. I guess we were, since he lay down and patted the bed for me to join him.

“Like you did last night,” I remarked.

“Um-hmm! So I did. Enough details, I held it. Oh, his is like yours, just made for sliding the skin up and down. Don’t think he had to tell me to do that, since I had a vague idea about fucking, that the guy would be shoving it in and out. Oh, that was fun, and it felt so good in my hand, feeling it twitch. I asked what was going to happen. He moaned and told me just to wait.

“Wow, it shot up on him! No surprise for you, but for me, back then, With hindsight, he was being very good about it and helpful. I was surprised when he wiped up a splat and licked his fingers, then telling me that it tasted funny, but that I should know that one day. I didn’t then understand what he was implying.”

“You sure do now, thank you,” I remarked with a grin.

“Um-hmm. This started about my telling him that I had had an orgasm, but it’s going to be more about this.”

“I’ve been very curious. Go on.”

“Yes, so I also tasted it. Of course, it didn’t taste good, so why should I know one day how it tasted? I asked. He looked a little surprised and took a moment before he replied, asking what I knew about oral sex. The innocent that I was, I replied that it was almanbahis adres people doing something with their mouths. He nodded with a smile, and I asked if that was good, if they liked to do it. He nodded again and said that most men did, and that women really enjoyed their doing I. ‘They do?’ I asked in surprised. Did I really ask if he could show me? Maybe I just wanted him to, and somehow he offered to. He did, and I loved it, of course; much better than what I had been doing with my fingers. I sat up and asked if he had really liked it.”

“I know he did,” I interjected: “licking your sweet young pussy. It still is, reminded me of those of college girls back when.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m not; it is really still like a young girl’s.”

“No children. Anyway, I was beginning to understand why I might taste it one day, and asked the obvious, what women did, then seeing that his cock was aroused again. ‘About the same, lick it, take it their mouth,’ he murmured, looking down at his cock. Did I want to do that?! But he had said the some other women did, suggesting that one day I might. He had done it to me; should I do it to him? Would he let me? I asked: ‘Can I try it?’ He just nodded – and his cock did too. It bobbed again, and he murmured: ‘If you want to. You don’t have to let that happen,’ and lay back.

“What was it going to be like? I held it again, and it twitched in my hand.

“I remember this too well. I shoved the skin up around its head and then slid it down and licked where it had been. It twitched very strongly, and he moaned sharply. I tasted him a little again, but that was all right, not unexpected. I licked there again, and he murmured that that was where it was most sensitive. This was being good, his helping me. So I licked all around it.”

“Almost in your mouth,” I remarked.

“Um-hmm, and then it was,” Bobbie replied with a smirk, continuing:

“I was doing it! And I liked it, like sucking a lollipop – not one of those flat ones, one of those round sherbert ones, but it wasn’t cold! I was rubbing it in my mouth and with my tongue. I’d better not arouse myself by telling in so much detail.”

“Nor me; I know how you do it. Go on.”

“Hm-hmm! So then he warned me to stop, but I wasn’t going to. If I had started, I wanted to know what it all would be like. I found out. I had done it, and my mouth was full of his semen. I don’t know what got into me; I raised my head, and he raised his and was smiling at me. I dove up on him, like I did with you and kissed him. Oh, he was surprised, but he let me, and kissed me back. Of course, I had already kissed boys like that, but now I was lying naked on him, and could feel his cock between us.

“Then he said: ‘I think that’s enough, definitely too much of an answer to your question,’ I was disappointed, but replied something about it’s having been the best answer I could have wished for. He chuckled with a nod, and we got up and put our clothes back on.”

“And you went home with all your new experience,” I suggested.

“Yes, but the story is worse than that. That night and the next one, playing with myself – better than before with my new experience, I was moving my tongue, wishing it could feel his cock in my mouth again. I just had to. I visited him again. He was surprised to open the door for me, and I just said: ‘I want to again.’ He was even more surprised. I don’t think he said that we shouldn’t, something about it wouldn’t be any different, nothing new for me to learn. ‘I still want to,’ I replied. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. When he didn’t immediately say anything, I added: ‘You can to; I would like that.’

“I’ve always been surprised that I really had the nerve to do that. He snorted softly and replied: ‘If you really insist.’ I did, and we did again, me first this time, and then he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.”

“I guess not! He not only had to, since you had done it so good again, and I know he wanted to.”

“Hm-hmm! I do too, now! Back then, I was just thankful that he did. I told you this was going to get worse. After that we did all summer. It seemed like dozens of times, but it couldn’t have been that many: eight, nine weeks, not more than twice a week, less for my period. I’d just knock, and we would. When I couldn’t justify at home my being away so long, we both did at once, sixty-nine: in and out of his place, out of and back into our clothes in half an hour, and I was back on the street, still tasting him.”

It occurred to me that she had missed her calling as callgirl, but, of course, I didn’t mention that, as I listened to her continue:

“Once, when I dove up on him again, feeling his cock between us down there, I suggested that he could let me learn something else, but he refused: ‘We are not going to do that, shouldn’t be doing this, although I have to admit that I like it.’

“Oh, back to the beginning, that I had told him about my first orgasm. After that, when I was twenty, with that guy, I was usually having one. At home, Christmas break, I told him. We had been doing it once or twice when almanbahis adresi I was home from university, and I had told him that I had slept with someone, thanking him for his help, and he was pleased. We had more time this time. I told him about my orgasm, and he was delighted. Then I was doing it to him, thinking that he deserved to know how good it was. I stopped sucking and licking and crawled up over him. Before he could complain, I was guiding his cock into me.”

“Mmmm! He couldn’t complain then!” I remarked.

“He started to, but you’re right, he moaned with me, and then let me do what I wanted, until he had to, too.”

“Lucky Uncle, lucky you.”

“He told me not to call him uncle the first time I did, after it started. Oh, we’ve done it a few times since then over the years, if he wants to. He usually has.”

“Still lucky, he is,” I replied, smiling. Bobbie smiled wryly with a shrug and said:

“I promised him I was never going to tell anyone, got carried away – talking with you.”

“But very delightful, thank you.”

“I guess I wanted to. It was delightful; just had to share it finally with someone.”

“Then lucky me, and not just for your story.”

“And me too,” she agreed, and we embraced with a friendly kiss.

One of us was going to have to turn out the lights. We both felt the urge to use the toilet again and did, washing again, snickering as we agreed that we should sleep in my bed to keep the room maid from smirking, if we happened to see her in the morning.

We didn’t see her, of course, having to get up early to pack and have breakfast before the bus left at eight, too early for us to do anything in the morning, although we mentioned the possibility jokingly and agreeing that at our age we didn’t have to have sex twice a night. Bobbie chuckled and explained that there was a English joke, a pun: “Once a king is a king, but once a knight is enough.”

I understood with a smirk, but said:

“Maybe, but my name doesn’t have a “‘von’.”

“And I’m not a ‘lady’, she replied with a grin.

“Maybe the ‘lady’ didn’t like her knight’s having said that.”

“Hm-hmm! Her bad luck!” she replied with a grin.

On that promising note, we grinned and went down to breakfast a little late, and late getting on the bus, sitting in the back behind everyone else. A few smiles as we entered it suggested that those people might have recognized that we were more of a couple than we had been when we had gotten on the bus at the airport. We were, had “coupled” as good as any two persons could and confirmed that we wanted to again, not that I had doubted that we did: her suggesting a double bed and the joke about a knight.

The bus set off, and we watched the country-side for a few minutes, discovering that we couldn’t hear the others talking. Then she put her hand on my thigh and said softly:

“Since you’re not a knight and I’m not a lady, how long has it been, you know.”

“A lady really shouldn’t ask that.”

“Now you know I’m not one.”

I suddenly recalled my thought during her story that she had missed her calling – regretting it – but I hadn’t been a good knight, had had lots of good nights, but the previous one had been better. I scowled and replied:

“But then you have to tell me too; three years I guess.”

“Guess I asked for that, about a year – no, two or three, with a man.”

“Hmm? One, ‘two or three, with a man’?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“Probably not, unless you don’t want me to think what I am.”

“I really shouldn’t have asked.”

“Yes, but you did.”

“What do you think? Do you mind?”

“Not with a man; I don’t mind; how could I mind?”

She grasped my thigh and chuckled. Then she said:

“As long as you don’t mind, you’re right.”

I was a little surprised by her admission, but now more curious if she would tell me more. Obviously, she preferred men: her uncle and everything else she had told me – till now. Women couldn’t do anything that I didn’t like to do, I thought, rationalizing after my initial surprise, so why shouldn’t they, why shouldn’t she? That chain of thought took too long; she asked again:

“You don’t mind?”

“No, why should I? I would have too. I mean, not with a man. And you, with whomever a year ago.”

“Hm-hmm! Wasn’t the first time.”

“I rather assumed that it wasn’t, have heard about college girls, although it had sounded like there were enough college boys, men.”

“Except for those who weren’t interested in girls either into or out of textiles.”

We snickered. Since she had, I replied:

“Now you’ve got to tell me, since I don’t mind, and you started this, and you don’t have to prove anything to the contrary; I know that already.”

My last words were in response to her fingers’ creeping up my thigh. I grasped her hand and moved it back. My cock felt like it was it was wanting to feel her fingers. She chuckled and murmured:

“If you want me to; more interesting than talking about the passing country-side.”

“Or almanbahis adres what the program says we’ll see in Venice,” I added before she thought of that excuse.

She gripped my thigh and gave me a grin, then replied:

“Yes, we did, in college and a few times later. A year ago was with a friend from back then, now divorced. Since she wanted to, we did. Oh, yes, I know about women who have had two children; she has three.”

“I didn’t really need to know that, but now you can believe what I said about you.”

“Hm-hmm! She said something similar, mentioned other mothers she knew.”

“Knew like that?”

“How else, if she said that?”

“Shouldn’t have asked. And …?”

“This is worse than telling about my uncle.”

“I don’t think so, not to mention why,” I replied, thinking about their incest.

“We never talked about that, never have.”

She had understood my implication and gave me a wry smile, continuing:

“If you don’t think so. Sure, in college … In school, of course, I had seen all the girls in my class in the showers after sport, but like I told about my uncle, I was pretty innocent; don’t know if all the other girls were. But in college, after showers, when we were dressed, a girl spoke to me, saying that I had a nice figure.”

“You still do,” I interjected.

“You do too, and she did. The next time we were in the showers, she was smiling at me as she washed herself.”

“Her breasts, or elsewhere?” I remarked again, hoping to encourage Bobbie’s telling.

“Hm-hmm! Male fantasies, but you’re right. Both places? I’m not sure, but I guess my nipples must have popped out. Oh, they did, and she grinned.”

“Female fantasies?”

“I couldn’t have any, not about a girl, not after my first orgasm with a guy. But they had. Then she spoke to me again. What did she say? Something about girls, that they could enjoy each other’s company, that she would like to know me better. You want to hear all this?”

“If the bus trip is long enough?” I replied.

“Hmm? I still didn’t understand where this was leading, but agreed to go for coffee with her and we talked. I found her nice. We talked about family, that I was an only child, that she had an older sister, how nice it was that she could tell her more what college would be like for girls with boys and girls. I could understand her ‘with boys’; I had asked my uncle and knew a whole lot about them. But she went on about ‘with girls’, that her sister had enjoyed their company, that it had been as good as with guys, better, their not having to worry about the guys’ thinking they were madly in love if they had good sex with each other.

“I could understand that, but then she said that with girls there was also no fear that they could get pregnant. Maybe I was beginning to understand what she was talking about. I must have nodded, maybe suggesting that I understood more than I did. She smiled and said that her sister had told her that girls could enjoy each other’s company just as well. I wasn’t so sure what she meant. Did I nod again? She did, so I must have, and she said that her sister liked to do it, that it was good. The light went on in my head! She was talking about what a girl could do that my uncle had done with me all that summer.

“I was only shocked that she was telling me that, since I had heard about lesbian sex, but I hadn’t thought further about it, but now recognized that if he had liked it so much, why shouldn’t a girl, also that it wouldn’t make any difference to my pussy whose tongue wanted to lick it.

“Enough! It also occurred to me that since he liked to, I could too. She did, I did. It was good.”

Bobbie looked and me with quizzical expression. I smiled and said:

“I know it was. Why shouldn’t it have been? Hm-hmm! But I’m not going to let you – or anybody else – talk me into trying what you did with your uncle.”

“You’d better not! I’m certainly not got to try to.”

We exchanged smirks, and her hand wanted to slide up my thigh again. I reminded her that people could want to use the toilet in the back of the bus. She nodded and removed her hand, then smirked again and adding:

“She wasn’t the only one, of course. Oh, she admitted that her sister hadn’t just told her, that they had done it with each other. She also wasn’t the one last year. After that, a girl didn’t have to do or say much for me to understand.”

Bobbie grinned and added:

“A couple of times, I think I surprised them with what I then said, but only one said that I had misunderstood her. It was the first time for another one, but she admitted that she had already been curious.”

“Girls apparently don’t have much of a problem with that.”

“I guess not,” she agreed, and her hand was back on my thigh.

Then someone was coming down the aisle to go to the toilet. She quickly removed her hand, and we finished the bus trip in silence, just exchanging smiles. The bus arrived well before noon and we all transferred to the waterbus that took us to our hotel. We all checked in, but our rooms weren’t yet free, as anticipated by the organizers, who suggested we have lunch on our own or join a walking tour until two o’clock, when we could enter our rooms and freshen-up before the program started with a tour of a famous manufacturer of textiles at three.

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