Pearl

The first three chapters of the story of "Pearl" are my entry into the "Conjugate Naive Nymphet Challenge." The purpose of this challenge, if I understand it correctly, is to create a believable fourteen-year old blonde nymphomaniac and to place in her luscious mouth a particularly dreadful piece of dialogue. I'm not going to say here what the dialogue is, because hopefully when the reader encounters it (in Chapter 3) it won't sound so dreadful. The goal is for the dialogue to sound natural and to fit the believable character. Only the reader (and I suppose whatever judges there may be [were there judges??]) can decide whether I've succeeded.

For those readers who are reluctant to read 6000 words before the juicy parts begin, chapters 1 and 2 deal with character development. So far, the story codes for chapter 3 are {f-solo Ff MFf, cons}. Eventually though, due to the very nature of the situation and characters I have developed, there will be a whole range of sexual expression in further chapters. These chapters, should they ever exist, will more likely be added after the first of the year (2001).

Thanks for reading. I love to hear comments about my work, good or bad. I can be reached at redman@seductive.com or alternately at red_redman@my- deja.com.

Other stories written by me can be found at:

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Redman/ and at http://www.asstr.org/~Redman

As always, I encourage only those people who can legally and responsibly read stories of an adult, erotic nature to read my stories. Minors and people in countries where such stories are not permissible by law should avoid them.

Sincerely,
Redman

Part One

At first, it had started at her nipples. The bare buds of her breasts began to itch. They were so sensitive against the flannel shirts Pappy insisted she wear. Then it had settled further downward, causing her to cramp, causing her to ache.

But the ache wasn't just her body growing, wasn't just her womanhood developing. There was something more to it than that, something that Bobbi Sue couldn't quite get her fingers on.

To begin with, there were the thoughts. She had strange thoughts. It started in her dreams. She dreamed of people, strange faceless people, touching her; running their faceless hands over her body, over her breasts, between her legs.

Bobbi Sue would wake up, sweating and short of breath. That's when her body would ache the most. Right after the dreams.

Soon she began to have the same kind of thoughts all day long. Her body ached as though it wanted to be touched, as though it needed to be touched.

But there was no one here to touch her. On the farm there was only Pappy and Miss Bertle and neither one of them were big on touching. And that wasn't the kind of touching that Bobbie Sue's body seemed to crave.

Pappy hardly said anything to her now. There was a time when she remembered sitting on his lap. Pappy would read to her and teach her to read from the big King James Bible that he was always studying. Pappy should have been a preacher 'cause he knew everything there was to know about the Bible and never missed a Sunday service.

Bobbie Sue had never been to the Sunday service but she knew that it was important to Pappy. It was the only time she was left alone. Miss Bertle was still there, but as Pappy said Miss Bertle was "touched in the head." Miss Bertle could cook and clean. She could do the laundry and sweep the floor. But Miss Bertle couldn't really look after a frisky girl like Bobbie Sue.

One Sunday morning, while Pappy was away at Sunday service, Bobbie Sue was bored and had gotten down the big King James Bible and decided to have her own Sunday service. Just like Pappy used to do, she let the big book fall open anywhere it chose to and then put her finger down in it's yellowing pages and began to read.

"My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand..."

Pappy had never read from this part of the Bible. After just a bit, Bobbie Sue started at the beginning of this new part of the Bible, the Song of Solomon. Whoever Solomon was he could sure sing and he was sure in love with his "beloved."

And she was sure in love with him. "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth - for your love is more delightful than wine."

But Pappy came home and heard Bobbi Sue reading the Song of Solomon out loud and got sore angry with her. He grabbed up the big book and that was the last time Bobbie Sue ever saw it.

"Cast not thy pearls before swine!" Pappy kept saying over and over.

Bobbi Sue had no idea what that meant though. Pappy raised swine but he didn't have any pearls to be giving them. The only pearls Bobbi Sue had ever seen were on Miss Gloria Love when she visited every month.

Miss Gloria Love arrived every month and paid a short visit to Pappy. There didn't seem to be much "love" between the two of them though. Bobbie Sue never had figured out why Miss Love came every month even though she suspected that it had something to do with her.

Some months Miss Love would question Bobbi Sue about all kinds of strange things. "Does Pappy ever touch you? Have there been any strangers on the farm? What kind of clothes do you like to wear? Do you ever take care of the animals?"

But Miss Love was always in a hurry to leave. She would always arrive in a big car and there were always different people waiting for her there. She always seemed in a hurry to get back in the car and be with those people.

Especially when she was younger, Miss Love used to hug her before she left. It always made Bobbi Sue queasy when Miss Love would hug her so fiercely. Miss Love put her whole body into a hug, like she couldn't help but throw her whole heart into it. Bobbi Sue would feel Miss Love's heart start to race and her breath come in quick, short gasps and then the older woman would have to hurry out of the room.

Lately, Miss Love had quit hugging her though. But once, two months ago, before she left, Miss Love had kissed her. It was almost as though Miss Love just couldn't help herself. As she was leaving the room after another questioning, Miss Love had practically pulled Bobbie Sue out of her seat and kissed her just like a man might kiss a woman. It had been so quick, so spontaneous. Her tongue had danced within Bobbie Sue's mouth and it had felt so wonderful. Bobbi Sue's body had ached for hours after that, almost as though she were a string of a guitar, plucked and vibrating.

Then came the day that she was in the bathroom, doing her business. When she went to wipe herself, the whole tissue came back red with blood. At first she had panicked, but after cleaning herself up, the bleeding seemed to stop as mysteriously as it had started.

Eventually though, as much as Bobbi Sue wanted to deny it, she knew what it was. She had been dreading this day ever since Pappy had told her it would happen.

Bobbi Sue had been afflicted with the curse of Eve.

Pappy had told her all about it. Eve was an evil woman; the first of many evil women. Because of Eve's sin, all evil women after her had been cursed with their monthly flow of blood that Pappy said was God's way of flushing the sin out of a woman's body.

Pappy had said the most evil thing about Eve was that she never felt sorry for what she had done.

Bobbi Sue had told Miss Bertle about the curse coming on her. She had to tell someone and she certainly couldn't tell Pappy. Miss Bertle had given her some pads and showed her how to use them. It's possible that if she hid the used pads and buried them out back that Pappy might never know.

But Pappy did find out. Miss Love showed up the very next day and somehow she knew all about it. Bobbi Sue heard Miss Love and Pappy yelling about her. She had been in her room and Pappy hadn't even told her that Miss Love was coming to visit today like he usually did.

"You know our agreement, old man. The time has come. Now she has to come with me," Bobbi Sue heard Miss Love say.

"Don't take her, Sally Jane. There's still hope for the poor child yet. Leave her here with me. Let me raise her proper."

"I know how you want to raise her, old man. Do you think I've forgotten so soon? Now you let her come with me or I'll let everyone at that Holy Roller church of yours know who she is."

"Sally Jane, there's no call for that."

"Don't 'Sally Jane' me. It's Gloria Love now, Daddy. And she's coming with me!"

"Take her then, and good riddance to you both. I'll shake the dust of you off my feet, just like the good Lord told me to."

"Does that mean you don't want your share of the money, old man?"

"A deal's a deal, Sally Jane. I didn't raise her all these years for nuthin."

"Yea, I thought so, you old hypocrite. Now go get the girl."

When Pappy had told her to come see Miss Love, she almost didn't follow him. If he had ever showed her any kindness at all, she wouldn't have gone so willingly. As it was, she realized that there was really nothing on the farm that she could call her own. The farm really wasn't her home. It had just been a place she was being raised.

So she had gone to see Miss Gloria Love knowing that wherever she was going had to be better than this place. Miss Love had held her and kissed away her tears and told her not to worry about a thing.

"What should I pack, Miss Love?" Bobbi Sue had asked.

"Not a thing, dear. At your new home you're gonna have new clothes and new friends. There's nothing that you need to bring unless there's something you want."

"There's only one thing I want to take with me," Bobbi Sue said, looking straight at Pappy. "I wanna take that big King James Bible with me."

"She cain't have that, 'Gloria.' That's the family Bible."

"Oh, you still have that Bible, old man," Miss Love hissed contemptuously. "Shouldn't it really be hers anyway, as her inheritance, so to speak?"

"She cain't have it, I said," Pappy screeched. "That wasn't part of the deal. She don't need it where she's goin'."

"Aren't you the charitable one, old man?" Miss Love said harshly.

"'Cast not thy pearls before swine!' the good book says. 'Cast not thy pearls before swine!'" Pappy squealed.

"Don't worry, old man. We're not gonna take your damn book. But you better rethink your parable, 'Pappy.' Only one of us here got caught rootin' around where he ought not to have been. There's only one swine here and he shouldn't go around casting the first stone, if you know what I mean."

Pappy grew all red and stormed out of the room. Bobbi Sue was amazed. Pappy had never backed down to anyone before. Certainly not to anyone quoting scriptures to him.

Miss Love had stood right in front of Bobbi Sue, close enough to smell and touch. She smoothed the girl's blonde hair and looked into her blue eyes like she was searching for something there.

"You're a beautiful girl, child. Your life is gonna be different now. It's time to leave this no-account farm and begin a new life. Are you ready for that, Bobbi Sue?"

"Oh yes, Miss Love. I'm ready to leave right now."

"Where we're going, your gonna need a different name, Sugar. 'Bobbi Sue' is okay for a country girl, but we're going to a better life now. Would you let me pick out something for you, darlin'? Something that fits better with what you look like?"

"I don't know. I've never had another name before, Miss Love."

"I've had plenty, dear. Why don't you let me try? You're so pretty, Sugar, that everyone's gonna go wild over you. I think we ought to name you after something precious that everyone wants. I think we ought to name you 'Pearl.'"

Standing so close to Miss Love, Bobbi Sue's body was aching. She wanted to hold the older woman, to hug her close and touch her all over. The girl's breast ached and her palms itched all over. She'd do anything to please Miss Love. Anything!

"That sounds lovely, Miss Love. Call me Pearl from now on. Pearl."

Part Two

Inside the limousine, with its windows darkened on the inside as well as the outside, Pearl saw nothing on her trip. Eventually she grew so bored that not even the thrill of leaving the farm or the new life that awaited her could keep her awake. She dozed, only to learn when they arrived at their destination when Miss Love opened the door.

At first, she was thrilled. It was a huge house, a mansion in every sense of the word with beautiful gardens and grounds and large pillars in the front. Miss Love had told her that this would be her new home and escorted Pearl immediately upstairs to her room. It was on the top floor, the third floor, and she had practically a whole wing of the house to herself. At first she was thrilled and overcome. Later she would find out it was just another way to isolate her from the world.

She was introduced to Brigitte, the only ray of light in her confinement. Brigitte was beautiful and young, no more than eighteen perhaps. She had long black hair that she wore coiled around her head. Her face was thin, her features delicate. Pearl was fascinated by her large, full lips. At first Brigitte was a wealth of information and seemed almost like a true friend. Pearl found out that a wealthy man named Mr. Smith owned the house. But when she asked Brigitte further questions about Mr. Smith, she ran into the first of many blind alleys.

"Mr. Smith is out of the country on business, Pearl," Brigitte would say. "He'll be home any day now and he wants to see you as soon as he arrives. Mr. Smith will answer all of your questions, dear. He's such a wonderful man."

Brigitte did show her many marvelous things. There were new and wonderful clothes. At first, there were just a few in Pearl's sizes. But almost every hour Brigitte would bring her new clothes, almost as though they were arriving at the house just for her. There were new dresses and shorts and blouses. There were new shoes and underwear and accessories. All of them seemed very expensive and elegant to Pearl, whose previous style and fashion only went to the dizzying heights of when Pappy had bought her new blue jeans every year.

Brigitte also instructed the poor farm girl about certain other necessities. She taught Pearl how to dine with fine table service, how to dress in elegant dresses, and how to walk in high heels. Most importantly, Brigitte instructed her on how to take care of her personal hygiene. She explained about the menstrual cycle of women in very clinical terms and when a young lady should use pads and when she should use tampons. But when Pearl asked to see a tampon, she ran into another dead end with Brigitte. All of her answers began to seem dry and rehearsed, as though she was allowed to go only so far and no further.

Pearl began to chafe, even against the luxury of her new home -- her new prison, she wanted to scream out. With the coming of her menses, Pearl's body ached even more. Her breasts, though still small, felt excessively large and bloated. Her nipples hurt. At times they almost itched. It seemed that every time she began to rub them, or any other part of her body, someone would interrupt. As she floated in her new large tub, Brigitte interrupted her four times to bring in new clothes or towels or some such nonsense. Pearl began to have the paranoid impression that she was being watched. Sometimes she had felt the same way at the farm. Would every place be the same? Would they ever leave her alone?

Finally, the morning of the third day, Brigitte announced that Mr. Smith would be arriving shortly after noon. She rushed Pearl through breakfast, served in her room of course, and her morning toiletries. Then, to fill the rest of the morning, Brigitte taught Pearl the mysteries of makeup.

Brigitte taught her about eyeliner and blush, about lipstick and foundation; all the while, she emphasized that Pearl didn't need much to enhance her natural beauty. But, the makeup lesson showed her something even more important.

As Brigitte sat close to her in front of the mirror, touching her face and demonstrating the techniques of applying makeup, Pearl realized that no one had ever really touched her before, had ever been so near to her. Growing up on the farm, Pearl was used to people maintaining their distance. The raven-haired girl was so close, Pearl could feel Brigitte's breath on her face. More than once Pearl became lost in her eyes. She very much wanted to reach out and touch Brigitte's face too. Her palms began to itch. Her breasts ached.

For just a moment, Brigitte seemed to falter, too. Her hand was under Pearl's chin and their eyes seemed to lock together for an instant. She tilted the young blonde's head ever so slightly and leaned toward her. Her large, soft lips brushed Pearl's and the young girl thought she was going to melt. Her body felt on fire.

With conscious effort, Brigitte pulled back and shook her head. "Oh, my," she said, "aren't you the pretty one? We mustn't mess up your makeup before you see Mr. Smith, though. You look fine now, dear. Let's pick out a dress for you to wear."

And that was it. The moment had passed, but it had left young Pearl shattered and uncertain of herself. Her body ached more than ever and she felt lonelier than she had ever been before. Brigitte suggested a few clothes and left the young girl alone as though she were fleeing the scene of a crime.

So for the rest of the morning, Pearl looked out the window over the beautiful west lawn of the Smith mansion. She wasn't sad. She thought to herself, What have I to be sad about? I have exquisite clothes and now I live in a wonderful place. But why do I feel so empty?

Pearl felt as though her life had really not yet begun. She closed her eyes and her heart ached as much as her body did. When she closed her eyes, the strange thoughts returned; thoughts of strange faceless people, touching her; running their hands over her body, over her breasts, between her legs.

Sometime after noon Brigitte came to her room and announced that it was time for Pearl to meet Mr. Smith. Lunch, she was told, would be served in the garden at the rear of the house. Brigitte led the way through the large house and onto the lush lawn. She was led through high and well-manicured hedges into an open space were tables were well spaced for outdoor dining. A beautiful blonde serving girl was putting the final touches on the center table. As Pearl was seated, the blonde filled her glass of water and before she had known they were leaving, both Brigitte and the serving lady disappeared.

"Hello, Pearl. I'm glad we could finally meet. I'm Mr. Smith."

Pearl turned to see a tall, handsome man walking up behind her. As she stood, he reached out his hand and she instinctively reached out her own to shake hands with him. He had black hair and a deep soothing voice. The hand that gripped hers was strong, the fingers long and sensitive. But, it was his eyes that caught Pearl's attention the most, his eyes and his mouth.

Pearl looked up into the most fascinating, piercing black eyes she had ever seen. They were intelligent eyes, knowing eyes. She felt as though this man already knew everything about her, already had all the answers she was seeking. And his mouth! Strong sensuous lips that were turned up in just a hint of a smile. He looked so serious, so charismatic.

"Please, be seated, Pearl. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be here when you first arrived. Has Brigitte and the rest of the staff made you welcome? Is there anything you need?" he asked solicitously.

Pearl sat down again and Mr. Smith sat in the chair next to her. She couldn't help but notice that their knees were almost touching. The man looked elegant in his tailored blue suit even sitting down at ease.

"Gosh, Mr. Smith -- everything is wonderful. Brigitte has been very helpful, but I still don't understand what I'm doing here," Pearl responded while trying to keep from staring at him.

Pearl, whose experience with men was based almost exclusively on her relationship with Pappy, was completely taken aback by the presence of this man. She suddenly felt so shy she didn't know if she could speak at all. Her own reaction to him scared her and, at the same time, exhilarated her.

"I understand you have a lot of questions, Pearl. Today is the day you will receive some of those answers you've been looking for. It isn't that anyone wanted to withhold information from you, Pearl. We all decided a long time ago that when the time came to explain everything to you, I would be the one to do that. Again, I apologize that I was out of the country at the time. I rushed back as soon as I could."

Servers arrived with three trays of food and refreshments. While the food was placed on the table, Pearl watched as Mr. Smith spoke to each of the staff by name. They greeted him with obvious respect and pleasure.

"Let's try some of food while we talk, Pearl," Mr. Smith said as the staff was leaving. "Where should I begin? Your mother and I have discussed many times how to tell you of your inheritance and of who you are."

"My mother? Is my mother here?" Pearl asked excitedly.

"Yes, Pearl. You haven't known it, but there have been many people watching over you all your life, including your mother. I know you're anxious to meet her and to ask her where she's been all your life. That's part of what I need to explain to you. After I explain, I think it will be clearer to you why we've had to do what we've done."

"Pearl, almost everyone that lives here -- me, your mother, Brigitte and most of the staff -- all of us live with a common condition. Pearl, have you ever heard of the term 'hypersexual'?"

"No," Pearl said softly hoping she didn't sound ignorant and immature.

"Hypersexuals are people that have a heightened sensitivity and response to sexual stimuli, Pearl. Not only do we need more sex than the normal person does, the way that the world stimulates us is different. Sometimes people can be so sensitive to sexual stimulation that, if not properly controlled, the condition can be almost debilitating. Hypersexual women, in particular, have been taken advantage of and abused. They are called nymphomaniacs and considered promiscuous or worse.

"But given a loving, supportive environment, hypersexuals can lead productive lives. That's what we've done here. We have a safe place here for men and women where they won't be treated like freaks and where they won't be made to fit into the mold of what is considered normal. Out in the rest of the world, we're treated like addicts. Here, we are treated with love and respect."

"You said my mother was like this?" Pearl asked.

"Yes, dear. Your mother's case is extreme. She was forced to leave home shortly after she became pregnant with you. She survived on the streets, even at a very young age until you were two. Pearl, she found even the normal contact that a mother has with her own child too stimulating. That's why she had to take you back to the farm. I found her three years later and brought her here. She didn't tell us about you until you were almost eight years old. At that point, we made the decision to leave you at the farm until you matured so that you can make your own decision. I was concerned about leaving you with that man, but we took precautions. Were you safe growing up? Did anyone abuse you?"

"No, Mr. Smith. No one abused me, but I've been terribly lonely. I've never had a friend and there's so much I don't understand. Gosh, do you think I'm one of these 'hypersexuals,' too? Would I be one just because my mother was?"

"Pearl, no one knows whether hypersexuality can be inherited. Miss Love seemed it think it is possible in your case. So does Brigitte. They both should know. They're both hypersexual women."

"But Brigitte and Miss Love seem like normal people."

"They are 'normal' people. But they are also people who are more sexually responsive than other people and people who respond to sexual stimuli more strongly. It doesn't mean they're not normal. This is normal for them."

"How can I know, Mr. Smith? How do I know if I'm hypersexual?"

"That should be rather easy to discover, Pearl. Do you want to find out now?"

"Yes, please!"

"Okay, just relax. May I touch you?"

"Oh, Gosh," Pearl blushed, wondering if she could stand for this handsome, charismatic man to touch her. She asked warily, "Where?"

"Just on the face, dear."

"Sure, Mr. Smith," she answered tentatively. "That would be okay."

"Okay, close your eyes, Pearl, and just relax."

Mr. Smith moved his chair closer to Pearl's and began to gently touch the face of the young girl. He began by lightly placing his whole hand over her face with her mouth and nose covered by his palm and her eyes and forehead covered by his fingers. Then, as her breathing deepened, his fingers began to softly stroke her forehead. He curled the sensitive fingers down and began to stroke the girl's temples. Her breath caught and her chest began to heave. He worked his hand to her neck and stroked Pearl behind her ear until the young woman could hardly sit in her chair any longer.

"Try to resist the sensation, Pearl. Try to ignore the stimulation."

He caressed her long, thin neck and then ran a finger lightly over her lips. The girl's lips parted, trembling. He penetrated her lips and stroked the edges of her slightly parted teeth, feeling her warm breath on his index finger. Even if Pearl had not been responding, Mr. Smith would have had to quite soon. Just the sensation of touching this exquisitely innocent girl was beginning to overwhelm him. In one last telling, defining touch, he rubbed the tip of her tongue lightly with the finger. Pearl, overwhelmed, engulfed the finger and began to suck it vigorously.

"Enough!" Smith said forcefully but tenderly. Both of them were breathing rapidly and deeply, both of them were flushed and excited. If Smith showed any indication at all that he would have accepted it, Pearl would have thrown herself into his arms right then. He could have done anything he wished with her at this point.

"Pearl, it would have been normal for any girl your age to have been excited by a man's touch like that. But in my opinion, the level of your response indicates to me that you are hypersexual. Do you feel like you could have resisted me if I had wanted to go farther?"

Pearl blushed, embarrassed by the question. She wanted to say that she could have. Pappy had taught her that women that allowed men to touch them only came to no good. But, Mr. Smith her respond. He knew she couldn't resist. Even now, when he wasn't touching her, she wanted him to. She could smell him. Her body ached for him to touch her.

"No," Pearl whispered. "I couldn't have resisted."

She expected him to grab her. She wanted him to grab her. She didn't know what she wanted him to do after that, but she desperately wanted him to touch her.

"That feeling, Pearl, the feeling of wanting to be held and touched, that's normal for us. When your body aches and you long to be touched so desperately, that's normal for us. Other people feel that too, but not as strongly. They can control it better. We can't control it as easily. Even now, as protective as I feel about you, I want to touch you again. But I know if I touch you right now, I won't stop.

"We want you to have a real choice, Pearl. Out in the real world, fourteen-year-olds like you aren't supposed to have sex. Certainly not with adults. If you choose to stay with us, that will happen. Already Brigitte was almost overcome by her feelings about you this morning. Your life here wouldn't be considered normal by the rest of the world.

"But, Pearl, I honestly don't think you would have a normal life no matter where you go. The first boy that held your hand or gave you a kiss would be able to take advantage of you. You're completely naive to flirting and sexual dynamics. Any of my staff could seduce you immediately if they were of a mind to do so. There are many bad people out there that would take advantage of you in your condition. You would most likely end up on the streets like your mother."

"I don't want that, Mr. Smith. Can I stay here? Can I live here with Mother and you and Brigitte?"

"That's what we want, too, Pearl. Here you will be loved and nurtured as the beautiful young woman you can be. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Of course. Don't you think I want to be loved? Can you realize how lonely I've been?"

"Yes, Pearl. I think I can. I've felt that lonely too. Everyone here has. You're one of us, you see."

"I guess you're right. I must be hypersexual. Mr. Smith, can I meet my mother now?"

"Soon, dear. First you both have to be prepared. Pearl, as I said, your mother is very sensitive. That's one of the things that attracted me to her. If you and your mother both were reunited in your present conditions, the sensations of that meeting would overwhelm you both immediately. You may be as sensitive as she is, dear. You remind me so much of her. Can I ask you to trust me a little while longer? You need to learn a little more about controlling your sexual responses before you meet her, Pearl. And I need to work with her a little more as well. Will you trust me, Pearl?"

Mr. Smith turned those charismatic, beautiful eyes on her and Pearl's heart almost melted. Her body was one big, throbbing ache. If he would only touch her, she would do anything for him.

"Yes," she said softly. "I'll trust you."

"Okay, let's do this then. It's been an emotional morning for you and I both. Why don't we both freshen up and we can have dinner together in your room. We can start your training tonight if you still agree. Is that acceptable?"

"Gosh, Mr. Smith, that sounds fine. But tell me, how long will I have to wait before I can see my mother?"

"Depending on your training, not long. Perhaps another day or two. Not as long as a week no matter what."

"Okay then," Pearl said resolutely. "I'll do it."

Part Three

Suddenly Brigitte showed up again to whisk Pearl away. It was just in time, too, because the young blonde girl was beginning to feel overwhelmed. There were so many new things to think about. Who was her mother? When would she meet her? Was she a hypersexual as Mr. Smith seemed to think? She had so many questions before she met Mr. Smith, now she had even more!

After Pearl returned to her room and hung up the beautiful dress that Brigitte had selected for her earlier, she took another long, luxurious bath. As she floated in the deep, wide bathtub, Pearl thought about all the things that Mr. Smith had said. But more often than not her thoughts returned to the man himself.

He seemed so tall. Pearl was not a short girl herself. She was already almost as tall as Pappy, but Mr. Smith was taller than both of them. And so masculine! The young girl remembered his scent and the way his lips curled when he smiled. Most of all, she remembered his sensitive fingers touching her face. When he had touched her lips, there had been a tension in her stomach and between her legs that had almost felt like she was exploding. The only time Pearl had felt anything similar was when Brigitte had kissed her. No, there had been one other time. Thinking about it brought back the memory of when Miss Gloria Love had kissed her once as well.

Only both of those kisses had been so quick and spontaneous that Pearl had not been able to prepare herself. Mr. Smith's touch had been deliberate. She had been able to prepare herself. She had been ready for it.

But she wasn't ready for it at all, wasn't prepared for it at all. Nothing that had ever happened during her life on the farm had prepared her for the flood of feelings and sensations that his touch had brought out.

Pearl climbed out of the tub and dried off and looked at herself for the first time in the full-sized mirror in her bathroom. Pappy had never allowed such mirrors at the farm. Pappy would think it was sinful for her to be looking at herself like this. Suddenly, Pearl didn't care what Pappy thought; she resolved to never think about what Pappy would have approved of or not ever again. She defiantly threw her towel aside and looked at herself for the first time.

Pearl didn't know how to compare what she saw in the mirror with what others would see, in particular with what Mr. Smith might see. Every woman that she had seen at the mansion had been beautiful in one way or another. She had been attracted to them all. Then Pearl began to wonder to herself, is it possible that they looked beautiful because I'm a hypersexual?

Pearl was not as slender as Brigitte. Her hips were wider, her belly slightly rounded. Her breasts appeared smaller, though she had never seen Brigitte's breasts. Just the thought of seeing the dark-haired beauty's breasts made her own ache. She reached upward and took both small sensitive nipples between her fingers and rubbed them. She began to roll the nubs between her thumbs and her index fingers causing sharp stabs of pleasure to shoot out like sparks into her body.

Pearl closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling swelling up in her breasts. Her hips began to sway and she found herself moving to the music of the throbbing within her body. The sensations within her seemed to gather and to begin to settle. Her breasts still felt incredible sensitive, but suddenly the ache within her body seemed to come to rest between her thighs. Pearl felt her womanhood grow moist and, as her hips swayed, she felt a part of her womanhood slide against another, drawing deep moans from within her.

Pearl began to move her hips even more exaggeratedly. She squeezed her thighs together and was rewarded by a sharper, more intense sensation of pleasure. Reluctantly, she forced herself to release one breast and her right hand caressed her belly as it slid down between her legs.

She pressed her hand fully against herself, touching the full, swollen lips of her womanhood for the first time in a very long time. When she was very young, Pappy had beaten her hands repeatedly every time she had touched herself there. Soon she had learned never to let her hands stray too close.

But now, far away from the old man's influence, she began to explore herself again. Pearl remembered the ladies chair in the corner of the bathroom and quickly dragged it in front of the mirror. She sat in the chair, naked, leaning back and peering into the mirror at the mystery between her legs.

There was something intensely exciting about seeing her fingers touch herself. No wonder the old man didn't want her to have a mirror like this. If Pearl could have seen herself like this before, if she could have watched her fingers stroking and caressing the lips of her womanhood, she would have endured the beatings willingly.

Her fingers slid down the length and she encountered moisture on the tip of her fingers at the bottom. She felt her fingers glide more easily over the smooth skin with each brush of her fingers against that wetness. As she caressed herself lovingly, the throbbing seemed to center more and more in a small spot just at the top of her womanhood.

Pearl touched that spot and felt an intense, sharp pain that took her breath away. Her whole body convulsed, but as the sensation subsided, the young innocent realized that it was not pain -- it was pleasure; pleasure so intense and unexpected that at first it had surprised her. It spread throughout her body like a sunburst. She touched it again, and again the sharp sensation flooded her, only this time she had anticipated it. It still made her gasp, still took her breath away.

She took the little knot of nerves between her first two fingers, being careful not to touch it directly, and squeezed the surrounding flesh together between them. Suddenly a bright flash of white and vivid red washed through her. Bright, profound colors of sensation! Pearl's whole body rose up off the chair until just the edge of it cut into her back and the back of her thighs below the buttocks. But she only felt that at the distant edges of her consciousness. The whole core of her being was centered on the bright, intense stimulation between her legs.

For a moment that seemed like hours, her whole body was one nerve, throbbing and pulsing. It felt like a hot, searing electrical current running through her from top to bottom. Pearl honestly thought she was dying; but if dying felt like this, she wanted to die again and again! Repeatedly she squeezed her fingers together and each time the sensation overcame her, overwhelmed her -- astonished and astounded her -- in the bright clarity of pleasure that skewered her between her fingers.

Finally, the pleasure became too intense. Completely out of breath, Pearl pulled her fingers away as though they had been burned. The sensation of her skin snapping back almost made her pass out. It was all that she could do to breathe. Her heart was beating so fast she thought that it would never stop, that her chest could not contain it's violent thumping. She gasped and each lung full of air brought her closer to her self ... brought her closer back to what she had been before.

But the girl that looked back at her in the mirror was very different. She realized now that her body was capable of feeling more than she had ever thought existed before. It was as though she had been wrapped in a blanket all her life and now she was suddenly released into the sun.

"Pearl, are you okay in there?" Brigitte called out from the other room.

Pearl laughed softly to herself. Oh yes, she thought, I am very much okay now. Then she suddenly realized that it was probably just this experience that Brigitte had been trying to interrupt each time she had come in earlier. She chuckled that she had finally, for once in her life, outwitted her ever- present observers.

She threw on a robe that she had left on the counter so long ago when she had stepped into her bath. The feel of the cloth on her body brought a new response this time. She felt as though someone strong was embracing her, as though Mr. Smith's arms were already around her. Already? Oh yes, she couldn't wait until she felt his arms around her now. Now that she had tasted of their apple, she was ready to be Eve. Now, for the first time, she understood why Eve had not been sorry.

"Yes, Brigitte, I feel better than I have ever felt before," Pearl said as she walked into the bedroom proper.

Pearl saw Brigitte look at her as though she were different somehow. Was it that obvious that she had changed? Was the flush of the excitement of touching herself visible in her face, in her eyes? Well, Pearl thought, let her look. Now that I've tasted the apple, I don't care who can see.

She lay across her large, comfortable bed feeling the soft comforter caress her skin where it touched her.

"Why didn't you tell me, Brigitte?" she asked softly, just loud enough for the raven-haired beauty to hear her. Brigitte instinctively stepped a little closer to hear better.

"Tell you what, Pearl?"

"Why didn't you tell me what it would feel like, Brigitte? I just felt something so incredible I can't explain it. I touched myself -- between my legs -- and it felt incredible! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, that," Brigitte said as she smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, just out of arms length. "Would you have been able to understand it if I had tried to explain it?"

"No, probably not. I still don't understand it even now, but I want to! I want to learn all about it. Is that what Mr. Smith wanted to teach me?"

"No, Pearl. That feeling is one of many things, but it's not everything. There is much more to learn."

"Does it have a name, Brigitte? I hate to keep referring to something so wonderful as 'it.'"

"Yes, dear. If I understand you right, I think you've experienced your first orgasm. What exactly did you do?"

"I sat in front of the mirror and touched myself, between my legs. I don't know the words, but there's a spot. Can I show you?"

Pearl quickly threw off her robe and stretched out on the bed so fast that the older girl had almost no time to react. In a flash, Brigitte was looking between the legs of the beautiful youngster, curious and naive, bursting with questions.

"Right here, Brigitte. What is this spot right here called?" Pearl asked innocently as she took the fleshy folds of her womanhood between her fingers again.

"Oh my, Pearl," Brigitte murmured, obviously flummoxed. "Your lesson wasn't due to start for a little while."

Somehow looking at Brigitte watching her was almost as exciting to Pearl as looking at herself in the mirror. As the older girl began to respond, as she began to lick her lips and breathe more heavily, it became even more stimulating. And Brigitte's reactions were almost as immediate as the mirrors.

"Please, Brigitte! I have to know. What do I call this spot that makes me orgasm when I touch it like this?"

"That's your ... your clitoris, dear. Now ... now shake it from side to side with just the tips of your fingers. Yes, like that. Now up and down a little. Oh baby, you have such a lovely vagina."

"What's a vagina, Brigitte? Show me please!" Pearl pleaded as she thrust her buttocks into the air, arching to meet her fingers.

The honest sincerity of the blonde's pleading overcame Brigitte's final reluctance. She was drawn inexorably forward until her fingers were brushing the warm puffy lips of the virgin's vagina.

"Right here, baby," Brigitte cooed. "And here, too. And this lovely spot here is considered your vagina too." Then Brigitte could say no more because her mouth was pressed against the sweet warm flesh of the young girl, her tongue snaking out to be the first to taste her.

Pearl was beyond words, beyond thought. She had thought that her own fingers were heaven, but Brigitte's tongue! Brigitte's tongue swirling up and down along her womanhood, her vagina! Each velvet touch sent her into ecstasy. Each lick that brushed her lips, that sneaked inside ... INSIDE! Oh Gawd, that wonderful tongue inside her! Warmth on warmth, heat on heat, wetness on wetness.

Pearl's mind exploded once more in vivid shades of red. Her body bridged skyward, a lovely curve from her shoulders to her heels. Orgasm, oh sweet, wonderful orgasm!

By the time that Pearl had regained her senses, Brigitte was naked alongside her in the bed. She looked at the slender eighteen-year old, the first other nude person she had ever seen. Such beautiful breasts ... such slim hips ... such a lovely flat stomach ... such a thick, well-trimmed pubic patch!

Pearl reached out without even thinking and touched the inviting breasts of her bedmate. They were so soft and Brigitte moaned so delightfully when she touched her. Then her palm brushed across the hard nipple and it was like an electric current flowing into her hand. Pearl lightly pinched the nipple and began to roll it between her thumb and forefinger just as she had her own. The blonde was encouraged when Brigitte responded by moaning and pressing the breast harder against her hand.

Then Pearl realized that Brigitte's hands were busy between her legs. Abandoning the breast, she scurried below and watched in fascination as the long, thin fingers of the older girl stimulated herself. She saw Brigitte's fingers spread the lips of her vagina out and a slender digit dip and enter. Pearl, on her knees, reached underneath herself and emulated each move, touch for touch.

Brigitte's fingers began to move faster and faster. Pearl lay her head on the soft, warm thigh of the older girl and watched her fingers dance. She gave up trying to match the raven-haired beauty's every move, instead she contented herself to watch and learn.

And she would have been content too, until she felt the fingers enter her vagina. She looked back over her shoulder to see Mr. Smith's piercing, charismatic eyes. She felt his large, sensitive hands on her buttocks and his long, gentle fingers spreading her open and sliding in and out of her vagina. Pearl buried her face into Brigitte's thigh and screamed out her orgasm before she blacked out.

She woke to the rhythmic movement of the bed. Without even raising her head she looked at the beautiful pair beside her. Brigitte was on her back, her slender, delicate legs wrapped around her lover. Mr. Smith was naked too and had an intense look of concentration as he strained toward the young girl. He looked beautiful. His eyes locked on Pearl's -- those beautiful eyes!

"Come here, Pearl," he commanded; though it came as a sweet and gentle suggestion. She felt compelled to rise and go to him, drawn to his magnetism.

"You started your instruction without me, I see," Mr. Smith said to her while maintaining that wonderful rhythm that was hypnotizing her. "Come see, my dear."

Mr. Smith's chest was wide and muscular. There was a thin sheen of sweat as he moved with his whole body into Brigitte. Her thighs squeezed him; each of his powerful thrusts lifted her buttocks off the bed.

When Pearl moved up next to him, she was amazed at what she saw. Mr. Smith pressed against Brigitte's thighs and spread her out wider. There was a thick shaft of flesh coming out of Mr. Smith and entering the girl over and over. Pearl had never seen anything like it before, but just looking at it made her ache for it to be in her. It was so beautiful looking, so thick and hard and masculine. The young innocent was fascinated by this wonderful ... what would she call it? What would it be? ... This wonderful 'thing' between his legs.

Completely uninhibited now, Pearl reached behind him and ran her hand along his buttocks. When he moaned at the touch of her hand, she reached beneath him and felt the soft, fleshy sack that hung down. She saw him grit his teeth and so she held it in her hand and moved with them, back and forth, gently massaging him.

Then, positioning herself directly behind him, she reached even further until she could touch where they joined. She felt where his flesh entered Brigitte's. She snaked a finger into the girl alongside his hard flesh, felt the intense heat inside the girl, the intense wetness. More importantly, she felt him -- the hardness of him and the softness of him. She felt him slide along her palm and down her finger as he slammed himself into Brigitte faster and faster.

Oh Gosh, whatever this was, Pearl wanted it too! Whatever this was called, Pearl wanted to do it! Her vagina pulsed with each thrust by Mr. Smith. She longed to pull him off of Brigitte and make him thrust into her. She wanted to feel his hard flesh push into her ... his large, warm ... Oh Gosh, she didn't even know what to call it, but she wanted it. Her mouth could almost taste his slick hard flesh thrusting in and out of it. Her vagina ached for it.

She moved her hand away and pressed her whole body along his back, hugging him to her. She ground her budding breasts into his back and thrust with her own hips along with his. She imagined she had a great big thing of flesh just like his and that she was pounding into Brigitte. She felt his buttocks tighten against her vagina. She wrapped her arms about him tighter, bit into his shoulder, and pushed with him with her hips, pushing him deeper into the girl beneath them. She was with him, moving with him and they were doing Brigitte together.

Suddenly, surprising Pearl, Mr. Smith pulled back and withdrew his big thing of flesh and laid it on Brigitte's belly. Pearl scrambled to see it, to touch it. As she laid her hand along the hard shaft, it bucked beneath her and began to spew out thick white globs from its ruddy head. He groaned loudly as he continued to thrust on Brigitte's belly and as the milky essence flowed from him.

"Gosh, Mr. Smith, -- what's that white stuff shooting out of your thingie?"

He caught his breath and in a moment smiled a beautiful smile at her. "That's called 'semen,' Pearl. Or, sometimes it's called 'sperm.' And my, 'thingie,' as you called it, is called a 'penis' or, more crudely, a 'cock' or a 'dick.'"

"Did I hurt it? Was it okay that I touched it?" asked the young blonde.

"Oh yes, dear. You made it feel very nice. Your presence certainly enhanced the experience. Wouldn't you agree, Brigitte?"

"Oh yes, John. Pearl is a lovely girl," Brigitte sighed contentedly. Pearl looked in wonder as Brigitte's vagina slowly started to relax and close. Then, to the young girl's amazement, Brigitte dipped a finger into John's semen that was still pooled up on her stomach and brought it to Pearl's lips.

Pearl licked the thick, salty glob off of Brigitte's lovely finger and then scooped up some of the semen on her own and shared it with her friend. When Brigitte drew Pearl's finger entirely in her mouth, the young girl's stomach began to flutter once more.

Pearl looked at Mr. Smith -- at John. He was lying back on the bed and his penis was becoming softer. It leaned to one side, but seeing her interest, he grunted and flexed and Pearl saw it bounce a little and the head start to rise again.

"Mr. Smith," Pearl asked shyly, "will you teach me all about penises so that you can do with me what you just did with Brigitte?"

"Oh yes, Pearl," Mr. Smith said with a chuckle and an amusing leer at the young blonde. "I'll be happy to be your teacher. You'll find many teachers here who will help you."