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I was as astonished as anyone to find that I was Heather's boyfriend. I wasn't cool. I wasn't one of the lads who played football and looked flash all the time. I was, for want of a better word, a bit of a geek. I had very few friends, and the ones I did have were all bookish little lads like me. The kind of boys most mums would wish their daughter to go out with, but certainly not the type teenage girls usually pick. I suppose I was good looking, I can say that without exaggerating, but I certainly did my best to hide the fact with my clothes and my haircut.

Heather was quite the opposite. She was gorgeous. She didn't dress up or wear lots of make-up, because she didn't have to. She looked stunning in whatever she wore, which more often than not was jeans and a top. That described Heather's whole wardrobe, really, jeans and a top. I discovered one day that she did have skirts, but they were definitely for special occasions. It was generally agreed that Heather was the absolute top catch in the year. She was not only gorgeous, but humble, not arrogant like most of the other girls. She would even talk to us geeks in class, and though she didn't try too hard, she almost always came top of the class.

In other words, we were beauty and the beast. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming, I suppose.

---

It started, as these things often do, with a school project. Well, sort of a project. We were studying Victorian history, and had a field trip to a nearby mill building which had been restored and was open as a tourist attraction. Just the sort of thing which bored the hell out of most people, but us geeks always managed to enjoy ourselves. Typically we were split into groups of four for these sorts of things, and the teacher knew us well enough to make sure that us four geeks were together, partly so we were comfortable with each other, and partly so we weren't afflicted on any of the others. So, off we went with our worksheets, wandering around the mill and filling in all the answers to the questions, writing extra notes all over the place. I shudder to think of it now. The rest of the class behaved exactly as a group of 12 and 13 year olds should, by messing around and not paying attention.

About half way round, we bumped into Heather's group. She was with a few of the fake girls - you know the type, their whole beauty dictated by the make-up and the tight clothes they wore. It always surprised me that Heather chose to be friends with them. They were chattering away and arguing among themselves, and hardly noticed us standing there discussing one of the questions. In one way they treated us rather well, simply ignoring us rather than actively making fun of us like the lads in our class.
We were just moving on when Heather broke away from the group. She headed straight for us and started speaking to me.

'Hey, Zack. How're you lot getting on?'

I untied my tongue long enough to answer, though it took great mental effort - not one of us (well, except Harry, but that's another story) didn't fancy Heather, and having her actually talk to one of us was usually enough to bring on acute embarrassment and chronic stammering.

'Hi Heather. We're doing ok, nearly done.'

I saw her glancing at my notes, but there was no way I was going to accuse her of cheating and risk pissing her off.

'How are you doing?' I asked, as she continued to stare at the page.

'Oh, you know.'

Actually, I had no idea whatsoever, but I nodded nonetheless.

'So, have you got questions 3 and 9?' she asked. I looked down at my sheet. I had both.

'Er, yeah, I've got them.'

'Want to swap for 11 and 14?'

I looked back at my sheet. I had both answers, and knew they were right. I didn't need what she had to offer, but that was no way going to stop me helping her out.

'Sure, that would be cool.'

We split off together for a moment and conferred, handing over answers. I was stupid enough to not even pretend to write down the answers she was giving me, and she snatched the sheet from my hand. She knew I was lying about needing the answers, and her brows knitted in consternation.

'Why...?' she started, but then stopped, raising her eyes to meet mine. I gave her a cheesy smile.

'Oh...' she said, and glanced straight back down again. My heart dropped. I had freaked her out. Shit, why was I such a fucking geek?

But when she looked up, something magical happened. She gave me a cute, shy smile, and her cheeks blushed pink.

'Thanks,' she said, so quietly that I almost didn't hear her. With another smile back at me, she skipped off to rejoin her friends.

It took half an hour for my heart rate to return to normal.

----

That night, my masturbation fantasies, which usually revolved around that day's Page 3 girl, were full of thoughts of Heather. I imagined what it would be like to touch her little, pert breasts, and to run my hand down between her legs and touch her fanny. I shot my little load onto my stomach and just about had time to pull the covers over myself before I fell asleep.

---

I couldn't stop thinking about Heather, and it wasn't always dirty stuff either. I wanted to talk to her again, to help her out again, to get that smile from her. I played the moment back in my head, over and over again. Her shy smile, the blush in her cheeks, the way her brown eyes shined. I convinced myself that she had bitten her bottom lip when she looked at me, but in truth there was no way to be sure. My hopes and dreams embellished the truth, turning a single smile into a full-blown relationship, at least in my head.

Perhaps, though, that wasn't entirely it. Was that a smile she gave me as I passed her locker? Was she really looking at me instead of the blackboard in chemistry, or was she just studying the periodic table on the wall behind me?

I started dreaming about us being together whilst I should have been concentrating in lessons. The trouble I got in from the teachers for not concentrating was nothing compared to the shit I would be in if someone noticed I got a hard-on in lessons. I had to go to the toilets a couple of times at lunchtime and wank off. My hand would only be on my dick for a few moments before the good feeling came. Invariably I had done it in the morning, too, and there was nothing to come out, but I noted with interest that there were splatters of others people's jizz on the walls and floor, some of it still wet. I usually had to wait a few minutes for my dick to go down far enough that there wasn't a big bulge in the front of my trousers. Sometimes it wouldn't go all the way down, and I would have to do it again, my second time always painfully dry and leaving me gasping for air.
More often than not, though, my thoughts were disorganised, soppy, and nothing to do with sex. I was always more of a dreamer than anything else, always found it hard to come down to earth. Thoughts of Heather replaced thoughts of other things, of places I would rather be, or of conversations I never had. I started imagining spending time together, imagining what it would be like for her to be my girlfriend. There was no hope...

---

There had been a sale sign up in front of the house at the end of my street for several months. We lived in a pretty posh part of Brighton, surrounded by all the artists and stuff. Pretty gay area, I've since discovered, but at the time I didn't have a clue. One of my best friends, Benny, was getting fucked up the arse pretty regularly from age ten by a guy just round the corner from me who was meant to be teaching him piano, and I had no idea it was going on. Of course, Benny hid it pretty well - he was having too much fun. Anyway, that's heading rather off topic. The point is, most people in our part of town were pretty well-heeled. And that was the problem with the house - it had been sitting there unsold for ages because the owners were in no hurry to sell and wanted top dollar (or rather, pound...).

It was beginning to become a topic of conversation, in fact. Who was going to buy it? My parents discussed it over the dinner table, my mother gleefully describing each and everyone who walked in and out of the front door of the house. She was a terrible old gossip, my mum, but it was fun listening to her dissect them all.

One day she was extremely excited. A family had been around. She was always banging on about wanting a family to move in. What's more, she said she was pretty sure they were a local family, to which both my father and I asked how she could know.

"Well," she said, "I'm sure I saw that Heather girl from your school, Zack. And you know, I think they liked it. They were smiling and shaking hands with that smarmy estate agent who's always there."

The conversation carried on quite without me. I was utterly lost in thoughts of my own. My mind ran wild with thoughts of Heather, if it was indeed her, moving in just down the road from me. I had to find out if it was true, and the only way I could think of to do so was to ask her.

Well, that turned out to be considerably easier to think than to execute. Had I been less of a geek, less of a total nerd, I would have simply walked up to her the next day at school and asked her. It would have been casual, she would have simply answered, and then I would have known. But I was rendered incapable of speech within her sight, like some kind of verbal Medusa effect on my tongue. I couldn't talk to her! She was Heather Robson, for fuck's sake! And I was a fucking geek. I smiled at her and she smiled at me, and that was as far as it went. Damn.

It took two whole weeks to pluck up the courage to ask. By that time I knew it was getting to the stage where asking was a bit creepy. I couldn't just go with the "I thought I saw you down my road yesterday" angle, because it was far from yesterday. A fortnight had passed. But I had to know, so one lunchtime, I walked right up to her. She was with a gaggle of girls, which caused me to blush horrendously, but she was kind enough to take me to one side to ask what I wanted. She didn't even seem all that creeped out, either, just answered with a sweet smile that yes, it was her, and yeah, her parents did want to buy the house. They didn't know if they would be able to yet, though.

I thanked her and walked away. She gave me another sweet little smile when I left, and I saw her doing that rocking back and forth with her hands clasped thing which apparently means a girl likes you. I heard the giggles erupt when she got back to her friends, and accelerated my exit. When I was a safe distance away, I thumped my hand into the front of a locker, scaring the shit out of a younger lad loitering nearby.

---

The next development was, quite frankly, a bit of a shock. A nice shock, but a shock nonetheless. One lunchtime, about a week later, it was Heather's turn to approach me. I was with a group of friends when she came over. Once again, we went apart to speak, but this time it was so she didn't hear the deeply uncool conversations we were having. When we were alone, she spoke.

"Just wanted to let you know, we got the house. We're moving in at the end of the month."

I was gobsmacked, and let my excitement get the better of me.

"Oh wow! That's so great! We'll be neighbours!"

Heather looked slightly taken aback.

"I mean," I continued, "that's good. Yeah, cool."

Heather didn't buy it at all.

"I preferred the excited Zack," she said with a smile, before turning on her heel and walking away. Oh my God! Heather was moving in down the road, and she had deemed it necessary that I knew. Fuck. Me.

---

I was, let's be honest, being a bit of a loser about this. I was stalking Heather. Or, at least, stalking the moving van. It was 'the day', the fateful, wonderful, longed-for day when Heather would be moving in down the road. It was a Saturday, a warm, blissful day towards the end of spring, when summer hasn't quite taken off yet but the air's nice and warm and a boy with an attic room can have the door to his private balcony open (thanks, Uncle Ian, for being a builder who loves his nephew...) and listen for the sounds of trucks rumbling down the street, bringing the love of their life within a stone's throw.

I had nothing to do - I was too much of a geek to have left my homework past Friday afternoon - and so I just lay on my bed, enjoying the warm breeze, the smell of cut grass drifting in from further up the street, and the distant roar of the sea as it crashed against Brighton's famous pebble beach. I learned pretty quickly that there were a lot of delivery trucks working this particular Saturday morning. Each time one chugged past me up the road I would leap from by bed and peer out into the bright sunshine, looking to see whether or not it was a removals van.

I was getting a bit desperate by the time it actually turned up. For the last four or five trucks I had been promising to stop looking, convinced that by doing so I was jinxing it. Of course, each time I had been unable to stop myself having a look. This time was no different - I lay on my bed, listening to the engine. My self control was superb, it should be said, because I'd listened to it go past before I even thought about moving. I was just waiting to see if I could last without checking it out, listening to the truck disappearing off up the road. Except, it didn't. It stopped. And I was just lying there. Shit!

I jumped off my bed like an electric shock had gone through me. The sketchpad I was idly failing to fill as I waited was flung across the room, causing damage I would regret when my senses had returned. For now, though, I was in the thrall of my excitement. When I reached the window, staying in the shadow of room rather than rushing out onto the mini balcony, I immediately noticed two things. Firstly, it was definitely a removals truck. Secondly, right behind it was parked a dark blue BMW, and emerging from the back of that car, looking like the very definition of young female beauty, was Heather.

I should have stayed in my room. I really should have done. I should have remained there and spied on the object of my lust. I should have found something to pee into, because after a morning of waiting I really, really need to take a leak. I knew this would interrupt spying time, but I had to go. Deciding to go while they were still in the house, I sprinted down the stairs and into the bathroom, ripping off my shorts and cursing the fact that I had a hard-on because I needed to go that badly.

When I emerged a minute later it was straight into my father's path. He gave me a friendly smile and then beckoned that I should follow him into his study. I wondered what I could possibly have done wrong, and came up with nothing.

"Zack," he said when the door was closed behind me, "how's things?"

"Um," I replied, pretty much the standard response for a 13 year old boy.

"Good, good. Look, mate -" he never called me mate; what was wrong? "You like that Heather girl, right?"

I didn't need to reply, the colouring of my cheeks said it all.

"Well, I happen to know her dad. Works for one of the publishers I visit. Spoke to him yesterday and he said today's the day they're moving in. I asked if he wanted a hand, and he told me he was a bit short of help. I reckon if you go down there and help them out Heather might take a bit of notice of you."

Oh my God. My dad was trying to help me pick up Heather. This was, among a long list of embarrassing conversations he'd started having with me recently, probably the worst. Even the one about wanking was better than this! I just mumbled, and then ran. I went straight up to my room and slammed the door behind me, and went and sulked on my bed.

The worst thing was, my dad was right. As soon as the embarrassment had worn off, I realised it, but also knew that there was no way I could take advantage of his advice. I couldn't go back out there and face him, and then even worse follow his advice!

Thank God there was Sarah's ballet lesson to be attended. My little sister loved her lesson, and my dad usually drove her there on a Saturday afternoon. This day, however, my mum, bless her, decided to go with them. Why, I don’t know, but she called up that I was only my own and to leave a note and lock up if I was going anywhere. They really trusted me, though to be fair I’d never done anything to suggest they shouldn't.
I left it ten minutes to be sure, and then suddenly I was squinting into the sun as I walked down the road.

And there she was, lifting a box out of the back of the truck, and looking like she was really struggling. It was a perfect opening, and one I couldn't pass up.

"Can I help with that?" I asked, as casually as I could, sauntering up to the van. She turned to me, confusion clouding her features until she recognised me, at which point her trademark million watt smile lit up her face.

"Zack! That would be really good, thank you!"

Oh my, what a mistake that was. Turned out the box weighed ever so slightly more than I did! I struggled manfully for a few moments before, with a concerned look on her face, Heather suggested that perhaps we share the load. I tried to deny I needed any help, but my puffed out cheeks and bright red face just made her giggle.

At that moment, I had a choice. I could either become so embarrassed that I ran away, or I could laugh with her. Thank God her laugh was so infectious. I joined her, and within seconds we were both doubled over in hysterics. We laughed, and laughed and laughed. Something about the situation left us gasping for air, and, wondrously, her shoulder leaning into mine. I fell back against the van and she came with me, head now falling to the side to rest on my shoulder as we sank to the floor together.

Strangely, I was calm. I would have expected to have been having a heart attack at that level of contact, but it felt entirely natural. We sat there looking up at her new house.

"So, which house is yours?" she asked.

"The fourth one down there, with the balcony in the roof," I replied, pointing to it.

"Oh, cool! Is that your parents' room, then, with the balcony?"

I shook my head.

"Nope, it's mine."

The look of shock on her face was wonderful to behold, and I couldn't help smiling.

"You're kidding, right?"

Still smiling, I shook my head again.

"Nope, all mine. Want to see it some time?"

Of course, I was asking in all innocence, but Heather turned to me with a sly smile on her face.

"Maybe, if you're lucky."

It took me a moment to twig what she meant, but when I did, I turned bright red.

"Oh, I didn't... I mean... I..."

She just laughed at me stammering and gave me a little kiss on the cheek, grabbing hold of my arm and hugging it to her. It was so natural that I just went with it, but had I been in my right mind I would have had a heart attack! Those were not the actions of merely a friend. Somehow, from nowhere at all, we had become boyfriend and girlfriend. Oh my.
I hung around with Heather for the rest of the day, helping move things in, though she was very defensive about her room and wouldn't let me see it, even though it must have just been bare with a bed and a few boxes in it. I met her little brother, too, who Heather got on really well with, but who didn't seem to like me very much.

We parted as the sun was beginning to set. I walked back to my house, wondering what the reception would be like. My parents and sister had driven past and spoken to me a few hours earlier, so they knew where I'd been all afternoon. I imagined my mum would be all mushy about my first girlfriend, my dad would be all 'nudge, nudge, wink, wink', and my sister would give me absolute hell. And yet, when I walked through the door they practically ignored me, carrying on about their business as if I'd never left the house.

Sarah was in her room, music playing loudly, singing along in a tune surprisingly close to that coming out of the stereo. My mum was hanging out some washing and dad was beginning to get dinner ready. I was pretty much ignored as I made my way up to my room, and fell fully forward onto my bed.

I was so happy that suddenly the whole world seemed a better place to be. I rolled onto my back and revelled in the smell of the sea air drifting on a warm breeze through the open window to the balcony. I smiled at reflected sunlight danced on the ceiling, its source the small pond in our neighbour's garden. A bee wandered in and bumbled around for a while before I carefully shoo'd it on its way.

This was ridiculous! I was acting like a character in some sort of soppy romantic movie. This was definitely not the behaviour of a normal 13 year old boy. I rubbed my eyes and wondered what had come over me. Forcing myself to get a grip, and surprised to find that for no apparent reason I was still smiling. I went downstairs to find some dinner.

Heather and I had made no specific arrangements about meeting up the next day, but as I looked out of the window the next day there she was walking down the road, apparently having just returned from an errand to get the paper for her dad, judging by the massive bundle beneath her arm. She spotted me at the window to my room, and beckoned me down. It was only as I turned away from the window to throw a t-shirt on above my shorts that I realised there had been a bit of a morning bulge in the front, and hoped desperately that Heather hadn't seen.

I met her out on the street. She was wearing a strappy top and a pair of cotton shorts which left an enjoyably long length of leg on display. Her budding breasts went without a bra and I could hardly help but notice her perky little nipples deforming the fabric, even though I made every effort not to let her know I was looking.

"What are you doing later?" she asked after we'd made our rather shy greetings. I just shrugged - I hadn't really planned to do anything much, maybe go for a ride on my bike. I mentioned that and her eyes lit up.

"I love taking my bike out," she said. "Can you show me some of the places you go round here?"

I gladly agreed, and a couple of hours later met her outside her house. I wasn't sure what to expect, but as a fairly serious mountain biker I was kind of expecting to find Heather on some sort of entirely unsuitable little girl's bike. I was wrong, very wrong. She appeared on a bike which trounced mine for technical prowess. At a time when aluminium frames were just beginning to make it to market, she rocked up on a brand new, shiny Orange, decked out in a mouth-watering array of high level components. She even had a disc brake at the front - these days they're everywhere, but at the time they were a pro-only item.

She smiled sweetly at my look of utter bemusement, and made some pleasantries about my bike, making me feel absolutely no better about what I suddenly realised was the pile of junk upon which I was sitting. On the move, things were no better - there was no doubt that she was fitter than I was, and more capable over the rough stuff.

The only consolation, and it really was some consolation, was that Heather, being a proper mountain biker, was wearing tight, tight lycra shorts. And I couldn't help thinking to myself that there was no panty-line there at all. If I was right, she was doing the proper thing and wearing nothing beneath the shorts. Oh fuck.

It was difficult to ride with an erection. Just the thought that only a millimetre thin second-skin of lycra separated Heather's mid section from my view was enough to send the blood pumping to entirely the wrong places, especially as I needed it to carry oxygen to my rapidly tiring legs.

Thankfully we didn't have all day to be messing around. Heather needed to get home because there was plenty more to do to unpack their family's possessions, and so, exhausted but exhilarated, I dropped her off at her house and coasted the short distance to my own.

As I stood in the shower washing the dust and sweat from my body, memories of the bike ride played across the inside of my eyelids. One stretch in particular came to mind, as Heather laboured up a hill in front of me, her backside swinging side to side as she stood on the pedals straining for power. In my mind's eye I fancied I could see a crease running down the very centre of where her sex would have been. My hand made its own way to the straining shaft of my erection, skinning the skin back and forth over the head until with a knee-weakening climax I fired drops of clear cum at the shower wall.

---

Heather's eyes met mine, and she leaned in to kiss me, a soft peck on the lips at first, then a more urgent, aggressive mashing of the lips. I thought we were as inexperienced as each other, but she seemed to know what to do. She tilted her head a little more to the side and suddenly we were French kissing, our mouths open and tongues battling each other. I knew this was the real thing, and excitement flooded my body at the thought that she was as into me as I was her. My hand, seemingly of its own accord, went to her side and stroked her flank, before making a line for her breasts.

I never even considered that it might be going too far to touch her there, but I was in luck; as soon as my thumb brushed across where I was sure her nipple would be, Heather moaned into my mouth, pushing her chest against my hand. I went back and forth over the same area, eliciting more moans and noting with glee that her nipple hardened beneath my touch. I remember thinking it felt like a little pea through the padded fabric of her bra. The more I stroked her nipple, the more worked up she became, her moans getting louder and louder.

When her hand landed on my stomach, I gasped. It was so warm, so soft. I never knew that simply having her lay her hand upon me would elicit such a reaction, but suddenly I was painfully aroused. Her warm touch roved around my exposed tummy, and the t-shirt which had already ridden up to make way for her hand was pushed even further as she drifted as high as my own nipples, grabbing them and tweaking them.

Somewhere in our juvenile lust we had learned to become lovers, hands roving over each others' bodies, lips locked together in a passionate kiss. Never before had I experienced anything quite like it. My heart was pumping so hard that I could hear a pounding in my ears, and I became convinced that it must be audible to Heather. She was moaning in passion, breaking the kiss every so often to breathe hard, before coming back to me.

With shocking brazenness, Heather's hand moved lower and lower until it was passing over the waistband of my shorts and latching onto my hard shaft, wrapping the material around it. Suddenly lights went off behind my eyes and I squirmed in ecstasy, pulling away from the kiss and gasping. I came down from the high long enough to look across at her for a moment. Her eyes were heavy lidded, almost closed as my hand continued to rove across her breasts. Her arm was doing its own thing, giving my shaft little strokes up and down. I could feel my foreskin peeled back on the down stroke, and the hypersensitive underside of my head brushing against the nylon liner of my board shorts.

Heather's legs were moving against each other, her thighs clamped shut. I dropped a hand to her thigh, but she refused to open up. I tried once to reach for her sex directly, just to feel it through her dress and panties, but she backed her hips away and scowled at me, and I got the message pretty quickly that that part of her was off limits for now.
Heather's hand left my shorts and I felt it travel up my body to my shoulder. We had been kissing again, but she broke off. As she pushed against my shoulder, I rolled fully onto my back, and she said,

"Lie there. I want to do something for you."

I was mesmerised. Whatever she wanted to do was fine with me. She sat up, then got up onto her knees at my waist. Immediately her hands went to my shorts and began peeling them down. My heart started to hammer even faster. There, coming into view, was my very hard dick. I was excited and nervous in equal measure, the latter because I knew my dick was small. At only four inches, I was languishing well behind the rest of the class, or so I was led to believe. With only a few scraggly pubic hairs to my name, all in all I was a bit underdeveloped.

Heather didn't seem to mind, or she was being nice. She grabbed it, giving me a few quick tugs and smiling at the look of sheer bliss which passed across my face. The feeling of her hot hand upon the most intimate part of my body was taking me to levels of ecstasy I never thought I would reach. I couldn't believe it could feel this good without cumming.

Heather lay back down very close to me, resting her head on my shoulder and snuggling in. She wrapped her hand back around my dick and, looking down at her work, began to wank me. She was no expert, that was true, but what she was doing more than made up for her poor technique. I marvelled at the sight and feel of someone else's hand around my dick. The hand attached to the shoulder on which she lay ran lazy circles on her lower back as she worked me. I wanted to reach lower and grab her arse, but she was too far down my body, and I didn't want to disturb what she was doing with her hand.

The feeling built inside me too quickly for me to have any chance of holding it off. Suddenly, painfully, my dick was jumping in her hand, and three spurts of thin, watery cum were landing on my chest and tummy. I had to ask Heather to stop, because it was becoming too sensitive to have her hand on me. She looked up at me with a mixture of emotions on her face. She was excited and surprised, and lustful, and extremely happy with herself. She gave me a peck on the cheek, then reached down to retrieve the sheet and pull it over us both.

---

I awoke to the sound of seagulls, and of waves crashing against the pebble beach. The tall windows onto the balcony were open, and sunlight and a light breeze swept in together. I was startled to find myself naked, and with small crusts of dried cum on my stomach, until I remembered what had happened the night before.

There was no sign of Heather, though. It didn't appear as though she had been there with me at all. I remember managing to get us a beer to share at the party, and getting a bit of a buzz off that. Perhaps I came home and had dreamed what had happened. That made a lot more sense than having actually done what I did with Heather.

Still, the memory of the dream was pretty good, and it had made me hard again. Reaching down, I pulled at my foreskin to unstick it from the head of my dick, then started a slow fondle. With my eyes closed, not yet fully awake, it was easy to remember the dream, and I worked myself up pretty quick.

Footsteps on the stairs to my attic room had me suddenly awake, and scrambling to pull the covers over myself. Who the hell could be coming up my stairs? My little sister knew not to come up at this time of day - one shock a couple of years back pretty much ensured my privacy, in the mornings and at night at least. A creak told me that the second from top stair had been trodden on, and then the door was swinging open. Who the hell was it?

The sight that greeted me was a wonder to behold. Heather was dressed in last night's clothes, but her hair was wet and straggly, and she was carrying my towel in one hand. My god, it hadn't been a dream, it was fucking real! Heather had stayed with me last night, in the same bed. She'd wanked me off, for fuck's sake! And now, here she was, damp haired and smiling at me, walking into my room with my disgusting, unwashed towel. I didn't know whether to cringe or to beam at her. In the end, I did neither. I must have looked a right prat with shock etched all over my face.

"Morning sexy!" she trilled, giving me a big grin, apparently far more at ease with the situation than I was. "You snore," she continued, still smiling at me, "but you have a comfy bed. Now, where did I leave my bra?"

I simply couldn't comprehend how calm she was being. She wasn't embarrassed, she wasn't freaked out, she certainly wasn't sitting on the bed with her jaw in her lap like I was.

"What's up?" she asked when she saw my expression. "You look like you've never spent the night with anyone before!"

"I.. er.. well, I haven't. Have you?"

She looked sideways at me, apparently trying to make her mind up about something.

With a sigh, she answered.

"Well, actually, no, I haven't. But it was cool, right?"

Suddenly the confidence was very much gone from her. The front had crumbled a little. She needed reassurance.

"Oh yes, yes, definitely," I blurted out. "Yep. Very cool."

She laughed at me stumbling over my words.

"You're so sweet!" she said, then appeared to realise that might not be the best thing to say. "And hunky and sexy, of course," she added, quite seriously.

I grinned at her and blushed, not quite sure what to say.

"Right," she said, as I sat there smiling up at her, "I have to go. My dad thinks I was staying at Sarah B's last night, so I have to swing by there. Sarah's covering for us."

Suddenly, pieces of the jigsaw slotted into place. This had been planned. Heather was planning to spend the night with me. It was pre-meditated. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing. It wasn't a horrible mistake. Heather wanted it as much as I did, at least enough to organise a cover story. Holy crap!

She knelt on the bed and leaned forward to give me a kiss, and reached down between my legs. Grabbing my still rock hard dick, she gave it a couple of strokes as she kissed me, the sheet between her skin and mine.

"My number's in your phone," she said as she stood back up, leaving me wanting more of her touch. "Give me a call this afternoon."

With one final, naughty little grin, she turned and walked out of the room, thumping down the stairs. I prayed to God that my sister didn't hear her go, at the same time as I thanked Him that my parents were out of town. I lay back on the sheets, listening to the sound of seagulls wheeling above the building. It was going to be a beautiful day, made more special by my gorgeous, sexy girlfriend. My girlfriend. I rolled the words around in my head a couple of times, enjoying the sound of it. Stretching languidly back on the bed, I reached for the rod of flesh between my legs, and began my morning routine. 'Where did I leave my bra?' she'd said. How come I couldn't remember her naked breasts?! Damn!

---

There was no way in the world I was going to fail to call Heather that afternoon. I desperately wanted to wait as long as I could before getting in touch so she wouldn't think I was too eager, but it turned out I needn't have worried.

"At last!" she cried she I rang her just before lunchtime. "I was beginning to think you'd gone off me."

"No, definitely not!"

Ok, not terribly good at the acting cool thing, right? Heather didn't mind, though.
"Guess what! My parents are going to a big party tonight, and they're leaving me to look after myself. You could come over."

"Yeah, but I have to look after my little sister, don't I? No sleepover to go to at her friend's house tonight."

Heather thought about it for a moment.

"Hang on, your sister's friends with Dawn Allison, right?"

"Yeah, she is, quite good friends. Why?"

"I've got a plan. Give me five minutes."

She hung up straight away, leaving me wondering what on Earth she could be up to. Not long after I heard the phone ring downstairs, then my sister must have picked it up. A couple of minutes later and there was the thundering of my little sister's sock-clad feet on the stairs, before a polite little knock at my closed door.

"Come in, Sarah" I said. In my mind, the pieces of the jigsaw were coming together.

"Hey Tom," she said, with an effected air of nonchalance.

"Let me guess. That was Dawn, right? And she wants you to have a sleepover tonight?"

My sister's eyes widened in shock.

"How did you know? Were you listening to me on the phone?"

"How could I?" I asked, mock innocence on my face. "There's no landline up here, remember?"

Sarah's expression turned to extreme puzzlement, so before she could ask too many questions, I headed her off at the pass.

"But you were at a sleepover last night. What do you reckon mum and dad would say?" I asked her.

"Umm... they'd say I can go, and I should have some money to buy sweets with on the way over!"

I couldn't help laughing at her ingenuity. It was a pretty nice try, and I told her so.

"Tell you what," I said as the frown was forming on her face, "You can go. I'll take you over there later, and but you some sweets on the way. How's that sound?"

The answer was a whoop of delight, and a big hug, delivered by a flying Sarah. As I was lying on my back on my bed, this led to her lying on top of me. She was only wearing a little summer dress, and I knew from doing the washing that she wasn't wearing pants while mum and dad were away. It can only have been because I was suddenly very sexually aware after my loss of innocence the night before (well, the last remaining
dregs of naivety, at least), but I was immediately aware of a swelling in my shorts. Sarah may have been my sister, and only ten years old, but here I was with a nearly naked girl on top of me, planting little friendly kisses on my face. I felt like a monster for doing so, but I grabbed her little backside through her dress and enjoyed the feel of its warm, pert, roundness. The dress was so thin that I could tell for certain that she was naked beneath. Sarah stopped immediately and pulled away, looking at me with a confused look on her face, before giving me a sly grin she'd never shown me before. She flexed her hips, and her soft, hot mound pressed against the head of my dick, sending delightful shivers through me.

"Lots of sweets, right?" she said, as her hips worked their magic. Fuck it, I was going to come.

"Yep," I said in a little, strained voice, pulling her hard against me.

She smiled and gave me a wriggle of her hips.

"If you promise to spend five pounds on me I'll show you my fanny."

I nodded, lost in sexual abandon. Sarah hopped off me and sat back at the end of my bed, pulling up her dress until her bald, prominent mound came into view. She reached down with her left hand and pulled the lips of her slit apart with middle finger and thumb, showing me the moist, pink insides with her swollen clit poking out at the top. The tip of her free index finger tweaked the nubbin at the top as she casually masturbated in front of me. I lost it then, tearing down the front of my shorts and grabbing my dick, wanking furiously until I couldn't take it anymore and came with a massive expulsion of breath. Sarah dropped the dress and, with a wicked smile, left me to it.

Now, what the fuck just happened there?

---

Images of Sarah's fanny kept invading my mind all day long. It didn't help that whenever we were in the same room she would find a way to flash me, apparently enjoying the game as I became more and more worked up. I hadn't seen her sex since we were both quite young and shared baths, and now I'd seen it several times in a few hours. I realised that if I pretended to ignore her, she would put even more effort into flashing me, at one point simply lying back on the sofa with her legs spread wide and her fingers between her legs, fiddling away. Eventually the tension got too much and I had to shove a hand down the front of my shorts, at which point Sarah giggled and slammed her legs shut, rolling onto her front with her hand still trapped against her sex.

I wasn't really into young girls, or at least I hadn't developed my penchant for them at that age. And I certainly wasn't thinking about the fact this was my sister. It was a fanny, and I was a horny young boy, and that's all that mattered.

With only Sarah's occasional teasing to keep my mind off Heather, the day passed painfully slowly. I couldn't help but daydream about what might happen that night, given the previous night's activities. Eventually 5 o'clock rolled round, and there was Sarah standing in the hallway with her bags, calling out that she was ready to go to the sweet shop and then on to her friend's house. She lifted up the back of her dress to flash me her bottom, I guess to ensure she got her money's worth out of me. She was surprised when I grabbed a handful of one of her cheeks, but moaned slightly and pushed back into my hand. She got even more of a surprise when my index finger slipped forward and felt up her fanny, quickly pulling away and frowning at me, though the tongue she poked out at the same time suggested that she wasn't totally annoyed with me.

I laughed, glad to have regained a bit of control of things, and walked out of the door with Sarah's suddenly very inviting bottom leading the way. As we walked, I mused on the situation in which I found myself. I'd gone from lonely geek boy to having a girlfriend and messing around with my little sister at the same time. Things with Sarah were all about sex, and nothing to do with love. Heather, on the other hand, was a girl I simply wanted to be around, though any erotic activity was welcomed. I wanted to play around with Sarah, to touch her and have her touch me, but there was nothing more than curiosity to it. I had to admit, she had a killer body, but that's all.

---

Back at Heather's place, she welcomed me in with a warm smile. She was wearing a strappy top and a fairly short summery skirt, and as we kissed behind her closed front door she allowed me to grab her backside and press her against me, until she could be in no doubt that my erection was trapped between our bodies, poking its tip into her lower tummy. She gave a little surprised noise when she felt it, and wriggled her hips from side to side, drawing a groan from me which brought a smile to her face. She turned me round and walked me backwards into the living room, pushing me over the arm of the sofa and falling on top of me. Immediately our bodies were crushed together, and with Heather a little higher up my body the tip of my erection, straining against the thin shorts I was wearing, dug right between her legs and pushed her skirt and pants into the crease of her fanny. It was hard to feel anything through so many layers of clothing, but as I grabbed her hips and pushed up into her I could feel her moaning through the kiss into my mouth.

Ten minutes later we lay together in post-orgasmic bliss on the sofa. A wet spot on my shorts gave away my excitement, and a musky odour, the smell of Heather's arousal, filled my nostrils. I was surprised when she had reached her peak, her whole body shivering and shaking on top of me, her eyes rolling back into her head and a weird, high-pitched wail emanating from her throat. I shot at the same time, as she dug herself harder than ever into me and frantically rocked her hips side to side. Now as she lay by my side I had managed to lift her skirt and slip a hand down the back of her pants without any objection.

Remembering what had happened with Sarah, I tried to reach her lips with the tips of my fingers from behind, but she rebuffed me and pulled away from my hand a bit, but not so much that I had to relinquish my hold on her soft, warm cheeks.

"Don't go there just yet, ok?" she said, almost apologetically. It was as though she imagined that I expected her to sleep with me. To be honest, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Well, not for a minute or two anyway...

We lay snuggled on the sofa for a while, her head on my shoulder, body pressed up against my side. The damp spot in my shorts was getting more and more itchy, and eventually I had to reach down and rearrange myself.

"Oh, honestly, you boys just can't stop touching yourselves, can you?" Heather said. I'd started to defend myself before I realised she'd only said it in jest.

"It's itchy," I complained.

"Then why don't you take them off?" Heather replied.

Well, I wasn't going to be asked twice. There was something intensely erotic about showing off for her, and almost as soon as my shorts and pants hit the floor, I was hard again, the glistening tip still damp from my last emission. Heather reached over and grabbed it, twiddling the tip of my foreskin idly in her fingers, drawing a gasp from me. She smiled at the reaction, then began a slow wank, rolling her hand around my dick as though she were trying to polish it. My God it felt so, so good.

While she worked on me, I ran my hand over her backside, letting my fingers dip in between. I was surprised to find Heather really got hyped up when my fingertip accidentally brushed across the puckered skin of her arsehole. I tried it again, this time deliberately, and was rewarded with a moan. I set to rubbing back and forth, paying no attention to the part of my mind which was yelling at me that it was disgusting to have my finger there. Her hips started to grind, pushing herself back onto my finger then pulling away.

Suddenly she pulled her hand off my dick, and spun on top of me, reaching up underneath her skirt and pulling down her pants. I thought for a moment that this might be it, this might be the moment that I lost my virginity. I wasn't going to be that lucky, though.

"Don't get any ideas," she said, "and no roving hands, alright?"

I nodded, and felt the soft, hot skin between her legs nestle on the underside of my dick. It was simply the most amazing feeling. As her hips began to rock back and forth, I entered a different plane of existence.

While she was off in the bathroom cleaning my meagre emission from between her legs, I lay back idly fondling myself and wondering how it could possibly get any better than that...

---

As I walked around to pick up Sarah from her sleepover the next morning, I reflected on the night before, my dick involuntarily hardening in my shorts. Heather's last gift to me had been the briefest of feels of her young sex, the fluffy, downy patch of hair above it a real surprise to me. As soon as my finger dipped between the folds of her sex she pulled away and admonished me, but with a smile curling the corners of her mouth that told me I hadn't gone too, too far.

Sarah was in a boisterous mood when I got to Dawn's house. She and her little friends, five of them all told, giggled furiously when I answered the door, and I saw a couple of them whispering in the background. When I asked Sarah what had amused them so much, she evaded my questions.

We were nearing home when I got an inkling of what was going on.

"So, how was Heather?" Sarah asked, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I don't know what you mean," I answered. It was clear she didn't believe me though, as she stifled another giggle.

"Bet she didn't do this," she said. Thank God I'd just closed the front door behind us and we were safely out of sight, because with that Sarah dropped her bag, reached down and lifted her dress by the hem right over her head and off. Naked as the day she was born she scampered off into the house yelling "catch me!" over her shoulder.

That wasn't a challenge I was about to refuse. I ran after her, catching glimpses of her nude form here and there as she ducked and dived around the rabbit-warren of rooms which made up the ground floor of our house.

Finally I cornered her in the living room, cutting of all routes of retreat. She giggled furiously as I approached her, clutching her arms across her chest but making no effort to cover herself below the waist. I grabbed her into a big hug and she wriggled and twisted until her little backside was pressed firmly into my crotch.

Inevitably I became hard, and it was pretty obvious that Sarah had noticed when she stopped wriggling to reposition herself so my dick, still covered by my shorts, was trapped in the valley of her arse. Her motions started again, but this time they were more deliberate, calculated to make me feel good, and judging by the way her eyes fluttered, Sarah too.

After a minute or so of this, as I could feel my juvenile orgasm building, Sarah stopped and turned around, pushing at my chest until there was room enough between us for her to reach down and peel down my shorts to mid thigh, freeing my dick to point to the sky. She giggled again, and hug me to her, squashing it between us, with the tip poking at her belly button. We were near the sofa, and trying the trick I'd been subjected to at Heather's house I pulled Sarah over on top of me. Instinctively her legs spread, and as we landed my dick came firmly into contact with her hairless, and very hot, vulva.

Sarah gave me the cutest little shocked looked when she realised what it was poking her between the legs. The expression morphed into one of pure naughtiness, though, as quite deliberately she began to flex her hips, dragging my dick back and forth between her lips. I could feel the intense heat of her, and the rubbery feeling of her lips spread either side of my dick, and it was getting me close to the edge pretty quickly.

To make things last a little longer I stopped and rolled Sarah over onto her back, kneeling between her legs and spreading the lips of her sex to have a look at what she had. I'd never seen a girl's parts this close up before, and as Sarah lay back with her arms crossed behind her head I began to explore.

I pulled her lips wide apart, watching her inner lips peeling slowly apart to reveal her most intimate parts. I'd been through sex education at school, and so in theory knew what everything was, but to see it in real life was something else entirely. I worked out which bit her vagina was, and was surprised to see how red it was. I had no idea (though I know better now) that the way her hold opened up as I spread her lips was not normal for a young girl. Sarah, it transpired, had been using the handle of her hairbrush for a number of months, which made what followed easier.

Determined to play a bit more, I placed a finger at the entrance of her vagina. Thinking it was only right to ask first, I glanced up at Sarah's face. She looked me right in the eye, and with a nervous-looking smile she gave a little nod. I didn't give her time to change her mind, pushing my index finger forward into the warm, wet heat. That was another thing I didn't realise was unusual about Sarah - she was wet as hell from the stimulation, most unlike a typical preteen.

It slipped in easily enough, and I revelled in the feel of the incredibly hot, smooth walls of her vagina clamped around my finger. I was surprised by the way the ring of muscle at her entrance was so much tighter than her insides, but as I worked my finger back and forth inside her it loosed up somewhat. I pumped a finger in and out of Sarah's little hole for several minutes, watching intently as the feelings of pleasure were reflected in her expression. She almost looked concerned, or puzzled, but with her eyes scrunched shut and her hips wriggling about it was pretty obvious she was enjoying it.

Although I was enjoying it, I desperately wanted more, and decided that unless Sarah was going to stop me I was having it. I moved around, still fingering her while I got myself into position, hovering over me. When she sensed me there, Sarah's eyes opened. I stopped the motion of my finger immediately, but left it buried in her little fanny.
She looked down to where my dick hovered only a foot or so above her sex, then further down to where my finger disappeared obscenely into her. My intent was unspoken, but obvious, and I wanted Sarah to say 'yes' before I went any further. She looked away from us both, across the room. Her eyes began to water slightly, and yet she turned back to face me, and in a tiny, scared voice said,

"Ok."

My heart, already pounding, nearly leapt from my chest. I didn't want to think about what I was just about to do, I just wanted to do it. Pulling my finger free of the grasping tunnel of flesh in which it was encased, I put both hands either side of Sarah's shoulders, and lowered myself.

Clumsily I poked at her sex, unable to find the spot, until with an exasperated sigh Sarah reached down between us and grabbed my dick, guiding it to her hole. The head popped in suddenly, and there I was feeling her walls gripping the skin of my shaft, peeling back my foreskin so the ultra-sensitive head of my penis rubbed along the silky walls of her vagina. I pushed hard forward, straining against the tightness - my dick was a little fatter than my finger - until no more would go in. I looked up from the join between our bodies to find Sarah's eyes squeezed tightly shut and her mouth silently making little 'ow' shapes.

I stayed there for a few moments, just enjoying the feeling of being encased in my little sister. In fact I waited so long that Sarah opened her eyes and said,

"What are you waiting for?"

She gave a little giggle, and as her stomach muscles clenched so did those in her vagina. I gave a little gasp at the sensation, and then responded to her question by pulling out slightly and pushing slowly back in.

My first few thrusts into her were slow and smooth, but as I got used to the motion and she loosed up I started pumping hard and fast. I don't honestly recall how long I lasted, but I don't think it could have been long before I was shoving urgently into her and holding it there as my watery load splashed inside her.

As I pulled out and collapsed on the sofa, grabbing Sarah into an uncharacteristically loving hug, my mind raced with the realisation that I'd just lost my virginity to my 9 year old sister.

The End... for now.