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Archive name: sari1.txt (mf, youths, 1st)
Authors name: Lor Oldmannn (jamwad@hotmail.com)
Story title : Sari and My Sexual Awakening
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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The Sari Saga: Sari and My Sexual Awakening
by Lor Oldmannn (jamwad@hotmail.com)
***
As the title suggests, it is a fanciful autobiographical
account of a young boy's sexual awakening with a
precocious young girl who promises to blossom into a very
interesting female.
***
It was the oddest kind of sexual awakening. Certainly it
was not the kind of experience I had anticipated. I was
thirteen, and not long started my second year at a
prestigious day school for boys where, except for the
occasional lavatory joke, sex was not on the immediate
curriculum.
The school had a reputation to uphold; it boasted a 90%
record for getting boys into the universities and the
upper strata of the professions. It was Friday evening, I
had completed all my home assignments, and my parents,
who were into this sort of thing, had organised a
Halloween bonfire party.
There were about thirty kids in attendance from the
neighbouring village with their parents. It was fancy
dress for the kids with lots of strong drink for the
adults. There were the usual run-of-the-mill witches and
warlocks and black sheets with demon masks. And to tell
you the truth, at thirteen, I was bored with the whole
thing. The hot dogs and hamburgers were fine, as was the
ice cream and the trifle puddings. But there is a limit
to what a growing boy can consume. There were prizes for
the most original costume - which must really have made
some real demands on the judges - and for gogo dancers
and the half dozen games set up by dad. But as I said, I
was stone cold bored.
I decided to sit the remainder of the evening out on a
garden lounger in one corner and watch the proceedings
from there. And it was at this point that things started
to happen. Six-year-old Sari Kinnis, my nearest neighbour
and a kid I was really fond of, seemed to emerge from the
growing darkness and climbed on to my knee.
Appropriately, she was wearing a silky smooth, skin-
tight, black cat costume, and seemed to curl up just like
one on my lap. I could, and did, feel every curve and
crack of her body. She eyed me curiously and purred,
"Lor, do you think I am pretty?"
"Of course you are, Sari. You are the prettiest little
girl I have ever seen!" And I could say that with hand on
heart. She was away ahead of anything comparable in the
village. She had a bright round face with full red lips
and slightly oriental eyes so dark and deep you could
imagine yourself drowning in them and shoulder length
shining brown hair. But the thing to make her outstanding
was that she had legs so long and shapely and sensuous on
top of gorgeous hips and a tight backside it seemed
indecent on one so young. Sari studied me for fully a
minute with those dangerous eyes, and sighed. It was an
inconsequential sound. She nestled into me and instantly
fell asleep.
It was more than half an hour later when her parents,
considerably unsteady on their feet and smelling of cider
and whisky, came to relieve me of my burden. They carried
her, still fast asleep, to her bedroom. They own the
property next to ours, and while their main entrance is
more than three hundred metres from ours, a private gate
provides a shortcut from our back door to theirs. Sari
uses the gate often when she uses our swimming pool or
when she comes over to play me at table tennis or
something of the sort.
In a way, I felt an odd kind of sadness sweep over me
when she was gone. Someone was playing the Brahms Waltz
in A flat on our grand piano, and the music percolating
through the open window seemed appropriate to my mood and
gave an air of unreality to the whole situation. For the
last night in October, it was unseasonably warm. I felt I
could have sat out there all night listening to the
recital and thinking about Sari nestled in my arms.
It was almost midnight when there was a panic telephone
call from Cheri Kinnis, Sari's mother. The child had
fallen asleep in my arms and was well and truly put out
when she woke up and I was not there. Could I come over
and pacify her? Certainly, no problem! On the way over,
it set me thinking! But I was totally unprepared for the
new kind of situation that presented itself to me; it was
like the dawning of a new age, a renaissance in my life.
During the sit-out at the party in our garden, I had
arrived at the door - adolescence some call it, but as
soon as I entered Sari's bedroom, I had passed through
the doorway, so to speak.
Sari was still screaming in an uncontrollable hysteria.
But what I was unprepared for was that she was wrapped up
tightly in a sheet, like swaddling clothes or an Egyptian
mummy's linen bandages. And she was scarlet-faced; it
frightened me. There was a rope like an old-fashioned
pyjama cord tied tightly around her upper arms and chest,
another around her hips and a third around her legs. Only
her head and her feet were exposed to view. My first
reaction was to feel indignation.
"It was the only way we could restrain her," Cheri
explained.
Her husband substantiated the claim. "She would have done
herself serious injury otherwise."
Sari's parents, still obviously under the influence of
their earlier carousal or subsequent drug intake, had
accompanied me upstairs to the bedroom. I turned to them
and demanded, "Can I untie her?" I made an effort to keep
the irritation from my voice.
The man sniggered. "You can. If you dare!" he exclaimed.
And he wheeled away and left the room. His attitude
seemed to suggest that somehow Sari in this condition was
my responsibility.
Sari had stopped screaming. She stared accusingly at me.
"You weren't there when I woke up." She sniffed a tear
back. "I was afraid. I thought you had gone away!"
I whispered some sweet nonsense and nibbled her ear, and
started to undo the ropes and the wrapping. What greeted
me underneath took my breath away; it was like a
sledgehammer blow to the breadbasket. Sari was wearing a
nightdress so brief that it barely covered the essentials
and so translucent it revealed even the birthmark on the
underside of her left collarbone, her belly button, and
the dark aureoles around the tiny nipples on her chest. I
had an instant erection so powerful that it hurt. I was
terrified lest her mother notice it.
Suddenly Cheri Kinnis said, "I don't suppose you could
stay the night with her?" And I almost exploded inside.
Sari's eyes sparkled. "Please!" She pleaded. "Please,
Lor!" Her pleas chiseled into my libido.
I can't remember the excuses I made, but they reduced the
child to tears. The mother seemed to understand my
predicament. She nodded. And smiled. And left the room. I
lay alongside Sari on the bed. I caressed her hair back
from her round face and comforted her as best I could. I
told her some little white lies to explain why I couldn't
sleep with her. And all the time there were volcanic
eruptions taking place inside my lower abdomen. I had
never been so sexually aroused before, and I was acutely
sensitive to the fact that the object of this arousal was
a six-year-old child!
"I promised myself to wait until we were married," I
said; it was a little bit of fun, but I realised it was
also a serious statement of intent at that particular
point in time. I doubted whether I could ever meet
another person in the whole course of my life I would be
attracted to more than Sari. And all this time a battle
royal was taking place inside my conscience: was it right
to feel this way about anyone so young? Looking back on
it now, I realise that, at thirteen, I must have been a
pompous little shit.
Finally, when I had convinced her and she had settled
down a bit, I said, "Go to the toilet, then I'll tuck you
into bed properly. And tomorrow I'll play with you the
whole day. I promise!"
She climbed over me out of bed. She climbed over me again
on the way back. She paused on top of me, and stared at
me with those lethally penetrating eyes; it was as if she
were trying to test the sincerity of my previous
promises.
I kissed her good night before leaving. I had kissed Sari
several times before, in a big brother-kid sister way,
but this was decidedly different. Her lips were rich and
moist like that of a grown woman; her mouth was half open
and the tip of her tongue brushed against my teeth. And
it was at that moment I became aware that there was a
wild sexual animal lurking somewhere deep, deep down
inside me, and it had little in common with the school
lavatory jokes.
END
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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 19