age-[L-30]---part-1 thru 2-of-3

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Coming of Age

Part-1-of-3

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Having reached the safety of middle age, I have discovered what the young will eventually learn. It matters little what others think of you, rather, ’Have you become comfortable with who you are?’

Fifteen years ago I would never have had the nerve to put into words the truth about my sexual history. While most erotica is the result of an active imagination working together with long hidden desires, mine is a recounting of some of my more memorable experiences. I have changed the names of those involved, not from a desire to hide the truth, more to protect the privacy of those who have shared some of the most intimate and memorable experiences with me.
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My writing is not nearly as graphic as is much that I've read. I find as a woman I'm more enlivened by the build up to intimacy than the sexual act itself. My apologies to those that find my reminiscences dry or boring, it's just me.
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Like many young girls, I was 14-years old when had my first ‘Big O.’ and like just as many little girls; it was with the help of my ever-faithful companion, my right hand. "So that's what all the hubbub was about,” I thought when the tremors passed. From that day forward little else invaded my mind other than the magnificent mind numbing sensations that emanated from between my legs. Today I often chuckle at the comments of others. To me there are only 2 kinds of women, those that admit they masturbate regularly and, liars. As a teenager, I couldn't keep my hands out of my panties, which lead me to events that would forever help me define myself.
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I grew up a Navy brat, in Charleston, SC. For those unfamiliar with military life, it is a close-knit community. Support from friends that know exactly what you are going through is available around the clock.
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It is a known fact that ships come and go continuously; and along with them go the husbands, fathers, lovers and friends that keep them all running. The arrival of a ship is a joyous occasion, reuniting families and loved ones. At the same time there is a quiet ‘reshuffling’ in order for parents to enjoy some private time. Unknown to me I had become a part of the ‘reshuffling,’ and that's how my discovery came about.
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About the same time I discovered masturbation, I began receiving invitations to baby-sit for others. I slowly began to understand how well organized the ‘support’ groups actually were. While a ship is at sea, the wives have a regular weekly get-together, usually on Friday or Saturday evenings. There they exchange news, tips, bargains and the ever-popular advice about the plumber or mechanic that won't rip you off should you require their services.
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By the age of 15, I had several ladies I baby-sat for, but Hudson was by far my favorite. Around her it was just fine to be me, no prying inquisitions, no strange looks, no half answered questions. Hudson was the first adult that treated me as a peer rather than a child; I savored my talks with her.
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It was the spring of my 15th year, an otherwise normal Friday evening. I'd been invited to watch Hudson's 1-year old girl, Lorie, while she went to the weekly ‘Wives Meeting.’ With schoolbooks in hand I arrived at about 5:30, long before the 7 o'clock requirement, allowing time for any last minute instructions she might have before leaving. And to ensure she could finish getting ready without the demands that a toddler continually makes of a mothers time. Hudson’s instructions were short, little different than ever before, delivered during the final stages of getting dressed.
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God, how I envied her, I was a late bloomer, and although I sported a lush growth of curly auburn hair on my pubic mound, my breasts were another story. For over a year they had been developing at about the same pace as a snail out for a Sunday stroll. With the ever present itching and aching that girls the world over have come to accept, my breasts seemed determined to take their sweet time announcing to the world that I was becoming a woman. Not so with Hudson, I had discovered that she had a variety of C and D cup bras to restrain the magnificent pair that I secretly wished I would soon be able to match. Until then, I could only wait and content myself with the knowledge that my ‘almost B's’ adored all the attention I could give them.
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After her departure, I gathered the pillows from the bedroom and set them on the floor in the living room, I was always afraid of bumps and bruises on ‘my watch,’ since young Lorie was learning to walk while holding onto any number of pieces of furniture. I had learned to keep a watchful eye on her meanderings, always ready to toss a pillow between her and any menacing obstructions that she might tumble near. Just like clockwork, by 8 o'clock she had settled down with the ever-present thumb in her mouth. It was time for her last feeding, before she fades off to that world where the mind takes us in our sleep, where all is safe and wonderful.
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Hudson nursed, so thusly had several 'self prepared’ bottles in the refrigerator. After warming one I returned to the living room and gently propped the bottle alongside Lorie with the same pillows that I had earlier used as her safety cushions. If the truth were known I had, on a couple of occasions, sampled the milk left over in the bottles after she was done. I found it to be an almost indescribable taste, sweet with just a hint of tartness to it and although not as thick as the milk you get from the store, but it had a much fuller flavor.
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I had, many times, watched as Hudson nursed Lorie and wondered at the gentle half smile that appeared as she gave of herself so willingly. I had also secretly made an attempt to mimic her nursing; Lorie had once been offered my diminutive buds in an attempt to discover the sensations her mother had so obviously enjoyed. My first attempt was crude because Lorie had little interest, until I dipped a finger into her bottle and spread a little of her mother's milk on my nipple. Whether she could see the milk or if she could smell it, I honestly don't know but I did discover the joyous sensations to be found when a mouth engulfs you. Without a continual milk supply to reward her, Lorie had quickly become disenchanted with my futile effort but I had discovered that the itching and aching vanished with a mouth firmly wrapped around my nipple, awakening sensations that had lead to other regions.
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As I watched Lorie’s dainty little mouth slowly working the nipple of the bottle, I dreamily envisioned that same mouth at my breast, gently massaging me to tender erotic awakenings. Naturally, I let my fingers do the walking as my hand gently slid beneath my sweater in an ascent to the buds that craved further attention. Amongst the tender tweaks, caresses and often, not so gentle kneading I slowly ascended towards that heavenly place we all know. The place where the body feeds the mind and the mind feeds the body, gently warming to where the insistence of the body takes on a mind of it's own.
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Remembering my responsibilities, I discovered that Lorie had drifted into dreamland also; although I doubt her dreams were as interesting as mine had been. Torn between responsibility and desire, I slowly arose to gather this darling little bundle and carry her off to bed. Having assured myself that all was well, Lorie tucked safely in her bed, door half open to shield her from any stray light yet open to ensure any sound emanating from her room would not go unnoticed. I finally settled back on the couch to delve into what little homework I had brought along.
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Yeah right, after 20-minutes attempting to decipher the otherwise simple mysteries of algebra, I realized that my mind and body had other, more urgent, problems that needed to be addressed. What I had started over a half hour ago begged for consummation. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift, back to the warm glow that I knew would eventually lead to the most wonderful sensations I had ever known. Again my hand found its way under my sweater, this time pushing my bra up to ensure a less restricted access to the two mounds that had started it all.
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It wasn't long before more tender regions begun weeping, announcing their desire for attention. Ever mindful that it's easier to straighten a skirt than to pull up your panties, I removed my panties and dropped them on the floor, safe in the knowledge that I was on my own for several more hours.
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I loved the silky feel of my feminine folds, slick with the juices that came with the arousal of my passion. I have no idea how long I played, savoring the sensations that one by one crept in, gently building towards the joy that I knew was yet to come. I know I had surpassed that point where the mind blocks out all else and simply relishes the moment, I know because the next thing I heard was, "OH MY!"
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Coming of Age

Part-2-of-3

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Instantly I snapped from my self-indulgent revelry, I opened my eyes to find Hudson standing in the doorway eyes wide in disbelief at the sight of her babysitter with one hand on her breast and the other fumbling between her wide spread legs. My fate laid before me, the woman that I admired and respected, she who had shown me understanding and consideration was now looking at me in shock. I was on display much like the ‘little tramps’ I had been warned about.
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Shame and sorrow suddenly flooded through me, tears flowed down my cheeks as I straightened my clothes. I looked at her and offered a tearful apology, assuring her that it would never happen again. I also implored her not to tell my mother, whom I knew would launch into a lecture about all the tramps and sluts of the world and how I was well on my way to becoming one in the same. At this point Hudson surprised me. While I anticipated her yelling and screaming that I couldn't be trusted or that I had destroyed our friendship, I was totally unprepared for her response.
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As I half looked at her through tear filled eyes, her whole being seemed to soften and a gentle smile appeared. She bent slowly and picked up the pillows, in doing so she said she was going to check on the baby and change her own clothes, that she'd be back in 15-minutes so we could talk.

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Looking back now, at something that occurred over 20-years ago, I half suspect those 15-minutes were left open so that I might conclude what had so abruptly been interrupted. Believe me, at that moment, that was the last thing on my mind. I gathered my books in a pile on the coffee table, located my panties on the floor and quickly stuffed them in my purse and sat hands folded in my lap for what I knew was going to be the most difficult ‘talk’ of my life.
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True to her word, 15-minutes later Hudson returned, much to my dismay she was smiling as she laid $5 on top of my schoolbooks. She then silently went to the kitchen, quickly returning with two sodas one of which she offered to me as if nothing had ever happened. I was bewildered, what I anticipated was a severe scolding and a lecture at the very least, what I received instead was the same caring and consideration I had always known.
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As more a peace offering than anything else, I picked up the money from the table and held it out to her, explaining that it wouldn't be right to accept it. With the warmest of smiles she reached out to me and rather than taking the money back she simply pushed the bills into my hand saying, "That's absurd, you earned it, you keep it."

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With that, a quizzical look crossed her face as if some unspoken question lay at the threshold daring to spill forth. Finally Madison asked me if I trusted her. "Of course," I responded, unsure of where this was leading. She then informed me that she needed to make a phone call, that it was imperative that I make absolutely no noise whatsoever while she was on the phone. She then assured me that she would never do anything to hurt me in any way.
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It was about 15-seconds into that phone call when I realized that the call was to my mother, I wanted to scream and run out the door. A doctor will tell you that your heart beats steadily from before you are born until your final breath. Liars, I am certain my heart stopped beating. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even move with the certainty that my greatest fears would be realized with the passing of the next few words between them. Instead I heard Madison's soft melodic voice telling my mom that all was well, that she had just returned home to find me asleep on the couch with my books open on the coffee table. She then asked if it would be all right if I spent the night because she would enjoy having someone to talk to in the morning. Knowing what I know now would have helped me understand my mother's enthusiastic response. Mom, no doubt had visions of uninterrupted ‘private time’ of her own dancing in her head.

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When the phone call ended, Madison returned to the couch with me and reaffirmed, "I told you I would never do anything to hurt you, now do you feel better?"
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Relief at her words simply poured out of me as another cascade of tears streamed down my cheeks. She had shown me more love and understanding than I could consume and chosen not to deliver what I undoubtedly deserved. As I bowed my head, partly to hide the tears and partly in shame for my indiscretion, she reached forth and tenderly wiped a tear from my cheek, "Whatever has happened can't be all that bad, let's dry those eyes and see if we can get to the bottom of all this."
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With that the truth began to flow out of me like a river that's been dammed up too long. I began explaining about my concerns that I seemed to lag behind so many of my classmates in my development, how I envied the fullness of the curves she carried so well. I admitted to having sampled the remains of Lorie's bottle and even about my awkward attempt to mimic her nursing and finally, once again, apologizing for the scene she had witnessed on her arrival home. A soft chuckle seeped from her continuous smile as she proclaimed, "Sounds perfectly normal to me." Was I hearing her right, did she not understand? I had just divulged my greatest fears, my most dreaded weakness, the ‘naughtiest’ of indiscretions and my most shameful behavior, and she thought it was normal?
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For the longest time, I listened, as Madison explained how my every thought and every act were undoubtedly repeated thousands of times a day all over the world. Young girls caught in temporary limbo between childhood and womanhood shared the exact same fears, concerns, curiosities and desires as I did. As far as fanning the flames that resided between my legs, "Relax, everyone does it." My little secret wasn't a secret after all? Madison firmly proclaimed that every one of my classmates did it, my mother did it, and even she did it far more than anyone imagined.
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Explaining that she had something to do she went to the kitchen and quickly returned with what appeared to be a clear funnel with an equally clear plastic tube attached. This was unlike anything I had ever seen and wondered what purpose it must serve. That question was answered when she unbuttoned her blouse and opened her bra, revealing a breast whose nipple was almost instantly adorned with little white pearls that melted together and slowly created a little stream that began finding it's way towards her chest. The funnel was soon held against her breast and she began to squeeze a section of the tube with her free hand. I was fascinated as a steady stream erupted from her making it's way down the tube and into a jar that was firmly attached to the other end. After about ten minutes she informed me that this wasn't near as good as she felt when feeding her daughter, but it was something that needed to be done. Moments later she removed the funnel and bared her other side to my view. Hesitating only momentarily, Madison offered me the funnel and invited me to drain her remaining breast. There was no hesitancy on my part; I was enthralled with the intimate moments I was witness to. I had become a part of what women the world over knew and understood. I was being welcomed into womanhood.
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After a few minutes of this Madison lifted her hand holding the nearly empty bottle I had earlier used to feed her daughter. As she held the bottle she turned to me and asked, "Can you keep a secret?" My response in the affirmative brought a wink, "From her reaction, Lorie assures me she prefers her milk fresh from the tap. How about you?" Caught up in the moment I was thrilled at the opportunity to share so tender a moment with her. Never once letting my eyes leave hers, I slowly brought my mouth to where the funnel had so recently been.
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As I gently suckled her breast I saw her eyes close and that gentle half smile slowly appeared. Now I understood why ‘fresh from the tap’ was better, not only did the feel of the real thing add a comforting new element but the faintly tart taste was missing too. I knew I was doing something right when Madison assumed the same expression she had when nursing her daughter. I was in heaven, but alas, it ended too soon as evidenced by a slowing of the flow and a subtle change in the taste of her milk.
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As we disengaged, Madison reassembled her clothing and collected the things that we’d used to collect some future meal for her daughter. As I watched her walk to the kitchen, I became aware of feelings I had never before imagined. With Madison I felt a closeness that was nearly impossible to describe, at the same time there was emptiness at her leaving. Although she was little more than 15-feet away, I missed her, I missed her touch, and I wanted her at my side again.
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Returning, Madison sat down beside me, but closer this time. Tenderly, she reached out and drew me to her as we shared a hug. Finally she kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "So much for curiosity, didn't hurt a thing, did it?" Setting back on the couch she propped her feet up on the coffee table as I cuddled up close at her side resting my head on her shoulder. This was absolutely divine, I felt a slow melting as if I had become a part of my surroundings, everything was peaceful, and I was safe with Madison at my side.
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How long we sat like this I neither remember nor care, it could have …

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To be continued…

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