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A hand job on the walk homeI still remember it after all these years as if it was yesterday. We were both half way through our eighteenth year, our last year in school. She was in my class at school, quiet, average pretty with dark hair down to her shoulders and a good figure. The only thing I’ve forgotten is her name.I was walking across the park on my way back from school when I saw her ahead of me and caught up with her, not deliberately, I was just walking faster. She was in her school uniform: white blouse, necktie, grey pleated skirt and white knee socks, the allowed alternative to tights. At that age any reasonably attractive girl was a sex object. School regulations said girls’ skirts must be no more than a couple of inches above the knee, but like most girls at my school as soon as she was out of the school gates she’d pulled her skirt up about six or seven inches above her bare knee. I found the bare thigh above her knee intensely erotic. We walked together for a few minutes talking about nothing in particular. Then out of the blue she popped the question.“Do you want a hand job?”I couldn’t believe my ears! Boys I knew at school boasted of how many hand jobs they’d had from girls, and they had a performance chart of which of the girls gave the best hand jobs. I don’t think my companion was on the charts. I’d had hand jobs from other boys as we ogled kaş escort girly porn together, but never from a girl. I guess I momentarily panicked and was speechless.“I’ll pull my knickers down for you and show you my cunt,” she continued, I guess thinking I needed encouragement. My penis seemed to be permanently erect in those days, but right then I felt as if I had a steel bar between my legs.We headed for a thick clump of bushes in the park. There was a little clearing in the middle, just big enough for the two of us, and through the leaves we could see if anyone was coming near without being seen.She took the initiative. She lifted her skirt up and tucked its lower hem into its waistband, revealing her knickers. We boys knew the school regulation that girls’ knickers must be white cotton, respectable and not too brief. The knickers she was wearing were precisely that. I helped myself to a feel of her bottom, her bare thighs and her sex mound through them. Then she pulled them down round her thighs.I’d ogled plenty of porn and knew exactly what to expect. Her cunt looked just like the cunts of so many teen and twenties girls I’d seen in pictures: a slit surrounded by a neat mat of curly dark hair. But seeing a girl’s cunt for real first time blew me away! As she stood there with her knickers down I had a good feel, running my fingers through her pubic hair escort kaş and along her slit, and I had a good feel of her incredibly soft smooth bottom.As I was caressing her bottom she reached down and fumbled with my zip. For a moment I nearly lost my nerve. I’d let other boys see and wank my erect penis but this was a step way beyond that. But I managed. I let her unzip me and I lowered my grey school trousers and briefs down round my thighs and lifted my shirt. I guess my erect penis was about five or six inches long then, but it felt like the erection of all erections, like my cock was a mile long. It’s purple head was pointing straight up. I nearly jerked my load at the first touch of her light fingers on my balls. They were hairier than her cunt. She felt my shaft all over, as if she was testing it for size and stiffness and I fought not to cum in her hand right then.“Which is the nicest part to touch?” she asked. It dawned on me this might be her first time too!I told her the ridge round the base of my knob, and the sensitive spot underneath I later learned was called the frenulum. Pre cum oozed from my nozzle as her fingers tickled me just there. I told her what it was.“How do I do it?” She asked. It was her first time!I told her to wrap her fingers and thumb loosely round my shaft and stroke it smoothly up and down, pulling my foreskin and catching kaş escort bayan the ridge. That was the way I masturbated.I stood there with my legs spread and my cock sticking out, holding my shirt up and with my hand under her raised skirt fondling her bum and thighs. I told her how to do it just right, not squeezing too tightly or going too fast, so it lasted. Her thumb and forefinger in a ring caught the base ridge of my penis head exquisitely. I’d been masturbating most nights for about five years but this was like no wank I’d ever had. It took much longer than when I masturbated. When I shoved my hips forward and gripped her bottom she must have guessed I was coming.“Are you coming?” she asked, but all I could do was grunt as the infinite pleasure exploded and I squirted my load.I splashed my cum onto her hand and over the bushes beyond. Fortunately I missed her blouse and skirt. I grabbed her hand to stop her after the last dollop had spurted and my penis started to go limp. “Did I do it right? Was it good? Is that semen?” She asked, but it took me a few seconds to answer and tell she’d been brilliant.She wiped my semen off her hand with a tissue, pulled up her knickers and adjusted her skirt to a respectable six inches above her knee. We briefly kissed and I had a last fondle of her bottom through her knickers. I still remember the look of satisfaction in her eyes and guessed the girls kept scores too. She hand jobbed me a few more times in those bushes on the walk home from school. Then we both left school and went our separate waves and I never saw her again.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32