Age 16. Kenny and I are both virgins and remain so the entire time we’re together. I’m in no rush to lose that since I have no idea what that entails… pretty sure it’s more than just French kissing, but I’m not certain. As for him, I’m sure he was very conscious of the fact that my family totally trusted him and did not want to bring down the wrath of both our families should he fail that. He also said, much later, that he wouldn’t have known what to do anyway. None of which stopped either of us from skirting the edges a little.
Once, we sat alone together watching television and talking while my parents were out somewhere with their friends when he got a stitch in his back and I volunteered to massage it out. He refused to take his shirt off for that for whatever reason so once I had him lying on his stomach, I just pushed it up out of the way in order to knead his muscles. The stitch soon faded and he was making contented little sound that might have translated to a purr had he been a cat.
Eventually, he sat up and insisted it was my turn and, like him, I refused to remove my silk blouse though, because of the way it was tailored, I had to undo some of the lower buttons in order for him to lift up the back to massage me while I was lying on my stomach. It made me nervous to think how incriminating this would look if anyone walked in on us at this point, but I wasn’t worried about Kenny.
That massage was exquisitely soothing. I might have been a carpet on the floor I relaxed so completely. He knelt over me and kissed the nape of my neck and then slowly down my back as his fingers kneaded and caressed. Happily I shivered.
“I need to open your bra strap,” he said. “It’s in the way. Is that okay?”
“Okay,” I said. It wouldn’t reveal anything but my back I figured as I was laying on my front.
He opened the strap and felt the two halves fall to either side of me and then the lovely kisses and caresses continued.
They trailed to the now exposed side of one breast just beneath my upraised arm, the gentle touches, the sweet little kisses. It felt so absolutely wonderful I could almost not breathe. But something in me, some worry wart prudish nag of a guard in the back of my mind, went on high alert.
Quietly, I observed, “You fingers don’t belong there, Kenny.”
He reacted by just as quietly drifting away from the danger zone.
The worry wart prudish nag of a guard wasn’t simmering down though and was now shouting at me that maybe it wasn’t Kenny I had to worry about. That my parents and their friends were headed back here and at that moment were less than a mile away.
“Hurry, Kenny: fasten me back up!” I said. He did so and I sat up, back to him while I redid my lower buttons, telling him that my parents were almost home and he’d better tuck his shirt in.
We were both back on the couch, tidy as little angels with his arm thrown over my shoulder, watching television when my parents and their friends came bursting in a few minutes later.
“Bet we got here just in time!” my evil step father astutely observed.
When he came around to look at us though, he almost looked disappointed to find nothing out of place.
We both cocked our heads at him inquisitively. Why whatEVER could he be talking about?
“Nonsense,” Mom said, giving him a little shove in the shoulder.