Author: The Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net.
Please use “Story Comments” in subject line if you send e-mail.
Title: First Time In The Badlands  
Keywords: f/m, rom, 1st
Summary: A very simple story of a sexy afternoon.

It took us a week to go from pre-freshman students on a paleontology summer dig to boyfriend and girlfriend. We were paired to work on some fossilized ferns at one end of the dig, almost by ourselves. The grad assistant – her name was Melissa – checked on us every few hours, but the fossils were clearly of secondary importance and she spent most of her time supervising the excavation of a T. rex at the other end of the dig. She was especially excited about the gastroliths – we all were. So now you know that this camp was nerd central, not Cheerleaders on the Prairie.
Which didn’t make any of us nuns or monks, of course. For one thing, July in Montana’s eastern prairie is mighty hot, even in the evenings. We had hats, sunscreen, shaded rest areas and, for quite a while, recurrent sunburns. Anyway, we were all wearing about as little as modesty and safety permitted. I had brought khaki and cutoff denim shorts for the most part, with some tank tops and halter tops. I would start the day with a chambray shirt over a tank top or a halter, then ditch the shirt when it got hot. Bill was dressed about the same way, but it sure looked good on him. (No, he didn’t wear halter tops. Sometimes he’d go without his shirt). He hadn’t grown any chest hair yet, but a little hair showed above the waist of his shorts. I had read about that hair and I’d seen some pictures of naked men, so I knew it led down to his pubic area. To his … his thing. (Okay, his penis. I said it, all right?)
Dating was kind of weird. We started by talking about science, of course. He knew more about paleobotany than I did, but I knew more about the geology of the Cretaceous formation we were digging in. Digging – you dig with a paintbrush, actually, so you won’t mess up a fossil by cracking it or throwing the piece into the wrong rock area. That messes up the dating, you know. Anyway, Bill and I were spending most of the daylight hours together. We had structured sessions mid-morning and mid-afternoon. I think it was partly so they’d be sure no one had keeled over from heat and that we all drank something. But we were alone most of the rest of the time. Anyway, Bill and I were spending the day together and we had to cooperate pretty closely to select a dig area and clear it. Then we had to photograph the items and jacket them for removal. A lot of heavy work; neither of us could have done it well alone. I really liked Bill. He was polite, cooperative, smart and helpful. He wasn’t gorgeous, but he was pretty good looking. He was trying a moustache and it was mighty thin, but it was cute that he was trying. He was only a little taller than me, but then I’m kind of tall. Both of us were pretty skinny. I come from a long line of skinny gals; I don’t know what Bill’s problem was. 
We didn’t get to go into Glendive very much, but there’s very little to go into Glendive for. Every evening we’d all have chow, then we’d watch a video and usually go to bed early. Bill and I started taking walks after the videos. We always worked the dig until pretty late, to make use of the sunlight and the cooler hours, and he would take me strolling while the last light faded. It was naturally very romantic after a while. We started holding hands on the third night we went walking and we kissed on the fifth night. And the sixth, seventh, and … you get the picture. We had a favorite gully and we’d settle down for a little necking. The rock was warm even when the evening was cooling off and I liked it a lot.
We “dated” like this about ten days before things began to change. I had been touching Bill’s chest and his legs some and I’d been letting him stroke my back and my legs. We even put our arms around each other’s waists while we were walking. I had dated maybe a dozen times in high school and it turned out Bill had hardly gone out either. So we were both learning about necking. Bill was the first boy to put a hand under my shirt and, when I got him to do it, it turned out that mine was the first shirt he’d ever put his hand under. But that made me feel safe and I think it made Bill feel safer too. We had pretty small expectations. But I was wanting a whole lot. After we’d go to our cabins, I’d slip into my sleeping bag in just a big T-shirt and panties. After a while, I would slide my panties down my thighs and my hands would somehow go “down there” to play a while. I’d be thinking about Bill’s legs and his chest, skinny as it was while I stroked my labia and found my clit. And I’d come as quietly as I could because I didn’t want anyone guessing what I was doing.
So things went along and I was getting more curious. I was a big girl now, I’d turned eighteen three months earlier. (Bill was a month younger). If I wanted to … go further … go all the way, even … well, that was up to me. I didn’t have a parent at the camp. I think we started on a Wednesday night.
We were down the gully as usual. We had been kissing for a while and I was pressing hard against Bill with my hands under his shirt. His hands were stroking my back and it felt really good. I felt a little shivery, but I was still on familiar territory. Bill was stroking my stomach over my tank top and I slid my hand down to my waist. My stomach was peeking out between the top and my shorts and I pulled the cloth up higher so Bill could touch my stomach with his hands. The heat of his hand and the feathery touch he was using ran up my belly and my breasts and it kind of grabbed my throat. The feeling went the other way, too, down to my … you know. I could feel it tingling and tightening up and even a little wet. I pressed my legs together about the time I started to sigh and Bill’s breath was coming like a hiss.  We were trying to kiss at the same time, but we were breathing funny and the kiss pretty much fell apart.  Bill sat up on the smooth rock and he pulled my back against his chest. I was kind of looking up at him and I pulled his arms around me. His hands were just at my belly button and his head was hanging over my shoulder. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “But I want to see. I want to touch you and see you.” We pulled my top up to the edge of my bra. I had one knee up and the other leg straight out and Bill was having fun staring at my thighs. Then he looked at my stomach while he stroked my belly with both hands. It felt really good; I was all pulled up tight in my lower stomach and my nipples were like rocks against my bra. We kissed kind of sideways, because of how Bill was hanging over my shoulder, and we played tonsil-hockey for a while that way. But it was mostly Bill feeling up my stomach and looking – looking so hard I could feel his eyeballs. I could feel more than that; I felt a bulge against my lower back and I knew it had to be his cock.
I don’t know why we chickened out that night. I’m happier that we did. We had to try this out a step at a time and it would have been too scary to be fun if we’d gone ahead. We kept nuzzling a while longer and Bill slipped one finger under my shorts to touch the top of my panties.  Maybe we were being psychic somehow, but that’s where we quit. For Wednesday. 
We kept that up for a couple of days too. We’d go off to our gully, but Bill started bringing a big quilt. I don’t know why he had a quilt with him. We’d put it on the softest ground in the gully instead of sitting on the rocks because it was more comfortable. I started taking Bill’s shirt off him as soon as we got settled down and I wore halters the next couple of times we went off. But I got to a new step a little ahead of him and I decided to bring him along.
It was probably a Sunday night. We got to our spot – the people at the camp were all pretty nice and everyone had started avoiding that area after dinner for us. Bill spread out the quilt and I got his shirt over his head, then I kind of pushed him into a sitting position, cross-legged. I was feeling really brave and I wanted to go ahead before I quit feeling brave. I didn’t need much to push me either way. So I got him sitting and I sat down on his lap, but facing him. I was wearing a tank top on purpose instead of a halter top. After we kissed a minute, Bill put his hands under my top, on my stomach and my back, like we’d been doing. I was all over his chest and I could feel some of his bulge against me, right at my own crotch. After he had played with my stomach for a while, I let go of his chest and I put one hand on his, under my top. I brought his hand up to my bra and helped him get a hold of my breast. I was kissing him deeper and harder than ever before and he was trying to be gentle as he touched me. He really wanted a good feel, though, and he squeezed each of my breasts through my bra. My breasts are kind of small but they have all the usual nerves right where they’re supposed to be. Especially the ones in the nipple. Even though there was a little cloth between Bill’s hand and my nipples, my nipples were standing right into his fingers, hard as pencil erasers.  I think it was partly that he was under my top, boldly going where no man had gone before, that made it so good. He put his hands behind my back and ran them over my shoulders and over the bra strap, which was also very good. Then he moved them back in front and found the skin above my bra. His fingers were peeking out of my top, right onto my chest above my breasts and my bra.
We nearly drowned each other that night, the way we were kissing. One of us would have to let go and then both of us would gasp like we’d just been underwater for ten minutes. We were so slick with sweat it was hard to hang onto each other. But we did. We were kissing with our mouths, licking each other’s necks and throats and shoulders. We had a heck of a good time.
So that went on a while. The camp was eight weeks long and we were getting to be in a hurry, but we were both still shy and kind of scared. Two or three nights, probably, before Bill did something new. We had played with our tops for a while, me on his lap, when Bill got up on his knees and pulled me with him. “I want to touch your…your ass,” he said softly. I must have looked startled. “Not bare yet, maybe,” he said. “But I really want to touch you, to feel your bottom. You’re too cute in these shorts.”  I had been thinking about it too – his hands on my ass and mine on his.  So it was okay with me. I nodded to him and whispered, “Me too.”
“You want to touch my ass?”
“I sure do,” I said.  It was his turn to look surprised. But hey, we’d been mostly working on my “special parts”.  I had only touched things that he could show off every day and he’d been getting to touch my bra.  So we were kneeling against each other and he put his hands gently on my bottom. He didn’t know what to do, I could tell. So I put my hands on his bottom and squeezed him through his cutoffs. He started doing anything I did, but he was also reaching below my shorts to touch the backs of my legs. That made me quiver against him, so I tried it too. And the skin on the inside of my thighs…I had always known it was sensitive, but it was a lot more loaded than I had thought. I started whimpering as soon as he petted me there. But he didn’t go too high, didn’t try to touch right between my legs. I could really feel the hard bulge under his shorts that night, pressed against the front of my pants. I was about ready.
The next night, I was wearing a tank top again but I left off my bra after my shower.  My breasts were rubbing against the thin cotton and my nipples were standing out pretty obviously.  That’s why I took my shower after dinner that night, just before I found Bill and took him to our place.  I didn’t want too many people to see that I wasn’t wearing my bra. 
This time, when we were kneeling together and Bill was touching my bottom, I let go of him for a minute and I pulled my top off. The cool air and the prairie breeze swept over my bare breasts and I was almost dizzy. This was the first time I’d shown my breasts to a boy.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Bill asked. His eyes were locked on my little breasts, but he was keeping his hands on my waist. I just nodded.  He said, “Thanks, Becky,” and those were his last words for a while.
He touched my bare breasts gently with both hands, then cupped them from below. He lifted them as he brought his mouth down and I pulled my shoulders and my head back to make it easy for him. He kissed them both, still kneeling, then he lowered me to my back on the quilt. I hugged his head to my breasts as he kissed them again and licked my nipples. His hands were up and down my sides, tickling and caressing and sometimes we were both giggling. I had been playing with my breasts for years but this was a lot more fun.
It got better. “Will you come up with me again?” Bill asked. I would do anything for him then. So we went back up on our knees and he kissed my breasts some more, then played his hands on my back and I was loving it. He put his hands on my bottom and pulled me against his bulge for a minute, then he moved his hands to the front of my denim shorts. I leaned back and he looked a question to me. I nodded.
Bill popped each of the five buttons in turn and he pulled my pants halfway down my thighs. I felt each stitch of fabric as it passed over every nerve cell from my navel to my knees. I was wearing bikini panties because they’re the only kind I like. These were pink pastel panties. Bill stroked my ass through them and he ran his fingers under the waistband and under the leg bands, but he left my underpants in place. I think it was an almost an accident when his finger brushed my vagina and I giggled. He pulled his hand back at that point.
Then I opened his pants up.  He had on blue Jockey shorts and the front had a little wet spot on them. Bill couldn’t see the wet spot on me and he didn’t try to touch it. Not that night.  Maybe he felt it when he was playing with my leg bands.  I touched his – cock - with my palm through the cotton and it jerked and twitched like my breasts were doing against Bill’s chest.
We had to quit then. We had both reached the threshold and we needed a little time to decide how to cross it. Bill pulled his pants back up and buttoned them. Then he pulled mine up and I buttoned them up again. I slipped my top on, he pulled on his T-shirt, and we walked back to camp with our arms around each other.
“Tomorrow?” Bill asked.
“Yes,” I said.
You can imagine how much use we were the next day. We swished our brushes and we actually found some ferns, but we kept looking at each other. We kept bumping each other and giggling when we were supposed to be talking about ferns and Cretaceous rocks. The hormones had taken over. We were curious and we were in like and we were awfully eager.
I took as long a shower as I could get away with right after dinner. I put on a halter that night and white panties and my tightest cutoffs. Sandals instead of field shoes that night – I thought it would be easier to take them off, keep the mood going. I noticed Bill was in the shower tent a while too.
When he came to my tent, he was only in shorts and a T-shirt and sandals too. He had the trusty quilt under his arm and we strolled to our spot. The sun was down and the moon was low and full. The whole prairie was silver, especially our little gully.
Bill had disappeared for a while that day and I saw why now. He had gotten a big sheet of ground cloth and brought it to the gully. He laid the quilt on the thick foam. It was stiffer than a cot, but it was a lot larger than a cot would be. We knelt on the quilt and it was almost like the first night we had “dated.” Bill was shy at first and so was I, so we just kissed and touched each other’s tops. Then we got bolder and I pulled Bill’s shirt off. He held me close, kissing me and touching my breasts through the halter top, then he put his hands on the bottom edge of my top.
“You haven’t changed your mind? I want this, but only if you do,” he said softly. 
“I want it a lot. Let’s go ahead,” I said. But Bill was smart enough to go slowly. He untied my top slowly and he kissed my breasts, then he blew softly on them. I giggled because it tickled and it turned me on a lot. He was stroking my bare back as he pulled me against his bare chest and my nipples stood up against his skin. We had kicked off our sandals and now Bill laid me on the quilt. The padding was nice, firm and yet soft. He kissed my breasts and he stroked my chest and my stomach for a while. After that, he knelt down by my hips. He stroked my thighs and reached up under the leg opening in my shorts to touch my panties. They were kind of wet already. Then he brushed his fingers over my pubic area, under the shorts but over the panties, and I put my hand on top of his to get him to do it some more. He reached under my panties with a couple of fingers and touched my vagina. His first touch there was probably an accident but he had a goal this time. He gently stroked my pubic hair and my soft folds of flesh. He had to feel how wet I was.
I was getting really hot and I didn’t want to wait. I started to unbutton my shorts, but Bill took over and popped the buttons in a hurry. I picked up my bottom and he pulled my shorts down, then all the way off. I sat up in just my panties. My little breasts were almost glowing and my nipples felt like they were a foot long when Bill kissed them again. I made Bill stand up and I undid his pants as fast as I could. Both of us were getting out of control now; as soon as I had pulled his pants down, he pulled his Jockey shorts down and I could see his thing.
His thing, his penis. You pick the words. It was long and firm, with the funny-looking bag hanging behind it. I stroked it and touched the tip. My finger came away wet. Bill’s eyes almost fell out of his head when I touched my finger to my lips to taste the salty drop that was on it. Bill was naked now, standing before me as I knelt on our quilt. I still had my panties on. I kissed Bill’s stomach and I even kissed his thing for a moment while I was playing with his bare bottom. I stroked up and down his thighs until he took my hands.
“If you keep that up a minute longer, Becky, I’m going to come on you instead of in you,” he said. His voice was deeper and hoarser than anytime we’d been necking before. You’d have to ask him about my voice; all I heard was some squeaks and squealing. Come in me? Well, yeah, that was the idea. I guess I should have been a little scared about “consequences” – sex has consequences and I know it and I knew it then – but I wasn’t thinking of them. Come in me? He had to get in me first.
I lay on the quilt. Bill knelt beside me and reached for my panties. We kind of worked against each other because we were both so eager to get them off of me. When I was naked, Bill stared at me for a while. I was staring at him too. Then he kissed me and he touched my pubic hair and my thighs. After a minute, Bill whispered, “Turn on your stomach.”
“Why?” I asked. I trusted him, but what was on his mind?
“I want to see your bottom. Your bare, beautiful bottom. And your legs.”
So I rolled onto my stomach. We were both giggling and gasping the whole time. Bill’s thing was twitching. It was weird; sometimes his thing was harder and sometimes a little softer, but it was always hard. Bill lay on his side and rubbed his thing against my leg a couple of times. I could feel another wet drop on my leg when he did that. 
“Now you go on your stomach,” I said.  I stroked his back and played with his bottom for a while and then he moaned. 
“Please, sweetie,” he said. “Please, can we do it? May I put it in you?”
He asked so sweetly, but I knew he needed to go ahead.  I rolled onto my back and pulled him on top of me.  He had a condom in the pocket of his shorts and he slipped it on. Then he knelt by my legs.
“You’re going to have to open your legs, Becky,” he said. I looked up at him. I hadn’t thought of that, exactly.  He was right, of course. I was going to… I was going to spread my legs? Yes, I was going to spread my legs! So I opened my legs about an inch. He smiled and gently used his knees to open them wide enough for some fun. I bent my legs (I’d seen pictures) and I felt my vagina open and reach up.  Bill stared again for a minute. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen a bare pussy in my life. It’s so pretty.” Then he knelt and leaned forward. He put just the tip of his thing against my …against me and wiggled it for a moment. My … okay, my vagina got really wet and I could smell it a little.  Then I pulled him against me and I got one hand down to help him get inside me.
I had a weird minute while my vagina stretched to take him in. I don’t know if he was big or not – his thing, I mean – but it felt big to me. Big and scary and fun. When he began to slip in and out of me, I got dizzy even though I was lying down. It was like playing with myself, but ten times better.
Our first time was pretty brief. Bill was holding out as best he could, but in a minute I heard a little gasp and I felt his thing inside me kind of squeezing. I didn’t come. I’d had orgasms before, on my own, and it didn’t happen during sex that time. (It would about four nights later – we kept trying things after that first night). But Bill had a good time and I did too, really. It was better than some people said it might be. Bill began stroking me with his hand after he pulled out and between us we found an orgasm for me, too.
I put my head on his shoulder and I got one hand on his thing.  We dozed off for a while, then we slipped our clothes on and went back to camp as quietly as we could. I’m sure some people figured it out.  We managed to “do it” almost every night for the rest of the camp.  And the next summer, when we were counselors at a kids’ camp in Maine. And the next, and the next…we got married right after we graduated and we went back to our gully for our official honeymoon. By then we knew what we were doing and Becky was conceived there…in my favorite spot in the world.