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NOTICE: All the standard warnings about being of age, about
being aware of your community standards apply to the
following story! Please read no further if you
are under age 18/21 -- or live in a conservative area --
or are offended by explicit sexual stories.

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This is a work of fiction and any resemblence to anyone
is strictly conicidental; all the standard disclaimers
apply to the material. This story may be posted and/or
filed in ftp storage but please give author credit as well
as reserve copyright.
       --Author: s.a.m@usa.net

[FF teen group voy solo-f]
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      HOT SUMMER NIGHTS

          By: s.a.m

Yes, it was in the summer, a hot, steamy southern
summer when I met the girl next door whose family
had recently moved from California. They seemed
exotic, different and Candice and I instantly
became inseparable. She was one year older, but
that was exactly why I liked her so much. As
the eldest of three girls, I needed a big sister,
someone in whom I could confide, ask questions
and learn all the secrets of older girls.

She was cute, taller than myself; but mainly
I remember her big brown eyes, the freckles
sprinkled across her nose, the funny smile.
We could discuss anything and everything, yet
that summer the topic was our neighborhood
friends. I was thirteen, and Candice was nearly
fifteen; we'd stroll around the block, eyeing
the rough and tumble boys who would glare at
us as if we were freaks, even though these boys
were between fourteen and sixteen. I hadn't
gotten to the stage of being "boy crazy"
and considered them to be the freaks!

However, one July afternoon, Candice told me
she had discovered a secret hideaway the
boys had in the nearby woods. Our neighborhood
was on the outskirts of town, and across the
highway the wooded pine thicket beckoned; a
field was beyond that, and often the boys
would go there to play baseball. So when
Candice told me that the boys had built a
secret place in the woods, that she'd seen
them go there, we both knew we just had to
spy on them! We could just imagine sneaking
up, carefully concealing ourselves and
snooping on the boys; it seemed an irrestible
idea to me! (I've always been too curious!)

Anyway, we planned out sneak attack for
one late afternoon -- that's the time Candice
said she'd seen them creeping into the woods,
and they stayed till almost dark. Once we were
walking through the slanted sunlight
filtering down through the thick pines,
I felt nervous and asked her what would
happen if they caught us. She laughed, said
not to worry; they were too busy to notice us.
I wondered what she meant?

The straw-littered ground had a dim, faded
path that went deeper and deeper into the
woods; the daylight was shielded in these
deep woods, and it almost began to seem
scary. I remember Candice took my hand,
telling me not to be afraid. And I trusted
her.

Finally, I could hear faint laughter,
giggling and occasional voices, sometimes
a long groaning sound that made me wonder
what the boys were up to? Candice put her
finger over her mouth, told me to be very
quiet and we practically tiptoed along,
getting closer and closer, and as we did,
I could hear strange sounds coming from
the tangled honeysuckle vines where no
light penetrated.

The boys had found a secluded spot, the
tangled, snarled honeysuckle vines providing
a hidden nest in the woods; the vines were
blooming, and the heady perfumed scent was
incredibly inviting. We crept closer, being
cautious where we stepped, Candice holding
my hand firmly. When she pointed to a slight
indentation in the vines, I followed along
eagerly, seeing how she edged herself into
this tight little place, doing just as she
did.

We held our breath, but shouldn't have
worried about being seen or heard; the boys
were far too absorbed in what they were doing.
And as Candice looked through the tangled
vines, I saw her flinch; she turned around,
tried to keep me from looking. But by then,
I was stubbornly set on seeing what was going
on in there, why those boys were making such
strange sighs, moans, groans. I wondered if
they were in pain, hurting each other?

At last, she gave up and let me look: I thought
the boys were hurting each other at first.
But then, as I watched, I realized they were
doing something I knew was wrong, yet
couldn't say exactly why I felt that way.
Sure, I was old enough to have heard about
sex, but more as a topic of curiosity and
how it happened between a man and woman.
Indeed, we girls were kept ignorant in
some ways during those days and times in
the South. Yet I instinctively knew that
the boys were doing a forbidden act as they
continued their groaning and cries of
ecstasy.

Candice told me we should leave; she said
she'd never dreamed they were doing
something like this! I couldn't move,
because the longer I watched, the more
peculiar I began to feel; my whole body was
flushed, and I thought maybe I was getting
a fever...

When she tried to pull me away, I resisted;
you see, I was fascinated by what the boys
were doing to each other, and somehow it made
me feel good, all tingly and slightly breathless.
One boy was lying in the center of a circle
on a blanket; his pants were down, and he had
a hard-on displayed proudly. The other boys,
mostly younger, were taking turns at him, doing
what he told them, sort of as a game, it seemed.

I realized that Candice had stopped protesting,
that she was behind me and we were both
mesmerized by what we were seeing...a boy
would approach, then the one lying down would
tell him to touch his hard thing, and how to
rub it, how to do it so he would groan and
groan, but stop suddenly, make the boy quit.
As I looked around the circle of boys, I
realized they had their zippers open, and a
few were fondling their own small penis, one
or two old enough for a hard-on. Every now and
then, as they watched a boy perform on the one
lying down, a boy would let out a long, awful
cry of pain, and I'd see his hand working
furiously on himself, the spurting white
jet erupting as he collapsed.

In truth, I didn't know exactly what they
were doing to each other, but I knew it
made me feel very, very excited and hot,
like I was getting sick or something. I
also felt Candice pressing against my back,
and she seemed to be swaying slightly, in a
swoon when I looked around to see her glazed
eyes staring raptly at the boys; she rubbed
against me lightly, a kind of swaying,
swinging motion that made me feel even
hotter, sweat breaking out all over my body.

When all the boys had taken turns with the
one lying down, he was still showing off his
huge, thick hard-on and stood up, taunting them,
"Yeah, no one knows how to do this right. So
I gotta do it myself, you jerks!" And his fist
clasped his penis rigidly, went faster and faster
up and down his shaft, his eyes on the other boys,
some of them now doing it too, all of them
watching as the older boy groaned, the jism
coming out in long, hot streams of juicy stuff
as several others also lost it.

Candice had me by the arm, was whispering to
come on, we'd get caught! And no telling what
they'd do to us, since we'd learned their nasty
little secret! Two of these boys were her brothers,
one older, and one younger than her. She sure
had something on them now!

Once we'd cleared out, made it safely to her
house, we went into her bedroom and shut,
locked the door. She was acting strange,
kinda keyed up and frantic, walking around
and tossing her hair back, running her
fingers through it and this made me upset,
alarmed. I asked her what was wrong, and
she kept saying, nothing. But I knew she
was hiding something from me, and I kept
pestering her to tell me...

I think that finally she just couldn't
help herself; she lay facedown on the bed,
and I hurried over, asked if she was sick,
what was wrong. By now, she had tugged her
shorts and panties down, had her hands inside
and underneath her, moving up and down, up
and down, turning her head away from me as
I sat down by her, asking repeatedly what
she was doing...

Just when I thought I couldn't stand it
anymore, started to get up off the bed,
she heaved herself upward, her butt rising
up high, then coming down flat, hard on her
hands, shuddering and whimpering little cries
into the bedcovers. I remember I felt so
strange, all tingly and anxious, upset, yet
kinda feverish, the sweat running down my
back, the tense, tight feeling between my
legs as I pressed them together making me
light-headed.

She said nothing for a long while, then
slowly she turned her face toward me,
looked up and said she was sorry. I
assured her she'd done nothing to be sorry
for, and she told me that she'd been doing
what the boys were, only it was different
for girls. I was in some kind of altered
state, really, I was edgy, tense, couldn't
sit still, squirming around beside her.

I guess she decided to take mercy on me,
and though cautious, she asked if I felt
funny. I said I did, that maybe I was
coming down with a fever. I recall her
laughing, saying, yeah it was a sickness
sometimes. And then she gently urged me
to lie facedown as she had, both of us
lying close together yet carefully apart;
she instructed me to put my hands down
inside my panties, which I did...that
heated rush going all through me as I
done what she told me, trying to find
the delicate folds of skin between my
legs, that dark, hot spot she said would
make me feel really good, would cure my
fever, my strange sickness.

I was ignorant though, and I couldn't
find the sweet, sharp place she kept
telling me would release all this pent-up
need... But she had gotten excited again,
and had her hands back inside her panties,
humping her hand slowly, slowly while trying
to instruct me. Perhaps she saw the desperation
on my flushed face, and decided to help me...
I don't know, but I don't think she wanted
to touch me down there. It was as if that was
something we couldn't do, yet I actually
asked her if she'd help me find it, help me
find the right touch...

My words sent her over the edge, and she
shoved hard into the mattress, squenching
up her ass, moaning a long, deep sound in
her throat, and somehow, seeing her do that,
my fingers found the magic button and oh,
God!, I remember that intense, searing first
touch, how I fought it, was afraid, scared
and she realized my struggle, sat up and
placed her hand lightly on my butt, almost
a caress, soothing me and saying, "Easy,
easy...it won't hurt you, it's good for
you, makes you feel real special down
there, go on, don't fight, go with it."

And I was rising higher, my butt pumping
like hers had, working harder and harder
against my fingers on that slick, secret
place where all feeling rushed, converged
and then, I cried out, afraid yet unable
to stop that overwhelming gushing rush of
climax, my legs tightening together, the
tension in my butt clenching muscles, the
first spasm fading, another weaker one
trembling through my body, that electric
sensation down there unlike anything I'd
ever felt.

When I'd collapsed from sudden weakness,
Candice apologized; she said she'd
accidently figured out how to do it,
just got all hot from catching her brothers
masturbating. She told me it was good,
nothing to be ashamed of, but that I
should not teach any other girl to do
it, and that I should never touch another
woman down there. I trusted her, and
possibly because she gave that advice,
those precautions, I never did want to
touch another girl, never felt the desire
to initiate anyone into this pleasurable
secret we shared.

Candice moved away the next winter; we never
talked about doing it, nor what we'd
witnessed in the deep southern woods.
But undoubtedly, these sensual experiences
shaped my own forbidden desires; I have
always wanted to watch a man masturbate,
or have someone secretly watch me as I
slowly, sweetly masturbate for an hour
or longer, drawing it out for myself and
the voyeur's exquisite sexual pleasure.

After learning how to masturbate, I did
it frequently. At one time, I was masturbating
at least twice a day, even if I had to hide
somewhere to have the privacy to do it. I
would slip out into the woods at my cousin's
farm, loving the memory of those boys ecstasy;
or I'd lock myself in the bathroom, do it as
fast, as quick as I could.

And to this day, I still love to pleasure
myself with prolonged daily excursions into
purely erotic intensity.

       -The End-
