But I never got my hands inside her clothes, never got to touch her breasts, never got to get closer than a thin wooly jumper away young from the forbidden fruit that beckoned me. As proud as she was to display her legs, her best assets, she was equally embarrassed by her chest, girl and her clothes stayed resolutely on. She sometimes whispered enticingly that she was wearing ‘the thong’, but I never saw nor touched her lovely arse BDSM cheeks again. My balls were permanently blue. We’d cuddle and wriggle on the bed, our hands roaming each others backs, and each time she felt my erection pressing into her for too long she’d giggle and push me away, accusing me accurately of just thinking about one thing. Then one day after teen school she brought me back to hers because she wanted some help with some ‘research’. She was all coy redhead and giggly when she asked me. We didn’t normally go to hers. We’d been going to mine after school regularly, and kissed and cuddled on my bed before dad got home, but never to hers. She let me in and led me through to the kitchen for a glass of water. Then, looking more refreshed and courageous, she led me upstairs to her room. The room was unchanged from our first kiss. She bent down and opened the bottom draw. She took out a girly magazine. Not that kind of girly magazine; I mean the kind of magazine that teenage girls subscribe to. It contained the normal tame relationship advice that young girls who read Mills and Boon and Jane Austen want to read. Alice opened it on a bookmark. She was always very organised, even this kind of ‘research’. It was an article describing how to estimate the length of the male organ from other body measurements. There was even a little outline of a man with labeled lengths and formula you could plug measurements into. The diagram of the man was missing any actual genitalia. Alice fished out tape measure and asked if she could measure me. I told her it would cost her a kiss. When I made it up to my apartment I put the dossier on redhead the dining room table, and bee lined to the shower. She had started to pull off her soaked shirt and skirt. Tim, being young the gullible idiot he was, kept his eyes closed. My orgasm burst inside of me. Her hands dropped the book and flew up to her face. As he was once again positioning himself on his knees with one leg to either side of me, beneath my tooshie, he said “I think you’re ready to be deflowered, aren’t you?”. What the girl fuck was this special teen treatment? “All three?” I asked, curious. BDSM An adult. You know I’m a guy.”