If You're Ever In Florida Hit Me Up Maybe We...

Thad was in his last year of middle school and I was in my first year of high school. We had already gone through puberty enough at that point so that girls no longer repulsed us and our voices had already changed from the Vienna boys' choir sound to the sound that young men make when they speak. And we were naturally curious and anxious to learn about--and experience--sex for the first time. I mean, it was all around us and you could not avoid it as a topic of conversation almost daily among our peers.Our parents were typical parents; or so we thought. They loved us, provided for us, disciplined us, and taught us the basics of determining what was right and wrong. We did not notice up until what we call 'the incident' that they had never tried to teach us to make any judgments about what we were then becoming aware of as sexual things as being either right or wrong. They would answer any questions we had--and, as embarrassed as we were, we did not ask many--and they would be as. I looked, of course I looked, but my excitement then was at catching a glimpse of something forbidden. Amber was her name – I knew that because I’d overheard her talking to her friends on the bus. Her school friends, all wearing the same uniform of blue blazers, white blouses and pleated grey skirts; short grey socks and flat black shoes. The difference with Amber was that I knew she was wearing a pair of white knickers – not the ones with the polka dots, the ones with the tiny red and pink hearts. For I’d become quite the expert on little Amber’s knickers since that first fleeting glimpse.Every morning without fail, Amber came out of her house in a state of partial undress, shut and locked the front door before dropping the key back through the letterbox. Then she ambled over to the bus stop and completed dressing. Each day she fed her tie around her neck, reaching behind to fold her collar down, thrusting her teenage tits out at me in the process. Sometimes her blouse wasn’t fully.
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