Intense Moments, Part Two

Hello again - like I'd predicted, this study-free time is really aiding my blogging output... So, here's another moment I remember vividly and I think might be worth a story. Here we go:

(this image courtesy of www.virgilelliot.com)

Darkness. Giggles. The rustling of bedclothes, the sounds of breathing, my own and that of six or seven other teenage kids. We're all about sixteen years old, two girls and a bunch of boys away on a weekend retreat with two grown-up "tent leaders" who've long gone to bed. It's Saturday night around midnight. The boys' bedroom has a row of six bunkbeds lined up side by side, and it is on top of this large sleeping area that we're all gathered. What with hormones flying around and everyone keen for adventure, the girls have slipped over from their room and, among much excited whispering, laughs and teasing, joined the boys in bed. I'm over on the far side of the bed, and next to me is Emily, the only one in our group who's already "going regular" with a partner. Emily is the group outsider - though of our age, she doesn't go to the same school as most of us, she lives in the poorer part of our small town and her clothes and appearance are downmarket and disheveled. There has been the odd moment of tension between her and other group members during the day and, to be honest, I think none of us boys is as excited to have her with us as we are about sweet, popular, fragrant Violet's presence near the other end of the bed. However, this is puberty and there's lots of testosterone (and some estrogen) mingling with the adrenalin in the warm, musty air above the bed. While the laughs, occasional squealing and merriment continue on Violet's side, both Emily and I are being quiet, pretending to sleep as we're clearly missing out on the exciting action. Then, a strange and unexpected thing happens: Emily, maybe on the verges of dozing off, turns on her side, her arm falling across my chest, her face suddenly close to me, locks of her bushy hair tickling my nose.

(this image courtesy of www.ftloose.org)

I'm stunned and lie rigid for several seconds, my heart thumping, unsure of what to do. On one hand, I'm repulsed and even a little scared - after all, I'm not particularly attracted to Emily and feel a teenager's fear of ridicule if the group finds out I'm "shacking up" with her. Also, there's a smell of stale smoke from her hair that is making me twitch with discomfort. But still, regardless of all this turn-off, I'm feeling urges stirring deep inside me (not to mention in my loins) that I've never felt before. Don't get me wrong - my, err, masculinity is intact and has been causing me all the trouble and awkward pleasure that accompanies my age. However, I've never been this close to a woman, this near her body, her lips before and I feel myself being pulled in by a magic that is new to me, something dark and scary, yet strangely natural. I can feel Emily's breathing make her chest rise and fall, her body heat washing over me in waves that leave my head spinning. Eventually, I find the courage to turn from lying on my back to a position facing her. Thoughts race through my mind: what am I doing? Where does this attraction come from? Can the others hear my pounding heart, the noises our movements have made? What will happen next?

(this one courtesy of www.stevenapolis.blogspot.com)

With a sigh, Emily turns a bit more and snuggles her head against my chest. I'm not sure whether she's asleep at this point, or whether she's conscious of what she's doing to me. Surely this must be intentional - how could it not be? The sound of my own pulse is booming in my ears. Without even thinking or knowing what I'm doing, my right knee, pressed lightly against her legs, begins curling upwards, my thigh thrusting gently between her legs. She gives a little; we're fully embracing now and my mind has gone into complete overload. I'm seeing fireworks and my stomach is doing funny rollercoaster motions inside me. I don't even know what I'm doing - that's what surprises me most in hindsight. This may sound stupid, but if I say that I had no idea where my leg movement was heading or why that should be related to my excitement, be assured that I'm not lying. Again, Emily sighs, this time against my chest - I feel her breast rising before the sound comes out. I'm on fire, set alight by something I've never encountered but which has taken me over before I even know it's name. Little flames are licking their way up and down my lower belly and my breathing is so rushed that I'm sure the others MUST have noticed by now and are listening. Amazingly, I'm beyond caring at this point - I want to go wherever this road takes me, and I want to go there now. I'm aware enough to notice that Emily's breath, like mine, is laboured. Then, all of a sudden, it's all over - with a jerk, Emily's head comes up, she hisses "what are you doing with your leg?" and turns away from me.

(this image courtesy of www.flickr.com, says Google)

I'm stunned, left panting in the dark with no warning, no clue of what's going on, no-one to tell me what just happened. Later in the night, Emily turns my way again, but I push her away and try to sleep. To my relief, I find out next morning that it seems nobody heard me, or "us", or whatever it was. I'm still ripped and torn with guilt - I don't know what to make of my own or Emily's behaviour, I'm repulsed at my own actions and completely befuddled as to what this all means. A talk with one of the two group leaders whom I love and respect doesn't help - maybe it's because I'm too self-conscious to go into details about how I feel. I want someone, ideally a man, to tell me what this riptide of primal instinct means, whether it's normal for someone of my age, or whether I have reason to be ashamed. Unfortunately, I fail to find understanding and come away confused and unhappy. Not a perfect start to my manhood, then (no, I didn't become a man that night, though I felt as if I had at the time - after all, it was my first real exposure to the passion of love-making). Telling you, my readers, this story, has been an interesting experience, however, and surely that makes the memory worthwhile? I hope so... (BTW, neither Emily nor Violet have been given their real names - after all, my own mother sometimes reads my posts!)