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Yes, you get three updates in a single day, and one of them is a big one. You should all count yourselves as lucky bastards.
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Sara chattered excitedly for the first leg of the trip, but eventually she figured out that the drive was going to take a while and retreated into her shell. I glanced over at her and noticed she was reading the book she'd packed; a very worn, 1970's edition of The Hobbit. For an 11 year old, she was really well-read. I wondered if the book was one of Bill's originally.
"So, do you like the book better, or the movie?"
She seemed startled by the question, then softly blushed and quietly replied that the book was her favorite.
"Mine too. The movie left out some neat stuff, and added a bunch of stuff that wasn't in the book. Like, what was up with the Captain Hook goblin?"
That got her. As soon as she realized I was a fellow nerd and also well-read, she came back out of her shell and we discussed the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy; the conversation took up most of the two hour drive, so it was a good time filler.
I pulled off the highway and down the backroad, then took us off the pavement onto a dirt road that wound its way through the trees; my little car wasn't designed to go off-road, but I'd taken it up there before and the road was graded and filled every year to keep it smooth and navigable, so I knew it wouldn't be an issue. After fifteen minutes of slowly winding down the dirt lane, I pulled off at a fork, got out to open the combination lock on the cast iron gate, and swung it open with a rusty squeak. Then I drove the car through, stopped to shut and lock the gate behind me again, and continued driving until the gate and the original road had disappeared in the trees.
I parked on the road; the grass was tall and I didn't want it to touch the hot underside of my car and start a grass fire.
"Well, here we are. It's not exactly the wilderness, but it's close enough."
"Cool!"
Sara jumped out of the car and ran around exploring the immediate area while I set up the tent in a clearing next to the car. There was a ring of rocks near the tent where we had our campfires, and enough broken sticks and firewood piled nearby that I wouldn't have to go looking for any. Besides, it was warm enough we wouldn't need a fire.
"C'mon kiddo, lemme show you around now."
We then marched through the woods, I pointed out things like shredded tree bark and churned up ground that showed where wild hogs had rooted ("cool"), a pile of deer pellets ("gross"), and a few interesting plants. She collected a couple of rocks she thought were interesting and stuck a turkey feather she found in her hair, tucking it behind her ear so it would stay ("look, I'm an indian!").
We hiked, enjoyed the fall colors, spotted a porcupine munching on tree bark high up in a tree (she thought its blue eyes were amazing), and hiked up the steep hill to reach the top, following an animal trail most of the way there. Once we reached the top, we surveyed the view of the entire valley ("wow") and spotted the car and tent way below us.
"Race you to the bottom!"
And with that, we were off. I slid on some loose rocks a couple times, but kept my balance as I ran down the trail. Sara slipped, tumbled, and rolled back onto her feet and kept running; I had longer legs and took bigger strides, but she was small enough to duck under branches I had to go around and had that endless energy kids all seem to have, so she managed to stay just in front of me the whole way down.
We got back to the clearing where we left the tent, puffing and sweaty. Her hair was full of leaves and twigs, she had dirt smudged on her cheek and elbows where she'd fallen, and was pink with exertion. I was bigger, and a guy, so I was sweating even more than she was.
"Man! It's hot!"
"That's just because you ran all the way down the hill. But it is pretty warm for this time of year. C'mon, I'll show you something."
She followed along behind me, catching her breath before I did, and I showed her the path down to the pond.
It wasn't much of a pond, only a little bigger than your typical above-ground pool, but it had a wooden "dock" my dad had built years ago as a fishing platform (there were no fish in the pond, but he kept planning to stock it someday. Someday never came.), had a bottom filled with smooth, rounded rocks left over from when the valley had been a riverbed, and was fed by a clear, fresh spring.
"See? This is perfect for cooling off."
"Cool! You swim in there?"
"Yup. Don't worry about it being deep; it only comes up to my waist."
I walked down the dock and she started to follow, the froze with a panicked look.
"I didn't bring a swimsuit."
Shit. That's what I'd forgotten. My trunks. I was just as disappointed as she was for a moment, but then I had an idea.
Everything up to this point had been unplanned, even unintentional; even touching Sara had been spur-of-the-moment. This time, though, I had an idea and intended to take full advantage of it. If it worked.
Casually, I just shrugged and replied, "We can always go skinny-dipping."
"What's skinny-dipping?"
"You don't know what skinny-dipping is?"
"No."
"You just take your clothes off and go swimming."
"You mean- naked?"
"Well, yeah. It's what people did before swimsuits were invented. Everybody does it when they're kids, especially on summer camping trips."
That, I will admit, was deliberately intended on my part to invoke a bit of peer pressure on her, to influence her into going along with it. All the other kids who DID go camping did it; was she going to be the weird one who didn't?
"It's not like we haven't already seen each other naked before either."
Without waiting for a response, I stripped down, left my clothes on the dock, and jumped in with a big splash. The water was colder than I expected, but then it was ALWAYS cold, coming from deep underground.
Sara still stood on the dock, looking conflicted.
"Is it cold?"
"Nah, it's cool, but it's not freezing. Perfect for cooling off after that run."
She was still hesitating.
"What's wrong?"
"What if somebody sees us?"
"Like who? We're the only ones out here and there's a locked gate keeping everyone out. No one's going to see you."
She waffled a little longer, watching me swim around in the pond and splash, then she peeled her shirt off and sat down to remove her shoes.
Success.
Once naked, she ran to the end of the short dock and jumped, shouting "cannonball!" while in no way, shape, or form resembling a cannonball dive and hit the water. She popped back up like a cork, gasping, and I couldn't help laughing. Her shocked pose, the goosebumps raised on her pale white skin, her gaping mouth, and the pink nipples, erect for the first time I'd seen them, were hilarious and arousing. Mostly hilarious.
"IT'S FREEZING!"
I laughed and splashed her, calling her a sissy, and she splashed back. That started a splashing war, and she eventually discovered that she could splash more water at me by kicking than with her arms, so she anchored herself to the side of the dock with her hands, pointed herself lengthwise at me, and began kicking vigorously, churning up waves of water directed at me. I retreated out of range and she put her feet back on the bottom of the pond, resting.
Then I began humming the Jaws theme. She edged away from the dock, giggling and saying, "no, no!" as the tune got louder and I got closer and closer. I reached the crescendo and then ducked under the water.
The water was crystal clear and the sun lit it up nicely, so I could see pretty well under the water. She was standing on her tiptoes on the rocky bottom, chest deep in the water, and I had a glorious view of almost her entire naked body.
Then I lunged forward, grabbed her by the waist, and shot back to a standing position, shouting "DUN DUN DUN DUN!" as my head cleared the water and launching her into the air. She smacked into the water butt first, making an even bigger splash than when she'd jumped off the dock, and she bobbed back to the surface, giggling uncontrollably. I ducked down into the water so only my head was above the surface and began humming the Jaws theme again.
"No! No, no, no! Ah-hahaha!"
I was faster in the water than she was, and the 'shark' got her another six times before we tired of that game and played Marco Polo for a while. Eventually, we tired of chasing each other around the pond, and I announced that it was time to get out of the water. I clambered up onto the dock and helped her out of the water, and we stood there dripping.
"I don't have a towel."
"I didn't think to bring one either. We'll just stretch out on the dock and dry in the sun a while."
And I did exactly that. She joined me a moment later and we just lay there, looking up at the clouds, alternated warmed by the sun and chilled by the breeze, slowly drying. After a while, I closed my eyes and just listened to the breeze rustling through the leaves.
"Why is that part a different color?"
"Why is what a different color?" I opened my eyes again, thinking she was going to be pointing at a plant or something.
"Your penis."
I turned my head and she was laying beside me, her head raised to give her a better look at my crotch.
"Well, those are different parts of my penis. The pink part is the head, and the rest is the shaft. The head is a different color because it's a different kind of skin, kind of like how your nipples are different."
"Oh."
"Haven't they taught you about it in class?"
"Mm-mm. We don't get that until next year, I think."
I'd been hoping just to get entice her to take her clothes off to go swimming; this conversation promised to be much more interesting.
"Well, I can answer any questions you have, if you're curious," I said casually. Then, as if it were no big deal, I added, "you can go ahead and touch it again if you want."
She looked me in the eye, a flash of anxiety crossing her face, then blushed. She looked so cute when she did that.
"It's ok?"
"Sure. Go ahead."
My heart was beating faster and she rose to a sitting position, legs crossed indian-style, to give herself a closer look. I remained laying down, head supported by my arms, and tried to look as casual as possible, like it was no big deal. She licked her lips, bit her lower lip, and moved one hand to her knee and held it there. Then she raised her hand and slowly reached forward, then glanced over at my face again. I smiled and said, "Go ahead, it's ok."
She blushed a little deeper and flashed a nervous grin, then directed her gaze back to my penis.
And touched it.
She just reached out and poked the shaft, like she had the first time, and jerked her hand back, looking back to me and giggling in embarrassment. I laughed too, and then pretended to be distracted by the clouds again. Maybe she'd be a little bolder if I wasn't staring at her.
My theory proved correct; after some more hesitation, she reached out and poked it again. Then she gently picked it up in her small, soft hand, and rubbed the skin of the shaft, squeezed it, and then poked the head and squeezed it. Then she prodded and squeezed the shaft in one hand and the head in the other, as if comparing, seeing how they were different. I pretended not to be paying attention, but kept stealing glances at her every couple seconds. She never took her eyes off my penis.
"What's this part?"
She poked my scrotum. I raised my head to see better and told her what it was called.
"It's sort of a sack that my testicles are in."
"What are testicles?"
She began fondling my sack, discovered the contents, and rolled them around in her hands, fascinated. She squeezed one of them.
"Ow! Hey! Be gentle! Those are delicate!"
She looked me in the eye again and seemed to have discovered a great secret.
"Oh! Is that why boys get all hurt when they get hit in the balls?"
"Yes. In fact, those are my balls."
"I thought they were testicles."
"They are. Balls is just a nickname."
"Oh. So what are they for?"
Dammit. I was fine with filling her curiosity while she fondled me, but I wasn't planning on the whole birds-and-bees talk.
"Mmm, I'll tell you later. It's kinda complicated."
By this point, the inevitable was happening down below. Sara held my penis in her left hand and continued to roll my balls around in her right hand, utterly fascinated with the alien secrets of male genitalia. Then she noticed my dick was throbbing in her hand and turned her attention back to it.
"Is it getting bigger?"
"Yup. It's getting harder too. Feel it."
She squeezed it, then squeezed it harder when she noticed my shaft wasn't as soft and flexible as before, and poked it with her finger.
"Why is it doing that?"
"It's supposed to do that. It gets full of blood and gets bigger and harder until it reaches full size."
"But why?"
"Well, it can do that for several reasons, but mostly it does that when it feels good."
"When it feels good?"
"Mm-hm. Girls can make it feel good, so it gets bigger. That's what it's for."
"I thought it was for peeing?"
"It does that too, but mostly it's for feeling good."
She gave me a dubious look. "I don't get it."
"It's.. Ok, you know you hug someone you like? That feels good, right?"
"Yeah."
"And kissing feels good too, right?"
"I guess."
Oh. Right. She wouldn't know.
"Well, this is something girls can do for boys that feels even better."
She still looked doubtful.
"Here, I'll show you."
I sat up, grabbed her hand, and wrapped it around my shaft. Then I gently moved it up and down.
"Just like that."
"Like this?"
She awkwardly jerked up and down on my penis and I corrected her. She got a rhythm going and watched her hand jerking on my shaft, enthralled.
"Is that it?"
"That's one thing you can do."
"And girls do that for boys?"
"Only for boys they like," I added replied matter-of-factly. She stopped for a moment and met my eyes, then slowly went back to her gentle jerking motion.
"And that feels good?"
"It feels really good."
It did. She might have had no idea what she was doing, but the touch of her soft hand was electric. It felt amazing. Then again, this was also the first time a girl had given me a handjob, so it had that going for it as well.
After another minute or so of jerking, she seemed to get bored with the novelty.
"Is that all you do?"
"There's other other stuff you can do, but yeah, that feels good enough to finish."
"Finish?"
"Mm-hmm. Once a boy gets hard, he has to finish, or else it makes his testicles sore and he gets really uncomfortable."
Well, blue balls WERE a real thing, if somewhat exaggerated.
"What do you mean, finish?"
"If you keep doing it long enough, it feels better and better, until finally you have an orgasm."
"What's an orgasm?"
"That's when it feels so good, it's like nothing else. It's better than anything. It feels awesome."
"Really?"
"Yep."
She looked at my penis with newfound interest and I decided to see how far I could push this.
"You wanna keep going?"
She looked thoughtful.
"It'll feel really uncomfortable if I don't, right?"
I nodded, then replied, "It's ok if you want to quit. It won't hurt my feelings."
She slowly started jerking again and built back her rhythm.
Oh man. This was so much more than I had ever hoped for when I got her to go skinny-dipping. This was amazing. This was the best weekend ever, and it was only the first day.
I leaned back down and closed my eyes, losing myself in the sensation. Eventually her arm got tired and she switched hands, her rhythm awkward at first but then building back to the same tempo. Oh, this was amazing. I opened my eyes again and watched her, all her concentration focused on jerking me off, tongue sticking out between her lips. She looked adorable and this was fucking-
I felt the tension in my balls, the tingle down my spine, and light erupted behind my eyeballs as my dick vomited in glorious orgasm. Maybe I could have described that more poetically, but that's basically how it was and how poetic can you get about an 11 year old giving you a handjob?
I grunted as semen erupted from my dick, spraying out and splattering onto the wooden dock in rapid pulses. Sara yelped and scrambled backwards.
"What was that?!"
Then she noticed a glob of semen on the back of her hand and tried to shake it off.
"Oh, gross! What IS that stuff?!"
"That's semen. The testicles make it, and it comes out when a boy has an orgasm."
"Gross! It's supposed to do that?"
"Yup. Every time."
"Ew! It's like snot, or something! Why does it do that?"
"It's... complicated. I'll explain it to you later. But most girls like it."
"Seriously?"
She was bent over the edge of the dock, scrubbing her hands in the water and giving me a nice view of her backside.
"Trust me, you'll learn as you get older. Hey! It's getting late. We should start the fire and make dinner."
Sara shook the water from her hands and reached for her clothes.
"No, don't put those back on. They're all sweaty and dirty. Just put your socks and shoes on and we'll walk back to the car to get clean clothes."
"Ok."
Putting our shoes on and gathering our clothing, we headed back to camp at a leisurely stroll. I popped open the trunk of my car and tossed my old clothes inside, then pulled out clean ones from my backpack and slowly got dressed. Being 11, it never occurred to Sara to ask me to hand her clothes and she stood there waiting her turn, scratching a mosquito bite on her arm and looking at the scenery while I admired the other view.
Wow. This was entirely beyond anything I'd been expecting. I also felt guilty as hell and considered swearing her to secrecy so she wouldn't tell someone that she'd jerked an adult off, but I thought better of it. Doing that might scare her and make her think she'd done something bad, and I didn't want to do that; partly because I didn't want her to feel like she'd done something wrong, and partly because that might kill my chances of ever getting her to do something like that again. No, better to just play it casual, like this was normal. As if there were anything normal about it.
She got dressed and then I showed her how to start a fire, which she'd never done before, and I got our dinner out. As we sat eating beside the fire, I broke the silence.
"Thank you, by the way."
"For what?"
"For... that. It felt really good. And I'm happy you finished for me. That was nice of you. Thanks."
She blushed and I reached one arm around her and gave her a hug.
Then I changed the subject and we began debating who was batter, Bilbo or Frodo.
I was still worried that I might have freaked her out or that she'd tell on me, but at the same time I was still riding my high from the dock. And this was just the first day; we had two more days out here in the woods, away from civilization's prying eyes.
The possibilities were glorious.
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