Where it happened: Home
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 6
Category: Straight
Firstly, let me explain that in all of what follows I am trying to put my feelings as a thirteen year old girl down. I’d just started my periods six months earlier and had the usual “birds and bees” talk at school and with Mum, but in the 1960’s sex wasn’t talked about as openly as it is now.
In August I went on holiday with my parents to Bridlington, a small seaside town on the East Coast of England. I started to hang out with some of the other young people that were holidaying at the same B&B. Our ages ranged from 7 years old to me. At fourteen I was one of the oldest there and expected to be sensible enough to take care of the smaller ones.
Well, on the last day of the holidays we’d been to the beach, watched some fishermen unloading their boats and then started off to explore some rock pools. Nothing much happened, one of the smaller ones fell in a rock pool and got soaked.
Later in the day we started a game of Tiggy – chasing around the sea wall, up and down the steps and so on. I was “on” and one of the older boys was trying to get away from me by running along the top of the sea wall. I followed him but lost my footing and fell head first onto the sands. I must have had my left arm outstretched as, when I landed, I felt my arm buckle under my weight. The other children stopped chasing when they heard my cry of pain and started to gather round me as I lay there cradling my arm. I started to cry.
Surprisingly it was one of the youngest boys that took charge, sat by me and started to hug me better, then helped me to stand and we walked to one of the first aid posts on the promenade. He then proceeded to take the rest of the children back to where we were staying and tell my parents, whilst I was taken off to the local hospital.
At the hospital they x-rayed me, then applied a plaster cast from just under my armpit down to the base of my fingers. Don’t forget that this was the early 1960’s. Every cast was made of plaster of Paris, took ages to set and was heavy. None of these modern lightweight multi-coloured fibre casts. By this time, Mum and Dad had turned up at the hospital and I was taken off to the B&B. I was in pain and feeling really sorry for myself. I had a 3 hour coach journey home the next day, all with an arm that was useless and sore. To cap it all, it was school on the following Monday. Eugh!!!
Fast forward now to the first day back at school. My arm was feeling less sore, just a dull ache but it hurt like hell if I knocked it, and it was a new class to start back at school. You remember what it was like if a kid broke an arm or leg and went to school with a plaster cast, everyone wanted to sign it, but you were a seven-day wonder and would soon be jostled and forgotten. I was no exception. By the end of lunch the newness was wearing thin with some of my classmates.
One boy, Trevor, seemed different though. He’d help me with my books, carried my satchel and opened the doors for me. I’d seen him around the previous year but he had been painfully shy. Now his true colours were shining through. He seemed to care. We sat together for lessons whenever we could and I enjoyed being close to him. He was the first boy that I’d felt really comfortable with.
That evening we’d got some science homework and we chatted about it on the way home. I was good at science and so, as my parents would be at work until just after 6pm I asked Trevor if he’d like to do the homework at my home. It’d be company for me. He lived just two streets away and so ran home to tell his Mum what we were doing, then came back to my home.
Before we started the homework I suggested that we had a drink of orange juice and some biscuits. Between us we got them ready and sat on the settee. Trev started to ask me about my arm and how it felt to wear a cast. I explained how it’d been put on and let him feel its hard smoothness. He stroked it with such gentleness and supported its weight as if it was fine china. I felt at ease with him supporting the weight and stroking my fingers. Then I looked down. I could see that a bulge had formed in his trousers. I knew a bit about sex, that a man’s thing went all hard and he pushed it up a woman’s hole and moved it about until he squirted his seed into her to make a baby. Some of the older girls had spoken about it and said that a man wouldn’t go down again until he’d squirted his stuff out. I wondered if I was having this effect on him.
We started to do the homework and I could see the bulge in Trev’s trousers would go down, then it’d get bigger if I dragged my sling across the top of his trousers so I started to tease him by “accidentally” catching the cast across his crotch. As I expected, the bulge got bigger again. I was getting excited too and feeling a strange sensation in my stomach and between my legs.
Then Trev made a move. He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me. At least that stopped me dragging my cast across his crotch, and I rather liked the feel of him holding me and kissing me. With his free hand he started to feel down my chest. I’d just started to develop breasts and the sensation when he began to massage them with his hand was mind blowing.
“Follow me” I whispered in his ear. He followed me upstairs and into my bedroom. I knew that adults always did “it” in the bedroom. We sat on my bed and he resumed kissing me and massaging my breast through my blouse and bra.
Single handed I began to undo my blouse. Trev took the hint and began to help me, then removed his own shirt and helped me out of my skirt before removing his own trousers. We were down to our underwear. A huge bulge in his and my own felt wet. We lay down on the bed and he resumed kissing and massaging my breasts. I decided to help things on as I was enjoying this. It was something that I’d dreamed of for about six months. I’d even taken heed of the sex lessons and stolen a French Letter from Dad’s stock in the bathroom – just in case (no pill for teenagers in those days). I worked my good hand down to Trev’s underpants and began to push them down. As soon as he realised what I was doing he helped me take them off, then eased my own panties down.
When his hard cock was unrestrained it sprung up, pointing towards my hole – all 4.5 ” of it. The thought of that thing going in me was frightening. I reached over and opened the drawer by my bed and got the French Letter out. “Put it on” I ordered him. He left off kissing me and began to unroll the sheath down his hard cock. I could sense that he was trying not to squirt his seed out, then he rolled me onto my back and between us we positioned the end at the entrance to my slit. Gently, he pushed in until I winced as he touched my hymen. I smiled at him and whispered for him to go ahead. In one thrust he broke through and entered me. Tears welled into my eyes. He supported his weight on his arms until I nodded and said he could carry on.
Slowly he pumped into me, then began to pulse and squirted his sperm deep into the condom. He continued to thrust until he was almost limp. I felt my own body shudder just after he’d had his orgasm. It felt good. He withdrew his cock from me, we cleaned the sticky mess off it and disposed of the condom in a tissue, then lay in each other’s arms. He began to stroke my cast and I sensed that his cock was growing again. I moved so the I could wrap my casted hand round his shaft, and I could feel it grow to what felt as if it was twice the size it’d been when he’d taken my virginity. “You like that don’t you?” I whispered. He could only nod as he squirted another load onto my stomach.
Over the following weeks we spent lots of time with each other. Once or twice a week we’d go to my bedroom and either have sex, or get each other off, giving pleasure by hand.
Then came the big day for my cast to come off. “I’ll miss seeing you in your cast” he’d whispered the night before when we kissed goodnight.
That day Mum went with me to the hospital. The doctor examined me and they used some big shears to cut the plaster. My arm looked weedy and was covered with dead skin. It itched like hell. Then I was x-rayed and they seemed satisfied. I was told to use the sling for another week, given some exercises to and told to make another appointment. “Can I keep the cast? It’ll remind me to be careful” I asked. They put it in a bag for me and I proudly left the hospital one arm in a sling and the other clutching my old cast.
That evening Trev came round. He wanted to see me and see what I could do with my “new” arm. Gently he stroked my skin and I showed him the limited movement that I’d got in my wrist and elbow. He cared about me.
Mum and Dad went out to the cinema. I didn’t want to go as it was a horror film. “I’ll be OK with Trev. It’ll be nice to have him round,” I’d told them, knowing that we’d be alone for a good three hours as my parents went to the cinema, then had a drink in the pub before coming home with a fish supper each for me and Trev.
We sat together looking at some comics. Trev still held my arm and he’d got a huge hard on concealed under his trousers. I let my arm relax until it was resting on the mound in Trev’s trousers and began to massage him, then gently eased my way inside his trousers until I could feel his shaft in my left hand.
He eased his way out of his trousers, then I proceeded to wank him off with my once casted hand. I felt easy doing these exercises!! Much better than those given me by the hospital.
After he’d squirted his stuff on my hands we cleaned the mess up and I reached behind the settee for my bag. I gave it to Trev. “Open it” I said.
When he reached inside and took my old cast out his eyes lit up. He hugged me and gave me a kiss. “This is the best present ever” he whispered in my ear, then held it against my arm, then against his own. “Look, I wonder if it’ll fit me. We’re about the same size.”
He clipped the cast round his own arm and a big grin spread over his face. “Can I really keep it? I wondered what it’d feel like for you.” He lay, him in my arms this time lapping up the pleasure of having my attention.
Well, that’s my story of my first sex. Trev and me were together for another year and only lost touch when my parents went away for work. We had some good sex together. Whenever I see someone in a cast I always remember him, and I hope that he still thinks of me.
I’m married now and I’ve looked at my husband when he sees a lady in a cast. He seems to be attracted by them and I’m thinking of telling him about my own “adventure” when I broke my arm. I wonder if he’d like to see me in a cast?
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