Message-ID: <545eli$9704151527@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: anon584c@nyx.cs.du.edu (Uther Pendragon) Subject: {Pendragon} revised "APRIL'S FIRST.01" ( mf 1st rom ) [1/3] IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else. This material is Copyright 1997 by the author. All rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading, electronic copying, and reposting. I read alt.sex.stories.d. If you have any comments or requests, please post them in that newsgroup or E-mail me at anon584c@nyx.cs.du.edu. Please use "Pendragon" somewhere in the subject line of any posted reply. All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. # # # # APRIL'S FIRST by Uther Pendragon Part one: On March 26, 1981, her parents had been much too busy responding to her unexpectedly early appearance to consider another name, but April had seriously considered choosing another birthday. On this March 26th, however, she was turning sixteen. Waiting another ten days would have been torture. Brian, seven months older and already licensed, drove her to the state facility after school. "Right hand side," he said as she headed for the car with her learner's permit clutched in her hand. "You're a licensed driver," she replied, though she did get in the passenger's side. "It's legal." "I've been driving seven months, and your father would kill me if I let you get behind the wheel for the first time in rush-hour traffic. Quite right, too. Learn to drive, then you can practice on some country road with me in that seat." "When it's something *you* want to do, you don't care that my father would kill you." "When it's something I want to do," he pointed out, "*you* don't care that it's legal when you're sixteen." "That's hardly comparable." And she hadn't thought about *that*. She loved Brian, even if he was a little bossy. Daddy certainly would kill Brian if he suspected him of kissing April's breasts. And he would kill April if he knew that she took off her panty hose so Brian could make her feel so good down there. "It's your comparison. Anyway, save a little of your excitement for tonight. 'What was your favorite birthday gift, April?' 'The only one I care about came from the Secretary of State.' That would throw a *real* damper on your party." Which freed her mind from the labyrinth of desire- and-reluctance. Her attention switched to the simple joys of anticipated fun, anticipated attention, and anticipated gifts. "So, what are you giving me?" she asked. "Well, you know I have a rule against telling before you open the package; but this year you'll already have guessed. My gift is a ride to the State License Facility." "Liar. Tease." "I love you, Ape. That's no lie." "I love you, too. But I want to know now." And she did want to know now. She also wanted to be surprised. The good thing about Brian was that she could tease and tease to know the answer now and still be surprised. He admitted that it would be her very own postcard so that she could communicate when her parents banned the use of the phone. Then he admitted that he would give her a car to go along with her (upcoming) driver's license. When the party was in full swing, and the time came to open his gift, it really did contain a postcard, but the card had a charm bracelet taped to it to muffle the tiniest rattle. Everybody there appreciated Brian's wacky humor, which focused them on the postcard. April realized that only Brian knew what a charm bracelet meant to her. The single charm was a car. It was decent quality jewelry, hard to find in charm bracelets, actually better than the chain of her great aunt's. April's didn't yet mean as much as that one did, though. Her great aunt had shown it to her one long afternoon, a biography kept in a box. Even though Great-Aunt Amber had skipped over two stories, April had felt deeply honored at being allowed to share so much of that life. It would have been mean to tell her sister Carla about the distinction which Carla hadn't shared, so Brian was the only person that she had ever told. He had sensed what she didn't say, which was that she wanted to be able to hold her own life on her wrist one day. Brian held his breath. He was her steady, which was a temporary arrangement; the bracelet, however, was intended to hold her life. It had to be a gift from someone significant in her whole life. In that present, he was making a claim and a promise. In front of the whole crowd of their friends, in the absolute privacy of knowing that only he knew what it meant to her, he was asking whether he was that significant to her. She saw the hope and fear in his eyes, and immediately needed to kiss away the fear. The gift had nearly brought tears to her own eyes. She crossed to him and said "Thank you." She had intended a light kiss, but her emotion overcame her. She was suddenly conscious of her nipples sensitivity as they firmed against his chest. She was conscious of his erection growing against her leg as she opened her mouth to his tongue. She was conscious of her own moistness as his tongue found hers. She was belatedly conscious of the whistles of their friends. She and Brian broke the kiss to look into each other's eyes for a moment that was hundreds of times more erotic than the kiss. Love was in his eyes, and a desperate plea that she would find him worthy to be significant in her life. How could she not? She'd shared the secret with him alone. "Put it on my wrist, would you?" she said. His relief showed that he had heard the acceptance she had intended. "What was all the excitement?" her mother asked from the doorway. "Isn't this a marvelous bracelet?" April avoided. "Brian gave it to me." "Yes dear, it's lovely. Does everyone have enough to eat? I think I'll stay and see the other presents opened." She did, without hearing any more whistles. April was properly appreciative of each gift and more appreciative of her friends and their pleasure. At the end of the night Brian stood with Carla as April and her mother said goodbye to the guests at the door. Carla started to clean up the mess as the last couple left. Brian carried one load into the kitchen for her. "Two minutes," said April's mother when he got back. "It's a special day." April walked him out. "I love you," he said when the door was safely shut. "I love you, too," she responded. "More than two minutes can tell." When the porch light went out, they melted into each other. His tongue searched her mouth as his hands clasped her hips. Her hard nipples and wet crease matched the erection she could feel pressing into her. She ground her belly against it as his hand came around to her front. He reached her mound just as the lights came back on. She jumped back and grabbed his hands, but then she squeezed them tight. "We'll talk." "We'll talk," he agreed, and kissed each of her hands before freeing it. He walked a little awkwardly to his car, turned so that his groin was hidden from the house. She helped clear the worst of the mess and start the first load of dishes. "Was it all right dear?" her mother asked. "I know the Easter holidays made it difficult." "It was lovely, Mom. Really it was. The party was great, even if it was a school night. I can't blame you for that. I know that you wanted to hold it on the fifth." "I very much wanted another child, but the date wasn't critical. It was the *doctor* who said that you'd be born April Fifth. Carla was a week late. How was I to know that you'd be impatient all your life? I was surprised when you decided to be born on the 26th, not disappointed." It was an old subject, they could continue the dialogue even when they were out of earshot. Having cleaned up the first level of mess, everyone went up to bed. She was dressed for bed when she heard Carla's unique knock. She let her in and lay under the covers on one side of the bed. Carla took the invitation to sprawl on the other side before she spoke. "What happened, Sib?" They'd been referred to as "siblings" when April was eight and Carla fourteen. That led to the joint nickname and, much later, to the rule that talk under that rubric was absolutely private. "Don't be hurt?" April began. Carla nodded curtly. "Great Aunt Amber has a charm bracelet. Every charm has a story. She told me most of them back last summer when she visited. I couldn't tell you because I was afraid that you would mind that she told me and not you." "I'm not hurt. She likes you better, but you like her better than I do, too. It's not like being Mom's favorite, or Dad's, or even Gramp's." "Anyway, it was like magic. The charm's weren't expensive, but each held a story. The bracelet held her whole life. Each charm was significant; each was given her by a significant person. I told Brian the story, back then. What was nice, was he remembered and could tell that I wanted something like that. What he was asking was 'Do I think he is significant in my life?' I figure he is. He was also saying that he wanted to be." "I would think," said Carla. "You spend more time with him than at home." "You sound like Mom. Look, Sib, who was your steady when you turned sixteen?" "Hmmm? Sixteenth birthday? Joey. Remember him? Coached you in basketball sometimes." "Is he significant in your life?" "Not anymore." Carla waited for more. None came. "I see what you mean. So you think that Brian may be permanent?" "I'm sure that he is permanent. I'm sure that he's sure that we're permanent. I'm not sure that our being sure is significant. I watched you, remember?" "Was I that bad an example, April?" "Sib, you were a great example. I'm trying to be Carla. But you were in and out of love a lot." "You'll never be Carla, lucky you. Try to be April. You're in love with Brian?" "And in lust with him." "You haven't?" "Nothing has changed since we last talked. ... Except the bracelet. We still do everything else but. Does it hurt the first time?" "I did, and cried on your shoulder. And you never told. Thank you, Sib." "You've done it for me loads of times. Brian said something, though." Carla looked interested. "You're a paralegal and all. Brian wouldn't let me drive home when I got the permit." "Sib, you are an idiot. I can tell you didn't drive home, you're still alive." "Well, I pointed out that it was legal." "I don't know about that one. There might be some obligation for the licensed driver to use good judgment. Why else have him along? Want me to look it up?" "No. Brian said that other things were legal when I turned sixteen but I wasn't rushing to do them." "Not quite true. There is still 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor,' and things like that. If you told Brian 'yes' last month, and he went ahead, he would have committed a serious felony. If you say 'yes' next month, he's facing lesser laws that are unlikely to be enforced. Are you thinking of saying 'yes'? Because he should know that your age doesn't matter if you say 'no,' although there is a proof issue." "Brian's not like that. So the law is all about him, and not about me. I'm not thinking enough about saying 'yes,' if you know what I mean. Every time I'm with him, even the two minutes on the porch -- that went awfully fast, by the way. Did Mom change her mind?" "I handled the light switch. You had two and a half minutes, not counting the time before I turned it off. Anyway ..." "Anyway," April cut her off, "every time I'm with him, I really don't feel like stopping. Then I feel all scared of going on. Does it always hurt the first time?" "My first time hurt like hell. I don't know about anybody else's. I was eighteen, and I came back to cry in the arms of my thirteen-year-old little sister because there wasn't anybody else I could tell. And I went on to have several romances where it didn't cause pain, but ecstatic pleasure. Then I fell in love with my boss who is happily married to a pregnant woman who is perfectly nice to me every time she calls and whom I hate with a passion. And my little sister has had more romance in her life than I have for the last six months, and more sex, too. And I don't know if it hurt anyone else." "Look," April said, "I'm sorry about this." "No. You aren't to blame. Jeff Benton isn't to blame. Mrs. Benton isn't to blame." "And you aren't to blame. You haven't done one thing wrong." "That's because I haven't done one thing. Anyway, the law says that you weren't competent to give consent last week, but you will be next week. That's about you. That doesn't mean that you should, or even that the law permits you to have sex. What it means is that it makes a difference whether you say 'aye' or 'nay'." "And what do you think that I should say?" "'Nay.'" "Huh? My non-judgmental sister?" "That's a decision that you can change," Carla pointed out. "The other one isn't. Besides, when you want my advice, you aren't ready to take that step." She got up. "Sleep tight, Sib." April, to her own surprise, did. She and Brian didn't really talk at school, but the next day was Good Friday and school was out. Brian drove her over to the school parking lot and let her drive in low gear. In between, they talked. "The gift was sweet, but did you really mean that you want to be someone I'll remember at sixty?" she asked. "Ape, I want to be someone you *talk to* at sixty." "You scare me." He did. She was terribly frightened of saying that she felt that way, of saying that she didn't. "That isn't a proposal. It's what I want. That's what you asked, after all." And it was what he wanted, one thing he wanted. "I'm still scared," she said. "Never be afraid of me. Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. Let's try again, and this time move the wheel half as far as you think that it needs to move." Inevitably, however, they did talk more, then and Saturday. Sunday was Easter and a family day. Monday, Brian took her to the movies. Afterwards, they parked in a very secure place. For a while, they shared the back seat while they kissed and hugged. Then, she had it all -- but still needed to bend her knees too much -- while Brian knelt on the car floor beside her. He eased her jeans and panties down to her ankles but started again to kiss her mouth. His hand stroked her thigh while his tongue licked hers. She wanted his caresses, she wanted more, she wanted him to talk sweetly to her as he used to when these caresses were new. When she parted her thighs wider, he stroked up to their junction. She gasped into his mouth as he clasped her there. "I love you, Ape," he said. He did love her, and he wanted her, and he wanted to speak of his desire, but he knew that she wanted to hear of his love. He parted her lower lips and dipped his fingers into her moisture. His mouth switched to her breast. They both were silent as he licked her nipples and stroked her clitoris until she tightened in preparatory agony. He had to keep himself from rushing it. He thirsted for her response, but he ached for her fingers to bring his own. When he saw that she was about to begin, he thrust two fingers into her and sucked hard on her nipple. His thumb brushed circles over her clit and she came bucking and gasping. The tension pulsed through her like storm waves hitting shore. She loved him, she wanted him. He continued to stroke her until she collapsed. "I do love you, darling April," he said. At that moment, he loved her more than life itself. "I'll love you forever. Can't you believe that?" "I love you, too, Brian," she said. She loved him with all her heart, and she wanted him more than that. "God! I wish we had something." "I do," he said. "Do you mean that?" She had when she said it. Did she still? Yes, but she was cramped, and the clock was ticking. She started to struggle back into her clothes. He was ecstatic for one second. They were going to do it. He was going to do it. He loved her. And wanted her, and wanted some woman, and wanted desperately to be a man, and wanted to claim her as his. Then he saw what she was doing. "You didn't mean that." "I meant that. I wish we could. But not here. And we have what? Fifteen minutes to get me home." Why had she said that? Why had she said it then? Why hadn't Brian, supposedly so empathetic, understood that it was a *wish* not a promise. "You didn't have to say it if you didn't mean it." Brian was already getting behind the wheel. April got out, redid her bra, and straightened her other clothes. "I meant it when I said that I love you." "I meant it, Brian. I love you and I want to show you that I love you. A girl's first time is special. It should be a special person and a special place. You are a special person; you are important to me. But ..." "But that would have been a horrible place," Brian was already driving close to the speed limit. The evening was over. "I can live with that. I can't find you a special place with silk sheets and champagne in an ice bucket. You couldn't get out overnight even so. It's just cruel to say that you *would* do it under impossible conditions." She usually took care of Brian after he took care of her; this time she hadn't, and now it was too late. He was taking all this in quite the wrong spirit. She dreamed of walking down the aisle with Brian, why was it wrong to dream of going to bed with him? But he treated sharing that dream as if it were an attack on him. "Not impossible. Just not there. I do love you." Boys, Brian suddenly saw, spoke of love to justify sex; girls spoke of it to justify abstinence. Was he any better? Well, yes. He wanted April on a permanent basis, marriage; it was just that this permanent basis wasn't possible. "I love you, too," he said. "I wish I could just take you home. 'This is my woman, world; what do you want to do about it?' But that's a twin bed with cracks in the plaster over it. That's not special either." April had a vision of a caveman dragging her off, but Brian's possessiveness was attractive as well. "I wish that I could take you home, too; but they would never understand. I'd be more nervous about them pounding on the door than about a stranger coming by when we were back there." "My room isn't a special place, but I do have privacy until Mom gets home around six-thirty." He was desperate now. "You're serious?" she asked. "Yes, you are serious." "I'm one hundred percent serious. The question is are you?" April thought that this wasn't really the question. She was serious about this, just not certain which serious feeling to follow. She seriously loved Brian; she seriously wanted to be a woman. She seriously wanted to avoid pain; she seriously wanted to avoid being a slut. She seriously wondered whether she was ready for this; she seriously wondered if she ever would *really* be ready. If she were going to do it, she thought, this was the right time. She knew the joke about what you called people who used the rhythm method, but she wanted her timing to be safe, anyhow. She'd have her period Thursday, maybe Wednesday. She didn't want to be messy her first time, nor wait for weeks suspecting she'd caught despite everything. If she were going to do it, tomorrow was best. Lord! She was thinking of doing it. He was special, could he be any more special? Waiting for the right man made sense; waiting longer with Brian didn't. He was the right man. She hoped he was the right man. Brian had stopped thinking. The only thing in his mind was a picture of April in a bed. He drove while she sat silent beside him. She took a deep breath and said, "I'll ring your bell tomorrow after school." "Tomorrow?" he gasped. "Oh, my love. I do love ..." He slammed on the brakes and turned to face her in the unmoving car. "Tomorrow! Ape you wouldn't! Look, I know that you love April fool jokes... Between your name and your birthday, who can blame you? ... But you wouldn't play that game on me, would you? There's Brian waiting in his house, and April doesn't come, and doesn't come, and then she shows up with half a dozen girlfriends." "I wouldn't do that to you. You're special to me. I can see it. Believe me, I can see it; but this is too important to me to make a joke of it. Look, start the car will you. I have to get home. If I get grounded, I won't come over tomorrow." They made it just in time. For the first time in months, April left his car without a good-night kiss. Continued in part 2. 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