Elsa: Part 2 of 3
U.S.C.G. Rockaway Lifeboat Station
Rockaway, New York
Summer, 1953
Elsa Schmidt had been proud of her overdeveloped breasts since they’d first become noticeable, when she was eleven, and since then had known that boys found her attractive.
It was only in the last year, though, at the start of her second year in high school, that she had let one boy unbutton her blouse, unhook her brassiere, look at, touch, kiss, and suckle her breasts… And Elsa Schmidt discovered that she enjoyed being looked at, touched, kissed and suckled.
But even so, it took another two months of that same boy’s coaxing…
“Touch me ‘there’ naked, Elsa! Please let me take it out!”
And promising…
“We won’t go no further! I promise, Elsa! We won’t!”
“No, Wayne!”
“Please, Elsa, let me take it out! It starts to hurt when you rub it through my pants that way.”
“Well, then”—although, really, she liked feeling it—“I won’t rub it any way, then!”
“No, don’t stop! It hurts more if you don’t rub it.
Elsa also liked knowing that she had the power to make Wayne come in his pants anytime she wanted to.
“Ain’t you never heard’a blue balls, baby? Look, baby, I won’t go no further! I promise you! No further!”
“Wayne, I said no!”
Then, on their very next date, “Okay, then, Let’s go steady, Elsa! You wanna go steady, don’t’ch’ya, baby?”
“Well…” Most of her girlfriends were going steady, so, “Yeah, okay.”
Then, because going steady moved a boy and girl to the next plane of their sexual relationship, she allowed Wayne to unzip his pants.
Soon all of their dates became petting sessions with her masturbating him and him masturbating her… by using a finger or the palm of his hand—under her slacks or dress—but always over her panties and, though she truly loved being masturbated, and holding him naked excited her and it never took very long for her to orgasm, too. But because she flatly refused to allow him to touch her “there” directly, within another date or two Elsa did allow and discovered that she enjoyed “dry humping” with—because she was afraid of pregnancy, and also did not like getting the crotch of her panties all wet with that sticky stuff, Elsa would allow Wayne to dry hump her—with his prophylactic-encased penis held firmly between the juncture of her thighs and pubis, over her panties, but…
“Come on, Elsa! Do it! Le’me put it in! Come on, Elsa!”
Unless ill, Elsa Schmidt went to church with her parents every Sunday, and though she had never heard a sermon denouncing dry humping, she had listened—more often than she had cared to—to sermon after sermon denouncing, among other things, “The evils of fornication!”
Because of her fear of God and out of respect for her parents, Elsa Schmidt refused to go all the way.
Because of the pressure Wayne put upon Elsa, and her refusal—though weakening resolve—to go all the way, at Elsa’s instance, the two had broken up at the end of the past school year.
***
Now, Elsa was completely taken with Mitchell’s looks, personality, and seeming total lack of egotism. In comparison to all the other boys she had ever known, in her estimation, Mitchell, at the age of nineteen, was the first “man” she had ever, in a male/female sense, personally known.
When he’d unexpectedly kissed her, she had been shocked, but what had shocked her more—more than returning the passionate kiss of this young man that she had met no more than two hours ago—was her volatile internal response, because the touch of his tongue had triggered a flow of heat that thrilled and frightened her at the same time, and caused Elsa to realize—not that she remotely missed Wayne—just how much she did miss being touched, and touching. So then wondered, with the premonition of losing the battle to retain her virginity, How will I feel when—because she knew he would—he touches me there? And, How will it feel when—because she was rather sure she would—uh, if, I touch him there? He is not a kid! He’s a man and he’s also a sailor, and if that’s not enough, he’s gotta look like some kind of’a movie star, too! Elsa also wondered, Maybe I shouldn’t’a told him I was eighteen. Maybe I should’a told him I’m really seventeen… Well, seventeen on my next birthday.
In order for their lips to make contact, at 5'5", normally Elsa would have had to stretch upward and Mitchell would either have had to stoop or bend his neck. But in salt water Elsa was near weightless so, putting his hands under her armpits, sensing the heat of her body in this tight, close contact, even through the water, lifting Elsa to his level, they kissed…
Intensified by the luxurious warmth of the gently eddying ocean, a spontaneous flame of passion transmitted from mouth to mouth, from brain to brain, from genitalia to…
“Whew!” She looked at him. “Where in the world did you ever learn to kiss like that!?”
Catching his own breath, feigning hurt feelings, “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
“Yeah,” Tightening her arm-hold about his neck, “you sure did! Rubbing her lips over his, “Do something wrong again, will you!” Entwining her fingers in his hair, she moved his face to hers.
There was a man and woman to the left and two young boys to the right, but, with no one before them…
As they kissed, leaving his left arm around her waist, stretching his right arm about the back of her knees, scooping Elsa off her feet, cradling her in his arms, Mitchell walked beyond the man and woman and boys and continued to walk outward until the water reached the lower level of his chest. Facing outward, supporting the weight of Elsa’s buoyant body with his left arm, he moved his right hand to her stomach, then, their lips still together, up to and onto the top of her bathing suit.
Taking a moment to realize that Mitchell was holding her breast, “Mitchell,” Really, she did not want to stop him, but, “really, I just met you!” Removing his hand, twisting out of his arms, the water coming to just below her chin, she stood on tiptoes on the sandy bottom.
“Elsa,” surprise showing on his face, “I thought you said you were afraid of the water?”
“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything a girl tells you.”
Surface diving, she swam about twenty feet and, treading water, waited for Mitchell to join her.
“You swim, too!” he said good-naturedly. “You lied to me!”
“Yeah, sometimes I’ve been known to do that… Race you back!”
Though a fairly strong swimmer, he could not catch her.
***
Elsa’s picnic basket contained ham and cheese, and bologna and cheese sandwiches, Oreo cookies, a banana, an apple, and a Thermos of cherry Kool-Aid, all of which she shared with Mitchell.
Speaking between bites of the ham and cheese sandwich, “You busy tonight?”
“Yeah,” she’d been waiting for him to ask. “If you call sitting around playing Monopoly with my folks busy.”
Taking another bite, “Have you seen From Here to Eternity?” washing it down with Kool-Aid.
She had, but, “I wanted to, but missed it when it came around.”
“Well, I was planning on Chinese for dinner, then going to see it, so if you want to… Or if you don’t like Chinese we can…”
“No! I love Chinese food.”
“Great! So we got a date?”
“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound too excited. “What time?”
“Oh, ’bout five, five-thirty. Okay?”
“Yeah, fine. You going to be in uniform?”
“Nah. When I go out it’s usually in civvies.”
In one way Elsa was relieved, because it was going to be hard enough to explain Mitchell to her parents without him showing up in a sailor uniform. But, on the other hand, she would like to see him in uniform, and would love to be seen with him in uniform. But, she thought, I’m gonna be here for two weeks, and if I play my cards right, him’n’me’ll be together all the time when he’s off.
The balance of the afternoon was spent on the blanket… and in the water.
Their kisses became longer, and in the water, with their bodies hidden from the eyes of those on the now-crowded beach, Elsa did allow his hand to linger on her breast and, completely impassioned by the romantic day, the tepid water, and especially Mitchell; again cradled in his arms, beyond the bathers, kissing him… being kissed by him, feeling the cool release as…
Touching the wet, cool, naked softness of Elsa’s breasts for the first time, moaning in her mouth, moving his lips, and eyes to her breasts and… in comparison to the tan of her chest, Elsa’s breasts were the whitest, largest breasts he’d ever seen—not, of course, that Mitchell Lipensky had seen a whole lot of real live breasts, and especially not counting Julie Marx, who’s breasts he hadn’t seen—and they had the darkest, the smallest… Lowering his head, he licked some brine off one breast, then hungrily drew its small, turgid, dark-brown nipple deeply into his mouth, tasting the saltiest nipple—actually the only salty nipple—he had ever tasted, and, Oh, God! it tasted so good and, “Elsa,” he said, forcing his mouth from her nipple and his eyes from her breasts, “you are so beautiful!”
I’m so beautiful! This praise coming from a man, from this man, flattered Elsa beyond comprehension. Fully aroused now, twisting out of his arms, her bathing suit top floating up to her chin, dropping into the water, wrapping her arms about his neck, crushing her nude breasts to his nude chest and her lips to his lips, unable, or unwilling to control herself, reaching downward, shoving her hand through the top of Mitchell’s bathing-suit…
Oh, God!
…. holding him, “Mmmm!” she moaned, and…
Not calculating the time, of course, this day was about one month short of two years since that wonderful night on his father’s boat with Sally. And also about one month short of two years since he’d last felt the wonderful crush of a girl’s bare breasts against his chest, or felt—Susan had, on that one occasion in her bedroom, reached beneath his pants and, momentarily, touched him, making that momentary touch the last time that Mitchell had felt—the feel of a girl’s hand on his bare penis and, “Mmmm!” he moaned back, as…
Simultaneously, each had the same thought:
I am about to get laid, and he doesn’t have a rubber!
I’m about to get fucked and don’t have a rubber!
