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Dear reader,

I’m originally from the Netherlands. I first wrote these stories in Dutch and first published them on a Dutch erotic story site a few years ago. Based on the feedback there, I made some changes. But honestly, the real challenge, and fun, came when I decided to rewrite them in English. Somehow, I find it easier to express myself in English, even though it’s not my native language.

It’s a mix, really. I’m not always sure how “standard” my English is. It’s shaped by TV shows, stories on Literotica, school lessons, and conversations with people from all over. So it’s a bit of everything. I do my best to keep it clear and understandable. If you’re picky about perfect English, just know this might sound a little different than you expect.

You’ll probably stumble over some Dutch words or names I didn’t fully translate. Trying to change everything to fit some neat international mold just didn’t feel right. But I don’t think it makes the stories harder to follow. What matters is the feeling, not whether you know the name of a street or a town.

Most of my stories are loosely autobiographical. I tagged this one as lesbian because that’s the path it mostly takes. But there’s straight sex in there too. Because it happened. Because it’s part of the journey. It’s a coming-of-age story.

Yes, there’s sex. Sure. But there’s also confusion and love and boy/girl/girl sex. If that’s not your thing, or if you’re looking for something light and easy, no hard feelings. Maybe this isn’t for you.

But if you want something real, raw, sometimes uncomfortable but always honest, then you’re more than welcome to read along.

NightAelf

*******

Orientation

The late eighties, early nineties were a time of change for Groningen. The city was shifting from its industrial past into a center for education and services. The nearby gas field, discovered decades earlier, powered the economy but also brought earthquakes and unrest. In 1990, the province saw its municipalities halve as towns merged and boundaries were redrawn.

I lived in a small village about eight or nine kilometers southwest of Groningen. A quiet place popular with people who loved the water and the outdoors. Every day I rode my bike to school and back, rain, wind or shine, just like a true Dutch country girl. I spoke in a broad dialect , well, it didn’t feel like dialect to me, it was just our language. I guess you could say I was a real ‘Grunneger doagwief’: plainspoken, steady on my feet, and not easily impressed.

That city of Groningen (the capital city of the provence Groningen is also called Groningen) was where I went to school, where life was louder and faster. But back then none of the darker stories had yet reached us. Between 1995 and 1997 Groningen earned a grim nickname, The murder capital of the Netherlands, after a series of shocking murders. That grim chapter came after my parents had already moved to Amsterdam so thankfully it was never something they had to worry about for me. By then I had long left that quiet village behind.

For me those days to that point were still about freedom, slow days and the space to dream. It was a time caught between old and new, innocence and the unknown.

I had just started a new program, a sort of college orientation year. I was still finding my way in that world. I still lived at home. Some of the others had already moved out, but my parents didn’t think that was a good idea. It was only an eight-kilometer bike ride, after all. Living at home saved money, and in their eyes, I was supposed to be thinking about my future.

The orientation year was meant to help you figure things out. Most of us in that class had no real idea what we wanted to do. But we’d all done well in school. I’d finished VWO, the highest level of Dutch secondary education, but I still had no clue where I belonged. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. Just that I hadn’t found it yet.

I was a late bloomer. By the time I got my first boyfriend, I was eighteen. Most of my friends had already been through one, maybe two. But I didn’t really mind. I had other things to do, other interests that kept me busy. I liked my life the way it was.

Truth was, I wasn’t really into boys. Not into kissing either. Not into much of anything beyond reading in my room with the music turned up just right. I’d only just figured out how to touch myself without feeling weird about it. But I wanted to fit in. I wanted to not feel like the last one on the list. So I asked Jerald, sweet, quiet Jerald, the guy in class I spent most of my time with, if maybe, just maybe, we could be a thing.

He looked like I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. Happy surprise, the kind you don’t see coming but hope for anyway.

Having a boyfriend felt nice. Maybe not because I was head over heels in love, but because it opened doors. It taught me things. Gave me a sense of belonging, finally. Or maybe that’s just what I told myself. tokat escort I still wonder, was it really about him, or about what came with it?

My mom joked that my friends changed boyfriends more often than they changed socks. She liked that I was more chill about it all. Honestly half the time I forgot I had a boyfriend. I didn’t act any different, just kept hanging out, laughing, pretending I knew what I was doing.

At school breaks my friends and I would hover near the boys who always tried to sneak a bit closer. I’d get these weird butterflies when I saw Marley’s boyfriend kissing her or touching her arm. Jerald liked standing behind me wrapping his arms around my waist. When his fingers brushed mine just barely it felt like a secret.

What I didn’t know then was how much boys actually thought about sex. It’s biology really. They’re like little pressure cookers ticking away. Jerald? Same story.

Jerald still lived at home, just like I did. But he lived in the city, which somehow made it all feel more exciting. Not that it was any closer to school, but still, the city had a kind of buzz our quiet village never did.

We had freedom, sure, but there were still rules. His bedroom door had to stay open a little when we were studying or just hanging out. His mom’s way of keeping tabs, without saying too much. The days moved slowly, but that quiet gave space to all the awkward, lovely feelings that come with growing up.

Jerald’s mom had one of those cordless phones. You could wander around the house but go too far from the base station and the call would drop. She could talk for hours usually with her sister or friends filling the house with endless chatter. When the battery finally died she’d grumble like it was a personal betrayal.

Jerald preferred coming over to my place anyway. Out here outside the city the rules were looser. We’d go for walks and no one was watching too closely. It was just easy.

One afternoon we were studying at his place. By then we’d been together for over six months, and Jerald’s mom trusted us enough to leave us alone most of the time.

He was stretched out on his bed and I had my head resting on his legs. We quizzed each other, half serious, half messing around. He teased me about cheating on a question, so I rolled over and looked up at him.

When I did, he jumped a little.

“Did that hurt?” I asked worried I’d done something wrong.

“No,” he said fast. “You just startled me.”

I was lying there with my head on his legs watching what was happening in his jeans. Slowly almost shyly I slid my fingers over him, just very soft and light. A gentle press more to feel what was going on than anything else.

Then I glanced up a little and I saw him tilt his head looking at me. Our eyes met and in that moment it was like we both wondered what now are we going to take this a little further.

There was something almost magical in that silent question between us.

“Can I see?” I asked my voice barely more than a whisper shy but hopeful.

He nodded shyly and loosened his jeans and underwear. He didn’t pull his manhood all the way out but let it rest on his stomach. I stared wide-eyed, not really knowing what to expect but definitely surprised

“Is it always like this?” I asked.

He blinked a little shocked. “You’ve never seen one before?”

I shook my head. “You’re the first,” I said. “And honestly I think it’s pretty impressive.”

A little flutter kicked at my stomach, maybe excitement, maybe nerves. Studying had drifted far from our minds.

I didn’t grab him, not really. I just let my fingertips explore, featherlight, tracing over the skin with more curiosity than confidence. My head was close, so close I could see every little movement and the way his body responded to my touch. My breath moved over him without meaning to and I felt the warmth of it bounce back at me.

His breathing changed suddenly, sharp and uneven. Before I could even think what that meant, something warm spilled across my fingers and up along his stomach.

“Oh god sorry!” Jerald gasped grabbing a tissue.

He looked at me with a flushed face, eyes wide and a little scared. Not panicked, but vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“That was… I mean… That was the first time someone else ever touched me,” he said, voice low and uneven.

I nodded slowly, still watching him, not really sure what to say. It didn’t feel like a big deal to me, not in a bad way at least. I wasn’t shocked or grossed out. Just curious. Fascinated, even.

There was some of it still on him, warm and sticky. I ran a finger through it, lightly, almost experimentally, and looked at it like I was inspecting something I didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, the texture a little strange, maybe even a bit gross, but also kind of interesting in its own right.

He watched me, holding his breath.

I looked up at him and smiled. “Weird,” yozgat escort I said softly. “But… kind of cool.”

I wasn’t embarrassed at all. Just curious, and maybe a little amazed. There were butterflies in my stomach, and I told him so, half-laughing, half unsure. He smiled faintly, his cheeks still red, and looked at me like he was trying to find the right words.

“Do you… want me to touch you too?” he asked. His voice was soft, not cocky, just nervous. Hopeful.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I reached down and slowly undid the button of my jeans. My hands trembled a little. Then I shifted, crawling up so our faces were more level. I could still see the mess on his stomach, the half-crumpled tissue lying awkwardly beside him. Neither of us really knew what to do with it.

We didn’t look each other in the eye. Not really. It was too much. Too close.

I took his hand gently and guided it to my hip. I let it rest there for a moment, then slid it a little lower. When I felt his fingers move, I pressed my lips together and closed my eyes.

He moved carefully, slowly, sliding his hand beneath the waistband. His touch was tentative, like he was afraid he’d do it wrong or scare me off. I could feel how wet I was, and apparently so could he, because he paused.

“Is that… normal?” he whispered. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Yeah. Didn’t you know?”

He blushed even deeper. “I read something about it once. In a booklet or something.” We both giggled. Because what else do you do when you’re young and half-dressed and the whole thing is both weird and exciting?

He kept going, more confident now, and something in me started to build. I placed my hand over his, still tucked inside my jeans, and pressed down to guide him. The friction made me gasp. My hips shifted without thinking, chasing the feeling.I closed my eyes and let it happen, that slow, inevitable rise I had only discovered a year earlier myself. The waves grew quietly inside me, building and curling and folding in, until I couldn’t hold them back anymore.

I came, quiet and trembling, barely making a sound.

Afterwards we lay still for a moment, breathing softly. Jerald reached for another tissue and wiped his hand. The one from earlier still clung to his side, forgotten.

From downstairs, we heard his mother’s voice rising, grumbling that the cordless phone had died again.

Jerald sighed. “She’ll be up soon.”

My interest in sex didn’t creep up slowly. It hit me like a jolt, electric and raw. I couldn’t stop thinking about his cock, about the way his fingers felt inside my jeans, the way he made me squirm. But no matter how much I fantasized about Jerald’s hands or mouth, it was always Marley’s face that popped into my head, confusing, thrilling, and utterly puzzling all at once

Marley wasn’t my best friend. She wasn’t even especially popular. But Marley was Marley. She could talk to anyone, float between groups like she didn’t need permission. People liked her, or at least acted like they did. They also talked about her, constantly. Whispered things in the hallways, said she was easy, or weird, or both. No one ever asked her anything, just assumed and passed it on.

And I… I watched her. Not directly. Not ever fully. She was always just there, hovering in my peripheral vision. In the corner of my eye, in the back of my thoughts. I never really looked at her, but somehow, she was always in view. I wanted to be closer, to know her better. And at the same time, I was terrified. Because the feelings I had around Marley didn’t fit into anything I understood.

Being near her made something shift inside me. Like a little flicker I didn’t know what to do with. And when I lay with Jerald, skin on skin, fingers brushing in the dark, it wasn’t Jerald’s eyes I saw in my mind. It was Marley’s.

The exam week went surprisingly well. Even biology, the one Jerald and I had been quizzing each other for, felt easier than expected. Just before the test started, I looked over at him and he shot me a cheeky wink. That little flutter in my stomach had nothing to do with nerves.

All that was left after those exams were the career aptitude tests and a handful of short internships at different companies, none of which made me feel any closer to knowing what I wanted.

Jerald and I barely had any time alone, but whenever we did he’d whisper things in my ear, how he’d been thinking about me and my pussy, how he wanted to get closer next time, how he wanted to lick me. His voice was always low and careful, like he was testing the waters, wondering how far he could go without scaring me off.

Sometimes I’d whisper back, watching him squirm when he grabbed his backpack to hide what was clearly a very distracted cock. Other times, when he whispered something a little too bold in my ear, he’d reach for a tissue and hand it to me with a smirk. “Here,” he’d say zonguldak escort under his breath, “thought you might need this… you looked a bit flushed.” His way of teasing, because he knew exactly what he was doing, giving me a ‘girl boner’, as we jokingly started to call it.

It was this clumsy, funny dance, full of half-whispers, awkward glances and secret touches. We were still learning what was allowed and what felt good, feeling out each other’s bodies with more curiosity than experience. Every kiss, every fumble, every pause to giggle or gasp felt like discovering a new country, one mapless and thrilling.

And that discovering didn’t stop at touching. Back then, before smartphones and Google and all the answers just one click away, you had to be a bit creative. Sometimes I’d sneak into the library and flip through books on sex, never daring to check them out, of course. Just standing there between the shelves, heart racing, scanning the diagrams and paragraphs like they held the secrets of the universe.

At home, we had a full encyclopedia set, those old-school brick-sized volumes lined up perfectly in the living room. My parents had one on astronomy, one on famous wars, and, yes, one on love and sexuality. My parents never said we weren’t allowed to read it, but it was the kind of silence that meant don’t even think about it.

Jerald and I, of course, thought about it.

Whenever my mother was distracted, folding laundry, on the phone, or just not looking, I’d quietly pull it out, and Jerald and I would crouch over it, flipping through the stiff, glossy pages. The drawings were clinical, sure, but they made us feel like we were getting away with something big.

The school year was nearly over and for the first time we were going to experience a big school party. Because the school was so large, first year students were expected to help out by joining committees. It felt like the start of something new, a chance to break out of the quiet little bubble we had been floating in for years. Safe, predictable, boring.

Suddenly there was glitter in the air. Tension too. Something was shifting, even if we couldn’t name it yet. People started looking at each other differently in the hallways. Some of us cared more about what we wore than what we learned. It was as if the future had cracked the door open just enough to let the wind in, and we all turned our heads. Maybe nothing would really change. But it felt like it could.

Some committees were about the party itself, like organizing the bar, the BBQ, or cleaning duties. Others helped with the overall setup and coordination. Jerald and I weren’t looking to stress, so we quickly signed up for cleaning duty. The upside was that we’d have access to classrooms and rooms usually off-limits that night.

Most couples in our group, especially the boys, suddenly saw the party as the perfect chance to finally get some privacy. Jerald and I had already made a deal, he’d be the one to take my virginity that night. Not because it was some big romantic milestone in my mind, but mostly just to get it over with. We’d talked about it, laughed about it, and figured: why not?

The night of the party couldn’t come soon enough, and we were both relieved when the last week of school finally started. During one of the final breaks Jerald whispered in my ear, “I bought a pack of condoms yesterday.” I pressed my backside firmly against him and rubbed against his erection. I found it all terribly exciting.

The other girls in our group were nervous too. Some had been with boys before, but for a few of us, it was the very first time.

The boys talked tough about how often they’d get to go and how good they were. Jerald whispered with a chuckle, “Only Jaco has actually slept with a girl. The others are just full of shit.” I loved that Jerald shared that secret with me.

They decided to divide the classrooms so the right key would get to the right couple on time. There was a lot of guessing about who would get which spot until Jerald said, “Let’s just draw straws.”

Not everyone was happy. Marley, who was dating Jaco, had already claimed the best spot for herself. At first the classrooms were split up, but eventually the gym, a separate building next to the school, had to be shared between two couples. Nobody wanted the gym.

Jerald was the first to pick a straw. Sure enough, he got the gym. The other boys laughed and slapped him on the back. One by one they breathed a sigh of relief that they didn’t have to share the gym.

Then it was Jaco’s turn. “Damn it,” he shouted. “Marley, I guess I’ll have to take you to the gym.”

Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad that we were in the gym after all. Marley would be there too.

The day of the party was loud and chaotic. Classes let out at half past twelve, and the committees sprang into action. Our job was sweeping the auditorium, the hallways, and the school grounds. Trash cans had to be placed everywhere, benches dragged out of the gym.

I’ve always been pretty strong, so Jerald and I teamed up to handle the heavy lifting. Just before hauling out the last bench, I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his. His hands found my waist instantly, pulling me in, pressed hard against the growing bulge in his pants.

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