Blue Movie by Terry Southern

compare. Well, that’s how we were, Denise and I, except that I was almost a year older, and mine came first. Also I was naturally more . . . precocious in that way. In any case, by the time I was fourteen, my breasts were nice,” she involuntarily cupped her hand over one of them and looked down at it, “very nice, in fact, while Denise’s were still just beginning. Then I came back the next year—now she was fourteen—and her breasts had changed completely, they were marvelous. That was the first thing she did was show me, even though she was a little shy about it, because they were perfect —exactly the way mine had been the year before. So. That day we had our lunch here, just like this, and then we went in swimming, as we always did, not wearing anything. And that’s when it happened, when we came out of the water, and we were looking at her breasts again—and now fascinated, of course, at the way the nipples stuck out because of the cold water. We both touched them, and mine, laughing a lot and I said I’d like to see how it felt to kiss one, while it was all hard and sticking out like that. And Denise laughed and said all right, and that she would too. And we did, and it felt wonderful—I mean, her nipple in my mouth felt wonderful . . . so hard and cold from the water, yet underneath it warm and alive, and so sensitive —I could feel it getting harder and bigger as I kissed it. I think that’s how it began—the response, feeling her respond like that. And then I had this overwhelming desire to kiss her on the mouth—which we had actually done before, but never seriously—with the tongue and everything—but just sort of practicing, for how it was supposed to be with boys. But this was different—I wanted to kiss her very deeply now, and I wanted to feel those hard nipples pressed against my breasts. So I began kissing her, while we were still standing, exactly here, and caressing her—her sides and hips, and legs . . . and finally, her thing. And then I said to her I didn’t know why, but I would like to kiss it. And she said all right, and I dropped on my knees and began kissing it, her clitoris—and then we lay down, here, and kissed each other’s.” She reached out and gripped Boris’s hand. “It was so wonderful . . . so fantastic. We were delirious. Oh, we had both played with ourselves before, and maybe had something like an orgasm, a little one, but this was incredible—the way she would moan and twist, and then sob when she came. It gave me such a feeling of power, being able to affect her like that. Finally it was just me kissing her, making her come over, and over, and over . . .”
    She fell silent, toying with a blade of grass.
    Boris, resting on one elbow, studied her celebrated profile. She was considered to have the most beautiful mouth in France, where it had been immortalized in a famous toothpaste advertisement when she was sixteen, and was still used—just the full, wet, red lips, and the strong, white perfect teeth. He felt himself getting an erection. “Tell me some more,” he said softly, “I mean, did you do it all that summer?”
    “Yes, in bed at night—but we had to be careful because she couldn’t keep quiet. And then a terrible thing happened. My uncle—it was her stepfather, a gross horrible man—found out. I suppose he heard something, in our room at night, I don’t know, but then he saw us—he followed us here one day and watched. Then, that evening, he got me alone and told me he had seen. He said he would tell my parents . . . unless I let him be alone with me. I told him that I had never been with a man, that I was still virgin—but I know he didn’t believe me . . . he just kept saying he wouldn’t hurt me. I asked him how he could do it without hurting me if I was a virgin, and what if it made me pregnant—and then he said he wouldn’t make love to me, he would just embrace me, hold me close. Well, I was so frightened and confused . . . I