...to eat of the apple (if 14 was 28)

My heart feels like a jackhammer inside my chest. There's a roaring in my ears, a cacophony of sound that accompanies the thump, thump of the blood pounding through my head. My tongue scrapes against the roof of my mouth and I'm unable to swallow. The night is bright with a million stars. A slight breeze whispers through the trees, rustling the bushes into swaying forms. A shiver runs down my spine as I sit in the darkness waiting for her. She promised she would be here. Would she keep her promise? Has she changed her mind?

Earlier that evening as the sun slowly set, we sat together in the garden going through my homework as the two kids she was baby sitting ran around laughing and playing before being called into the house by their mother. Left alone in the gathering gloom, sitting close to each other, there is a mixture of awkwardness and reckless exhilaration between us. The mounting urgency has been simmering for weeks - the casual touches, the furtive glances, and the spark of electricity about two days ago when her breasts casually grazed against me. I remember well the breathless heat that prickled my skin as I caught a flash of her thighs between the slit of her dress. Now as the soft glow of the house lights throw long shadows in to the garden, my heart racing so fast that I’m afraid I may pass out from the strain, I take a deep breath and place my hand on her exposed thigh.

Her breathing deepens instantly. The swell of her breast brushes lightly against my arm. Her skin feels silky smooth and my fingers tingle. Shaking with fear and heightened anticipation, I start to move my hand upwards. She does not move or say a word. My breathing is as ragged as hers and it is the only sound above the constant chirp-chirp of the crickets. My hand pushes against edge of her hemline and yet she has not reacted. Holding my breath, I push my hand further up her leg, her dress folding up before the edge of my palm until...my fingers meet the resistance of her other thigh-and then her legs widen.
My heart jumps and my cock stiffens instantly. I am having difficulty breathing freely, head dizzy from the emotional overload but I keep moving my hand upwards. Finally contact. So soft, so hot, so wet. The soft prick of pubic hairs tickle the edge of my palm.

She finally moves. Her hand is on my leg now, reaching through my shorts to grasp my fully erect member, slightly wet already as the pre-cum begins to leak, smearing the tip. Softly wrapping her fingers over it, she begins to stroke me gently. We don't look at each other. My little finger is partially inside her, nervously exploring the soft spongy lips of her cunt. Nervous excitement prevents me from moving my hand any further. Her hand is hot and sweaty as she continues to fondle me. I feel my balls contracting. I think I’m going to climax.

Suddenly a voice from a window calls out for her, snapping us out of our spell. She pushes my hand away and stands up abruptly. A look of dismay washes over my face and a moan escapes my lips.

"I'll meet you here at 8", and then she is gone, beckoned inside by her evening chores leaving me almost doubled up in pain from the anti-climax.