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He visits his friend, but her father was the only one there.

I twirled a bunch of hairs round a finger and tugged gently, feeling them pull on the tender skin. I was so horny as I rubbed slowly downwards, finding the tight folds of my labia, themselves protecting the moist pink flesh inside. I knew that I needed to finish myself off, before I thought too hard about what I was doing.

Parting my legs, I let a finger slip inside my vagina. I hadn't realised how wet I was: normally I'd need to play with myself for a while to get my juices flowing, but now it had just happened. It was easy to slip a second finger inside and exciting to feel how wet my palm was getting as the juices ran out over it.

I curved my fingers up and pressed them against my soft spot, breathing in sharply as I felt myself shiver delightfully. With my other hand, I rubbed up and down over my clitoris, small and hard and half hidden in its nest of pink flesh. Looking down over the mounds of my breasts and hard nipples, I could just see the shape of my fingers sliding in and out, and could hear the gentle schlup, schlup of my fingers dipping in and out of my juicy hole.

It didn't take long. I'd masturbated enough to know what I needed to do to get myself off, and I felt my orgasm starting to build from around my clit. My fingers began to move quicker, and I held my breath as I reached the point of no return; holding off as long as I possibly, possibly could - before letting it roll over me and through me and up my body, and I had to breathe heavily to fill my lungs with oxygen again. The tingle continued, and I actually felt a second, smaller orgasm bubble through me.

My legs almost buckled under me as I got myself under control again. Now that I'd come, I felt a wave of fear and embarrassment at the possibility of discovery - quickly I pulled on my t-shirt and shorts and scuttled back to the house.

I think I probably masturbated in bed again that night; I was always playing with myself in those days! So no change there then.

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Having discovered the pleasure of being naked in the open air, I got all excited about wondering if I could take it further. Luckily, we lived right on the edge of a little English town, so it was only a few minute's walk to be out in the country, walking by a river. As you got further away from the houses and out into the fields you could be almost certain of not being disturbed, especially if you got away from the official footpaths. I was always out with my friends anyway (in the summer we sometimes used to swim in the river), so I knew the area pretty well, and where the quiet places were.

I knew that if you walked up-river past a farm you were soon well away from other people. Once I'd discovered the pleasure of masturbation, I'd sometimes find a quiet spot and play with myself; but always fully clothed, just pushing my panties out of the way under my dress, or maybe pulling my jeans down as far as my knees. Once or twice I'd had to adjust my dress quickly when I heard a sound, but I'd never actually been caught. Of course, someone might have been spying on me, but I never saw them if they were!

But I began to wonder if I could get away with taking all my clothes off. I was sure I could. I knew where there was a little steep-sided field sloping down to a hollow, sunny and secluded, and far enough off the usual paths to be as private as anywhere. So I made plans to go for a walk that way next time there was a sunny day.

Looking back on that day, it was funny how I pretended to myself that I wasn't going to do anything naughty at all. I remember setting out in one of my loose summery skirts and a matching blouse, carrying a book and a bottle of water in a bag, telling myself that I was just going to go for a walk, then sit in the sun and read all afternoon. I kidded myself that there was no reason why I shouldn't go as far as that quiet little field, and that it was a nice place to sit anyway. The grass would be clean and dry, ideal for lying down and having an afternoon nap in the sun.

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