First time sex story - "Come in!" Came the muffled shout from behind the door, followed by a quieter: "yes, yes Mrs. Sloane she has just arrived.

Chris pushed open the door and walked into the hallway. There was a strange smell in the small office, it reminder her of a science laboratory at school. The hallway was dimly lit by a warm red glow, which emanated from a room ahead.

Peter's head popped around from behind another doorway: "Chris, come here, it's your mother on the phone, she want's to speak to you."

In the large room, Peter was surrounded by tripods supporting cameras and large lights. He held out the phone as Chris rounded the door.

Peter had just left school and, at age eighteen, established his own photography business. Truth-be-known it wasn't actually a business yet, but Peter had been given a start by his family in the hope that their wayward son would stop wasting his time having fun and get down to something sensible, well, at least marginally sensible.

Peter had known Chris's family since he and his family had arrived from the UK, moved to Australia as a promotion in his mother's career as an executive with IBM. Chris's brother was in the same class as him, and Peter had spent a lot of time at the Sloane house in the early times. He had spent hours teasing young Chris as he got up to no good with her brother; she would beg them to play "rough and tumble" with her, a game which would end in tears as often as in laughter, and see Chris run crying to her father for comfort.

But that was four years ago, and Chris had changed now; she had grown up. Not that Peter had noticed. He still looked upon her as the baby sister of his best friend, though not today.

The only clients he had at the moment were friends and the local free newspaper, and today Chris was to be his way of earning enough to pay for the new flash unit he had put on lay-by at his local camera store.

"She says she can't make it in time to watch." Chris hung the phone up, turning to look up at Peter. "Can you run me home when you have finished? She's cooking spaghetti, she says it's your favorite...yeuch!"

"Oh yes, you never did like it did you, the last time I saw you eat spaghetti you had more down your dress than in your mouth!" Peter reached out and carelessly flicked Chris's fringe aside, smiling as he turned to his camera and popped open the back to check for film.

He didn't notice the flicker of excitement pass over Chris's pretty features.

He had touched her! Her tummy began to squirm as her mind wove its dreams around the latest news: she was to be alone with him; Peter, the person she had secretly loved for two years now, the person she had been so naughty with in her dreams, those dreams she enjoyed so much as she lay quiet and warm and alone before going to sleep.

"Right, let's go!" Peter's words shook Chris out of her day-dreaming and she turned to him, blushing slightly. "Now, your mum wants some portraits for you passport; you're going on a school excursion to Bali are you? Half your luck! She said that you had a dress or something for the other shots to send to her mother."

Chris held up a carrier bag.

"Well go on, what are you waiting for, put it on, time is money you know." He turned again to shift the tripod, but turned back when he heard no movement. "What are you waiting for?"

Chris stood silently, her eyes cast down slightly and her hands nervously crumpling the top of the paper bag.

"Oh yes, I get it, your too old to change in front of me now aren't you, pah! OK, go on, the toilet is down the hall." He chuckled at her as she left the room.

Chris shut the toilet door behind her, and undid her school uniform, letting it fall to the stained linoleum floor. Pausing, as if daring herself, she looked behind her at the door to check that it was locked, and then flipped the catch of her little bra.

Chris loved wearing the tiny garment. It made her feel strange and important. The cotton lace slid over her budding breasts, and she felt a wave of excitement pass through her as she bared herself to the small grubby room. Her hands slid up and covered the firm mounds briefly, and then she slipped one hand deftly into her white cotton panties, her fingers knew just where to go to produce those delicious butterflies...

"Come on Chris!" Peter's voice from outside the room made her jump. She blushed again, and hurriedly slipped on the pretty floral dress which her mother had insisted so forcefully she take with her to school.

"OK, sit on that stool, "he said to her as she appeared around the studio door, "and no smiling! These are official photos!" Peter chuckled at his own joke. "Right...Chris, not so glum, this is a passport photo, not a mug shot!"

Cerchick! The camera made a loud, important sound and the flash left stars in Chris's eyes. Cerchick!

"Right, that's that. Now I've just got to change film for the full length shots. Move that stool out of the way Chris, I won't be two ticks." Peter left the untidy studio and shut the door of the red lit room.

---

Chris stood in the middle of the portrait space; the only clean and neat area in the room. The warm flood lights bathed her in a golden hue as she stood; feet slightly apart, her toes inward pointing in their sensible brown leather shoes. White socks covered her calves and ended below her knees; grubby from school, and the hem of her pretty frock lay demurely against her thighs just above them.

Chris's face was tilted slightly floor-wards, lip tucked gently between pearly white teeth. Her arms rested by her sides, naillbitten fingers splayed lightly against her thighs at the hip.

The top of Chris's dress was bunched up, the soft collar lay against the bottom of her rib-cage. Chris's small breasts were naked, their small rosy pink nipples, pert and engorged; tightened by her heart which threatened to burst from her body so hard was it beating. She was dizzy with the intoxication of it all as adrenaline and other, more potent potions of desire coursed through her veins.

It was the first time she had felt this alive, the first time her body had taken the reins from her mind and left her helpless in its headlong rush to fulfill its purpose and redress its chemical balance, neutralize the burning of cocktail of passion, with sweet floods of the release, which she knew nothing of, but craved instinctively.

Chris had bared herself for him and now awaited his tender mercy, her wide-open eyes watching nervously the closed door of the darkroom.. Time stood still.

"OK, let's get this show on the road." Peter's voice preceded him as the door handle turned and the red glow spilled into the studio again. " I just want you to... what the!"

Peter froze in his tracks, and the small black film canister he had been carrying bounced quietly on the carpet of the studio.

He stood, his mouth open and stared at Chris for what seemed like an eternity but the spell was broken.

Life came flooding back into the room along with its smells and sounds, and light and heat. The reality of Peter's exclamation dawned on Chris, forcing aside the curtains of her teenage fantasy. Chris buried her face in her hands and sobbed tears of shame and confusion as she became again the child.

Her life; balanced cruelly and delectably as it was on the knife-edge between childhood and womanhood, had turned around and stranded her; a child in a woman's world.

"No, no, don't cry!" Peter urged gently as he moved across the room. "No, it's not you, really!" He instinctively folded his arms around the little girl to comfort her. "It's just wrong, it isn't bad. You are lovely, you mustn't be ashamed of what you have done."

As the pain of her shame receded, Chris relaxed into the relief of her tears. She buried her head against Peter's muscular chest and let her arms circle is torso. She clung to him as she had done to her father in the past after a tumble from her skates or some cruel teasing by her brother, but this was different.

As she cried the woman in her was awoken again. The smell of him, the feel of him, the resonance of his kind comforting words through his chest...she pulled herself closer to Peter's body...

Peter sensed her waning grief and held her away from him. As their bodies parted, Chris slid her hands up to cover her breasts. She dropped her head in shame, large tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Chris, Chris, don't cry, you haven't done anything wrong. It is just our society, which says you shouldn't act like that, it's not your fault."

"Well it's stupid!" She sobbed out in defiance.

"Yes, it is stupid, because you are becoming a beautiful woman. I hadn't realized it, but you are stunning. You must never be ashamed of yourself for that, but it still doesn't change the law there is just..."

Peter's words stopped mid sentence as Chris slowly lowered her hands, baring her breasts for him in the most evocative and blatant way; offering her young body to him again.

The world receded once more as sensuality cloaked the room in silence and warmth, and time surrendered to the power of love and of loving.

"But I love you Peter, I have done for years, I dream of you. I....I dream of you at night..."

Chris brought her hands up and lay them on Peters shirt, just below his chest, in a display of her pleading.

"No, no, it is wrong to..."

Chris's fingers dug gently into the flesh of his torso.

"I mustn't let you..."

The young girl let her arms fall to her sides, and she shrugged slightly. Her dress slipped silently to the floor, and lay in a crumpled wreath around her feet.

"Oh Chris!" Peter lay his hands on her waist, gently, almost fearfully, reluctantly giving in to his own desire.

Peter knelt before Chris and let his hands slide onto her belly. He extended his fingers to just barely brush the taught buds of her nipples in a manner of disbelief that such a beautiful, erotic thing could be real; touching to put substance to the fantasy which was unfolding for him. Chris's movements were restrained also at first, as she brought her hands up to fondle Peter's hair, those beautiful soft brown curls that she had caressed only in her dreams. She bent and buried her face in the locks, breathing in his smell, enveloping herself with the sensations of love.

"You are beautiful..." Peter murmured as he lent forward, his tongue seeking Chris's budding of breasts. He kissed them, the nipples slipped in and out of his mouth as he slowly moved from side to side: "oh you're so beautiful, such a beautiful woman.." His hands traveled up the length of her legs, coming to rest gently on her buttocks...

"You are..." he bathed her breasts with his tongue: "you are so so beautiful..."

Peter kissed down Chris's chest, over her flat belly, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties as he did so, gently dragging them down; his lips following the receding material: "my god you are so lovely, you taste so..." he kissed: " I must taste you, oooh yessss, I must taste..."

Chris's panties slid down her thighs and over her socks. She stepped out of them, the action parting her legs slightly. She knew what was required of her, and put gentle pressure on the back of Peter's head in anticipation, in a sign of her willingness for his lips to continue their exploration of her young body.

She dreamed of fish.

Chris dreamed that she was laying in a warm pool and that a school of silver fishes were plucking and slithering between her thighs. It was a feeling unlike any other she had felt, even the gentle stroking and probing of her own fingers had not produced such a delectable sensation, or built the fire within her that warmed her now.

Peter lent back from Chris and looked up at her. She was looking down at him, her legs trembling slightly as she stood; uncomfortable but oblivious to the discomfort.

"Show me.." Chris's meaning was clear. "Show me." Her tone urged, it pleaded, it did not insist.

Peter stood, and watched Chris as he undressed. She let a small gasp escape her lips as he finally bared himself; taught and rigid, curving gracefully and shining in the soft lights.

"Oh Peter!" Chris exclaimed softly as she moved forward. She grasped and pulled herself to him, her movements were animal like as she inexpertly tried to mount her lover. She had given herself over completely to her instincts. "Oh Peter, please put it inside me, please..." He held the child back, trying to hold her away from him, but she was irrepressible in her urge to feel a man for the first time, and thrust herself toward the object of her desire.

"No wait!" Peter tried to awake the girl from her delirium: "wait! If you want me to, I will. Here, lay down." He took her gently by the arms and helped her down onto the carpet.

Chris's eyes never left Peter's, she wanted to study every expression he made as he guided her into this world she had dreamed of but never entered. She eagerly awaited his instruction.

"Lay down Chris; relax. There, that's right." He bent, and kissed lovingly between her thighs briefly, leaving in silvery trickle of saliva there. "Relax, I won't hurt you, but you must tell me if you want me to stop." His tender tone melted Chris's heart.

Peter guided himself gently between Chris's thighs. The girl let out a sigh as she felt the hardness and warmth there: "oh Peter my love...my love..."

Slowly and gently, holding his shaft and moving it from side to side to enter her, Peter let his weight rest down on Chris. She brought her knees up to let him enter her body more easily as she was consumed with the overwhelming sensations of being filled to bursting with the flesh of her lover, her first lover. The pain grew like flower within her as he stretched her, but with it came waves of pleasure like she had never known.

Chris thought she would burst, but didn't care; she felt as if she would explode, but she welcomed it. If she were to die now, she would be happy, impaled by her love, consumed by the pleasure he gave her...Chris let out a low moan.

"Are you alright? Am I hurting you?"

"No! No my love," the words would hardly leave her mouth and sounded hoarse and tight in her throat. "Make love to me, I love it....I love you..."

Pleasure built on pleasure, Chris reeled as each movement brought a new pleasure, a new pain, where would it stop... she clutched to Peter, she drew herself to him.

Chris didn't know what she was doing, the animal in her had taken over; the sexual animal, and it shook her. It rocked her whole body and consumed her mind as she convulsed: alarmed by her abandon, but not wanting it to ever stop.

Peter slid into her body further in a surge, which made Chris gasp. His body tightened under her hands. Chris opened her eyes to see him gazing down at her with an expression unlike any she had ever seen. His eyes were dark and distant, his character was absent from his features, he looked at her, but not at her; he looked at the animal she had become, and she understood now that what she saw was the animal in him. That magnificent primeval beast gazed at her through the mists of her pleasures peak; it connected with its mate, newly born in this child, and they were one; they became one, their souls combined and bodies united.

The child was now a woman.

"Chris! What lovely pictures!"

In the cozy living room, Mrs. Sloane held the photographs in one hand and the envelope in which they came in the other. "I don't think I have ever seen you look so lovely, especially in these ones." Mrs. Sloane put down the head-and-shoulders portraits aside and looked at the full length photo's. "You are positively radiant. I must get Peter to make another set for me!"

Her mother put the photograph on the mantelpiece and stood back from it, regarding it admiringly. "He is good isn't he? Maybe I should have him take some pictures of me and see if he could give me the same look? What do you think?" She turned to face her daughter.

Chris smiled to herself "Yes, he is very good isn't he."

The two women's eyes met, and Chris's secret reminiscence was forgotten. Her body suddenly tingled with goose-bumps as she looked into the smile, the small animal smile which played on her mothers face.

Chris was overcome by the power of the realization which flooded through her. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes as she began to laugh, a strange laugh, a laugh which was echoed and superimposed by the sound which came from her mother as the two women melted in each other's arms in laughter and tears.