All of my friends call me Sandie but mum insists that I was christened Sandra and she sees no reason to change it. I really have no preference but I wish that mum wouldn't tell my friends what to call me. I don't take friends home too often - it can be embarrassing and as for boys, forget it! Mum would have had a fit if she suspected that I had any interest in the opposite sex.

Mum is old fashioned about some things - like discussing my periods for example. No explanations or commiserations when I started - just threw me some towels and told me to get on with it. I think bodily functions just embarrass her. Sex is a bodily function and along with menstruation and a thousand other things, does not need to be discussed. As far as she was concerned there was nothing to talk about until I was old enough to do it and it looked as if she thought that would not be for another ten years or more.

My body was developing as mum would say. What she meant was that I was growing breasts and my periods had settled down to a regular pattern. I wasn't especially pleased about either. My breasts looked okay, nicely shaped even if they were a bit small, but they were so sensitive that I could hardly bear to wear a bra some days. As for my periods, the less said about that little 'side effect' of growing up the better.

Despite mum's constant warnings about boys, there was very little I could do about my hormones, and my hormones definitely took charge when it came to boys. One boy in particular. I had fancied Danny, one of the senior boys, for weeks and when he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk with him that Saturday afternoon, I jumped at the chance. I didn't fancy walking much but I did fancy Danny.

I told mum that I was going round to Julie's house for tea. Danny understood perfectly when I told him that our date would have to be secret. He met me in the high street outside the burger place and said there was a part of the common where nobody ever went, so we wouldn't be seen together.

He could have suggested a walk on the moon. I was so excited just to be with him that I would have agreed to anything. He did most of the talking and, though most of his conversation was about motorbikes and rock singers that I'd never heard of, I agreed enthusiastically with everything that he said. That seemed to please him.

When he said we had a lot in common and that was a good sign. I agreed with that as well.

I quickly realised why nobody ever ventured onto that part of the common. The ground was so rough and full of collapsed rabbit warrens that I had difficulty in walking at all. The grass was chest high so the lumps and dips in the uneven ground were invisible traps. I stumbled a couple of times and Danny caught my arm to stop me from falling. He didn't seem to mind when I held onto his hand for support and I was more than pleased with the arrangement.

He kept asking me if I was okay. I was so happy that he was concerned about me that I said yes even though my legs were aching so much that I wanted to stop. When he suggested that we sit down and have a rest it was as if he had read my mind.

I was worried about getting my dress dirty but Danny said the grass was too dry to leave any marks. He held my hand so that I would not fall and he kept hold of it after he had sat down next to me. He asked again if I was okay and I admitted that my feet were sore and my legs were aching. He seemed so worried about me that I felt guilty for mentioning it. He made me feel better by telling me that he was used to long walks but when he had first started, he had also suffered with aching limbs.

"I'm an expert on aches and pains," he said," and I know just what you need."

Before I could move he had slipped my shoes off and was gently rubbing my feet. I tried not to giggle because he was obviously trying to help and I must admit that my feet did feel better for it.

"Just lie back and relax. You'll feel better in no time."

I was more tired than I wanted to admit to him. The sun was hot and it felt good to lie back in the cool grass and close my eyes while Danny stroked the pain from my feet. He murmured something about my calf muscles but I was drifting in a romantic dream. His hands were so gentle on my legs that it hardly felt like a massage. It was more of a soft caress that ran from my ankles to my knees and back again. I could feel my muscles relaxing and the blood tingling in my groin.

The tingling increased when Danny's hands moved past my knees and began to stroke the outer muscles on my thighs. He said that my thighs were so slim that he could almost circle them with his hands. I felt my face blush hot at the compliment but he was right - with his palms resting lightly on top of my thighs and his strong fingers caressing the outside, I could clearly feel his thumbs gliding over the soft skin of my inner thigh. The tingling in my groin seemed to increase as his thumbs slowly worked their way up the inside of my legs. It felt so good that I did not want to interrupt him but I wondered how far up my legs he intended to massage.

His hands slowly adopted a circular motion so that sometimes it was his thumbs stroking the insides of my thighs and sometimes it was his fingers. His fingers were more gentle and they reached higher than his thumbs.

He kept asking if it felt good and I had to admit that it did. The tingling sensation was no longer a vague feeling in my groin. It grew to a powerful throbbing that centred in and around my vagina. When the tip of his finger grazed the hem of my panties, he dropped any pretence that he was massaging me and I realised that in another moment he would be touching me right there between my legs. I did not believe that he would really touch me there, until I felt his fingers brush across the front of my panties. My heart pounded with sudden panic and I could not breath. I shook my head and tried to clench my thighs together but my muscles had turned to jelly.

"Not there, please - don't touch me there."......(cont)