When I was eleven

A long time ago JamieLin answered somebody else's question of what he remembered from when he was eleven. Here's what I remember. The story is entirely true, except for a twist. Lets assume, for the sake of the story and for the sake of a deeper truth, that at eleven I was a girl.

Picture taken from here

I grew up in a rural area in northern Europe. I spent a lot of time outside, often in my older brother's tow, straying around with other kids of both sexes, climbing trees, stealing cherries and that sort of thing. I was what you call a tomboy.

The story:
We, that is my parents, my mother's cousin and her husband, their kids, myself and my little brother were at an holiday camp in Holland, similar to a camping-site only that instead of tents there were quite comfortable cottages for rent. I was eleven. As my older brother was not with us - that year he was on a boy-scout vacation, I was the oldest of us children and in charge. My parents counted on me that I would look after the younger ones. Also I decided what we would play, made the rules and attributed the roles to all. I enjoyed that very much.
There were other kids and groups of kids in the camp, too. Quite naturally, we befriended and cooperated in some games. Among them was a boy that I found really cute. He might have been a little older than me, but not much. I noted that he held a similar position in his group as I had in mine.
One day we agreed to play dodgeball, and we had to establish a rule to choose the teams, because family against family was not viable, the teams were too unequal. Normally you sort this out by a game of the type "paper/scissors/stone" or some counting-out rhymes. But he suggested something else: that we should shoot the ball away and then run after it. Who returned it first to the place would begin to choose the team-members. It was obvious to me that he made the suggestion because he was sure he would win this competition. That instigated my pride. I thought: Oh well, let's see! There might be a nice surprise for him in store! So the ball was shot off and we two ran after it. In fact he reached it first. But I wasn't to admit defeat so easily! I threw myself at him to wrestle the ball from his arms. The ball sprang off and no one followed it. Instead we two were rolling in the dust in a fight. It was not violent, but a wrestle that either of us took very seriously. I sensed his surprise when he realised that I was not an easy match and he redoubled his effort. He was panting and I felt his breath in my face. I don't know what triggered me then to do what I did. He had the upper hand, but the fight was not at all over when, out of the blue, I decided to let him win. I did not plan it, there was no conscious decision, but it was clearly a choice that I made: to cease resistance. In hindsight I imagine it was feeling his taut body, his commitment and his beauty that suddenly made me succumb to the lure of submission, so strong that it made me forget my pride. He sat on my chest, pinned my wrists with his hands on the grass over my head, and mercylessly put his knees on my upper arms. "Muscle-riding", that is called. I watched his face. As he looked up to our kid-audience I saw his expression of dedicated effort give way to the gleam of triumph. Then, for an instant our eyes met, and I turned my face away, bashfully trying to hide my extasy.
Until today I have not felt anything more intense than that moment! Was it an orgasm, my first orgasm? I am not sure if I can say so. In a way: yes. The feeling radiated from the belly, that area from beneath the navel and above the crotch, and flooded from there my body down to my toes, up into my fingertips and the roots of my hair. I have recalled this moment over and over, and my fantasizing certainly has not left my memory unchanged. But in the essence, I did not add anything to the original feeling, because there was nothing to add. Since that early moment in my life it is my quest to reencounter this experience: the overwhelming, ultimate lust of surrender!