“What are these?” Mrs Antrim asked
Chris looked. Girl’s knickers? He gasped, put his hand in his pocket, they were still there, he breathed (he hoped invisibly) a sigh of relief “Are they yours Mum?”
Now it was her turn to feel a little disconcerted. He sounded confused (it helped that he genuinely was).
“I found them under your mattress when I was changing the sheets”
Then it became clear, the party last weekend, one of the lads; yes, it had to be “I think it’s a joke, probably Nick, it’s his kind of joke”
“Hmm” she smiled, and then they both laughed. Crisis over.
Back in his room, Chris reached back into his pocket and pulled out the girl’s panties. Yes, they were quite different to the ones Mum had found. Those were, well, quite plain and really fairly large. He blushed as he remembered he’d asked if they were his mother’s, and then blushed much more when he thought of his mother wearing them. A couple of his friends had said they fancied her, and yes, he could see why. She had a good pair of tits and, “NO! Stop it!” he told himself, “She’s your Mum!”
Last week he’d had his 18th birthday party, his mum and dad had been pretty good really, they had told him he could have a party, no-one could stay over. They would stay somewhere that Saturday night and be back Sunday afternoon. Of course it worked both ways, it meant he had to have the place completely cleaned up by the afternoon when they returned. And Nosey Mrs Snagg would soon tell on him if she saw people leaving on Sunday morning. ‘Course it could be worth it to have Tiffany stay, he reasoned; but only if it was REALLY worth it.
The night of the party had been great until he’d gone into the garden and seen Jack Smythe polishing the tonsils of his, Chris’s, girlfriend. He’d watched and seen Jack’s hand slide up the back of her skirt. They’d been going out for two months and in 3 minutes Jack had got further with Tiffany than he had. Jack of course was captain of the rugby first fifteen (so Chris was not about to wade in with his fists, he’d get flattened) and Tiffany was definitely more of the cheerleader type than a geek’s girlfriend. He’d once been sitting with her and some friends and had to defend her when the conversation had gone something like :
“Battleship Potemkin is on the TV tonight, Eisenstein’s best film”
“Wow” said Tiffany “so he made films as well as inventing gravity?”
“Newton discovered gravity and you’re confusing Eisenstein with Einstein”
Yes, she probably had an IQ about half his; that wasn’t being big headed, just true. But, well, she did have a body to die for, and, geek though he was, he still had a thing for blondes (queue mental discussion on whether she was a real blonde or not, he’d never know now).
He’d opted for plan B, get royally and totally out of his skull. He went in to the kitchen and got Derek to make him a cocktail. Derek wasn’t a waiter or wine buff, he was a crazy guy who liked trying whisky, gin, white wine and anything mixtures. Chris took his out on the back step, he could just see Jack and Tiffany in the bushes, at least they were still standing up.
The house wasn’t that big, but the garden stretched away down to the fields, a marsh lay beyond. It was a lovely place. There were lots of places to go for ‘privacy’. Chris made a mental note to do a condom check tomorrow; and took another swig. “Gurrhhhh! This is foul!”
“Stop drinking and feeling sorry for yourself then” Julia sat down beside him, “she was never really your sort”
Well he knew she used him for doing her homework, but that body! He could feel his semi moving up.
Now Julia was, well she was an enigma, she was lovely (tick), blonde (tick) and very clever (feel a little threatened did he?); but nobody, to his knowledge, had got near her. She was focussed on getting to Oxford – so had he been until Tiffany, he’d let things slide a little but thought that now perhaps he’d get back on track.
“I didn’t even invite Jake”
“Be grateful he didn’t bring the whole rugby team, you’d have a job explaining why your mum’s fox fur was being fucked by that gross bear doorstop thing” Chris looked quizzical. “It’s an example, relax, the bear hasn’t had a cock nailed on yet”
“No, I mean Mum hasn’t got a fox fur”
“Jeez!” They both smiled. Now they started to chat about everything and nothing, and he sipped rather than gulped. The taste grew on him but he was now starting to be intoxicated by something else.
Chris looked up and saw a pair of feet through the bushes, horizontal now. He felt his anger rise again.
“Forget her, she’s the sort to be a bike”
“Really? She looks pretty straight to me... ?”
“No, BIKE, not DYKE! God, you are stupid!” Again they laughed, he had to admit he wasn’t entirely with it, with the way of things not academic.
As they talked she leant in to him and kissed him. He kissed back. Okay, she thought, at least Tiffany taught him how to kiss. She assumed it was her. “How did you get off with her anyway?”
“She was made fun of by Mr Chambers in class and I thought that was unfair, so I helped her with her homework”
“No! That’s too good, YOU, master geek, felt sorry for HER, one of the Pretties? She’d hate that to be known, they’re supposed to look down on everyone”
“Ah, well. Can’t help how I felt. Even geeks, umm, even we think with our dicks apparently”
Again they laughed and as they kissed, slightly open mouthed, it was her tongue that first crossed the border to his mouth. She was hot, and hot for him it seemed.
“I’ve got a special present for you” Julia murmured.
He looked at her, and, slowly, through the haze of alcohol, began to understand what she meant.
“You sure, I mean, really, on our first date? Is this a date? Are you sure?”
She looked around to make sure no-one was watching, then reached under her short skirt, pulled, and in a moment, handed him her pants.
“Now do you believe me?”
He stood up, did a tour around the house, every room probably including his was full of kissing, snogging, rutting teenagers. Yes, even his! That was Jeremy and, oh! And Michael! Well, fair enough! At least they were on, not in, the bed. He took a blanket and left again. He took her hand and walked down the garden, past the bushes. “Slag” he whispered as he passed Tiffany’s well shod feet peeking from under a laurel. Down through the vegetable patch. Good grief, someone was shagging on the lettuce! On past the spiky fruit bushes, and then what looked like a fence, but the fence was a dog leg and that was the back wall of a summer house looking out over the marsh and fields beyond, there was a door at the side. No-one would come this far.
“It was a bird hide when we moved in, Dad put in bigger windows” In the corner he lit the paraffin heater, opened the sofa into the bed it converted to, and laid out the blanket. Then he undressed and got under. Then he wondered “Did I misunderstand?”
She took off her top and bra and shoes and skirt and slid in beside him. No, he’d understood perfectly.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, be gentle with me, it’s my first time”
“It’s mine too, you’ll have to help me –”
“I mean you’ll have to help me with what you want, what I can do to make you, you know”
“Orgasm, the word you’re searching for is orgasm, and I’ll expect at least one, preferably three, give me your hand”
“No pressure then”
“Shut up and concentrate on pleasuring me”
She shifted his hand to her breasts. Breasts which he’d noticed were well formed (not over emphasised by uplift bras as he’d discovered Tiffany’s were on rare explorations of upper body work), firm, perky and in little need of support from the bra. She stroked and caressed one and he did the other. There was of course no need for foreplay for him, he was as hard as he was ever likely to be. Her nipples rose to peaks and he, unbidden, leant over to suck on the little peanuts in the centre. She moaned softly and said “that’s nice”. His mouth opened wider to take in the red ring round the centre and she arched her back as one hand started to caress further down.
Now he took more control. Looking down at her groin he took her hand and pushed it further between her legs. “Show me” he said
She smiled and began to stroke her thighs and outer lips, first soft, then hard, then slow, then faster. Each time her fingers crossed the mound above her vagina she gave an involuntary shiver of pleasure. He watched, then kissed her, then watched her again as she masturbated herself to her first orgasm. She’d never had an audience before and it was exciting and arousing and even more so when she pulled his head down to taste her.
She hadn’t realised just how sensitive she’d be after coming, she’d never tried rubbing more than once, only read about it in books. Now his tongue made her squirm in arousal and something like the intolerable touch-sensitivity of tickling. She thought “I can’t stand it”, but having put his face between her legs she could do nothing to move it away. Chris loved the taste, he loved the sensation of smooth skin, yet folded so intricately. He even enjoyed the tickle of her bush in his face. He knew he had to concentrate on her lips, her opening, the red slit of flesh inside, the clitoris. He’d seen porn magazines like any normal teenager; he knew all the anatomical detail and now he was embedded in that centre of delight. He wasn’t leaving just yet. But he had to concentrate on her body else his would explode too early.