Chapter 2

Alarmed, Anne tried to get her hands to pull his away from her, muttering - "No! Philip!" - but his lips came down on hers again, and, despite herself, she returned his kiss, and ceased her token struggle.

If anything, she was now returning his kisses more fiercely and, indeed, she could feel herself becoming completely aroused as his lips mashed against hers. She moaned softly as his hands squeezed her breasts and, when he stood back again and lifted her sweater and bra, she did nothing to stop him exposing them, naked, to his hungry gaze.

"Oh, Anne," he breathed, no longer smiling, but staring at her firm young body with undiluted admiration. Then he bent his head and his mouth closed round her left nipple, his tongue teasing it to full erection.

"Are you ready, Anne?" It was her mother's voice, and Philip leapt back from her, pulling her sweater down, guiltily. He looked over the banister.

"I'm just waiting for her to come out of the loo!" he called down the stairs, motioning, behind his back, to Anne to go back in there. Anne needed no second bidding and dashed back into the loo, to sort out her disarranged clothing and repair her make-up before emerging a minute or so later to join her parents and Clive for the homeward journey.

In the early part of the year, she had thought a lot about that encounter, sometimes with pangs of conscience, but more often, if she were honest with herself, with a thrill of pleasure. But then had come the break-up with Clive and the incident had faded from her mind, somewhat.

But now it was back with a vengeance and Anne's face was very hot as she eventually forced herself to meet Kate's level scrutiny.

"I'm sorry, Kate," she blurted out. "I think Philip had had a little too much to drink, and... and... I... " She trailed off.

"And you?" prompted Kate, gently.

"I - I really don't know," said Anne, lamely.

"I think I do," said Kate. "I think you've fancied Philip for years and when, at last, he kissed you properly - like a man, and not an 'uncle' - you responded - like a woman, not a little girl."

"But I shouldn't have," said Anne, miserably. "He's married - and you're a friend - and Clive was downstairs - and... "

"... and you forgot all of that when you felt his tongue in your mouth and his hard cock against your belly! Am I right?"

"I suppose so," muttered Anne.

"And all that proves," continued Kate, triumphantly, "is that you're as open to temptation as the rest of us!"

"But - weren't you angry when you found out?" Anne asked, hesitantly. Her companion laughed.

"How do you think I 'found out'?" she asked. "After all, no-one saw you, and you didn't tell me."

Anne looked at her in puzzlement. "Well, I assume Philip must have told you - you must have guessed something had happened and... "

"... he broke down under my relentless questioning and eventually confessed all?" Kate burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly on catching Anne's baffled expression.

"As a matter of fact," Kate said, after a few moments, "he told me as soon as you had all left. As you can imagine, he was still pretty worked up about it - after all, he's been having guilty fantasies about you for the best part of two years, and he couldn't wait to tell me what your tits felt like - and looked like, with your bra and your top pulled up to your chin!"

"Actually, he took me up to the landing and re-enacted it all, with me playing the part of you - with smaller boobs, of course - but he got my knickers off, as well! You see, Anne, fantasy and tale-telling plays a large part in our sex life. We tell each other most of what we get up to - and what we think about. It can be very exciting and, let's face it, there's only so much excitement can be derived from the same old stiff prick - or pair of tits, for that matter - after a few years."

Kate was silent for another few moments, then she went on. "Have you any idea how excited Philip will get when I tell him about Marco?"

"You won't?" said Anne, incredulously.

"Oh, yes," responded Kate, dreamily. "I'll pick my moment, of course. I'll start to tell him when we're somewhere he can't do anything about it - perhaps when we're in the car, just arriving at some friends for dinner, or a party. I'll give him enough to arouse his interest - among other things! - then feed him the odd titbit during the evening, when the opportunity arises, just to keep him on the boil."

"Then I'll make sure we bring someone back for a drink and enjoy watching Philip trying to get rid of them - then, when they've gone, he'll get a blow by blow account. It'll keep us going for hours - and for many nights after that."

"Your little escapade is discussed in great detail - and improved upon, in our imaginations - very frequently, in our bedroom, you know. Philip loves to reminisce about the moment when he pushed your bra up and your tits fell into his hands. I make sure I've got my hand on his cock when he comes to that bit - it really leaps to attention! And then he fantasises about what might have happened if you had had a few minutes more, without being interrupted..."

Her voice trailed off and she turned her face up to the sun, a smile playing round her lips. Her voice continued, dreamily.

"He thinks he might have got into your panties, you know? He shows me how he would have slid his middle finger between your lips, through all that damp fanny hair, and teased your clitoris. And, as he does it to me, he likes me to pretend to be you, and gasp a little, and protest a little, then sigh with satisfaction as it stimulates you. If I do it well, he comes all over my hand and... "

Her voice trailed away again and, in the ensuing silence, Anne could almost hear her heart, it was beating so wildly...

Anne was in a turmoil. For weeks afterwards, she had wondered what might have happened if they had had a little more time. Alone in her bed, she had imagined Philip's hand slipping under her dress and caressing her upper thighs until it reached her panties. She still did not know whether she would have - could have - stopped him, but, alone with her imagination, she did her best to convince herself it was Philip's fingers, not her own, sliding inside the leg of her panties and expertly seeking out her moist, parted lips through the damp undergrowth of her pubic hair, and gently teasing her sensitive clitoris to erection and, ultimately, a mind-shattering climax.

And, sometimes, in her mind, it was not his fingers which slid between her thighs, but the hard erection she had felt against her belly when Philip had kissed her for the second time. Her face burned as she recalled the mental image she had played with - her panties, somehow, removed, Philip's strong brown hands gripped the backs of her thighs as he lifted her up.

Then, her back supported against the wall on the landing, he lowered her, legs held apart, unerringly on to his straining penis and slid it up inside her until it could go no further. And she wrapped her legs round his waist and trapped his pulsating member inside her, feeling it grow and grow until, suddenly, he groaned and threw his head back as his seed spurted into her in long, strong jets.

The image was overpowering her, now, and the urge to slip her fingers down between her thighs to massage her twitching clitoris was almost irresistible. Deep down, Anne now knew that she would not have been able to resist Philip had his hands slid under her skirt to her panties. Surreptitiously, she moved her buttocks on the hard wooden bench, to ease the damp warm sensation between her thighs. Kate observed her movement and knew, as she had suspected from Anne's distracted attempts at conversation, that the girl's thoughts were elsewhere.

Gently, she reached across and covered Anne's hand with hers.

"I'll be able to tell him what you look like, down there, now," she whispered, a wicked smile tugging the corners of her mouth. A surge of heat assailed Anne and her face flamed, but, catching Kate's eye, she couldn't stifle an embarrassed giggle. The events of the day - and the three glasses of dry, white wine she had drunk, quickly, were having a strange effect on her, and she now felt bolder, more curious - more like a woman than ever before.

"It'll drive him mad!" Kate asserted, confidently.

"I can't imagine him preferring anyone - after you," protested Anne.

"Oh, it's not a question of better, but different - strange - new. And young, and firm, like your bottom. He loves a cheeky bottom, and I could balance a cup and saucer on yours!"

Despite herself, Anne giggled again. Clive had always raved about her bottom, but, privately, Anne was a trifle embarrassed about the way it jutted out, and always tried to avoid rolling her hips when she walked.

Again, inevitably, her mind again conjured up the image of Kate holding Philip's erect penis in her hand as Philip told her how he had unclipped Anne's bra and caressed her naked breasts in his hands.

She wanted, more than anything else, for Kate to tell her about it again - but, this time, to describe, in detail, how it felt to have her fingers around Philip's penis as it stretched and lengthened...

But Kate's mind was on other things. Draining her glass, she leaned back, looking up to the sun, and sighed reminiscently, her eyes fluttering shut, her mouth turning upwards in a lascivious smile.

"Didn't Marco have a lovely cock?" she said, dreamily, running her hands down over the front of her T-shirt and squeezing her breasts on the way down.

"I thought it was quite... frightening," replied Anne, truthfully, when she realised Kate was waiting for a comment. Kate opened her eyes and leaned forward onto the table, her eyes on Anne's.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? So dark, and thick. God, it was thick! When it started to slide inside me... " Her hands pressed down on her groin, outside her jeans, and her voice trailed off in an ecstatic moan.

"How would you like to be lifted up and lowered onto that monster, Anne? Can you imagine it? That's what Philip said he wished he'd done with you. He was describing it when he came all over my hand - how your tight cunt would grip his hard prick, and how warm and wet it would be... "

Anne swallowed, as her throat tightened. To think that Philip's fantasy had been exactly the same as hers... Again, she squirmed uncomfortably on the rough bench, as the moist dampness assailed once more.

Hesitantly, she stammered - "Is it... I mean, was Marco anything like Philip?"

Kate looked hard at her, an amused smile playing round the corner of her mouth. "You want me to describe Philip's cock, don't you?"

"No!" denied Anne, her face flaming. "No! I just wondered... "

Kate laughed, softly.

"When we get home, I'll invite you round for an evening - I know he'll be only too happy to let you have a look for yourself."

Anne shook her head, miserably.

"I'm sorry, Kate," she said. "This morning - it's left me all very confused. I can't look on it like you. I was terrified when... he started touching you and then, when your top came undone and his hands touched your breasts... I've never seen anything like that before."

Kate nodded, understandingly.

"I was frightened, too," she confessed, "and I suppose I didn't really think it would go as far as it did, but... well, the truth is, it was his hands - the roughness of them. I suppose it's the work he does, but all the surfaces of his hands were really hard and when they rasped against my skin... Well, they were so different from Philip's - and anyone else who's touched me there - well, I just melted inside. And then, when he took hold of my nipples and rolled them against these roughened fingers..."

Her voice trailed away and one of her hands slid off the table and, again, pushed hard against her groin. "It must be true what they say about a 'bit of rough'," she laughed, shakily.

"Well," said Anne, "I've only ever done it with Clive, so... "

"You're not talking about having your tits felt now, though, are you?" interrupted Kate, quickly.

"Surely Philip's not the only other one who's done that?"

"Well, no," confessed Anne, reluctantly, "but... "

"Who else?" Kate interrupted, again. "When was the first time?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," Anne lied, flustered, her cheeks flaming at the memory, but Kate was relentless.

"Rubbish!" she asserted. "Every girl remembers the first time she had her tits felt. I certainly do!"

"When was it?" Anne asked, eagerly, keen to switch the spotlight from herself.

"Oh, no!" laughed Kate. "You first! How old were you? Was it in the back row of the cinema?"

"No," muttered Anne. "It was when I was thirteen - I was staying with my aunt and uncle in Hastings and, one night, when they were out, my cousin Helen invited her boyfriend round and he brought a friend of his. They were all two years older than me, and we played some records and drank some wine, then we danced a little. I liked Helen's boyfriend, Russell - in fact, I suppose I had a bit of a crush on him. I quite liked his friend, Simon, as well, but something happened between Helen and Russell - they had a bit of an argument and I suppose I started flirting with Russell a little."

"At first, Helen tried to get her own back on Russell by flirting with Simon, but that didn't work because Simon was a bit frightened of Russell, I think, and Helen started getting a bit nasty with me for chatting up Russell. By that time, I had had too much to drink and I started backchatting Helen, although we were really very good friends and she was really like a big sister to me."

"Then suddenly she said to Russell - 'Well, you can have her if you're so keen, but don't expect her to let you do what I do!' Then she turned to Simon, who was sitting beside her on the settee, and kissed him and put his hand on her breast. Russell was absolutely livid and he grabbed me and kissed me."

"We had been dancing, so we were standing up, and he backed me against the wall, then pulled my blouse away from my skirt, at the back, and put his hand underneath it, onto the bare skin of my back. I didn't know what to do. His lips were hard against mine and his tongue was in my mouth - then I felt his erection pressing against me. I knew I should stop him, but - well, I think it was embarrassment as much as anything. I had told Helen I'd never let a boy touch me there, but I didn't think she'd tell anyone else, and... I didn't want to look like a silly young girl in front of them."

"So, I... I didn't do anything. I let Russell keep kissing me, but I didn't put my arms round him - but I didn't stop him, either, even when he undid the clips on my brassiere. I felt the last one go then, suddenly, his hands slid round my sides onto my front and he pushed up my cups and took hold of my bare breasts. He put his hands right on them, and squeezed, and his tongue pushed right to the back of my mouth."

Anne stopped, shaking at the recollection, then continued, her voice low and trembling.

"Then... then, he pulled me away from the wall and turned me round, to face Helen and Simon, with him behind me. He put my arms in a sort of half-nelson, then swept his hands up my chest, pulling my blouse and bra up to my neck, and... showed my bare breasts to the others. Then he put his hands on them, again, and said something like - 'well, she's had her tits felt now'"

"And what happened then?" asked Kate.

"Well, Russell squeezed my breasts again, then he let me go, and I ran out of the room, crying, and ran upstairs to the bedroom I was sharing with Helen. I could hear them laughing, downstairs. I got my clothes off and got into my bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept remembering standing there, with my clothes round my neck and the two of them looking at my bare breasts... " Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"And it still upsets you, doesn't it?" murmured Kate, whose eyes were also glittering brightly. Anne nodded, wordlessly, and gulped, then continued.

"You see, I wasn't... very big, then. I was a fairly late developer. But Helen had lovely big breasts, with dark round nipples. She was always walking round our bedroom, stripped to the waist, but I would never let her see... mine. She used to talk about how Russell loved to fondle her 'boobs', as she called them, and how he only liked girls with big ones. She was so proud of them!"

"One night, as I was drawing the curtains in the bedroom, I noticed the man next door take his dog out, to the bottom of his garden, and I mentioned it to Helen. She told me to leave the curtains open, then went over to the window and started taking off her clothes, with her back to it. She made me stand where I could see the man, so that I could tell her when he noticed what was happening. Well, he noticed almost immediately, and he hid behind a tree, watching. I told Helen, but she just carried on until she was down to her bra and panties."

"Then, she turned to face the window, just for a couple of seconds, then walked away to the side, where she was hidden. She told me to keep an eye on the man, then she took off her bra and walked slowly across the room, past the window, then turned and walked back. I was watching him, and I could see his face, staring up at the window."

"I couldn't see his expression, but his eyes were definitely fixed on our window. Then Helen slipped off her panties and started to walk over again. But then she lost her nerve and stopped, and I ran over and closed the curtains. We both collapsed on the bed, giggling, and she told me she had often given him 'a flash', but that was the first time she had actually had the courage to take off her bra. She said it was because I was there... "

"She sounds like a girl after my own heart," smiled Kate, wryly.

"Oh, yes!" said Anne. "I'd forgotten that!"

"Have you never 'flashed' at a boy, then, Anne?" queried Kate.

"No!" replied Anne, then "... unless... "

"Unless what?" Kate seized on her hesitation.

"Well, once, when we had a school lesson outside, sitting on the grass, I was sitting with my knees up - you know - when I realised that a few boys opposite could see up my skirt and, instead of straightening my legs and putting my knees down, I watched them trying to move around, casually, so that they could get a better view of my legs. It began to get quite exciting and, well, eventually, I let my knees drift apart a few inches, so that they could see my bare thighs, right up to my panties."

"And was that it?" asked Kate, disappointed.

"Well, yes," answered Anne. "When the bell went, we all stood up and went to our next class."

"So you never flashed your tits, then?"

"Well, Clive and I used to go out in a foursome with his friend Alex and his girlfriend, Liz, and I think Alex might have seen... something... "

"How?"

"Well, once, in the cinema, Clive undid my blouse and bra and I caught Alex - looking - but I doubt if he saw anything because Clive's hands would have been in the way. But there was another time, in Alex's car, when Alex and Liz were in the front seat and Clive and I were in the back. We often parked up on the cliffs, later on, for kissing, and so on. I didn't usually let Clive do more than kiss me when the others were there, but, one night, we had been to the pub and Alex had obviously got Liz's bra open, so I let Clive undo mine."

"I was kissing him, and he had one hand in my hair, and the other on one of my breasts, when I felt a hand on my other breast!"

"What did you do?" asked Kate, breathlessly.

"I didn't do anything," confessed Anne, in a small voice. "I was scared of causing trouble, between Clive and Alex, so I didn't do - or say - anything."

"Did you like it?" asked her companion, and Anne shivered a little.

"At the time, I was too frightened to think about whether I was enjoying it, but I do remember, when Alex's hand went away, I felt a sort of 'sense of loss' immediately before the sense of relief. But that night, in bed, at home, I pictured how it must have looked like and... it excited me."

Kate licked her lips.

"What was it that excited you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," breathed Anne. "I think it just felt so... wanton. You know, letting two boys touch my breasts - at the same time! I imagined what my parents would think if they knew what I had been up to..."

Kate commented that Anne shouldn't presume that her parents hadn't had their own little adventures, in their younger days.

"Yes," Anne agreed, "but it's difficult to imagine Mum having her bare breasts handled by two boys at once... "

"Well, she's well enough endowed up there," commented Kate. "I'd be surprised if there weren't plenty boys trying to cop a feel."

"Yes, but she wouldn't have been that kind... " Anne's voice trailed off as she realised what she was about to say might be offensive to her companion.

"You mean, you find it hard to see her screwing some foreign fisherman on the deck of his boat!" laughed Kate. "Well, maybe you're right, but don't put her on a pedestal - she's no 'goody two-shoes'. No more's your Dad!"

Anne's response surprised her. "Why? What do you know?" she asked, eagerly.

"Do you really want to know?" asked Kate.

"Oh, yes." Anne was surprised, herself, at her curiosity, but she did really want to know... "I've listened to them, you know," she went on. "They almost always have sex on a Friday night and, if their bedroom door isn't closed, I can hear quite a lot!"

"What have you heard?"

"Well, not very much of what they actually say but, sometimes, Mum's quite... noisy - and once I'm sure Dad was pretending to actually rape her, because I could hear her putting on a different voice, and pleading with him, and things... "

"Yes," agreed Kate. "Your Mum's told me they do a bit of role-play - and they fantasise about other people. Adam - your Dad - likes to pretend your Mum is your English teacher - that dark-haired Welsh one."