Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, First, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Despite the difference in their ages a widower finds love with his young neighbour, Elizabeth. After his death, she in turn finds happiness with a young man, Robert, who she meets when she knocks him off his motor-bike. When she knows she is dying she grooms a replacement. But Sarah is young and there are many problems in the restrictive English university of the 1970's where he is her tutor. Will Robert and Sarah find happiness? The matter is in doubt right up to the end.
A Saturday in September - [Andrew]
The party at my neighbours was getting to the point where I felt excluded and bored. There were a great many young people there and their uninhibited conduct, fuelled by alcohol and illegal substances frustrated me. Most of the people in my age group were talking kids or television or work. I had work to do at home next door, so I decided to sneak out through the end of the garden. I could say thanks to my hostess, Mary later.
The bottom end of the garden was quiet - it was rather neglected and a bit of a push to get to, but there was a gap in the hedge at the bottom that let me through into my own garden. I was moving quietly. Since I was sneaking out, it would have been embarrassing if Mary had spotted me. I stood for a moment, looking over the hedge at my house, reflecting that it needed painting, but that the garden looked pretty good, when I noticed a heap of rags behind a bush at the bottom of my garden. I pushed through and went to tidy up the windblown - what? My mind froze as I got near. It was a body, wasn't it? I pushed under the bush and knelt in shock and confusion. The body stirred and then began a panicked scramble into the further recesses of the bush. It was a girl - it was Elizabeth, my neighbour's daughter, wasn't it? I hardly recognised her - she was bloodstained and filthy, her hair disarrayed and her face a silent scream of terror. She couldn't get further into the bush and fell down, scrabbling at the floor.
"No!" she shouted, "leave me alone. No... No" I realised she couldn't see me against the light.
"Elizabeth", I said, "is that you? It's me Andrew". I'd hoped to reassure her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. She collapsed on her front and began sobbing.
"Go away! Leave me alone" her voice was muffled but audible.
I'd known Elizabeth for the last eight years, first as a neighbour's twelve-year old child and then as a girl in her own right. She'd been good friends with my wife - they'd walked dogs together and been interested in gardening and a friend to me too - but with an edge - after all I wasn't unsusceptible, despite the difference in our ages. My wife and I had marvelled at the way she had grown into a stunning beauty - fortunately not taking after either of her parents. She was one of those girls who stopped conversation when she entered a room. But at the moment, there was little sign of those good looks. And she'd been around a lot since Barbara died - being kind - helping me to come to terms with loss and loneliness.
"Come on" I coaxed, "come up to the house". The sobbing was now snivelling. Her party dress was crumpled up and I couldn't help admiring her thighs, even in torn tights. Torn tights? What had been going on?
"Elizabeth, Its no good just snivelling" I said, "Come on out and do something about it".
She'd always been a practical and self-possessed girl, so I hoped that hard words might help. There was no way I could get her out of that bush other than dragging her by the ankle.
"Oh you shit!" I heard her say with some relief. At least she could be angry with me.
She rolled onto hands and knees and crawled out. She looked up at me and I knelt beside her. Her anger dissolved into tears. I tentatively put my hand round her shoulders and she looked at me, the epitome of misery. She rolled over to sit against me and said, "Go away" again, but not very resolutely.
I stood up, bent and put an arm under her thighs and another round her shoulders. As I straightened, I thought, "This is where I slip a disk and look a real fool". I stood holding her, getting my balance, because she was no nymph and I'm no Hercules. She saw me grimace and her face crumpled in a parody of a smile.
"How's your hernia?" she said in a feeble attempt at a joke, but then her face crumpled again and she pressed her face against my shirt. She put an arm round my neck and I could feel her body heaving as she sobbed. I carried her slowly up to the house and into the kitchen. She had to open the door, but at least she had stopped crying for now. I put her down and sat her in a chair beside the kitchen table. Ginger the cat leapt up onto the table and purred at her. She feebly raised a hand to stroke the cat and that set her off crying again. Now her hands were shaking and she wrapped her arms round herself and began to rock as she sobbed. She was in shock I thought, startled. What had happened? This was no time to quiz her. There was a woollen blanket over the settee next door. I got it and wrapped it round her shoulders, tucking it round her legs. Booze or tea for shock, I wondered?
There was some whisky next door and I fetched some, mixed it with hot water and a spoonful of honey. I put it on the table for her and she tried to pick it up. Her hand was shaking so much that she had to abandon the attempt. She looked up at me hopelessly. I put my arm round her shoulders and held the glass for her to drink. I was shocked to see that her lips were split and beginning to swell and that her left eye was turning puffy. She sipped the drink, coughed and sipped some more. Her face was smeared with blood from her nose, which had been bleeding. That accounted for the state of her dress. She sipped some more from the glass and followed my gaze to her bloody dress.
"Shit! Shit!" she said, "That was new"
"Let's try a rescue job then" I replied and put the glass down. "Cold water and biological-detergent. Worth a whirl?" She looked interested for a moment and then slumped with weariness and despair.
"What does it matter?" she muttered.
"Well, for one thing, it's a pretty dress" I said, "Come on." Her fingers fumbled feebly at the buttons, but fluttered away. It fastened down the front, so I started at the top and she held her arms out of the way. I tried to avoid looking at her bosom as I undid the top. She was wearing a rather flimsy brassiere that showed her nipples. In fact it left little to the imagination. "What the Hell", I thought; I'd just have a peek at her breasts. They were perfect, or they would have been, except for a big bruise on the top of her left breast. She had been hit hard enough to break the skin, for there was a graze. She was sitting with her eyes closed, waiting for me to finish, so I unbuttoned down to her waist. I fumbled the belt undone and unbuttoned the skirt. It fell apart and she was sitting practically naked in front of me. Her tights were badly torn exposing her thighs and her minimal lacy knickers had been ripped so they covered very little. There were two fist-shaped bruises on her belly and her thighs were bruised and scratched. Despite my shock at the signs of the beating she had received, I was startled to realise that despite the red hair that normally hung like a bell on her shoulders, she had luxuriant black pubic hair that escaped from her knickers and covered the inside of her thighs.
"Oops a daisy" I said, pulling her gently up by the hands. I pushed the blanket and dress off her shoulders and then wrapped the blanket back round her and sat her down again. I offered her the whisky again and she managed to hold if for herself. The glass rattled against her teeth, but she finished it. I put the dress in the sink, ran cold water and read the directions on the detergent packet. I doubled the quantities and stirred it around. When I looked back at her and she was weeping again, huddled in the blanket. I went across and hugged her very gently. She leaned her head against me and her face crumpled in another paroxysm of crying. I stroked her hair for a while until she stopped shuddering. I went up to the bathroom, turned on the heater and ran a bath. A hunt round the cupboards revealed some foam bath salts that had been there since my wife died. I went back and found her hunched miserably where I had left her. I took her hand and on impulse examined the nails. Those on her right hand were broken and there was dried blood beneath them.
She looked at me bleakly, but I only said "Can you walk upstairs to the bathroom? I'd hate to drop you".
"I think so" she said and I helped her to her feet. She could hardly walk and I had to hold her tight as we went upstairs, my arm round her waist. We went into the bathroom and she looked helplessly at me.
"Will you undress me please Andrew?" she begged, "I don't think I've got the strength." The blanket dropped off her shoulders as she held out her arms in supplication, or what? Offering? Despite her damaged state, or possibly because of it, I was suddenly aroused. Undressing her didn't make things any better, but she didn't seem to care. I stood behind her to unfasten her bra and noticed finger marks on her upper arms where she had been held tightly enough to bruise. The bra came off and she let the straps slide down her arms. I stood beside her and hooked my fingers in the waistband of her tights. It was impossible to avoid sliding my fingers down her buttocks and I thought I felt her press herself against my hand. I gathered the remains of her knickers and pulled them down with her tights. I knelt in front of her to get them down her thighs and her calves. Oh! Those legs were perfect, or would have been if it hadn't been for the bruises and scratches. She staggered as she raised her leg to let me take the tights off and I grabbed her to stop her falling. My hand went round one thigh onto the back of the other and my thumb pressed hard up into her groin. Her weight was on me and I couldn't move. She got her balance and I removed my thumb. She looked at me and grinned.
"Whoops!" she said. I gulped and removed her foot from that leg of the tights. She put her hand on my head to keep her balance while I did the other leg, acutely conscious of her bush, level with my eyes. She had freckles on her tummy! I stood up, conscious also of my erect penis pushing against the front of my trousers. I held her hand while she stepped stiffly into the bath. She groaned as she sat down and the hot water soaked her bruises and scratches.
"Right." I said, "Another drink?" She nodded.
"Do you want a doctor?" I asked, but she shook her head and sighed.
"No, you seem to be the doctor I need. Thank you" I got up and she said, "Don't leave me".
"Only for a minute" I told her and went and got her another drink - just whisky and water this time - and a beer for myself. She had her eyes closed when I came back. The foam had subsided a bit and her breasts were floating visibly, the nipples soft and pink above the water. She opened her eyes and looked at me appraising? Speculating? I couldn't understand her look. Her eyes were green, I decided, grey-green, the left one beginning to close. She took the drink and sipped.
"Do you want me to wash your hair?" I asked. She put her dripping hand out in a gesture of gratitude. I knelt beside her and shampooed her gently, removing bits of twig and leaf from her sojourn in the bush. I carefully wiped her face, removing blood and dirt and washing her ears.
"It's like being a little girl again" she said, "it's years since I had my ears washed."
"H'm" I said, "not so very like a little girl", looking at her nipples floating near my hand. She paddled some foam over them playfully.
"You're very kind" she said and closed her eyes again. I rinsed her hair and found a towel to turban it. I sat on the edge of the bath with a nail file and reached over for her right hand. The foam was going and her body was tantalisingly visible beneath the slightly grubby water. Her breasts were soft spheres, with small pink aureoles and nipples. Her legs were parted a little and I thought I could just see the lips of her labia among her amazing bush. I held her small soft hand and did what I could to repair her broken nails.
"Best I can do. " I sighed, putting the hand back on her tummy and taking the other one. "I hope he gets blood poisoning. Joseph?" She nodded and sighed.
"Yes" she said, "Bloody Joseph. Bloody me. Oh shit!" And she began to cry again. The tears streamed down her face as she lay there. She pulled her hand away and sat up to fling her arms round me, almost pulling me into the bath. I held her naked body as she wailed and shook. I could feel her breasts pressed against me.
"Oh God", she said, varying the epithet, "It's all a mess. What am I going to do?" About what, I wondered, but just held her while she sobbed. She let go of me and sank back into the water, sniffing and hiccoughing. I ran some more hot water for her and she took another gulp of whisky.
"Now you're all wet" she said waving a hand at my shirt.
"Never mind, I'll dry. Give me your hand" She put her hand out and I took it.
"Where's the nail file?" We both peered into the water.
"Down here somewhere, I think" she said and reached between her legs. As she parted them to fish for the file, her vulva parted bright pink from the heat of the water. It was startling among that mat of black pubic hair lying sleekly with the wet. Was she teasing me deliberately I wondered. She gave me the file and lay back. Her left hand wasn't so bad, thought the nails were now too soft to do a very neat job. A right-handed scratcher, I thought.
"Talk about it?" I suggested gently, raising my eyebrows.
"I suppose so," she said, dully. She lay in silence for a long time and I kept hold of her hand. Eventually, she began to speak quietly, not looking at me.
"There's not much to talk about," she said. "I encouraged Joseph, you know." She was embarrassed, but then decided not hold back.
"I unzipped him while no-one was looking and touched him." She giggled.
"I think he was shocked because I'd always resisted before. Anyway I did intend to let him..." She hesitated, carefully choosing her next word. "... fuck me."
"Well, I think I meant to. Anyway, I took him down the garden - you know how secret it is down there. I think it might have been all right, but he was so - urgent - rough. He mauled me and I froze. I couldn't think and he was so strong."
I could vouch for that. He was built like a wrestler. An arrogant bastard I'd always thought, never understanding what Elizabeth saw in him. I was no wiser now.
"He tried to rape me" she continued, "and I thought he was going to succeed. You know, I didn't want to scream because it would have been embarrassing. God, the things that go through your mind at times of crisis!" She was contemptuous of herself and looked at me philosophically for a moment before looking away again.
"I scratched him and he hit me. I panicked, because he really hit me. Hard. I honestly thought he was going to kill me. Then I bit his nose and went for his eyes with my fingernails." She laughed a little wry laugh.
"I think that scared him. His face was bleeding, but I think I missed his eyes. He pushed me so hard, I went through the hedge. I just lay there waiting for him. I couldn't have raised a finger. He could have done what he wanted. But he didn't come after me. I've no idea why not and I don't know where he went. He must have gone out into the lane - his car was there. He wouldn't have wanted anyone to see him." She was silent for a long time.
"I crawled under that bush and just lay there. I think I was half-asleep. I never heard you coming. Thought it was him coming back. God, you gave me a fright." She was crying again and brushed at the tears impatiently.
"I can't stop crying," she said and then more pensively, "I wonder why we cry. What good does it do? I'm in shock I suppose."
"What do you want to do?" I asked, "about Joseph?"
"Nothing. Bloody nothing, nothing, nothing! It was my own fault - at least partly. I mustn't let David know. He'd probably go after Joseph and get himself beaten up or arrested or something."
David was her brother and had even less love for Joseph than I did. We sat in silence for a while and her eyes closed. I stirred the water.
"Come on, Elizabeth" I said, "the water's getting cold and you're going all wrinkled. Can you wash your other bits for yourself."
She pouted and said, "I was enjoying being washed. You've no idea how comforting it is to be looked after. Won't you finish me off, please." My ghast was thoroughly flabbered by this outrageous suggestion and I flared angrily.
"Elizabeth! No wonder you get yourself nearly raped! What do you think I feel?"
Mistake. I knew it as soon as I said it. I saw the hurt look crumple her face and the tears start and then a blaze of anger.
"You rat-bag! You..." she paused, half sitting up in the bath, her breasts bristling with rage. I was fascinated to see that her nipples had erected. She gathered herself and sat up to face me.
"How dare you think I'd do this with anyone. I mean..." she hesitated, her anger suddenly dying as she realised what she was saying, then trailed off
"... I feel safe with you." We looked at each other. What was going on in her head, I wondered?
As lightly as I could, I said, "You mean I'm so old that I couldn't possibly be a threat to women any more. By the way, do your nipples always stick up when you're mad?" She looked down, giggled and slid back under the water. Phew! Things back to where we were, I thought, but was I supposed to wash her? She made that clear by reaching for the cloth and passing it to me and then sitting up. I began soaping her back and shoulders.
"You know," she said, raising an arm for me to soap it, "you're the only person who calls me 'Elizabeth'. I hate being called 'Lizzie', but it seems to be stuck."
Her armpits were unshaven, the hair soft and silky and nearly the same colour as her hair. I washed her other arm and then there was nothing left above the water to wash except her breasts. I began soaping them with the cloth, but she said "Ouch. That's too rough. Use your hand."
Oh well. And I began to gently rub her breasts.
"Do tits turn you on?" she asked, conversationally and then added, "When I said I felt 'safe' with you, I didn't mean 'safe' exactly." I was mystified and stopped rubbing her breasts.
"They're clean now, " she said, "my breasts, I mean. Do they turn you on?" She raised a leg out of the water and I started nervously at the foot end, trying to keep my eyes off the inside of her thigh. I had to clear my throat before I could answer her question.
"Well, only as part of the package, so to speak. A tit on its own would be rather dull" Best I could manage in the circumstances.
"Good!" she said, " men are always mauling them and it doesn't do anything for me. Its nice to know that it doesn't do anything for you either." I forbore to point out that I hadn't said that at all. I'd washed both legs by now, chickening out at the middle of her thighs.
"That's all I can get at" I told her.
"Didn't try very hard," she said, "Now, help me. My thighs have stiffened up." I helped her to stand up, a creaking dripping Venus, moving like an old woman. She took the soap and washed herself between the legs, then soaped her buttocks.
She looked up at me and said, "Stop gawping. An old married man like you must have seen a girl washing before now." But not this particular girl, I thought. "Now, rinse me off" she ordered. Feeling better now.
I rinsed her off with the shower spray, not even flinching when she parted buttocks and legs. Then I helped her out and she leaned wetly against me. She was suddenly shivering despite the warmth and her teeth began to chatter.
"God," she muttered, "I'm a wreck. I think I'm going to faint." She sat down hastily on the loo seat and I held her, reaching for a towel to wrap her up. I helped her dry herself.
"Do you want to go to bed?" I asked her and she shook her head.
"I'll find you some clothes then. You OK?" She was looking white and shaky, but nodded. I'd never had the determination to clear out my wife's clothes, so I found some knickers, a skirt, blouse and sweater. She looked at them for a moment but said nothing. I put the knickers round her ankles and pulled them up above her knees. She pulled them up and they fitted well enough. I offered her the brassiere but she shook her head. I helped her dress in silence. Her mood had swung from flirtation to gloom. I found the hair drier and plugged it in for her. My watch said it was six o'clock, three hours since I'd left the party.
"I'd better tell Mary where you are." I said. She looked at me hopelessly.
"I suppose so. Dry my hair for me, my arms are too stiff." I undid the towel and her hair tumbled out. I began to disentangle it and dry it.
"I only had it done yesterday" she'd started crying again, "just to please Joseph. Oh shit!" She lashed out with her foot in rage, kicked the side of the bath and howled with pain. I abandoned her hair and held her shaking body until she was calm again. She looked up at me and I thought she looked as despairing as I'd ever seen anyone look.
"Andrew, help me" Her fingers were digging into my arms. "Don't tell Mum how bad I am. Let me stay here tonight" She was trembling and looked relieved when I nodded, too worried to speak. Did she really think I'd refuse? I was now beginning to worry about her mental state. All this emotion seemed more than the shock of the attempted rape could account for. She'd always seemed such a practical, sensible girl.
Perhaps she was a thought-reader too, because she grinned and patted my arm.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to crack up on you. At least I hope I'm not. I just need a bit to get myself straight." We went back to drying her hair. She sat in a trance while I turned the rats' tails into a semblance of their normal beauty.
She put her hand up and felt, then said "Enough."
I passed her a brush and said, "I'll ring Mary then." I found drying her hair quite erotic enough and I needed a breather too. I left her making an effort to brush her hair and went downstairs.
"Mary, this is Andrew." Mary is a bit of a chatterbox.
"Oh hi. I noticed that you'd abandoned us. I'm sorry if you were bored, but thanks for coming..."
"Mary!" I interrupted her and she went silent. Chatterbox, but sensitive too. "Mary, I've got Elizabeth here."
"What? Lizzie? No, she's gone off somewhere with Joseph - hasn't she?"
"Nope. She's over here. Look..." I was gathering my thoughts and Mary panicked at my hesitation.
"What? Is she all right? What's happening? I'll come over."
"No!" I said. "All under control." Who am I kidding? I thought. "Stay put. She and Joseph had a fight."
The mother hen broke in with anxiety for her chick. "What? Fight? That arrogant bastard! Is she all right? What happened?"
Elizabeth had come into the room, a waif in bare feet and a pullover too big for her. That expression 'my heart turned over' is remarkably close to the actual feeling.
"Well, no bones broken, but she's a bit shook up" The shook up Elizabeth had sat down beside my legs and passed me the hairbrush. "And not fit to be seen in public." I peered down at Elizabeth. "Black eye, split lips, bloody nose, scratches and bruises... no she doesn't want anything doing about Joseph... and you're not to let David know."
Mary was spluttering a bit and I started to brush Elizabeth's hair. She'd already got the tangles out, so it was more of a comfort brushing. "No, it happened at the bottom of your garden, I found her as I left the party... no she wasn't raped... well she's had a bath and a drink... shocked badly... no I think she's over the worst... no she wants to stay here... yes that fine by me, plenty of room."
I could almost hear the wheels going round in Mary's mind.
"Andrew, " Mary said slowly, "what's Lizzie doing now?"
"Well, not much, I'm just brushing her hair"
That'll set the cat among the pigeons, I thought. Elizabeth looked up at me, horrified. There was a pause at the other end of the line.
"Look, can she hear me?" Mary asked. "No," I said, but Elizabeth did her thought reading trick again and moved to sit on the arm of the chair and press her ear against the 'phone. I frowned at her, but she made shushing motions.
"Andrew, " Mary was hesitant, "I'm not sure how to say this - after all you're old enough and ugly enough to look after yourself - but..."
I tried to move the 'phone to my other ear, but Elizabeth's fingers dug into my wrist. Her face was white, pinched and desperate. I didn't know what to do. I did nothing, as usual.
"Well... well - don't get hurt." Mary startled me - no defence of her seduced offspring here. "Are you sure Lizzie can't hear?" Vehement head shaking from Elizabeth. Oh well.
"Yes" I lied.
"Andrew, I love Lizzie, she's my youngest and I've always felt she was vulnerable. But - well I'm afraid she's a disaster where men are concerned. Joseph's not the first - problem she's had. Look, it always ends in tears and - well you won't be able to get away from her."
Too late now! I thought. Too late on all counts, as I watched tears sliding silently down Elizabeth's cheeks.
"Are you still there?" Mary, anxious.
"Yes. Yes. Still here"
Where else would I be?
"Don't worry, Mary, I won't do anything rash... no, I don't think Elizabeth wants to talk, her lips are a bit battered... Of course I will... Don't worry... about either... no, I think I can feed her - if she's hungry. I certainly had a good lunch... yes I enjoyed it... yes, tomorrow... bye"
Elizabeth had stopped eavesdropping and was curled up on the settee, her face hidden in her arms, weeping. I sat beside her and continued to brush her hair. She sat up, tossing her head so her hair swung and I carried on brushing. She sniffed.
"What a recommendation. From my mother! Leper! Give her a clapper and a notice - 'Men! Stay away! Disaster! Unclean'"
I carried on brushing, while she wept again.
"Where do all these bloody tears come from, " she said, brushing at them, " there must be glands working overtime back there. Can I have another drink?"
I got up and fetched whisky and a glass. I poured her a generous tot.
"More" she said, "I need courage." I put more in the glass and she took a swig and grimaced.
"I don't even like whisky", she said.
"I'd have laid in some metal polish if I'd known." I said. Her mood had swung again. "Do you want something else?"
"Nope. This'll do" She got up and tried to pace across the room, but could only manage a hobble.
"God I'm stiff" She went over to the window and peered out.
"Raining" she observed, "Mum was lucky with the party. It's always better when we can use the garden..."
She faltered. "... well, for some things." She took another drink of whisky.
"Getting dark already. Autumn. Another autumn. Do you know - I'm still a virgin? Those daisies look very well in that border. Ours have all got mildew. Can I cut some tomorrow? They keep well. Twenty bloody two nearly and I can't do it."
Another swig of whisky.
"I've always liked your garden. Ours slopes too steeply and you can't see it from the house, except upstairs. You know, I really am a disaster. A total, unmitigated, unfuckable, unlovable bloody disaster. Your roses need pruning. Did you do them this spring?"
More whisky, the tears running down her face again. "I look like this - well like I look when I've not been fighting."
She turned towards me. "Look! A body made for love. Isn't it? You've seen it. That's what everyone thinks - she must be a sexy piece"
She turned back to the window. "But it doesn't work."
Pause, the tears running unchecked.
"You ought to replace that Davidia, the frost always gets it, either that or wait for global warming. No, I'd have it out, put something with a definite shape there, sort of frame that edge of the garden. You know, men queue up to ask me out, to court me I suppose. Do you know how many I've been out with? Well, dozens, anyway. Oh! I've liked some of them well enough. They've not all been shits like Joseph. But it always comes to the crunch. Sex. They want it and can't believe that I don't. Well, I don't know that I don't want it, but, well, I can't. When it gets to the point I - freeze - panic. I'm frigid. That's what they say. Frigid. They hurl that word at me. God, they always want to hurt me. And it's not my fault. I can't help it. They think I do it deliberately. Or dyke - you're a dyke. Do you know what a dyke is?"
I nodded and she sniffed and looked at her glass, startled to find it empty.
"Where did that go? So now I'm drunk as well. I expect I'd be just the same with a woman. Frigid. It's like being in a dark well with light at the top, but its too deep to climb out. I think I know how people can kill themselves."
I must have looked startled. "Oh don't worry, I'm just indulging myself. "
She swung round and staggered. "I am drunk. Isn't self-pity revolting. You can throw me out if you want. Send me back to mum. I was getting desperate with Joseph. I think I thought he'd force the issue, you know, get it done one way or another. And in the end I couldn't even let him rape me. Why does it matter? If I don't want men, why don't I just leave them alone? Andrew!"
A rising note of panic in her voice. "I think I'm going to be sick." She gagged and I stepped past her and pushed open the window, marvelling at my co-ordination. I turned her and guided her to the window, holding her as she retched up whisky and lunch into the border. I sat her down, panting and white-faced. She was shivering as I wiped her face.
"Come on" I said helping her to stand up. "Bedtime" I took her up to the bathroom, still full of wet towels and other wreckage. I found her a toothbrush and waited while she brushed her teeth. She was still wobbly and she wouldn't let me leave her, even when she had a pee. I took her to the spare bedroom and she stood by the bed. I pulled the sweater off and undid her skirt. She slumped onto the bed and I lifted her legs and settled her, then pulled up the duvet.
"Don't leave me," she said and I sat beside her, holding her hand. She was asleep in seconds, snoring slightly. I woke her and made her turn grumpily onto her side, then turned out the light. The door was open and the passage light was on, so she wouldn't wake to darkness.
Seven-thirty and the evening loomed emptily before me. There was no way I could settle to do any work. Elizabeth had kept me on a sexual roller coaster for hours and I was still as unsure about her as ever I had been.
I fiddled around, tidying up, acutely aware of Elizabeth asleep upstairs. An hour passed, then two and she looked set to sleep till morning. All to the good, I thought sourly. I might as well go to bed and wank myself silly. I cleared up downstairs, undressed and turned on the shower. Just remembering the naked girl in my arms gave me an erection. I got out of the shower and was towelling my hair dry, when four small fingers wrapped themselves round my penis. I shrieked with shock. How had she crept up without me noticing?
"Startle you?" she said mischievously. "Hmm, you could lose a pound or too with profit." She patted my belly, ignoring my erection, which was still there despite shock and insults.
"I just came to say sorry" She kissed me on the lips and then recoiled. "Ow! They're sore. Bugger Joseph. I can't even kiss now. What's a girl got left?" What indeed.
"And I came to complain about the room service. I woke up to find I'd been abandoned - and given a single bed to boot" How to cope with this girl's mood swings? Or even keep up.
"Well, you're the doctor and I'm the patient in need of treatment. You're my last hope, you know. After you there's only the knacker"
"Oh great!" I tried to match her mood. "You work your way through the male half of the human race, consider starting on the female half and only when all else fails you come round to me. What is it you've got - just a touch of leprosy was it?"
She just managed to maintain her mood, but I saw her eyes brighten with unshed tears. I brushed at them.
"Those lachrymal glands will wear out. Remember you said yourself that self-pity was revolting. Now if I submit to your evil designs, what's in it for me?"
"Oh I don't know." Her grin wavered and her eyes brightened. "Loving heart on offer. Any use?" She bit her lip and winced "Bugger Joseph"
"Why is it going to be any more successful with me - God, I'm - well - over twice your age, over weight too. And if it all goes belly up then I'm going to be a disaster too as your mother was kind enough to point out. If I fall in love with you it's going to be serious"
"Worth a try isn't it? The risks might be high, but think of the rewards. And - it is different with you."
She reached out and gently grasped my penis. "After all, I've felt safe with you all afternoon, despite the awful teasing I've been doing. You've been very patient - very kind - very - loving?"
She shivered and wrapped her arms round herself. "I'm fighting for my life - help, please. I think I love you and I think it's serious. I'm only asking you to try me. Hells bells! I spend my adult life fighting off men I don't want to go to bed with, then the first one I fancy plays hard to get."
I put my hand on her shoulder and she came into my arms. She reached up for a passionate kiss, but thought better of it. I kissed the undamaged corner of her mouth.
"Deal?" she asked.
"You've got a deal" I replied, but without any clear idea of what deal we had. Oh well. She sagged against me and I bent to pick her up. We made careful progress to my room and the double bed. I put her down so I could pull back the duvet. She burrowed under and lay peeping out. I turned on the bedside light and slid in beside her.
"You know, not being able to kiss is a definite disadvantage." I observed as we lay without touching. "It definitely gets things started. I wonder if homo sapiens invented it, or did he inherit it from the ancestral apes. Do chimps kiss? Sexually I mean?" Elizabeth considered this.
"I don't know about apes, but I don't think other mammals do. You must know some other ways to start things off though. Most men seem to grab my tits, I suppose you could try that."
"I thought you weren't keen on tit-grabbers. How about undressing for starters, let the dog see the rabbit, so to speak."
"How romantic" she said, sitting up. She undid the blouse and wriggled out of, then slipped her knickers off. She groaned as she straightened her legs and stretched out. "There you are. Goods as seen. Caveat emptor. No rough stuff though." I knelt to look at her.
"Elizabeth" I said, "you are so beautiful I find it hard to believe its real - and I don't know where to touch that Joseph hasn't put off limits."
"The beauty bit's nothing to do with me. I've never felt anything special about it. Just a body, you know. The back's undamaged. You could start there." She rolled over and lay peeping at me with her arms above her head. I bent and kissed her ankle, then worked my way up the back of her calf, kissing one leg and stroking the other. Then I kissed the back of her knee, that tender spot and feathered the other with my fingertips. I felt her shiver.
"OK?" I asked.
"So far so good" she answered and held up her hand with the fingers crossed, " I've not kicked you out of bed yet and that's progress."
I worked back down to her foot and her toes wriggled, then back up to her knees and on up her thighs until I reached the outliers of her pubic hair beneath her buttocks. I knelt astride her and felt her stiffen. I gently massaged her shoulder blades and worked up and down her spine. She relaxed again with a sigh and I extended my massaging down to her buttocks. I feathered up and down her spine from her neck to the crack of her buttocks, then each globe and back up the outsides with excursions to her armpits and upper arms. Again and again, until she gave a tiny sigh. Of pleasure? My knees ached and my inventiveness was beginning to flag. Was it really possible to get bored while trying to rouse a naked and ravishing girl? Don't contemplate failure! Next time down, I squeezed her buttocks, pulling them apart and squeezing them together again. Her buttocks tensed and I heard her catch her breath. The next time, she pressed her thighs together and moved them. I repeated the treatment from neck to buttocks and suddenly there was a blush on her neck. Again. Again. Her chest heaved and her buttocks clenched.
"Elizabeth?" I kissed her neck. She shuddered and sat up. I pushed her back onto the bed so she lay face up and began to kiss her shoulders and neck. I put my hand on her knee and ran the fingers up the inside of her thigh. Her legs parted as I reached the top and I began to trace the lips of her vulva gently. She writhed and groaned. The labia parted and she was wet inside.
"Oh yes!" she groaned, "All yours. Seems to be working now." I found her clitoris and went round and round, then back and forward. She was crying out, thrusting her vulva against me and showing all the signs of an impending orgasm. I slipped a finger up into her vagina, touched the spot and she shouted in triumph. She jerked her hips and rubbed her thighs together while I continued to rub her clitoris.
"Like that but faster!" she gasped as I did her from side to side. I buzzed her as fast as I could and she tensed, jerked, shouted and went into another paroxysm. I took her in my arms, her panting head on my chest, her legs still writhing. I stroked her hair and kissed the undamaged parts of her face and spoke her name over and over. She raised her head and looked at me.
"God" she said, awe-struck. "I never expected anything like that. It was so - definite. Whee!" She flopped against me still panting.
"How's the leprosy?" I asked.
"As never was." she shivered "Never leave me Andrew. I've just had two orgasms, both at once!" She felt for my penis, which was close to the brink, what with the excitement and friction against her thigh. "What's the next part of the cure? There's a small matter of my hymen"
"Elizabeth," I cleared my throat, "I wasn't expecting this, so there's not a condom to be had. It'll have to be fingers and tongues."
She grinned in triumph, "There is something to thank Joseph for. I'm on the Pill. I started a couple of weeks ago. I was determined, you see. So I can lie back and think of England without a care in the world - or I can until tomorrow morning at least. My pills are at home. Don't let me forget. Now..." and she turned to stroke my chest, "... you can finish the cure."
She opened her legs and slid her hands down to part her vulva. The lips were swollen and her vagina was shining with mucus. I carefully knelt between her legs, manoeuvring my penis to touch that opening. I pushed the tip inside, feeling the soft, hot slipperiness.
"Oh!" Her hand reached down, feeling the length. "That bit feels quite large. And so hot! Smooth. Go on."
"Elizabeth! I'm almost coming. Don't do anything violent." I slid further in and then lay trying to control the tendency of my hips to thrust. I pressed, but there was a resistance. I drew back and shifted my knees to change the angle and tried again.
"Just push. Come on." Her hands reached down and pulled at my buttocks.
"Elizabeth!" My ejaculation spurted into her. She wriggled and my hips pushed and I slid past the smooth gripping tightness, feeling a second spurt join the general wetness. And then our bodies touched as I entered her fully still coming, groaning. Her arms were round me and she was kissing me carefully and awkwardly. I was thrusting slowly, re-discovering the tremendous pleasure in a woman's body - in this beautiful girl's body.
"Andrew, have you come? I didn't do anything violent." She was anxious.
I smiled down at her. "You didn't need to. It's been eighteen months for me and you've been wandering around naked all afternoon. And you're very, very beautiful. Now - we've got to know each other. Are you ready to make love properly?"
"What? Now? I thought... Well... I think I..." I thrust into her and felt her push back against me.
"Definitely," she continued with a catch in her voice. "I never realised. Oh yes! Do that! I mean, I thought it was a - one off - thing. What are you doing?"
I made love to her slowly, teasingly for a while, ten minutes or so.
"Let's try and come together," I told her. "I'm not ready yet, but you seem to be close, sexpot - tell me to slow down if you get too close."
I kept her on the brink as long as I could, until she begged, "Please! Finish me. I can't bear it!" and she began to thrust rapidly up against me. I tried to catch her rhythm and we made it after a couple of false starts. The bed was creaking madly as our loins parted and re-met, my penis never quite slipping out. I came during her orgasm, which went on for a long time, while her thighs writhed against me and she sobbed with ecstasy. We were both dripping sweat as we stilled and stuck together, panting. I withdrew and knelt to examine her before slumping by her side. There was a trace of blood amidst the sticky mess of mucus, semen and sweat on her thighs.
"Did I hurt you?"
"What? Oh that! No hardly at all. Am I bleeding?"
"Not much." I leaned up on one elbow and began to look at her gorgeous body, still flushed with love.
"Mmm! Probably hasn't done my bruises much good, but I'm glowing too much to notice. - Andrew - Did that really happen? Have you just made love to me - well - twice?" Her voice was drowsy and I sat up to pull the duvet over us.
"I thought that was what you wanted."
"Oh! I did. Just rather better than I expected. Can we do it again in a bit? Just to make sure."
She turned against me and I put my arm round her. I left the light and she slept quietly against me while I just looked at the auburn hair spread over the pillow and my shoulder and the beautiful sleeping face. She half woke after twenty minutes or so and looked at me. Her smile was radiant. "Still here?" she murmured, sighed, rolled over out of my arm and snuggled back against me.
I slept too, amazed and happy.
I woke some uncertain time later, feeling an enormous, painful erection. The duvet was turned back and Elizabeth was making a careful study of my penis.
She smiled at me. "Hello. I was just trying to match it up with the textbooks. Why does it need to be so big, I wonder? It's been growing for five minutes. I wondered when you'd notice."
"God, Elizabeth. What a way to wake me up! What time is it?"
"Bit after three. Why?"
"Just making polite conversation. - Elizabeth?"
"Are things still all right?"
"I'll just check, if you're properly awake." And she straddled me with a groan. "Oh! I'm stiff. The sacrifices a girl has to make. Oh!" She pressed the tip of my penis into her vagina and sank steadily down, shuffling her knees to keep the angle right. I gazed up at her. She cupped her breasts and grinned.
"OK? Sorry about the bruises. Apart from that, will I do?"
"It'll take me years to get used to it - what's it like being so beautiful? Oh! Yes, you can keep doing that!"
She was moving slowly up and down, her tight vagina squeezing my penis. "Up to now, its been more of a curse than a blessing. But it's comforting - knowing I'm attractive - especially when it gets me something I want - like you. That all right?" She was moving back and forward. She was panting now as she moved. I was glad she'd stopped moving up and down because I was close to coming.
"This is very - stimulating. Andrew!" she wailed. I thrust up against her and spurted. She was rotating her hips, so her clitoris was pressed hard from side to side against me. She flopped slowly forward and sideways, groaning with the pain in her bruises. I helped her lay down beside me and she panted, "I'm glowing inside - it's unbelievable. Oh the relief"
And then she was weeping, tears running down my chest. I hugged her, pulling the duvet over us and reaching out for the light.
In the darkness, she murmured, "Its such a relief. What would I have done if it hadn't worked? Did you mean what you said - about taking years to get used to me?"
I felt an enormous glow of love. "If you'll have me. I love you Elizabeth. For a long time."
She heaved a great sigh, her fingers tangling the hair on my chest. "What a fool I've been. I've been happy with you this last year - trying to cheer you up - looking after you. It was only when you carried me back to the house I realised why - because I was in love with you. All the time I've wasted with men, boys I didn't even like very much. And you were here all the time." She lay quietly against me, her tears drying on my chest.
After a while she said, "Can I stay, please?"
There was sudden joy at the thought of a shared life again - and shared with this girl, already a friend and bringing so much beauty with her.
"Mmm! Which side of the bed do you want?"
"This side feels fine - OK for you?"
"Yes. Will you marry me?"
"Please. It'll keep mum happy - well happier." A sigh. "Do you think that'll be all right? Mum and dad. David?"
"Too late for them to object now. You can't have your virginity back."
She giggled. "Don't want it back! Do you want to make sure?"
"In a bit. You'll be getting sore."
She put her hand down. "Swollen. Brute! But it feels all right inside - all warm and glowing."
She slept for a while, then woke and sighed. "Can I roll over? I'm getting stiff."
I rolled over with her and she spooned her bottom against me.
"Why did you and Barbara never have children."
"She had a bad miscarriage with our first - a girl. She never did conceive again." My turn to sigh. "I wish, I wish, I wish. I think that's why she loved you so much - surrogate daughter."
"How about you? Is this surrogate incestuous relationship?"
"I don't think so. You're grown up now - you seem to be all woman."
"Andrew?" Getting used to my name.
"Can I have your children, please? Or am I tempting fate?"
"I'll be an old man before they're grown. You've got - what - ten years work before you're qualified."
"We'll have to start soon then - fit them in round my training. That's what family planning's for. You could look after them too. And mum would help."
"Mmm- well, would three be enough?"
"Do for a start."
She laughed and pushed back against me. I put my hands on her smooth round hips and traced the swell of her buttocks. My penis stiffened and she felt it.
"I think," she said, laughing, "that with a small adjustment..." she bent forward and reached between her parted legs for my penis, "... we can have a dummy run. Ah!"
I slid into her hot, smooth centre and we made love.