Chapter 14: Extramaritals – well sorta - September, 1961

I found Judith in the bath when I got home. She hadn’t quite closed the bathroom door. That was okay. I glanced in as I went past on my way to the laundry, and she saw me pass, but didn’t seem to be embarrassed. I didn’t linger or stare, but I can’t pretend I didn’t glance in again on my way back to the kitchen. Judith was sitting bent forward washing her face. I couldn’t see much. Lots of pale skin, big areolas, and tiny nipples.

I stopped thinking about Judith’s nipples, and started to think about dinner. There had been lots of changes in the kitchen already. Judith’s pots and utensils had arrived with her, and the cupboards and the fridge were well stocked with all sorts of unusual things. I was investigating some parcels wrapped in butcher’s paper, when Judith came into the kitchen, wearing a candlewick dressing gown and towelling her hair.

“How about I cook tonight? Can you eat four lamb’s kidneys? I can do them with bacon, but I can’t eat more than two. You’re a growing lad. How about kidneys and bacon, rice, and cabbage?” She was obviously nervous, since she was asking questions, but not giving me time to answer.

“I’ve never had kidneys with bacon. When we kill on the farm, all the offal and guts go down a very deep hole so dogs can’t get near it. Hydatids.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know anything about farming. I have a good thing going with my butcher. He gives me good deals on kidneys and liver and hearts. Shall I cook? I’d like to.”

“Sure! Do you want help?”

She did. She disappeared to her room and came back in jeans and another man’s shirt, and we worked together happily enough to put a meal together. That turned out well, and I managed four kidneys with bacon very easily. Judith was keen to negotiate some agreements about how we were going to manage the ‘flatmate’ relationship, and as we cleaned up, she suggested a roster for cooking and any cleaning our study group didn’t get to, and a ‘kitty’ of two pounds a week each for food and gas and power. That seemed like a good start.

We were interrupted by the phone. Frank had a day’s work available and was offering to come and pick me up in the morning. Nine am sharp. I was torn. I had told Maureen that I would come and see her in the afternoon and stay for dinner. I said so.

Frank wasn’t hugely impressed. He said he needed me for at least seven hours. Something about a roof alteration. “Better see what you can negotiate mate – you’re paying into a kitty and running a car now!”

I deliberately misunderstood. “Can I negotiate an earlier starting time?”

Frank wasn’t fooled. “Jesus – I’ve told you you should go into politics!” I waited. “Alright. Pick you up at seven!”

In fact, we finished before three, and by quarter to four, freshly showered, I was knocking on the Farrell’s door.

Mr Farrell let me in. He was welcoming, but also cautious. “Hello David. All on again is it?”

I nodded. “Evidently sir.”

“Have we still got a deal?”

“Yessir – you can trust me on that!”

“I hope so!” He turned. “Maur-” But by then a small tornado had blown into the room and she was hugging me, kissing me, and generally making quite sure that both me and her father knew that she was very pleased to see me. After a few more pleasantries, we adjourned to her room.

We sat on her bed again, and as our kissing progressed to lying together, grinding and humping, I got the sense that Maureen was climbing towards her first orgasm, and then ‘going off the boil’. I wondered what was going on, but my own arousal was climbing, and my buttocks were tingling, so I was getting pretty close myself. I tried to pull back, but in spite of what seemed a degree of ambivalence, Maureen clung to me.

Ever since Uncle Frank mentored me through my first experiences, I have always tried to talk lots about whatever was or wasn’t happening sexually, and I had over time, ‘trained’ all my girlfriends accordingly. I was pretty sure we needed to talk now. “Can we slow down a bit and talk?” Maureen pulled away a little, but nodded, so I went on. “You seem to get really excited, and then you pull pack. Is there something we need to talk about?”

“I’m still a bit shy.” I Hmmed, and Maureen took a big breath. “I’m still nervous about letting you see my coochie.”

“Let’s start with our tops.” That didn’t take long. Maureen’s nipples had started to emerge, and I moved down to pay them attention, sucking on one, and tweaking the other with saliva wetted fingers. Maureen seemed to really like that, and she reached for my nipples to reciprocate. They aren’t particularly sensitive, but there was no way I wanted to stop her at that stage. “It’s nicer when they’re slippery. Use lotsa spit.” She did and it was. Well – relatively!

“Would it be okay to touch you under your pants? If you leave them on, you won’t have to worry about what I might see.” She nodded. “How about you take your jeans off, but leave your panties on?”

“You too!”

Very soon we were both clad in only our underpants. Maureen’s were pale pink silk, with what seemed like a large amount of lace, and they were tight enough for me to make out the shape of her mound under them. I could easily see the outline of plump labia with her bush bulking out above them. I inched my fingers along the top of the waistband.

“Careful! I’m still pretty dry.” I rested my palm lightly on her mound outside her panties and Hmmed. Maureen went on, her tone slightly apologetic. “I have to be horny for quite a while before I get wet. It’s like the juice has to collect for a while before it comes down.”

I changed tack. “Would you be willing to show me how you touch yourself? I really don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.”

Maureen thought for a few seconds and then nodded. She shucked off her panties and then got shy again. She kept her legs together. “You promise not to laugh?”

“Can’t imagine there’s anything to laugh at, but I promise anyway.”

“I don’t touch myself anywhere except around outside my lips until I feel wet.” She showed me how she massaged her groins and pressed her labia together.

I knew I could do that, and my own prior experiences suggested some other possibilities while staying outside her slit. “Can I try?” Maureen nodded, and I mimicked her movements for a few moments before trying anything new. Then I pressed a couple of fingers down into her pubic bone and moved them down through the hair on either side of her button, pressing just hard enough to move the skin and fatty tissue and stimulate the muscles underneath them. Maureen liked that.

She liked it even more when I persuaded her to spread her legs, knelt between her knees, and started to use two hands. I replaced the fingers pressing into her pubic bone on either side of her button with my thumbs, and pushed into her groins on either side of her labia with the knuckles of my forefingers, sometimes pushing down into her perineum, and sometimes pushing her labia together. Maureen liked that too. Her panting and sighing ramped up, and she started to move her pelvis in response to the changing pressure of my fingers and thumbs. Very gradually we seemed to fall into a rhythm together, and her level of excitement built towards orgasm.

Maureen was certainly producing juice now. Her labia were slipping over each other as I moved them, and they produced a faint but definite slopping sound. I could also smell her now, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth on her nipples rather than bending my back to nuzzle her lower down. After a few more minutes she stiffened, her heels pressed down on the bed, her pelvis rose in my hands, and her thighs came together to grip mine as I knelt between them.

She twitched a couple of times and let out something between a gasp and a groan. “Jesus Christ!”

I felt pretty good too, but even though I wanted to get my mouth on her, I figured it would be better to cuddle for a while before encouraging Maureen to let me explore whatever was hidden between those delicious smelling lips.

So I settled for drawing the inside of my wrist, then my palm, then my fingers very lightly over her mound as I kissed my way up from her breasts to her mouth. Her labia were wet and slippery, and by the time my middle finger reached their apex, it was shiny with her juices, and fragrant with her musky pheromones, though it would be another six months before I heard the word, and a couple more years before I understood why that smell turned me on so much.

I broke off our kiss and made something of a production of licking my hand and sucking my fingers. Maureen blushed at first, but soon giggled and joined me in tasting herself on my hand.

“Different from Mary!” I laughed, but when she realised what she had let slip, Maureen pulled away blushing furiously, shrugged off my embrace, and sat up, covering her face with her hands again.

“Oh God! Please promise you won’t say anything!” It was like a repeat of her disclosure about her brother, and I tried to reassure her.

“None of my business what you do with anybody else, and none of their business what you do with me.” I had a thought. “Did you let Mary look at your coochie?” Maureen nodded. “Did she laugh?”

She shook her head. “No. She helped me look why I couldn’t get a tampon in. The tasting was another time when we were touching ourselves together.”

“So you’ve never been licked?”

Maureen giggled. “Not yet!”

I started to kiss and nuzzle my way down from her face and neck to her breasts, her belly, her ‘innie’, and her bush, sliding down to kneel between her legs again. I went back to work with my thumbs, pressing into her groins to spread her labia, and bringing my mouth down close enough to blow on the flower between them before using the flat of my tongue to lick up from her perineum over the tiny nub at their junction. Maureen bucked under me.