Chapter 6

I had the washing machine pipe, I had a plan for the future, and I had two kisses from each of the four – I interpreted it in its broadest sense. Toni sat on the washing machine whilst I fitted the new pipe. “I hear you are thinking of retaking, Toni? What did you get first time round?”

“A and two Bs. I don’t know why, that’s the trouble. Fiona walked it, of course, but I don’t know if trying again will be any different. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be university material”

“Toni, stop feeling sorry for yourself. I got a C and two Ds ... now that’s a screw up. No, actually my friend Clive really screwed up, he got two Es. That isn’t enough to go to the newest, worst, uni in the world! The school won’t even let him come back to retake, I don’t think. And he’s not thick. Just messed up on the day. You didn’t mess up. You are definitely university material.”

She jumped down and kissed me, this time on the lips. “Thanks Dave, you are very encouraging.” I tightened the nut and we tried the washing machine before pushing it back. “Can I sit on it? Oooooooo, it’s funny”

I’d heard of this, the vibrations have a distinctly erotic feeling for a girl. I watched without looking as she got more and more distracted. I said I’d let it run a full cycle to make sure it stayed water tight. She showed no sign of moving until 20 minutes in, and then walked strangely out and to the bathroom. Why had I fixed that lock? I was pretty sure an ear to the door would hear the low moans of a girl significantly enjoying herself. Still, the machine was back in action. Back in place and my scrotty pants got mixed with the girls’ sexy knickers (an erotic turn on as I imagined their underwear and mine entwining) and granny’s huge ones (that killed that fantasy). We stripped Granny and Gramps’ bed too. They might as well come back to clean sheets. This was being positive about the outcome.

“Toni was a long time in the bathroom, and she didn’t have a shower.” Terri said to me. “Was she sitting on the washing machine?” she didn’t want to say what she was thinking; I think she wasn’t sure if I was aware of the vibration options of a washing machine. I winked at her, she reddened and then laughed. “Maybe I’ll put some washing on later too”

“I was out with the dog earlier” I said in an apparent radical jump of topic “I found a small side valley to that one up to the cliffs. It’s so peaceful and hidden. I could show you after you put some washing on, if you like” She looked at me, and smiled. Oh, yes, Terri, maybe not a high IQ, but not naive by any means.

So, after she had put shirts, jeans and a bra in, and sat reading for a while as the machine worked its magic, we walked nonchalantly up the hill. Luckily Erica had taken Johnny to the beach, so we didn’t feel guilty about not taking the dog. At the style, instead of climbing over and continuing up the valley to the low cliffs, I took her left along the fence. This was not an official path but it was only a cow field (avoid the cow pats at all costs!). I even made sure we walked a different path to the path I’d taken last time, so as not to beat down the grass too much. Then, at an old gate, we climbed over and into the scrubby wood growing there. The birds were silent this time. It was hot and they were resting; but after a few metres of scratchy, untrammelled undergrowth, there was a low dip and the small valley continued up more steeply. Presumably it would join the wider valley again before the cliffs, but maybe by that time it had broadened out or was hidden by the trees because there was no sign of it if you walked up the normal way. The cliff path was invisible, the fence below was invisible, we were invisible. As we came out into the dell, a rabbit hopped slowly away. They weren’t used to disturbance or hunters evidently.

“It’s lovely. It really is very quiet.” she lay down and I briefly looked at her, head to toe. She was fantastic. She was wearing a tight, long sleeve shirt and short shorts. Typical really. The long shirt was to avoid scratches on this walk, then she put all her jeans into wash and had to wear the sexiest, tightest, shorts I’d seen (up to then). “What are you looking at? These shorts? They are too tight aren’t they? They are uncomfortable actually. Can I undo them?” She unclipped the button at the front and unzipped them to reveal her white panties with flowers on them. She knew precisely the effect that would have on me.

“Terri, can I ask you something?”

“‘Course”

“Well; thing is; I ... before the lock was fixed. I saw you in the altogether -”

“I knew it was you; all I saw was the door closing again. It was you. I guessed. If it had been one of the girls they would either have come in anyway – Erica would anyway ... we’ve seen each other ... oh, well, never mind. The others would have said sorry, but you said nothing.”

I got the impression Erica and Terri had been doing ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ from an early age, and maybe hadn’t even stopped now. “Yes, look, it was an accident. And I did fix the door after that.

The thing is, well, you had, well still have, a lovely bottom. But...”

“But? What but? It’s fantastic, full stop!” Oops

“Yes, what I mean is ... you had no tan line”

“And?”

“Well, it’s playing on my mind. Do you spray tan or tan you know, without...”

“Oh, you mean do I take off my bikini bottoms and lie naked on the sand, allowing the sun to kiss the secret areas that only a lover should see?”

“Umm, yes?”

“I read that in a book once, I like it. I don’t use spray tan, much” She never did give a straight answer. I never learnt if I might had seen a lot more when I walked round that cliff, if I’d been lucky

I kissed her, and unbuttoned her shirt at the same time. She made no attempt to stop me. I slid my hand under her shirt. She kissed me hard, then took my hand and slid it into her shorts. They were too tight. I pulled them down and started stroking her pants. “Tell me what you want me to do. I don’t want to go further than you want. No, that’s not true. I do want to, I just don’t hmmmm” she stopped me waffling by sticking her tongue into my mouth. I was close against her so she could feel how hard I was. She took my hand off her pants (which I’d already noted were damp to the touch) and pushed it under the waistband. Still not sure how far she wanted to go, I determined to bring her to orgasm first before anything on my part.

It didn’t take long; sitting on the washing machine had clearly helped, because I’m not claiming I have a magic touch. She, on the other hand, she was magic. I didn’t try and pull down her pants, I just rubbed under them, stroked under them and fingered under them. And she loved it. So did I. Soft skin, spongy, and quite tight, entrance. I was sooo hard! She told me later (much later) that I was the first boy who had dealt with her needs first, nearly the first boy to deal with her needs at all in fact. She was wet, I thought that was just in stories; but she was bubbling with excitement of the sexual kind, which made her groin slippery and easy to stroke. When she came it was more of a gasp – she was trying to be quiet given that we were out in the open – and I loved it. I didn’t need to imagine her face this time, it was full daylight above and beaming radiance from below. “Oh, she doth teach the candles to burn bright” I said and kissed her again and again; on her face and neck and breasts and arms and nose and eyes and ears and...