Chapter 8

In which Zelda bursts forth into full womanhood

She brought the warm Highveld sun into the apartment with her, lighting up my day with her laughing eyes and heart-stopping smile. Zelda was back from Pretoria and the universe was a better place for that!

I was pulled into the mother-daughter huddle of cooing and giggling welcome-homes, trills of endearment and cries of "missed you, love you". You would have thought the fair Zelda had returned from perhaps a six-month Antarctic expedition, rather than a two-day visit to Pretoria, 45 minutes up the motorway.

I was as bad as they were because I had truly missed this beautiful, vivacious and extremely sexy young woman. I know I have been rabbiting on about fine mature wines and all that snobbish rubbish, but I had been craving a bit of firm-fleshed and eager inexperience, and here it was, ready to be uncorked and enjoyed like a young, tangy Riesling. All I had to do was figure out a way to clear the decks for action, and that would entail whisking her from under the eagle eye of mother Ruth, who had told me in no uncertain terms that she would not tolerate me taking liberties with her precious chick.

There had not really been much opportunity to address this problem, what with my brains being screwed to mush by a bevy of hardworking and seemingly insatiable mature ladies. Perhaps Zelda would have some ideas if she really was as keen as she said that I have the honour of being first through the portal.

"I'm so randy," she whispered as Ruth bustled off to the kitchen. "Just go along with what I say to my mum, okay?"

I nodded enthusiastically. She had obviously been giving this some thought and I like that in a girl. "I've done a checklist: wedding tackle in good order? Check; lust and desire? Check; eager young virgin available? Check; KY jelly? Check. Seems all is in order except for a venue," I whispered back.

"That's why you must just nod when I speak to mum. My friend Anne, who lives with her mum and dad, has offered us their place as her folks have gone to Cape Town for a week. Anne will phone, inviting me around to dinner with her family. I'll say we have someone staying with us and would her parents mind if he came along? Not a problem, she will say. Mum will ask if her parents will be there. Of course, she will say, and off we go."

And so it came to pass. Zelda's untruths tripped effortlessly off the moist, wet tongue framed by luscious red lips and Ruth got no whiff of a rodent, as we posh people say. I think she was secretly quite happy that she could have some quiet time on her own and give her hot box a rest. We had certainly been whooping it up. Putting quite a lot of mileage on the clock, so to speak.

"Fine, I'll wash my hair and paint my toenails. Don't be too late and, Gordon, look after my little girl," she said, fixing me with a stare that let me know in no uncertain terms that I was expected to play the gentleman. I promised I would - remember the adage that a standing prick has no conscience? - and we were on our way.

In the car, Zelda pulled me close, probing my mouth softly with her tongue. As we surfaced she said: "I have missed you so much. I couldn't wait for the hours to pass in Pretoria, knowing how bored you would be with old mum. Not that she's so old, but you know what I mean."

"Well, she was very good to me and she's really very attractive. Just as well you didn't stay away longer, you never know what could have happened in my randy state."

She giggled: "You wouldn't have got anywhere with her. She would have been horrified if you had made a pass. She's not interested in sex. I've never known her to have a man friend, she's quite sort of virginal, if you know what I mean."

Well, well, how little she knew her mother. Virginal! What a joke. I had a vision of my cock stuck to the hilt up Ruth's sweet arse as she lapped Sue's pussy and moaned in ecstasy. Well, I couldn't imagine, and didn't want to, my own mother having sex. As far as I was concerned, if it wasn't an immaculate conception then it was a matter of her gritting her teeth and thinking of England during the single act of sexual intercourse that had spawned me.

But I digress. As we drove to her friend's house Zelda snuggled up to me, her fingers stroking my now-tumescent cock over my pants. In turn, I had my hand high up her thigh, plucking the suspenders of her stockings like a lute and stroking her firm, creamy flesh. Higher my hand strayed and she parted her legs further to allow me to pet her dear little pussy over her lace-trimmed knickers, moistness at my fingertips.

She sighed, her breath quickening, and said: "I'm on fire, love, I just want you to fuck me, fulfil me as a woman. I will be your slut, your slave, whatever you want of me." Sounded good to me. She moaned as my finger slipped under the French knickers, touching her little button and sliding into her hot, wet orifice, and she shuddered to my touch.

"Make me come, with your finger, I'm nearly there," she breathed, holding my hand to her as she started to buck and crush it between her legs. With a loud cry she reached her climax. "That was wonderful. Quick, but wonderful."

By this time we were outside her friend's house, which was just as well, as my mind, for some reason, had not been on the rules of the road. Straightening our clothes, we walked up the driveway, rang the bell and were met by another vision of loveliness, this time a brunette version packaged similarly to the one I was with.

"This is my bestest friend Anne," Zelda said, rather ungrammatically, "we went through junior and high school together and are taking the same courses at Wits University. But I'm cross with her because she managed to get parted from her virginity last month."

This other teenage goddess gave a quick, throaty chuckle and said: "Big deal. He fucked me, if you can call it that and ran for the door. It was furtive and embarrassing. He had no clue what he was doing, he hurt me, shot all over my tummy 30 seconds later, grabbed his pants and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. Hardly the starry-eyed introduction I had imagined for my first time!"

This was an awful lot of personal information from someone I was meeting for the first time and all I could do was mutter my sympathy as she ushered us into her parents' home. No shortage of money around here, it seemed, judging by the plush furniture and décor. I could happily get used to living in such palatial surroundings. Fat chance on a young reporter's salary. You certainly don't get into journalism to earn the big bucks!

"Well," said Anne. "let me show you to your boudoir and I will leave you to it. There's a nice queen-sized bed in the main guest room."

Before she closed the door on us she and Zelda embraced, murmuring to each other. Probably some last-minute instructions about not getting blood on the sheets and steeling herself for the pain that would herald her entrance into womanhood.

Zelda closed the door and turned to me, a naughty smile on her lips and her eyes shining with anticipation - or so I hoped. "Alone at last with no mum to worry about. Just the three of us, you, me and my maidenhead - and soon to become just the two of us. Make love to me, sweetheart, I want to remember this night forever as one of my life's happiest experiences."

Damn! She was really piling on the pressure. Good old "wham-bam" Gordon forced into the role of honourable and considerate lover. Well, I resolved to use every move in my limited repertoire to ensure that my darling Zelda would have a far happier experience than the unfortunate Anne. If she wanted romance, then by fuck she would get romance!

I took her in my arms in the centre of the room, peppering soft kisses all over her face. She smelt as fragrant as a bouquet of roses and as her breasts pressed against me and her thighs met mine I slowly undid the zipper of her dress and peeled it off.

She stood in a cloud of white nylon and lace, her alabaster bosom swelling over the low-cut full slip. I stroked her back and her bottom, feeling the tight buttocks clench to my touch. I pulled down the straps of the slip, revealing the transparent, gossamer cups of her well-stocked bra, dark nipples starkly visible through the wispy material.

"I must be the luckiest man in the world to be making love to you. I hope I can make this very special," and in truth I was now on a personal crusade to preserve her starry-eyed romantic ideals.

"We're both lucky, then. I feel like I am bursting with love for you," she said as I pulled a breast out of its cup to lick and nibble it as it hardened against my tongue. Slowly I moved her to the bed, gently laying her down, and loomed over her, nuzzling under the skirt of the petticoat until I could smell the wonderful clean fragrance of her juices.