The House In The Woods - A Sexual History
Copyright© 2008 by The Smiths
Chapter 19
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 19 - Graduate Jill, 22, house-sits with her cousin Sarah, 17. Uncertainties about her sexuality are suddenly focussed when she and Sarah fall passionately in love. The affair ends painfully when the premature return of the family finds the lovers fisting on the kitchen table, but begins an odyssey into BDSM and love that lasts over 10 years and includes terrorism, an unjust prison sentence, and some kind of redemption at the hands of a Professor Margaret Hunter.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Romantic NonConsensual Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Father BDSM FemaleDom Group Sex Oral Sex Anal Sex Masturbation Fisting Sex Toys Squirting Water Sports Voyeurism
On the way back to London, we stopped in the little Cambridgeshire town of Royston. Sarah sidled furtively into the ladies' loo in the car park, under instructions to stay there until I returned for her. First I went to the bank, and after a nerve-wracking call to my own branch, I withdrew £1,000 in cash, almost emptying my current account. Then I went shopping. The headline on the newsstand made me lurch. 'Group Bombers Named.' Trying to steady my shaking hand, I bought a copy of The Sun and saw on the front page a large clear photograph of the girl now hiding in the car park loos, a couple of hundred yards away. It showed Sarah topless, in a carefree pose at the beach. If I hadn't known its dreadful import, it would have made me sigh at her natural sexiness, the unembarrassed smile that shone straight at me.
I went to the chemist, intent on buying bleach, makeup for a blonde, hairdressing scissors, and dark glasses. I had a stroke of luck - it was a well-appointed shop, and on stands high on the top shelf were a selection of wigs. I chose the plainest blonde wig, long, with a long Julie Christie fringe. So different to Sarah's natural look, from the right distance no one would guess! Next came a clothes shop, where I bought a headscarf that Princess Anne might have worn, just in case the wig didn't work or fit, two dresses in size 12, two in size 14, and hoped one of them would fit Sarah at least approximately. 'Presents for my sisters, ' I explained to the women who served me. A few more purchases, and I returned to the car park. I alerted Sarah, and tossed the shopping bags over the partition between the cubicles. She emerged looking more respectable, but still too recognisable. She held the wig as if it was a dead animal. I almost laughed.
"Jill ... I can't ... it's against everything..."
"I'm sorry darling, but this is no time to stand up for your feminist principles. You're a fugitive. You're nearly six feet tall, you stand out like a Belisha beacon, and you're all over the papers. Let me do it. You can blame me if the Sisters see you and don't like it."
I pushed her back into cubicle, and crowded in with her. A little work on the wig, flourishes of makeup, and with sunglasses coquettishly poised, even Auntie Susan would have had to look more than twice before she recognised her daughter. Whether dyke or blonde vision, to me she looked ravishing We were still high on adrenaline and each other, manically chatting as I drove us to London. When we crossed the North Circular road at the Great Cambridge roundabout, Sarah said:
"Does Margaret know where you live?"
"I think so, she found my phone number somehow, but I really do need to go home and collect some things, if I can. I'll be careful; if anything looks suspicious I promise I won't go in. You stay in the car. No ... Margaret might know the registration number, she's seen it often enough. We'll have to ditch the car as soon as possible!"
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