May 12 - 16, 1975
When I began my senior high school years, I elected to do the advanced maths course; what was then called "Level 1 maths", but these days is probably "3 Unit", or for people in the US, it is the equivalent of "AP Math" (Advanced Placement – a precursor of university / college level). About twelve of us opted for that class, which was taken by Mr King – our normal maths teacher, and one of the top teachers at the school.
Back with I was in 5th form (or Year 11 as they call it these days), the school acquired a 'computer' – in reality, a fancy programmable desktop calculator. Since Mr King was doing his Master's degree, which involved computer programming, he was given responsibility for the computer. One day after class, he asked if I would be interested in learning how to program it; he gave me the manuals, and I spend most lunchtimes of the next few weeks learning how to use it. I wrote several programs, most related to classes I was doing; one calculated the energy levels involved when electrons would migrate from one orbit to another (Physics), but one was a simple noughts and crosses (tic tac toe) game.
With the May school holidays approaching, we were given information about a number of vacation schools that the various universities around Sydney were running; all designed to give potential students an insight in to particular courses and careers that they might be interested in pursuing. I had already decided that I wanted a career in computer programming; and when I saw that the University of New South Wales – my preferred choice – was putting on a one week introduction to computer science course, I desperately wanted to attend.
When the acceptance letter arrived, I was over the moon. Finally, a chance to work on a proper computer, and to learn real programming, and to find out more about what I would be doing over the next few years at University.
Starting the Course – Day One
"G'day Hannah, jump in," I said to her as I pulled up at the bus stop.
"Thank you again, Will, for driving me with you," she replied as she settled into the passenger seat. "I'll give you money for the petrol, too."
We had to be at the University by 8:30 for the first day of the vacation computer programming school. I had been looking forward to this ever since Mr King had told me that I have been selected for the five day course. I was surprised about Hannah; I hadn't known she was interested in computers as well. She told me that her father worked with computers, he worked for IBM as one of their country experts on databases or something like that, and she was thinking about taking a similar career.
As we chatted about what we hoped we would get out of the week, I kept glancing over at her. She was pretty cute, I thought, and I loved hearing her German accent. Not that I seriously considered anything happening with her; although I did start to wonder just what her breasts would look like if she was topless, and if her pubic hair was as blonde as the hair on her head. But I had to concentrate on the traffic, so I put that out of my mind.
I had never had all that much to do with Hannah – not that I didn't like her, it's just that she was in a different circle of friends to me. I knew she was originally from Germany, lived around Bayview somewhere, and she was pretty good at tennis and sailing, but that was about the extent of my knowledge of her.
"So, do you think you will study computers at this university next year, Will?" she asked. "You don't want to take your music career to a professional level?"
"I'm planning on studying there, yes, if I do well enough to get in," I replied. "But the music; I'm not really good enough to make a living from that, not really, anyway. Besides, for me, it's just the enjoyment from performing, and entertaining people, and if it became a full time job, it might lose the enjoyment."
"No, you are really good," she said. "You and Megan, at the concert the other night, that was so beautiful. My parents were there, and they said how great you are at the Mirage; they were there last month for their wedding anniversary, and they want to go again to hear you."
"You should go one night, yourself," I said. "You would enjoy it, I'm sure."
"Och, who would take me?" she replied. "That's a place for lovers to go, for a romantic night, where a man can get his woman in the mood. You know, and afterwards they go somewhere for the loving. At least that's what my mother said." She laughed, and rolled her eyes.
"I'm sure lots of guys would be willing to take you," I said.
"I don't think that's true," she said. "Besides, I wouldn't want them to take me for that reason, well, no guy that I know. But I will suggest to my parents that we go there for my birthday next month. Still, you should keep with your music and singing, Will."
"I hope to for a few years, that way I can pay my way through uni," I replied. "Now, can you get that pass out of the folder they sent us, I think this is where we go in to park?"
Hannah found the parking permit, and I asked the security person at the gate where we were meant to park. He pointed out the road to take, and where the Electrical Engineering building was located. After I thanked him, he reminded me to make sure the parking permit was visible on the dashboard so I wouldn't get a ticket.
Once we had parked, it was only a short walk to the building where the course was. We checked the map we had been given, and went in where we thought was the right place. No one was there yet, but there was a table with a bunch of brochures and booklets, so we browsed through those while we waited. After a few minutes, a man wearing a tie and jacket arrived, and introduced himself to us.
"You two are here for the computer programming course?" He asked, offering me his hand. "I'm Murray Allen, head of the Computer Science department here, part of the School of Electrical Engineering; welcome to the University and to the vacation course. Are you planning on applying to study here next year?"
We introduced ourselves, and he gave us a brief outline of what the department did. Soon, other people started arriving, and he excused himself to meet them. By this time, one of the staff members had set up a table with name badges on them, and laid out tea and coffee. We found our name tags (fortunately mine had 'Will' and not 'William' on it), and got some coffee.
We then joined some of the others – there were five others in a group talking; three guys and two girls. David and Claire – who seemed to be together – were from Chester Hill, in the western suburbs, Barry was from Sylvania Waters, Cliff from Miranda, and Linda was from Roseville. Before we could talk much more, we were called into the lecture room.
As we sat down, Hannah pulled me close to her.
"That Claire, with the face like a ferret, she's so possessive of her boyfriend," she whispered. "Did you see, as soon as we stood near them, she moved to stand between David and me?"
"I didn't even notice, but now you say it, she does look like a ferret," I whispered back.
We couldn't say much more, as Murray Allen stood in front of the room, and welcomed us to the school. He talked about what we would be doing during the week, the aim of the course, and how he hoped we would find it interesting, and instructive, and consider enrolling in a computer science degree at the University.
He talked about what is involved in the course – actually, the two options, one doing an electrical engineering degree, the other a science degree. Most of what he said covered the engineering side, but he mentioned the option I had been considering – combining an engineering degree with a science degree. Some of that I had already found out about, but it was good to have the complete details laid out. Murray handed out copies of the current engineering faculty handbook, with details of courses, subjects and staff.
Hannah gave me a discrete nudge, and pointed to her notepad, where she had written "watch Claire and David". They were two rows in front of us, near the centre of the room, and she was organising his notes and handouts, and she would point at something on one of the pages, and whisper something to him.
"Probably making sure he doesn't get interested in subjects that she won't be taking," she whispered to me. "He's already under her thumb."
"Like Peter and Maria, at school," I whispered back. "I'll have to tell you the term I heard him described as."
"I think I know," Hannah replied, smiling.
We turned our attention back to Murray, who was now talking about some of the research projects on the school. I continued to make a few notes until we broke for morning tea, and a well needed pee.
During the break, I spoke with some of the other people there; there were probably forty of us in the class. One thing that surprised me was the relatively high number of people with an Asian background; at least a third of the people – including Barry, Cliff and Linda who I had met earlier – looked like that came from that ancestry. I guess Mona Vale wasn't one of the centres of Asian population in Sydney.
As we were heading in after the break, Hannah pulled on my sleeve.
"What was that term for Peter?" she asked.
"Pussy whipped," I whispered in her ear.
She blushed, and then laughed.
"And that David is totally, um, pussy whipped too," she whispered back. "I'll tell you more at lunchtime, it will make you laugh."
The next session was taken by two of the lectures, Phil McCrea and Paul Brown – both in their twenties. The talked about the fundamentals of computers – what makes up a computer, how it works, how programs are written, why there are programming languages, all that sort of stuff. I took lots of notes, some of it I already knew from my reading, but things were stating to make sense and fall into place.
When we broke for lunch, Hannah and I walked over to the next building were we could get some food.
"You'll never guess what that Claire asked me earlier," she said. "She asked if I was your girlfriend, if that was why I was here with you. As if I wasn't smart enough to be here on my own accord. Stupid bitch!"
"That's probably why she is here, to keep David under control," I replied. "Pussy whipped, remember."
"Humph," she snorted. "He could do better than her."
We got some sandwiches from the cafeteria, and sat out on the grass in the sun to have lunch. In front of the large brick building opposite us was a big expanse of grass and trees, one of the few areas of the campus that hadn't been built on. If there was more time before the class resumed, I would have wanted to explore the rest of the campus, but that would have to wait for another day. We were given a handout with a map, the main library was just up the hill, but there was a new building being built next to it, and getting around the construction meant walking the long way around.
The afternoon's session was on the programming language we would be using during the week – one I had never heard of called 'Pascal'. It seemed fairly simple to understand, Phil went through on the board some programs – starting with a very simple on that printed out a line of text. For our homework (and we groaned quietly), we had to write a Pascal program to solve quadratic equations. Tomorrow morning we would be divided into teams of four people, and we would enter the program into the computer, and see if it worked.
As we left the university, Hannah started work on our assignment. She worked out some of the steps, and I made some suggestions, checking to make sure we didn't divide by zero, or take the square root of a negative number. By the time we had reached Mona Vale, she had written everything out, even making a copy for me.
"Same time tomorrow?" I asked.
"Ja, thank you," she replied. "Oh, can I get your phone number, just in case I want to talk to you about the program?"
I wrote it on a piece of paper, and gave it to her, and she waved as I drove off. I spent the evening reading through all of the notes and handouts from the course, then looking at Hannah's program. I made two little changes to it, but it looked like it was pretty good.
Hands on Programming – Day Two
The next morning, on the drive in, we made a few more refinements to our program I described the changes that I had come up with, Hannah would consider them, make corrections to her program – two or three times she disagreed with me, having alternate ideas; in some cases better, thinking of things that hadn't occurred to me. In the class, Phil (Doctor McCrea) worked through the solution on the board, getting contributions from all of us. He showed how the overall program development took place, from a high level outline of the overall solution, filling in each major section, the correct way to handle validating inputs, and how to keep the program well-structured and readable.
After the morning tea break, Phil continued teaching us about Pascal, this time program loops. We worked on another exercise to determine if a number is prime, and then broke for lunch. After lunch, it was what I had been waiting for – the "hands on" time in the programming lab. We split up into groups of four; Barry and Cliff joining us – but I noticed David was about to ask if he could join us before Claire steered him towards two other guys – Trevor and Peter. Hannah just looked at me and rolled her eyes.
The four of us took turns using the computer terminal to enter our program code and test our work. After we corrected a number of typing mistakes, our program worked properly, at least until Phil came over, and tested it by typing in a negative number. We hadn't allowed for that in our loop, and the program continued until he had to cancel the job. We all felt really stupid, until Phil said that we were the only group to get any results, most of the others hadn't even got the program to compile cleanly yet. That made us feel much better, and we quickly fixed the program to cater for negative numbers.
After we took a break in the middle of the afternoon, we typed in our first exercise – the quadratic equation solver. Again, we had to fix a few typos, but it worked as we had expected it to. Two "real" programs, and they both worked – we all felt pretty proud of ourselves as we left for the day.
On the drive home, we talked about the programs we had worked on, and how the four of us worked well as a team.
"I'm glad that bitchy Claire didn't want David in with us," Hannah said. "Although she's got nothing to worry from me, he's not my type at all. Do you think those two will be studying there next year?"
"I guess so," I replied. "I mean, unless either of them decide not to get into programming. What about you; will want to do that course?"
"No, well, not here, anyway," she said. "I'll be going back to Germany, seeing my relatives, and travelling around for a while. You know Jenny wants to come with me, and I have been looking at some universities in Germany, around Munich, but the two of us will travel around first for a while."
As she said that, a thought crossed my mind, about why she said David "wasn't her type at all" – maybe Jenny was her type? But I dismissed that idea, why should I assume Hannah and Jenny were interested in each other 'that way'?
"I haven't seen one set of my grandparents since we moved here, and I've got a bunch of cousins I've never met," she continued. "And Jenny wants to see where her parents grew up, in Copenhagen, she still has relatives there, so we will get to see each other's origins."
For the rest of the drive home we talked about her planned trip to Europe, and how she had already started to look at the possibility of going to university there. She had been spending a lot of time at home speaking German with her parents, and reading newspapers her grandparents mailed to her, so she would find it easier to understand and communicate once she was over there.
"Well, speak to me in German," I said.
"Um, ok," she replied, then rattled off a few sentences that I had no idea what she was saying.
"Well, that sounded like German to me," I replied. "But I had no idea what you said, except I think there were some names in there."
Hannah laughed, "well then, why did you ask me to speak in German? What I said was 'That Claire really has David pussy whipped, he is like a little dog on a leash. But I bet she doesn't let him have any of her ... um ... pussy.' Except that last word wasn't 'pussy' it was something much stronger."
I laughed at what she had said, and how her face was now all red.
"A stronger word for pussy?" I said. "What was the word?"
"Fotze," she replied. "That's German for ... um, the c-word, you know, um, cunt."
She was now bright red, and she looked away from me.
"Fotze," I repeated, trying to imitate her pronunciation. "Maybe I can start to call some people that, and they won't even know what I am saying."
"Well, it's more of the term to describe the vagina, not an insult," she explained. "I can't believe I have said that to you. But I'm sure David doesn't get any of that from Claire."
"You mean just like Peter and Maria? Except she doesn't have a fotze, I wonder what the Italian word for cunt is?" I asked.
"Oh, Will you are bad," she said, laughing. "Now, a fotze is a fotze in any language, I mean, I'm sure an Italian um, cunt would be the same as a German cunt."
"Or an Australian one," I chimed in.
"Or even an American one," she said. "I guess you know all about those, or at least one of those."
"Hannah!" I exclaimed. "I haven't, well ... Look, I'm not going to talk about what I may have done with Lori!"
"You don't have to tell me," she said. "Besides, guys bragging about their exploits turn me off. But you and Lori are good friends, and isn't she taking you to her sailing club awards night this weekend? You and she seem right for each other."
"Yeah, I thought so too at one stage," I said, all of a sudden feeling very sad. "But, she, I mean we, well, it's a long story, and things didn't work out how I thought they would. But we are still good friends."
"Well, she's better for you than Kathy Parsons was," Lori said. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but if I was a guy, well, I'd make sure I never lost Lori Earle. Even if she does have an American fotze, and not a German fotze." She reached over to touch my hand. "She would be lucky to have you, and you would be lucky to have her."
"Yeah, well, I guess that's nice in theory," I said. "But I really don't want to talk about that, not at the moment. Do you want me to drop you off home, rather than here at the bus stop?"
"You don't mind?" she asked. "That would be good; I won't have to call home to get picked up."
Hannah's place was only a mile or so past the high school, so it wasn't all that far out of my way to drop her off at her house.
"Thank you so much, Will," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow, at the bus stop?"
"Sure, see you then," I replied.
Confessions – Day Three
I awoke to a wet and cold Wednesday morning – the pleasant late autumn weather of the last few days had been replaced winter. Hannah was waiting at the bus stop, wrapped in a long overcoat.
"You should have called me, and I would have picked you up from your place," I said, as she slid across the seat.
"Oh, there wasn't a need for that," she replied. "I was only waiting a minute or two, and there is that shelter there. Now, did you dream of an American fotze last night, after our talk on the way home yesterday?"
"Hannah!" I exclaimed. "I'm not going to tell you that!"
She laughed, and said "You're getting all embarrassed!"
"What if I said I dreamt about a German fotze instead then?" I replied. "A blonde fotze, too!"
"What makes you think it's blonde there," she said, her face turning red. "Maybe we should change the subject, anyway."
Not that I was going to tell Hannah, but I did dream about Lori. She called me yesterday evening, to make sure I still wanted to go to the prize giving night – the Commodore's Ball - at the sailing club on Saturday. Her father had decided we would all go up there on the boat, and they would tie that up to the club's jetty overnight, and we would be sleeping on board. That made me think back to the last time Lori and I were on the boat, not that with her parents there this time, there would be the opportunity for anything, even if we both had the inclination.
Hannah was talking about the day's program, specifically the tour we were going to have of the University's computer centre in the middle of the morning. She had already seen the main IBM computer centre that her father worked in several times, and was eager to see how the University differed in its equipment.
Those (safer) discussions lasted until we arrived at the university, and we talked with the others before the first lecture started. This time, Paul Baker talked about computer systems, like the big mainframes we would be looking at later, the various hardware components, the differences between mainframes and minicomputers, and what the main software products were. There were lots of photographs of various pieces of computer equipment, including some of the original computer that the university had built in the 1950's.
After the mid-morning break, we finally got to see the computer centre, and one of the senior operations staff showed us around, explaining what all of the equipment did, and demonstrating how they operated the equipment from the main consoles. As we were shown how the big magnetic tapes were mounted on the tape units, Hannah whispered to me.
"I have a funny story my father told me last week about these, remind me to tell you on the way home," she said softly. "You'll laugh yourself silly, I know." After lunch, we had another programming lecture from Phil, this time talking about arrays, sorting and searching. We then went to the work room to write and enter a program to sort a list of numbers into ascending or descending sequence. Again, Hannah, Barry, Cliff and I worked together on it, and it didn't take us too long to get it working. Tomorrow we would be learning some more complex programming techniques, Phil said, and warned us that some of the concepts we would be going through we might not understand; they were things that normally took the undergraduate students several weeks to grasp.
We were about halfway home when I had remembered that Hannah wanted to tell me a story that her father had told her.
"What was that funny story you wanted to tell me?" I asked.
"Oh, yes; I had almost forgotten what my father told us at dinner the other night," she said. "This was something happened at my father's work the other week, he was working on something, some special report or program, that needed a lot of stuff read from one of those big tape reels, and those jobs run overnight on their new mainframe."
"Well, he wrote up the programs and all that, and submitted the job, and rang up the computer centre, to make sure the tape he needed was there, and everything seemed right. But the next morning, there wasn't any printout waiting for him. He rang up the operator, actually the daytime shift supervisor, and it appears the job had been cancelled automatically because the tape it needed hadn't been put on the tape drive."
"My father was a bit annoyed, because he checked to make sure the tape was there, and the shift supervisor went to check it again, and it was there in the rack, in the right place. So he submitted his job again. But the same thing happened that night, his job didn't run. This time he was really pissed off, and the person he spoke to apologised, and said he would leave a note for the night shift manager to watch out and monitor his job."
"Well, when he got in the next morning, there was a message to call the shift manager. He did, and the manager was very apologetic, he had a note from the night manager, and he explained why his job was not running, and why the tape wasn't getting mounted. The night manager saw my father's job start, and the request to mount the tape came up on his console, which meant the operators at the main console would have seen the request as well. But after twenty minutes, it was still there – it hadn't been mounted. So he went into the computer room to see what the problem was. Well, there was no one at the console, the two operators weren't there."
"He looked around the computer room, and there the two of them were – both men – and they were, well, you know, having sex, behind the tape machines, completely unaware of everything else!"
"Oh God!" I exclaimed. "So what happened?"
"I think the two guys were fired, and my father got his program run on a special priority, during the early morning," Hannah said. "At least he was able to laugh about it, so did my mother; she said something like 'they were too busy mounting each other to mount your tape'."
"Mounting each other, yes, I guess so," I said. "You dinner conversations are a lot more interesting that ours at home. I don't think my mother would even want it mentioned that things like that – two guys, I mean – actually happens."
"I think most Australians don't like to mention homosexuality," Hannah said. "Isn't that the worst insult you can give to another guy, to call him a poofta, or a pansy?"
"Yeah, there are a lot of guys who are paranoid about that," I replied. "And quite a few guys will bash someone up just because they think he is a homo. Is it the same with girls, that really strong feeling of hatred for lesbians, and a huge fear of being called one?"
"No, not to the same level," she replied. "Not among other girls, anyway, at least not around here. There are several lesbians in our year, you know; well, maybe you don't know, they don't make it obvious, but they don't get hassled much about it. But if some of the guys knew, well, that might be different, you know, it is like an insult to some of them, saying they don't want them, but prefer to have a girl to kiss and, you know, do things, rather than a guy."
"Hmm, I guess so, I mean there are some guys around that think that any girl ought to have sex with them, and be grateful for it," I said. "But I didn't know any of the girls in our year were lesbians; but I guess if they don't go out of their way to make it public, then how would you know? Or else I'm just not all that observant."
"You just have to know what to look for," she replied. "I thought you would have asked me who they were, though."
"Why? So I would know not to waste my time asking them out?" I chuckled. "No, I'm not into all the gossip and that stuff. And if that's how someone chooses to be, I don't have a problem with that, people should be able to live their life the way they want to."
"Maybe I could tell you, at least about two, if you promise not to tell anyone, not even Lori," Hannah said. "Although I think she knows anyway."
"I don't spread gossip and tales, Hannah," I said, wondering who the two could be. "But don't feel you have to tell me about others."
"No, it's not about others, well one other," she said softly. "It's Jenny and me, we are, well, we are lesbians, we have done, well, lots of things together. And neither of us are really interested in guys, I mean not for sex or stuff like that. That's why we want to go to Germany, to Europe after this year; they are far more accepting of that than people are here. You won't tell anyone at school, will you?"
"Me? Tell anyone? Of course not," I replied. "Now if only that Claire knew that, that she is more likely to be your type than David!"
"Well, she's not my type either," Hannah said. "And David is too pussy-whipped, as you said. But thanks for listening, I haven't told anyone about Jenny and me, and it's nice to be able to tell someone that I love her, and she loves me, and how we have done, well, you know, things..."
"Things?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, things, exactly what you and Lori do, or did, kissing, touching, holding each other. Just because we are two girls, doesn't mean we don't have fingers, or lips, or tongues," she explained. "All we lack is a, you know, dick."
"That makes sense," I said. "Besides, I know how much two people can to even if they don't use a dick, at least use it fully."
"You mean you haven't, um, gone all the way?" she asked.
"No, not yet," I replied, shaking my head.
"Really? But isn't that what every guy wants to do, and will take any chance, to, um, screw, to have sex?" she asked. "For some of them, that's all they want a girl for, just to fuck her."
"Well, I don't know about all guys, all I know is about me, and most of the time I'm not even sure how I feel," I replied. "It's not that I don't want to have sex, and a few times, well, I almost did, but for various reasons, I haven't yet. I don't want to just, you know, fuck someone, just so I can boast and say 'I've fucked a woman', but I want it to be special, with someone I really care about. And, well, that just hasn't happened yet."
"Really? You are different from other guys, most of them, all they care about is having the next fuck," she said. "But it sounds like you wish you had done it already, but with that person you really care about. That would be Lori, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would," I replied. "I thought it would have happened last summer, but, well, it's a long story, and for a lot of reasons, it didn't. And it may never happen, not with her." "Oh, I'm sorry Will, for you and for Lori," Hannah said, and squeezed my leg gently.
"You two would be perfect for each other."
"Well, maybe," I replied. "And you, you've never done it, with a guy, I mean?"
"No, and that is also a long story," she said. "And how Jenny and I, well, how we fell in love. Did you know I've never said that to anyone else, said how I feel about her?"
"How did it start?" I asked. "Only if you want to talk about it, I mean."
"I would, I mean, you don't mind me telling you?" she said. "I've never, we've never been able to tell anyone about us, not even my parents, but they probably suspect. I mean, at school, when another girl will go on about what she and her boyfriend did over the weekend, or how they spent all night kissing, or how he gave her lots of orgasms, I want to say, 'Jenny and I spent all night making love together, too', but I can't say a word. Even how you see a couple, standing close, or holding hands, or touching, or looking that way at each other, we can't do that, not in public."
I nodded, and made an encouraging "uh-huh."
"That's why I thought you and Lori were still, you know, lovers, the way you are when you are together," she continued. "But Jenny and I, we can't do that, we have to pretend we are single. And deal with all the guys trying to crack on to us. You probably noticed how I have been standing close to you this week, or I would sometimes touch you on the arm, or stuff like that – to discourage some of the guys. I hope you didn't think I was trying to, you know, encourage you?"
"Actually, I didn't even notice," I said. "I'm sorry, I must be pretty dumb, and that sounds a bit insulting to you, not seeing the attention you were paying to me."
"Oh, that's ok, I'm not insulted," she said, and touched my leg again. "If I was really serious about attracting you, there's no way you wouldn't have realised. I wanted to let Claire know that I wasn't a threat to her, and to also keep that Peter at bay. And it has worked so far."
"But what I said about that, the way people in love are around each other, how you automatically are with each other, it's so hard sometimes, to remember not to hold hands, or touch, or whatever," she continued. "And not being able to tell people, 'this is the person I love', and even to boast a little, like, 'well, we made each other come lots of times last night too', as silly as that sounds. Would you like to hear how we started, how we fell in love?"
I understood just how Hannah felt; although it was slightly different, that is how I felt about my relationship with Megan at times. Besides, we were now stuck in a traffic jam, it looked like something had happened on the uphill side of the Roseville Bridge, and we weren't moving fast.
"Sure, I would love you to tell me about you and Jenny," I replied. "I'll keep it to myself, you can trust me not to tell anyone, I'm not into gossiping."
"I know, you are different to all the other guys like that," she said. "And maybe if we had been better and closer friends a few years back, before ... Well, let me tell you how it started, it was back in forth form, I was going steady with Brett, do you remember?"
I vaguely remembered that, Hannah and Brett were boyfriend and girlfriend for a few months, then they broke up, but that wasn't all that strange for most of us then; relationships would last as long as the weather when you are a teenager.
"We had been going out for a few months, and he was my first serious boyfriend, the first boy I had kissed, and things started to get more serious, he felt my breasts, on the skin, too, and I touched and stroked his dick," she continued. "Later, we went further, rubbing each other, making each other come. You've done that, with Lori, haven't you?"
"Yes, but go on," I replied.
"Well, Brett wanted to go further; all the way, he said that if I really loved him, I would want to, to let him screw me. Maybe not quite those words, but he was putting a lot of pressure on me, but I was scared, I didn't want to get pregnant, but I wanted to keep him. I kept saying no, but then one day, in the August holidays, I decided that I wanted to do it, so I decided to surprise him. I had said I was going into town, to the shops, but instead I went to his place, and was going to tell him that I wanted to have sex."
I got there, and went inside – to his bedroom, and, well..."
She stopped, and sniffed, wiping her eyes.
"He was in there with that slut Jenny Adams, fucking her, and she saw me and smirked at me. I cried out something, and threw a book at him, and ran out. It was so, so ... I don't know it just tore me apart."
"When we heard about Jenny disappearing the other month, I know this sounds awful, but I really, really hoped that she had been killed, someone had found her with some guy, or guys, and given her what she deserved," she said, still sniffing. "Is that bad of me, does that make me an awful person? But she deserved that, if that's what happened."
"No, that doesn't make you an awful person," I replied, and reached over to squeeze her hand. "What he did, what they did to you was pretty bad, they were the awful people."
"Anyway, I didn't know what to do, but I went around to Jenny's place, we had talked about going into town together, and I told her everything. I was crying, so upset, and she held me, comforted me, all of that. Well, before I realised it, we were in her bed, undressed, kissing and touching. She did things to me that Brett did, well, tried to do, but it was so much better, so more intense. And I did things to her, you know, touching and kissing, licking..."
She paused for a few seconds, and looked at me.
"You've done that, haven't you, gone down on a girl, kissing, um, licking her pussy?" she asked. "You've made Lori come that way, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have, and it's something I love doing," I replied.
"Brett tried it a few times, but never really enjoyed doing it, and he would stop too soon, before I was able to come, it was like a chore for him," Hannah said. "But Jenny, she loves doing it, and I love doing it to her. Most people would say we are deviants, or something, unnatural, or whatever. But we can't help it; it just feels right for us."
"Well, that's what is important, I reckon," I said. "I don't think you are deviants, or sickos, or whatever. If you both feel it's right, then that's how it should be; bugger what other people might think. Some people even think any oral sex; even between a guy and a girl, is wrong. They're the sick ones, if you ask me."
"Thank you, that's how I feel, about Jenny and I being right for each other, not just the oral sex, but I've never been able to share that with anyone," she said. "Tell me, why do most guys not want to go down on a girl? You're the only guy that I've heard of that will do it willingly, never mind enjoy it. Don't they know how much we love it, if they do it properly?"
"You're asking me about what other guys like or don't?" I replied. "I have no idea, and I really don't know how many would do that or not. I mean, some guys will go on with all of their exploits, but most of them are just bullshitting you, crapping on about how many girls they've screwed, and all of that stuff. I tend to ignore all that."
"Well, believe me, there are probably two or three guys in our year that will give a girl oral sex, at least more than just a few seconds of licking around the sides," she said. "No names, but comparing notes with the other girls, hardly any of them have had any good experiences. Of course, just about all of the guys will expect a girl to suck his dick until her jaw drops off or he shoots into her mouth, and of course she has to be ready for him to fuck her whenever he wants it, but most of you guys are pretty terrible at returning the favour. Not you, I already knew that you weren't like that, and you were pretty good at licking a girl's pussy."
"How?" I started to ask.
"Sailing on Tuesdays with Lori, of course," she explained. "A few weeks ago, as we were packing things up after a race, I asked her how things were with you. She tried to deny things at first, saying that you had broken up back in January, but I knew there was still something there. She said you hadn't had sex, but I said to her 'come on Lori, there's other things you two do', and moved my tongue up and down, like this."
She poked the tip of her tongue out, and wiggle it up and down, miming how a guy (or girl) would lick another girl's pussy.
"Well, she went bright red, but I knew, and she eventually said that you had done that, and she said something like 'Will is really good at that, he loves doing it, and he drives me wild, he makes me uncontrollable', and I told her how lucky she was, having a boyfriend like that."
"God, do all of you girls tell stories like that about us guys?" I exclaimed. "Is nothing kept secret; you probably know how big or small we all are, too!"