Chapter 77

While we were in Brighton, and safely out of her parents' hearing, Sheila had suggested that the two of us stay over with them at the flat for a couple of nights on our way back to Cardiff for the new term.

It was a no-brainer for Julie and I to accept her invitation immediately, as we'd been unable to enjoy any amorous activities over the Christmas holidays, and a bit of unrestrained passion to keep away the early January blues sounded just what the second year medical student had ordered.

So, after a long and rather tedious stop-start cross-country train journey along the South Coast, changing trains at a very grotty and depressing Southampton station, and then meandering around Salisbury Plain (at least in trains with working heating – but guess what, no buffet carriages), on Friday 3^rd January 1975 the four of us walked up Caledonia Place in the dark of a mid-winter afternoon, and let ourselves in to a very cold building.

From outside, there had been no light showing through the cracks in any of the shutters; the four-storey building was in complete darkness, only illuminated by the streetlights. As soon as Sheila put her Yale key in the lock and had to wiggle it to get it moving, it was immediately apparent that nobody had been in or out for a while; there was a small pile of post behind the street door as Julie pushed it open, which meant that we almost certainly had the place to ourselves. There had been no milk bottles, neither full nor empty, by the step, suggesting that the milkman had been past, but made no deliveries.

Adrian found and pressed the timed light switch on the wall. Someone – probably Jen – had put a small stack of letters and belated Christmas cards on the bottom step of the stairs; Sheila quickly picked out a couple addressed to them, and left everything else out to await their neighbours' return. Adrian pushed the switch in again to give us the time to get up the stone stairs before the time ran out, while Sheila sprinted up and opened the flat door.

Their first-floor flat wasn't quite as cold as the hall downstairs and the draughty landing, but I could still see my breath in the air when I put my rucksack and sleeping bag on Sheila's bed. It was clear that nobody had been around for a few days; and I hoped that the Cardiff flat wasn't going to be as chilly when we got back there – its heating was not that efficient, as we relied mostly on warm air rising from downstairs, and the electric bar heater in our bedroom was too expensive to run for any great length of time.

While the twins were lighting the gas fire, switching on the immersion heater, and putting the kettle on, Julie and I took the key and dashed down to the corner shop for milk, butter, eggs and bread. I spotted some crumpets and bunged them in the basket; the pre-packed Battenberg Cake looked just a bit too elderly for my liking. There was a pack of ginger snaps nearby which looked okay, so I grabbed them.

We were back at the counter, and just about to pay for our items, when Sheila panted in, obviously having run down from the flat in hot pursuit.

"Hang on – let's get a few more things, then we won't have to rush in the morning!"

She quickly picked up some pre-packed ham, mousetrap cheese and Danish bacon (all of which she normally wouldn't have touched with a bargepole), and added them to the basket. She also spotted some tinned Heinz puddings and selected two mixed fruit and two treacle sponges, popping another two pint bottles of milk and a pound bag of sugar in, as she muttered something about custard.

The man loaded our goods into a sturdy cardboard box that said that it had originally contained a gross of Jaffa Grapefruit imported from Israel, and we set off back to the flat, muggins carrying the big box, of course.

The temperature in the flat was already significantly improved! It was amazing how quickly the three-burner gas fire could heat up that living room, especially with the doors to the bedrooms closed. Adrian had the two double quilts hanging on the armchairs in front of the fire to air, and he poured out four mugs of tea as we took off our coats. He'd also found his own keys and a note under his pillow, from Jen and Hamish, thanking them for the loan of the flat and wishing them a Happy New Year.

"I've phoned Mum and told her that we're safely home, Twin, so with luck she won't disturb us again. I promised that you'd give her a call in the morning."

"Good thinking; we wouldn't want her to phone and not get an answer because we're otherwise engaged, would we?"

He grinned back, a little wolfishly.

"Remember when she phoned to tell us she was coming up in the car to collect us for Christmas?"

"Oh god, yes, talk about bad timing!"

She turned to us to explain.

"It was cold in our bedrooms because we'd been out all day, lectures until six, so we'd moved our quilts in here, and we had our tea in the oven, and were just having a little bit of fun over the back of the armchair, and I was this close to getting there, and the bloody phone rang and rang! Talk about putting you off your stride! We knew it would be Mum, 'cos it kept ringing, so we moved over there like a three-legged race, and of course then she kept talking – in the end I had to fib and say I'd been in the shower, only had a towel wrapped round me and was getting cold, to get her to ring off."

"And did you get there eventually?"

"Bloody right we did, but we almost had to start from the beginning again!"

"It was lucky that we'd only put the oven on low!"

At least phone calls during lovemaking was a problem we'd never had to deal with, having no phone installed in the Richmond Road flat.

Adrian had carried back a tin of Mrs Carter's home-made mince pies in his rucksack, so we had a couple each with our cuppa, and then Sheila took charge.

"I'll do some cheese and ham omelettes for tea at about seven, if that's okay. Meanwhile, you two boys are definitely overdressed. Julie and I have got some serious catching up to do!"

Adrian and I stripped off, piling our clothes any old how in the armchairs. Then we spread out the two quilts in front of the gas fire, close enough to be warm, and far enough away to avoid getting tender flesh scorched, by which time the girls were also naked. They of course were more naturally domesticated and had not only separated shirts from pullovers, but had even laid them down so they wouldn't crease.

Julie ignored my tidiness transgression, laid down on her back and beckoned me over, and I plunged down between her legs and got her in the mood. By the time I had spurted my first load of 1975 deep inside my girlfriend, and kissed her a very happy New Year, the twins were just finishing thrusting hard at each other beside us.

We lay together for a while, just enjoying the contact and the post-coital peace. Eventually Sheila stirred.

"God, I was SO ready for that! It's great to be back in the flat – it was getting a bit claustrophobic at home with Mum and Dad. I love them dearly, but I've got so used to having our own space. What time is it, Twin?"

Adrian wriggled and reached over to where he had put his watch on the floor under an arm chair, hopefully safe from being trodden on in a moment of passion.

"Only quarter to six! I thought that it'd be much later than that!"

"Oh goodie! Time for another one, then. Jules, darling, swap over – last one sitting on a nice hard erection's a rotten egg!"

My girlfriend wriggled out from under me and had Adrian's cock in her mouth with almost indecent haste. Not that I worried; Sheila's lips closed over Gustav's head almost immediately I rolled on to my back, and she embarked on the resurrection process with her usual efficiency.

With the initial urgency over, the two girls took their time. In fact, they were so relaxed that they swapped partners twice – Sheila rocked herself on Gustav until she reached a peak, and as soon as my girlfriend had squeaked her own pleasure, demanded a change. Julie took another orgasm from me fairly quickly, and then Sheila returned, determined to take me to my own happy ending. Her prominent nipples were too much of a temptation for me just to lie back and accept my fate passively, and some judicious rubbing between my forefingers and thumbs had her squealing with delight as Gustav bathed her cervix with my seed. A couple of minutes later, Adrian grunted loudly as he filled Julie.

Sheila had her head on my chest and was purring with satisfaction.

"So, Jon, did you and Jen manage to do the dirty while you were at home?"

I laughed ruefully.

"No, as I told Julie, not only was she off games, but Mum and Dad didn't go out without us at all, so we couldn't even have a quickie in the shower. I had thirteen days without any nookie!"

Sheila giggled.

"No wonder you two could hardly wait to get upstairs when you arrived at our place. If Mum and Dad hadn't been out for the day, we'd probably have had to sneak you out to the summerhouse with a blanket!"

Julie was grinning. She too was rather pleased to be back in action!

"Mind you, being at home really buggered up our average. Over Christmas, with some of Mum's rellies there, we had to be very careful. I didn't want to get caught sneaking off to Twin's room and the four oldies were doing a bit of wandering about in the night – and their dogs were liable to bark if they got disturbed, too."

"So what is your average?"

"We reckon that we've both made love about eight hundred times this year, say three a day if you even it all out."

"You haven't seriously been counting, have you?"

"Oh god, no. I read somewhere that an average newly married couple have sex five times a week and then by the time they have two children it goes down to twice a week if they are lucky. We like making love before we go to sleep, and again in the morning, but then again we're lucky to be living on our own and not having to go out to work. So knocking off twenty percent for me being off games, that makes about five hundred times a year, plus any extras. Twin reckoned that we ought to try for a thousand 'cos that was a more ambitious target than seven hundred and thirty which would be twice every day, and we've been going for it."

I chuckled. Julie and I were probably much closer to the five hundred figure, but that was partially due to lack of opportunity.

"How many times do you think Jen and Hamish do it?"

"Oh, they're just sex mad. They must be at it more than a hundred times a month, but then they're in a Hall, so they don't have to spend time shopping, preparing meals or cleaning up, so they have far more opportunity than we do."

Sheila had a point, there. From our own experience while visiting, when my sister wasn't studying hard, it was a cup of tea, sex, eat supper in the dining hall, sex, cup of tea, sex, nap, sex, cup of tea and toast, nap, sex, sleep, sex, eat breakfast in the dining hall, sex, shower, sex, cup of tea, nap, sex, eat lunch in the dining hall...

Sheila got to her feet.

"Time for some food, I reckon. Twin, will you chop up the ham and the mousetrap, please?"

Even with the slightly inferior ingredients, the omelettes for supper were just the ticket; I quickly felt revitalised with some hot food inside me. Julie too had regained her usual energy, and within half an hour I was attempting to fuck her brains out on the quilt in front of the fire. It was especially good for us because there was no need to hold back so as not to disturb the neighbours – I could do my best to pin her to the floor with Gustav with no risk of Sarah or Monica from downstairs knowing exactly what was going on; or our flatmates giving us knowing glances the next morning. Freed from those constraints, we both gave it our all. With two ejaculations under his belt already, Gustav was, in the immortal words of E.E. 'Doc' Smith, two Brinnell numbers harder than diamond, and my girlfriend responded with equal gusto.

When I finally came, I almost collapsed as the contents of my gonads was pumped out in four or five major convulsions. To my surprise, there was applause. I had actually forgotten that the twins were there! I kissed Julie gratefully and rolled off her; there was that embarrassing 'wet fart' noise as our sweat-covered tummies pulled apart, but she was all smiles. I wasn't the only one who'd had an especially satisfying climax.

"Oh my giddy aunt! I must have put far too much cheese in your omelettes! Twin, how about making me look as pleased with life as Julie is?"

The twins didn't bother with any foreplay at all; our little show had clearly got them hot to trot. Sheila placed a pillow on the quilt for her tummy, laid face down with her legs slightly pulled up to fully expose her not-so-private parts, and Adrian just climbed on top and plugged himself in. There wasn't much love-making in that position; Sheila obviously wanted to be fucked to a nice big orgasm without unnecessary delay, and her brother's long fast thrusts soon had her panting hard. It was fascinating watching the tell-tale pink flush suffusing the skin on the back of her neck and slowly spreading downwards; the slightly muffled shriek of delight occurred only a few moments later.

Showing off, the twins immediately recoupled with Sheila on her back, and this time it was Adrian's turn to skewer his partner to the floor. I was again amazed at his stamina; he kept going at full whack until she screamed out loud, and her convulsing internal muscles caused his buttocks to clench half-a-dozen times as he expelled his seed. It was our turn to applaud.

Our praise was genuine; in Cardiff, with our flatmates on two sides and people below, Julie and I rarely got the chance for some seriously athletic and noisy sex, and, to be honest, for the past couple of months it had been too damned cold in our bedroom to allow much naked flesh to be allowed to protrude beyond our continental quilt. The twins however, with better heating, and no neighbours at weekends, had been able to really let themselves go, and it was thrilling to see how our original protégés had progressed in giving and receiving sexual pleasure. It was delightful to see how uninhibited they were!

While the twins got their breath back, Julie and I made a cuppa and put the sponge puddings on to boil, and I knocked up a pint of custard in Sheila's milk saucepan. We sat and chatted; the topic of conversation being whether it was a good or bad thing that Jen and Hamish weren't with us! The consensus was that it was a good thing, on the somewhat flimsy premise that, unlike them, we four older adults could of course control our passionate urges and wouldn't overdo it...

Half an hour later, the Heinz tins had endured their 35 minutes boiling, and the tricky bit started. In the days before we all had microwaves, the puddings had to be heated in sealed tins in boiling water, and you had to open a hot tin while holding a tea towel over the opener so that, if the hot treacle did spurt out under pressure, it wouldn't get you. My sister and I had learned from bitter experience that you really did need to obey the embossed instruction 'open this end first', and then you could open the other end and push the pudding through from the non-treacly end, being very careful of all the sharp edges.

The trouble taken was well worth it. The sweetness of the syrup, the stodge of the sponge pudding, and the generous covering of custard all went down very well together.

If it had just been Julie and I, we would have then just gone to sleep. However, with Julie and Sheila together egging each other on, and both enjoying a change from their usual sexual partner, Adrian and I were roped into another bout of love-making. I tried to think back to the last time I'd gone four times in an evening, and reckoned it must have been the trip to Reading, just before my appendix had done the dirty on me.

As us boys had done most of the work an hour earlier, the girls started off with reverse cowgirl. At Julie's insistence, Adrian and I lay head to feet, so that she and Sheila could watch each other – it also had the benefit that I could also delight in the expressions that ran across her face as each wave of pleasure hit her, when I wasn't admiring the way that Sheila's bottom gyrated around Gustav and rhythmically absorbed and released him.

Sheila took her pleasure, and that gave me mine. She twisted round to look at me as she felt my seed fill her, and once I had finished pumping she hopped off and crawled onto my chest for a kiss. I closed my eyes in contentment – I didn't even feel somebody draw another quilt over us. We all slept for a few hours.

Over a three o'clock in the morning cup of tea and a hot buttered toasted crumpet, (having been woken by the urge for a pee), Adrian admitted that he got a real kick out of hearing Sheila moan in delight next to him as he was driving his cock into Julie, and the girls too were honest enough to tell us that they too were even more turned on by the sounds of passion of the other. It wasn't news – I'd experienced Julie's extra curiosity whenever we were playing jointly with the twins or Jen and Hamish – but it was good to be reassured once more that I wasn't the only pervert around.

To everyone's delight, the girls then managed to get our interest up for the fifth time in only ten hours, and as I lay afterwards with Gustav slowly deflating inside Sheila, I had the pleasure of hearing my girlfriend scream as Adrian shot his load deep inside her. We were all asleep again pretty quickly; I vaguely hoped that we wouldn't be too sore come the morning.

Although the rest of the flat had now warmed up enough for us to be able to use the bedrooms if we had wanted, we did enjoy the novelty of the four of us sleeping in one big pile of bedding in front of the gas fire as it hissed on its lowest setting, just keeping the warmth ticking over. I briefly woke a couple of times, felt warm bodies around me, and happily went straight off again.

It wasn't soreness that was the immediate problem in the morning; we all badly needed a shower. Our pubic hair was matted and sticky, and I certainly stank of stale sweat. With sensible use of the hot water, like turning it off as we soaped or shampooed and then on again to rinse, the tank lasted the four of us.

Breakfast was tea and toast, the washing up was however delayed, after Adrian tugged experimentally at the towel that Julie had wrapped sarong style just above her breasts He then offered to kiss her nipples better, just in case the soft cotton had perhaps scraped the tender flesh. Julie thought that this was a great idea, and I was soon on the quilt beside them, closely inspecting Sheila's body for any slight abrasions and other 'poorlies' that might need attention. (I didn't find anything to worry about, but we both thoroughly enjoyed the checking!)

At least the delay meant that the hot water was back up to temperature when we did finally get around to finishing the washing up; not that the toast plates were at all difficult to clean.

The mugs went straight back into use for another brew. I opened the ginger snaps; they were soggy and chewy rather than crisp and crunchy, but the flavour was okay. I hadn't totally wasted my money.

"Twin, are you going to phone Mum before she drags Dad off to the shops?"

"Good idea, then that's out of the way."

Sheila sat herself down on the carpet next to the telephone and dialled. As soon as she was talking to her mother, her twin whispered in my ear. It was a great suggestion.

I sat down next to her and, despite her ineffectual swatting with her free hand, succeeded in locking my lips on one of her nipples. Julie saw what I was doing, and grinned with delight as she latched on to the other. Adrian then lay down on his front and pulled her legs apart, so that his head was between her thighs.

Of course, she didn't dare create a fuss about being molested, because her mother would have asked what on earth was going on. She did manage to shorten the phone call by reminding her mother about the weekly shopping trip, and after saying 'goodbye' three times, happily put the handset back in the cradle.

"You rotten sods! Talk about taking advantage! You'd better make it up to me, or there'll be rat poison in your lunch!"

Of course there was no meaning in her threat, but as we knew exactly what she meant by 'making it up to her', she was quickly spread-eagled over the back of one armchair, Julie over the other, and Adrian and I made it our business to ensure that they were both happy campers.

About ten o'clock, with our lust sated for a while, we put some clothes on and went shopping for the weekend's food. Mr Waite, the butcher, was of course open for business, so after exchanging appropriate seasonal greetings, Sheila bought the ingredients for a warming winter stew based on shin of beef.