Chronicle 20 -1980: The Sisters: Part 2

I woke up early, in the middle of a dream where I had been back at my school, except it looked nothing like my school, and I was desperately trying to find a loo.  Wherever I went the loos were closed or damaged or occupied.  There was a loo in the cloakroom but it was full of mothers and children and had no doors.  When I did wake from the dream, somewhat confused, I realised that the dream had been caused by pressure in my bladder.  I needed to get out of bed without waking C.  I turned my head to look at her but, of course, it wasn’t C.  It was J, fellow first year H’s sister from Cambridge. She was fast asleep, her long pigtail on the pillow, her back to me.  I carefully slipped out of bed and put my dressing gown on to go to the loo downstairs.  My head felt a bit muzzy.  We had had quite a bit to drink the previous day.  I was worried J would wake up and regret proceeding as she had done in her slightly drunken state.  It was six forty-five. I went back to my room, wishing I had taken my toothbrush and toothpaste down with me. I opened the door as quietly as possible.  J didn’t seem to have moved a muscle. I really wanted a cup of tea but didn’t want to put the kettle on and wake her.  I opened the kettle and it had hardly any water in anyway, so I crept out again, downstairs to the scout’s pantry, to fill it.

When I got back to my room, I saw the guttered candles sat on my desk, next to the empty bottle of claret, two glasses and an opened box of Durex. Talk about an incriminating tableau. I tidied up, worried about what C or K would say if they came up to my room, completely ignoring the fact that the most incriminating things there were the naked girl in my bed and her clothes on the chair.

I sat in my armchair and couldn’t decide if I felt guilty or not.  Well, I did a little but it was a strange mixture of guilt and self satisfied revenge. C had returned from her extended and incriminating stay at Magdalen, not only in unapologetic mood but actually seeming to say that our relationship, whatever it had been, was at an end. Given the way she had treated me lately I was less worried about what she would think and more worried about what H, J’s sister would think.  Perhaps I had been stupid.  H, a lovely girl who was a friend of K’s, had, it seemed, been very interested in me.  Perhaps there might have been something in it for us but now I had ruined that possibility by sleeping with her sister, who was, as she had admitted herself, in rebound mode from what sounded like an even more traumatic break up.  I sat there thinking, which without a cup of tea, was never a good idea.  I wondered about taking my kettle down to the scout’s pantry and making my tea there.

“Are you coming back to bed?” called out J from the bedroom. A whole rush of thoughts swirled around in my slightly aching head, not least of which was that, at the very least, she wanted me to get back into bed with her.  I walked over to the door into my bedroom,  She was lying on her side, facing me, the corner of the duvet turned down, invitingly and revealing her really rather superb breasts.

“I didn’t know you were awake!” I said.

“Well the amount of crashing around you have done it would be difficult not to be!”

“I needed the loo!” I said. She said she did too but didn’t want to get dressed and go downstairs.  I reminded her about the chamber pot under the bed. I could see the conflict on her face.  She ‘ummed’ and ‘aahed’ and ‘certainly notted’ and then told me to shut the door, go outside and not listen.  I did as I  was told and, unfortunately, as I stood there, D from the next door room came out.  He asked if I had been locked out.  I shook my head.  He smirked and went through the fire door to the stairs.  After a minute I could hear J call me back inside.  She was back in bed.

“Why do men never have tissues?” she asked.  I asked her if she needed any loo paper and she said I wasn’t even to talk about it.  The pot was not visible so I guessed she had shoved it back under the bed. I asked her if I could join her in bed and she said ‘of course’.  We kissed and cuddled for some time, gently caressing each other rather than anything more frantic.  I became erect almost immediately, of course, and enjoyed her soft hand massaging my cock.  I slipped my fingers up inside her and gently rubbed her clitoris with my thumb.  She was pleasingly wet.  She wriggled down my body, pushing the duvet off and started to suck me very enthusiastically.  She looked up at me throughout and I was both excited and rather disturbed by looking at this different face attended to me so intimately.  She was producing a lot more saliva than C did, slurping and dribbling all over me.  She pulled off me, briefly as she had one of my hairs in her teeth.  She kept massaging me with her hand.  “You’ve got lovely balls!” she said.  She started to kiss and lick them, holding my cock against my belly with her fingers.  She sucked one inside her mouth,  More dribbling wetness.  “Most men have horrid wrinkly, sagging ones!” she said, as she massaged me gently.

“I really wouldn’t know!” I said, thinking that this was the oddest compliment I had ever received.

“I want to watch you come!” she said. “Watch as your balls pump your spunk out!”

“You won’t have to wait long!” I said.  I don’t know whether it was the semi-illicit nature of our relationship, the newness and rapidity of our interaction or just that she was, as I suspected, really experienced and skillful but within less than half a minute I was ejecting thick gouts of spunk all over the hand pumping my cock.  She kept rubbing it into my skin until I had to gently take her wrist and move her hand away as my cock head was too sensitive.

“I love watching them do that!” she said, wriggling up my body to give me a very wet kiss.  I made sure that I kept my seeping cock clear of her pussy.  I stroked her bottom and she squirmed.  I pushed her over onto her back, knelt between her legs and started to lick her pussy.  She was very active, writhing around and thrusting her hips up and I needed to keep a good grip on her.  She emitted a big sigh and stopped moving.  I kissed her pussy, tenderly. She was musky and sweaty and delicious. I knelt up and looked down at her body,  Those great big tits, draped over her ribcage.  She smiled.

“We are going to do it all day!” she said.

“And some drawing!” I added.

“Naked modelling!” she smiled.  She stretched, enticingly and I ran my hands up over her hips, flanks and cupped her breasts, stroking her nipples with my thumbs.  “Let’s have a shower and then you can make me a coffee!” she said.  I told her that I didn’t have coffee but there was a cafe just down the High.

We went down to the grim bathroom, which was still cold, even in the summer.  She remarked that it wasn’t a patch on the one opposite her sister’s room but I told her that was famously the best one in college.  The water, at least, was hot.  We soaped each other up and she got me stiff again.  I pressed her against the shower tiles and she yelped at the cold.  I kept pressing and slipped my hand between her legs again, she was wet so I bent my knees and nuzzled my cock head against her pussy.  She opened her legs slightly and I managed to get inside her.  I gave her half a dozen firm thrusts and she kissed me; it was so much easier with a tall girl. She suddenly stopped and pushed me away.  I popped out.

“Anything wrong?” I asked.

“Durex!  Now!” she said.  Unfortunately there was no condom machine in the bathroom.  We dried ourselves perfunctorily.  I pulled on my pyjamas and she put my dressing gown on again.  We raced up the stairs and I hoped we wouldn’t run into anyone, as it was now around eight in the morning.  As we approached the last set of stairs up to my room we heard a door open and I felt the adrenalin pump as we raced up the final flight, almost falling through the door in a laughing scramble.  I pulled her straight down onto the floor in front of my unlit gas fire and undid the tie on her dressing gown. We were kissing and caressing and undressing each other.  I had her on her back and knelt up to grab one of the condoms.  I struggled to open the packet so tore the corner off with my teeth only to be rewarded by a very unpleasant rubber taste.  J took the Durex from me and slipped it on, obviously realising my hopeless clumsiness.  She opened her thighs and I thrust right in as we started to fuck, urgently, on my rug.  The rug where I had taken C so many times, I reminded myself.  J was pushing back up against every thrust and now had her knees up by her shoulders.  I leant down to lick her tits. She was gasping away but fortunately, as I had already come less than an hour before, I did much better at lasting than I had the night before.  She slowed right down and I guessed she had climaxed, although it wasn’t as easy to tell as with C.  I slowed down too but kept going, kissing her gently as I kept sliding in and out of her. I felt myself release after another minute and carefully removed the condom.  I stood up and went next door to get some loo paper from the wardrobe to wrap it in.  I dropped it in the bin.

J was sat up on the rug. She looked at me and made a face.  Oh dear, I thought.

“Alright?” I asked anxiously.

“Very.  Just don’t like condoms.  I used to be on the pill but came off when...well, you know.”  I squatted down next to her and gave her a kiss.  She stroked my balls, idly.

“We should both forget about the past and focus on the present!” I said, profoundly.  She stood up and stretched.

“I’ve never done it on the floor!” she said.

“Really?  I would have thought...” I began

“That’ I’d done it everywhere, in every place with everyone?  Despite what my sister thinks I actually am not a slut. This is unusual behaviour for me!  Lucky for you!”

“Lucky indeed!” I agreed.

She disappeared to go to the loo downstairs, dressed in my dressing gown.  Again.I hoped C didn’t come up the stairs and see her in it.  Then I hoped that she did.  I had said she could borrow my toothbrush but she said she had been prepared and brought hers. I carefully emptied the chamber pot into the piss flask, put it in the piss bag and took it to the loo in the other staircase. Weirdly, when I opened the flask to pour it down the loo I decided to empty my bladder into it, so our piss was mixed, as C and I did. I cleaned the flask with water and the bleach that was in there, saving some bleach for the pot back in my room and adding boiling water from the kettle. I got dressed and shaved.  J appeared after ten minutes and threw off my dressing gown, standing there naked, looking at her dress on the chair.  She picked up her knickers and sniffed them. She said she didn’t fancy putting them on again but couldn’t face going back to her sister’s room. I said I was surprised she hadn’t brought a spare pair.  She thumped my arm and her tits jiggled delightfully. I told her to just put her dress on, as no one would know she wasn’t wearing knickers.

“Other than you and me!” she said. She put her sundress on and looked at herself in my mirror while I had to reassure her that her pubic hair was not visible in any way. We left my room to leave college for the cafe.  As she skipped down the stairs she said that it felt nice, being ‘unencumbered’ below. I walked slightly behind her as we walked into the first quad seeing if I could see if there was any evidence of a bare bottom.  The quad now contained a marquee for the ball so there was a lot less chance of being seen by anyone I knew.  She moved at a brisk trot as she didn’t want to run into her sister. We escaped out into the square and walked down the High to the Queen’s Lane Coffee House.  J had a cappuccino and a croissant and I had a tea and a bacon sandwich. We sat down at a seat by the window.

“What am I going to say to my sister?” J said.  “She is going to be really upset.  She doesn’t scream or shout, she will just look at me in a really scathing way!”

“Why don’t you just say that you came over, we had too much wine, talked until three in the morning and you didn’t want to go back and wake her so you bunked in my bed and I slept on the floor!”  I thought that this would be an excellent excuse.

“I could try.  But she won’t believe me!”  We had a long discussion about whether it was best to construct a plausible excuse or just admit it and deal with the consequences.  J’s view seemed to be that H wouldn’t believe that nothing had happened.  I gave the example of me leaving the other night when things had started to get a bit tactile.  I reasoned that she might believe that I had had moral standards, even if she didn’t believe her sister had. J thought this wouldn’t work for a moment.  She couldn’t decide so, having had my idea of her going straight back to College to confess to H rejected, she said we should go for a walk while she thought about it more. We walked down to the botanical gardens and cut through to the river where J saw all the punts tied up below Magdalen Bridge.

“Let’s go punting!” she said.  I told her I had no coordination and couldn’t do punting.  She said that she was excellent at punting. As she talked to the man there I thought how many times I had told C I wouldn’t go punting and yet here I was about to clamber unsteadily into the rocking boat.  There was some discussion with the man as, it seemed, people from Cambridge punted from the opposite end of the punt; from the flat deck which was at the bow in Oxford but in the stern in Cambridge.  In Oxford you stand in the punt, not on the deck.  This meant that Oxford punts were a slightly different design.  J said she would just stand on the deck and punt with the boat the wrong way around but the man said the decks were not so non slip as in Cambridge.  Also the water was deeper, he warned.  J ignored him and punted from the deck, having removed her sandals.  She soon learned about the depth and nearly lost her pole in the sticky mud but soon had us gliding upstream. 

After a time and my continued comments that ‘no. I didn’t want a go’ we reached the rollers that you had to traverse up past the weir to get to the Upper Cherwell. Pushing the heavy punt up was quite taxing and we both got quite wet, mainly due to our own clumsiness. I explained that now we were at the infamous Parson’s Pleasure where men could sunbathe naked. I said that ladies had to take the path from the rollers so they went behind the area and rejoined the punt a bit further upstream.  J said that was ridiculous so she punted us past the area but given it was only about eleven AM there were no naked men sunbathing, to her disappointment.

Punting is not an efficient mode of transport.  In fact it is incredibly slow and although the Cherwell Boathouse restaurant wasn’t much more than half a mile further up the river it was nearly lunchtime when we got there. J asked if I had ever been there and I said no but it had a good reputation.  She said that as I had bought her breakfast she would buy me lunch.  I protested but she insisted and disappeared inside while I sat at a table outside in the sun.  She came out with two pints of Pimm’s.  She said she had ordered for me and asked whether steak was alright.  I nodded and I said she was being very extravagant. She said she was having a lovely time in Oxford and it was largely down to me.

We talked about the ball the following day and our mood darkened a bit when we remembered that both her sister and C were going to be on our table at dinner.  Things cheered up, though, when our meals were delivered.  She had ordered steak and chips.  Well she had salad but I fed her some of my chips, which she took from my fingers like a pet animal.  We had another Pimm’s each and we slightly drunkenly planned an escape form half way through the ball, where we could escape, have sex and return as if nothing had happened. I asked her when I might come to see her in Cambridge.

“I’m not your girlfriend!” she said, quickly.  “We’re having sex with each other to cheer ourselves up.  That’s all.”  I suppose that I had had some faint hope that we might be a bit more and would conduct some sort of long distance affair.  I had met others at Oxford who had boy or girlfriends in Cambridge and there was a regular, if slow, bus service between the two cities which seemed almost tailor made for his purpose, from the passionate greetings I had observed in the open air bus station.  I had never been to Cambridge but most of my best friends from school had ended up there rather than Oxford.  I was disappointed but said that was fine.  “We’ve still got two days, though," she said.  "We better get more Durex!” She laughed and in that minute I didn’t care that she wasn’t my girlfriend.  She seemed happy, carefree and positive.  Life enhancing. That was what she was.  Unlike C, these days, who was the opposite.  I leant forward and gave her a kiss, something else I couldn’t do with C.  

We lingered at the Cherwell Boathouse drinking our Pimm’s (we shared another pint) and talking about our previous lovers, to my discomfort.  I really didn’t want to hear about her ex-boyfriends.   It turned out, her immediate ex was a tutor twice her age.  He had left the university for a post abroad and hadn’t told her.  He just left with only a one line message saying ‘it’s been fun’. I didn’t really want to talk about C but instead mostly talked about A.  J encouraged me to try to see her over the summer holiday. 

We went back to Magdalen Bridge in something of an alcoholic haze. J insisted I try punting and I did, even though I was absolutely sure I would fall in.  But I didn’t, miraculously.  I punted very slowly and very carefully and wished C could see me. J sat in the bow and pulled her hem up so I could look up her dress to her knickerless crotch. As we got back onto the more crowded part of the river I begged her to pull her hem back down but she wouldn’t.

“Someone will see!” I said.  “Please!”

“Perhaps I should have a diddle!” she said, sticking her hand up under her dress.  I lost my balance and nearly fell in. Fortunately, she grinned and removed her hand but not before licking her forefinger, lewdly.  With her back in control of the punt once more, I looked up at her.  So lovely in her sundress, smiling happily.  Maybe this was what a proper girlfriend would be like.  Someone who made you happy not miserable.

I nearly fell in again, getting out of the punt, as we had to cross over the moored ones. J was not so lucky, she had put her sandals on and slipped as she crossed into the next punt.  In she went, up to her thighs. 

“God fuck it!” she cried, alarming some nearby American tourists.

“Sorry!” I said to them. “She is from Cambridge!”  She stood looking down at herself, holding her handbag up out of the water and laughing.  She said it was a good job it was so shallow as if it had gone over her bottom her dress would have clung to her naked posterior.  We sat in the sun by the river a bit to help her dry out and then I took her back to the Queen’s Lane Coffee House and we had tea and scones. We drank a lot of tea and it helped dilute the Pimm’s.  By the time we got back to College it was gone four.

We had only just got into the main quad, now dominated by the other marquee for the ball, when H appeared through the archway from the direction of her room.

“What have you been doing?” she hissed to her sister.

“Punting!” said J, giving H a hug.  H stiffened and took a step back.

“You’re drunk!” said H.

“I’m not!” replied her sister. “Slightly merry!”

 “I’m very disappointed!”  said H, looking at me.

“Don’t spoil our day.  We have had a lovely time!” said J.  H said that she hadn’t had a lovely time. She had wondered where her sister was and had been up to my room, talking to K and even C.  H whisked J back to her room leaving me to trudge back to mine.  After another couple of mugs of tea I felt better and put on some Boyce to listen to.  There was a knock on the door.  I knew it was C.

“It’s the ball tomorrow!” she said, barging in without being asked.  She was wearing her curious baggy white trousers and a tight lilac tea shirt which emphasised her perky bust.

“I know,” I said.  I knew what was coming. She would ask me to give up my ticket for the creep from Magdalen.

“Don’t forget you have promised to dance the Charleston,” she said, sitting down in her usual chair.  “Make me some tea!”  I shrugged and put the kettle on again.

“Are we still going?  Together?  I thought we had broken up?” I said. She looked surprised and said she had finished her dress and it was perfect and I absolutely had to take her to the ball or it would spoil everything. I wasn’t quite sure what she thought it would spoil, other than her perfect Oxford experience.  Her going off with the creep from Magdalen was what had spoiled everything, as far as I was concerned.  Personally, if it hadn't been for J, I would rather have gone home.  My mother had said that as the ball was on Thursday she would come and collect me on the Saturday as I would be up until the early hours of Friday.  Five AM, someone had said.

I gave C her tea and a biscuit, rather grudgingly.  I expected her to make some comment about the creep from Magdalen’s superior biscuits but she didn’t or I would have just gone home. She tried to be nice and I was neutral towards her.  Polite but not affectionate.  She left, giving me an unexpected kiss on the lips and told me not to be late up as I would need all my energy for the next day. I heard her jumping down the wooden stairs, as usual. Ten seconds later there was knock on my door.  It was J, still, rather to my surprise, wearing the same dress as earlier.  Even though it had dried I thought she might have changed.  I guessed she hadn't bought many clothes with her from Cambridge.

“That was her, wasn’t it?  The bitch?” she said, coming inside and sitting on the seat C had just vacated. “She looks like a little dolly not a woman!” I said that C would not be very happy about being described as either a 'dolly' or 'little'.  I told her about C and my conversation.  She told me about her discussion with her sister.  It had not gone well.  She said that while she hadn't expected tears and shouting, as that wasn't her style, the sullen silence had been particularly icy.  I said what fun dinner at the ball was going to be.  “Dinner!  That’s why I came over!  Let’s go out to dinner!” I agreed that I didn’t much feel like dinner in Hall.  She said we could go out and just find somewhere.  I didn’t say I hated doing that and Oxford restaurants were always busy in the summer.  

We went out of college and this time walked the other way down the High Street, towards Carfax.  She wanted to have a look at Sorbonne, where I had been with K and C but I urged her on, saying it was too expensive and you had to book days in advance. We crossed Carfax into Queen Street, which was mainly full of clothes and shoe shops. She stopped outside a nineteenth century brick building with Gothic windows protruding over the street.  It was La Cantina, an upmarket Italian.  J thought that this was just the job.  I said that you needed to book here too but she charged in and we were lucky as they had one table for two left.  My main concern, at this point, was the cost, as I reckoned it was my turn to pay.  The menu was large but quite pricey.

“As you’re not my boyfriend we’ll pay half each,” she said, seemingly reading my mind. It wasn’t as expensive as La Sorbonne anyway.  The waiter lit a candle on the table and teased us about a romantic evening. J said that, yes, we were having a very romantic evening and patted my knee under the table.  Looking around the room, there didn’t seem to be any other tables with just students on them.  One or two students with their parents, by the look of it but mainly tourists.

We had a lovely evening.  J was flirty, funny, saucy and affectionate. We talked about the ball again and she said that, even if we didn’t want to, we should try and at least be civil to our official partners.  I said it might be difficult with C but she would probably spend much of the evening flirting with other men anyway. J did say that she wanted to be there when I did the Charleston with C, though.  I wished people would stop mentioning this as I was hoping that they would all forget about it.  She kicked off her sandals and started to massage my groin under the table, getting me erect in no time. I looked at the length of the table cloth and the other tables to check that no one could see what she was doing.  I didn’t think anyone could but I was a bit nervous.  She kept chatting as if nothing was happening.

“You’d better stop!” I hissed as the waiter approached with our Saltimbocca alla Romana.  She didn’t and kept going as he fussed around the table. 

“Get it out!” she hissed, after he had left us.

“What?”

“Your prick.  Get it out so I can stroke it with my foot!”

“I can’t!  I’ll get arrested!” I said.

“Just for a second!”  It felt rather like one of those strange tests C used to set me, so I wasn’t at all keen.  “Use your napkin to cover yourself!” As usual I hadn’t put a napkin on my lap.  We didn’t use them at home so I always left them folded up on the side of the table.  “Go on!” she grinned at me, bit her lip and raised her eyebrows.  I unfolded the napkin and put it over my lap.  I wouldn’t have done it for C but I unzipped my trousers and pulled myself out, carefully holding the napkin over my lap.  I felt her toes wiggle underneath it and then the ball of her foot stroke my length.  “I bought some more Durex this afternoon!  Two packets!”  Hurriedly stuffing myself back inside my trousers, I pointed out that we only had two more nights together but she insisted we could ‘get through them all’.

After dinner, J ordered a Sambuca, a drink I hadn’t had before.  It came with a coffee bean in it and the waiter set it alight.  I thought it was a bit pretentious.  I didn’t much like the taste but J ordered two more.  She was rubbing my leg with hers and leaning forward over the table, displaying her cleavage.  I noticed a trickle of perspiration running down between her breasts.  It was warm in the restaurant and she had wisps of hair stuck to her temples.

We left the restaurant about nine-thirty and as we walked back down the High she stopped to give me a long, lingering kiss.  There was an ironic cheer from some rowing types on the other side of the road. We walked back to College and I asked if we could maybe meet up over the summer holidays.  She told me again that she wasn’t my girlfriend but she was sure she could ‘fit me in’ at some point.  She giggled.

We slipped into the big marquee taking up the whole of the main quad.  They had laid out the round tables for the dinner.  J was looking for a table plan to see where our table might be but there was no sign of one.  They hadn’t even put the tablecloths on yet and so all there were were rather cheap looking plywood tables.  We could see where the jazz band was going to be though.  J made me go through some Charleston steps with her on the wooden dance floor in front of the band.  I till couldn't get the hang of swivelling my feet.   I was worried, as the dance floor didn’t look very large.  There was no way that you would be able to hide in the crowd.  J kissed me and started to move her hands all over me.  Worried that someone would burst in I edged her towards the marquee entrance and we walked through the archway to the next quad where the rock band and disco was going to be.  At least we were able to walk back to my room unobserved as the tent blocked all lines of sight across the quad, particularly from the law library. We got back to my staircase and she pushed me up against the wall for a snog just inside the entrance at the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you want a shower?” I asked.

“Are you saying I’m smelly?” she said, fondling my crotch.

“You fell in the river!” I reminded her.

“Let’s just be dirty and sweaty!”  She went down to the loo and told me she would meet me upstairs.  I diverted across to Staircase XIV and used the loo there.  I got the impression J didn’t want me using the loo next door to hers downstairs. Maybe she needed a poo, I thought.

I got up to my room only to run into H, J’s sister, descending the stairs.  She asked where J was and I told her. 

“Can I come into your room?”  I agreed.  She smiled and didn’t look angry, to my relief.  As I put the kettle on she apologised for being frosty earlier  and said she had been horrible to J but she had been upset for several reasons.  She didn’t elucidate as to what the reasons were but I thought I could guess. She stood there looking at me awkwardly.  “Let’s have a hug!” she suggested. She put her arms around me and I reciprocated, feeling those lovely breasts pressing against my chest.  I was worried I might get an erection and what J would think about that.  H kissed me, shyly and I thought, what the hell and kissed her back.  It was a bit more than a friendly peck; no doubt emboldened by the wine and Sambuca at dinner, I put my hands on her cotton clad bottom and pulled her in a bit closer.  She kissed me again and I felt the tip of her tongue slide along my lips, tentatively. I pressed my thigh between her legs up against her groin.  “Oh!” she said.  We heard the fire door to the stairs open and we stepped apart.

“Hi!” J said to her sister as she came through the doorway, as if nothing had happened.  She looked at us both and asked if we had been fighting.

“Kissing!” I said.

“That’s alright then!” she laughed.  She went over and hugged H and they both started apologising to each other.  It was agreed that given, we were all on the same table at the ball the next day and that we all really liked each other it was rather stupid to keep sulking.  The three of us hugged each other and all kissed.  I was relieved, to say the least.

We had tea and discussion soon moved on to ball outfits and make up for the next day.  I made more tea and observed the two lovely sisters in utter delight. J was sat in the armchair by the window and H was sat on the floor between her legs.  J kept stroking her sister’s hair, distractingly.

“Got any alcohol?” asked H.   I still had some Madeira left so I poured three glasses.  H hadn’t had it before and really liked it.  “It’s like drinking Christmas cake!” she said.  She drank the glass very quickly and held her glass up for another one.  I looked at J who nodded.  “You don’t have to ask her permission!  I am eighteen!  I can make my own decisions!”

“Your sister is very fond of you,” I said.  “She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you!”

“Maybe I want something bad to happen to me!” she said, pulling her dress up over her knees to reveal her long, pale calves.  J shook her head, resignedly.

“I’ll have another glass too!” said J.  There wasn’t much left and I didn’t have anything else alcoholic except for an unopened bottle of dry Martini Vermouth.

“You’ve got lovely fingers,” H said to me, out of the blue.

“Artistic fingers.  Sensual fingers!” said J.

“You would know!” said H.

“Jealous?” asked J.

“Very!” said H, looking at me.

“Do you know about Jerry Cornelius?” asked J.

“A Michael Moorcock character,” I said.  “There was a good film...”

“The Final Programme!” J said.  The film had been shown on the BBC when I was at school and I had been very struck by it.  It had gone down well with my fellow pupils, due to the full frontal nudity but I loved the photography and the production design.  Director Robert Fuest was most famous for his Abominable Dr Phibes films with Vincent Price and some of the more way out episodes of The Avengers and he had a strong visual sense.  I had actually first become aware of the film through a couple of stills in a science fiction film book I had.  Also, the film had a brief appearance by glamour favourite Julie Ege.  When the film was shown on TV I had just bought the Rick Wakeman LP, Criminal Record and, in that odd way that sometimes happens (as it did with The Hobbit and Sibelius' second symphomy), the film and the album became conflated for me.  The film opens with the funeral of Jerry Cornelius’s father in Lapland and the visuals of that became indelibly associated with the opening of one of the tracks of Criminal Record.  I had started to sketch out colour pictures of figures in an icy landscape while listening to the Wakeman record.  I became mildly obsessed with it and bought the Michael Moorcock book, which really wasn’t much like the film at all.

“The actor who played Jerry Cornelius...” began J.

“Jon Finch,” I said.  I really did know a lot about the film.

“Had black nail varnish in the film,” she finished.  “I think you should do that for the ball!”  H agreed enthusiastically.  I couldn’t see myself wearing nail varnish ever but the combination of it being alright for Jerry Cornelius and the girls pointing out how shocked C would be had me agreeing to it.  The two girls said they would take me shopping for some the next day.

H stood up and her sister asked if she was leaving.  She said that she was getting a numb bottom, sitting on the floor.  She came over to where I was sitting on the armchair at the other end of the room and sat on my lap, giving her sister something of a triumphant look.  She wriggled around until she had found a comfortable position.  I sat there, wondering where to rest my hands.

“I need to wee!” said J, getting up too.

“Refill the kettle!” said H.

“With wee?” giggled J.  As she left the room with the kettle she said: “Ask him about his chamber pot!”  I had to show H, of course, who seemed amused and fascinated in equal measure. I made sure that I explained that it wasn’t mine.

“Doesn’t it smell?  Where do you empty it?  Can you do a poo in it?” she said, after I had got it out from under the bed. I replied that we had never tried the latter.  “It’s not very big! What if you miss?”  She then admitted that her grandmother in Scandinavia had them in her house in the country but she had never used one.  “I need the loo too!  I’m going to use it!” she said.

“Really?” I asked, as she set it down next to the bed.   I looked at her.

“You can’t watch!  Go next door!” she said.  I did so and sat down in the armchair again.  I thought about H pushing her knickers down and squatting over the pot.  I didn’t hear any noise.  A minute passed.  I asked her if she was alright. She replied that she was nervous and couldn’t go.  I said that maybe she didn’t need to go after all.  She replied that she really, really did.  She said that if she left it too long it sometimes took some time.  I heard a brief hiss. “At last!” she sighed.  She went again.  The door opened and J returned, carrying the kettle.

“Where’s H ?” asked J.

“Doing a wee!  In his chamber pot!” called out H from the bedroom.  J stepped through the door into the bedroom.

“Oh my God, H!” she said, stepping back out, immediately.

“Do you have any loo paper?” H called out.

“Top of the wardrobe!” I said.  H reappeared, grinning.

“There’s quite a lot!  I went for ages!” she said.

“I heard!” I said.

“Oh God!  Of course!” she said.

“H, you are shocking!” said J.  “Now go downstairs and wash your hands!”  She left, after making a face at her older sister.  I was glad I didn’t have an older sibling to boss me around.

“Is she ever going to leave?  I am desperate to get you naked again!” said J.  I wondered if that wasn’t H's plan.  To just stay and stop us.  I asked J if I should invite her to stay and join in, thinking of C and K.  J told me off for being greedy.

H reappeared and sat down in the armchair by the window.  She spotted my art folder and asked if I had done any naked drawings of her sister yet.  I admitted that I hadn’t.

“Too busy doing it. eh?” asked H.

“Too busy punting and eating!” I said.

“And falling in the river!” laughed H.  She got up and opened my cupboard in the corner.  I asked her what she was looking for and she held up the bottle of vermouth triumphantly.  I told her that it should be drunk chilled so she ordered me to take it down to the fridge in the scout’s pantry. As I left the room I thought it was nice that H seemed to have got over her spat with her sister and me but it would be nicer if she just went and left J and I alone.  There was actually an icebox in the fridge, although it was very frosted up but by ramming the bottle in, among the ice crystals, I got it inside.  It should chill much faster, at least.  As I came out the pantry onto the staircase, B, from further along my corridor, came down and asked who I was going to the ball with.  When I said C he looked surprised.  Was the news all over college? 

I went back to my room and found H and R had put some music on; Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto. It had been made famous by the film Brief Encounter and J asked me if I had seen it but I admitted I hadn’t.  It was like Mozart’s piano concerto number 21 which was made famous by the Swedish film Elvira Madigan.  I had heard the music without knowing the film.  Like Ravel's Bolero before 10.

“We’ve come to an agreement!” said H, as she sat down in the armchair again.  They had turned the lights out and had lit my candles.

“About what?” I asked.

“J is going back to my room!” said H.  I was bitterly disappointed as I had hoped she would stay overnight again.  “And I am going to stay over here instead!” she finished.

“What?” I said.

“What?” said J.  “We didn’t agree anything of the kind!” H laughed.

“You should see your faces!” she said. "Hope and anger!"

“You evil bitch!” laughed her sister.

“It’s an idea, though, isn’t it?” added H.

“It is!” I agreed.

“A bad idea!” said J.  “What’s the time?” she asked pointedly.

“Not even eleven!” said H.  “We need to stay up late!”  I asked why and she explained that as we would be so late the following night we should sleep in so that our day didn’t start too early.  She said it was like travelling into different time zones and you had to fool your body into adjusting to the time.  I didn’t know about that as the furthest I had ever been was Rome but they had both been to America and the Far East.

H suggested I do a drawing while we waited for the vermouth to chill.  Given we only had candlelight I suggested that it might be a bit dark for drawing but I agreed to try and said I would use charcoal on white paper. I told them to sit like they had earlier, with J in the chair and H sat on the floor in front of her. I pulled my desk chair across the floor to get a better angle.  I put one of the candles on the mantelpiece and found that, surprisingly, it might give enough light for a black and white drawing. 

“What are you doing?” asked J.  I turned from the mantelpiece, where I had been getting the candle in the right position, to find H unbuttoning the front of her sundress.

“Stripping off!  Naked drawing!” she said.

“I don’t think you should!” said J but H was already shrugging out of her shoulder straps and pushing her dress down to her hips.  She wasn’t wearing a bra and her big breasts swung gently as she bent down to push her dress off.  Before her sister could say anything she stuck her thumbs in the waist band of her knickers and pushed them off too.  She stood up before me, her hands on her hips.  She didn’t look shy or tentative just confident and beautiful.

“Gosh!”  I said, brilliantly.

“Oh well!” said J and pulled her dress over her head.  I remember thinking it odd that they were both wearing, essentially, the same shaped dress but they took them off quite differently.

“Where are your knickers?” asked H.  J confessed that she had not been wearing any all day.  “Such a slut!” said H.  J poked her in the stomach and she recoiled, her breasts jiggling, superbly.

“You are the most magnificent women I have ever seen!” I said, truthfully.  J put her arm around her sister’s waist.

“We are, rather, aren’t we?” laughed J.

“We could show him the thing!” said H. 

“What thing?” I asked, trying not to look at her lovely, fluffy pussy.

“What we used to do when we first got them!  We told you!” said J.  They stood in front of each other, their breasts interlocking like erotic building bricks.  They twisted at the waist, back and forward so their breasts bounced off each other.

“Bubby! Bubby!  Bubby!” they said, rubbing their tits against each other and laughing.

“Golly!” I said, entranced.

“Ridiculous things, really!” said J.

“Nothing ridiculous about them at all!” I said.

I sat them down and got them into position, without daring to touch them.  I took a deep breath and started to draw them.  They were in a different position from earlier.  J was in the armchair but H was kneeling between her legs resting one arm on her sister’s thigh.

“You smell quite sweaty!” said H.  J poked her in the shoulder.  "And like river scum!"

“Keep still!” I said.

“Or what?” asked J.

“Or it will be a rubbish picture!” I replied.

“Or he’ll spank us!” said H.

“Promise?” said J, poking her sister again.  I told them to behave but they had got the giggles and I let them take a break as H was complaining that she was getting cramp anyway.  J handed her her dress, obviously intending that her sister put it on again but she just folded it and put it on my desk.  I was made to go down to the scout’s pantry and get the vermouth.  The freezing compartment had done its job and the bottle was now quite cold.  When I got back they were both sitting, still naked, cross-legged on my rug looking at my part finished drawing.  They were impressed that the two figures were so obviously them, although it was a very loose charcoal sketch.  I said it was easy to recognise them as one had a pigtail and one didn’t but they said it was more than that, although they couldn’t really identify what.  As ever, I was pleased when the subjects of my drawings appreciated my efforts.  

I poured us all a tumbler of vermouth and bent down and gave each of them a kiss, in turn. J kissed me back quite passionately and I felt her hand on my groin, where my cock was starting to respond to these two naked lovelies.  Except it wasn’t J’s hand, I quickly realised, but H’s.

“We’re making him stiff!” said H, who had swigged down her vermouth in very short order.

“Sorry!” I said, embarrassed.  I should have kept it as an artist model relationship and not kissed them but they looked so voluptuous and appealing in the candlelight.

“H!” said J.  “What are you doing?”

“Stroking his erection!” she answered, doing just that.

“Stop it! You don’t know what you are doing!” warned J.

“I do, actually!  I’ve stroked cocks before.  And sucked one!” said H.

“You what?” asked J.  H explained that she had got involved with some boy from Austria over the Easter holidays and they had done ‘lots of interesting things’.  J didn’t believe her but H added more detail to counter her sister’s disbelief.  J started berating her but H said she was a woman not a girl and anyway ‘she could talk’.  I suggested that they get back into position so I could finish the drawing and that they had to stop talking.  I didn’t want some family argument to get going.  They agreed, fortunately.

I finished the drawing and showed them and they were very happy.  H asked me to do another but I pointed out that it was getting late. I would do one tomorrow, I promised. I signed it and they both signed it too, strangely, I thought.

“Let’s do what we agreed earlier!” said H to her sister.

“If you get dressed!” said J.

“Don’t what to get dressed.  Like being naked!” said H. pouring herself some more vermouth.

“What did you agree earlier?” I asked.

“That we would all have a nice cuddle!” said H.  "To make up!"

“Not a naked one, though!” said J. "We didn't agree that!"  H told her not to be boring and not to be greedy. H went into my bedroom and called for us to follow.  “Give her five minutes and then we can chuck her out!” hissed J to me.  “She is just making a point!”  I’ll just have to put up with it, I thought, delightedly.  J and I went into the bedroom to find H under my duvet. J pointed out that there wasn’t really room for three of us in bed to which H said that J  could wait in the other room then.  H told her, again, to stop being boring and that she couldn’t deny her a bit of ‘sexy fun’. “Alright then!” said J. My heart leapt as did my cock. I prepared to get into bed.

“Clothes off!” ordered H.

“We didn’t agree that!” said J.

“Tough titty!” said H. “I know, why don’t you undress him while I watch!”  Yes please, I thought.

“You’re a pervert!” said J. I decided that it might be best if I undid my shirt myself.  I didn’t want any more arguments to upset what was looking like an increasingly promising situation. “Keep your pants on!” said J as I took off my jeans and socks.  I did as she suggested and hopped into bed next to H.  “Move up!” said J, climbing in after me. “I can’t believe that I am agreeing to this!”  I couldn’t either.  We wriggled about and I ended up on my back with each sister either side of me, laying on their sides, their busts pressed against my arms. J’s hand was all over my chest.

“There! Nice!  Friendly!” said H.  She kissed me on the lips and then J did the same.  “Imagine what C would think if she could see us!” giggled H. She would probably stab you both to death in a frenzied knife attack, I thought.  Except she probably didn’t care what I did now. 

I felt a hand on my erection and knew it was H.  She started to stroke it through the material of my pants. J was kissing me on the lips and stroking my chest.  We wriggled about a bit but the bed was really two small for three people. J got one arm underneath my neck and carried on stroking my chest with the other hand.  I didn’t know if she knew what her sister was doing or not.  We had started talking about the ball the next day, again.  H and J discussed where they might get me black nail varnish and agreed that Boots was unlikely to have it.  Selfridges, they decided, was a better bet.  I said that I had no idea how to put nail varnish on but H said she would do it for me.  

As we talked I felt H's fingers slowly probing under the waistband of my pants and her soft fingertips tickled my glans. My own arms were pinned against my body by the two sisters.  I had two gorgeous naked women in my bed and I couldn’t really touch them.  I felt J’s leg rub against my thigh.  H now had her hand right inside my pants and was tickling my balls.  J seemed to have no idea. Suddenly, H moved and straddled my left thigh.  I could feel her hot groin against my skin.  I now had a free arm and stroked her naked back and bottom. She started to snog me, then, taking it in turns with her sister. J moved too and now, essentially I had both girls part lying on top of me. I could now reach both of their backs.

“Are you alright if I get these off?” asked H, tugging at my pants.

“Of course!” I said trying to sound as off-handed as possible.  Both girls knelt up and took a side each, J freeing my knob from my waistband.  They pulled them down my legs and H pulled them off.  She knelt back over my leg and started to kiss my stomach.

“Don’t go any lower!” said J.  H kissed my shaft and then tickled my length with her tongue.

“Next term, you are mine!” H said to me

“But not this term!” said J, giving her a gentle push.

“Oh, alright. I suppose!” said H, kissing the underside of my knob before wriggling up to kiss me on the lips again. Damn, I thought.  “Let’s make him ejaculate!” said H.

“That’s not a cuddle!  That’s sex!” said J.  “That was not the deal!”

“Do what you like!” I said, encouragingly.

“Time to leave, sis!” said J. "It's already gone way too far!"

“Not fair!  Are you going to do it?  Can I watch!” said H.  I thought of C again.  She would have loved this. "Or, at least, listen to you from next door.  Gasping and moaning!"

“You really are a pervert!” said J.  “Up you get!” she prodded me in the side. I wriggled a bit but made no effort to get out of bed.  “I’m serious!  Don’t fuck about!” she said poking me even harder. I sat up and she got out of bed so I could climb out too.  I stood there looking at H who was stretching, luxuriously, in the bed.  She looked at my throbbing cock.

“We can’t leave him like that!  Poor boy!” said H, reaching up and clasping it.  

“We’re not going to leave him like that.  I’m going to make him come as soon as you leave!” said J.

“Bitch!” said H climbing out of bed too. She put her arms around me and my erection pressed against her soft belly.  She kissed me on the lips.

“That’s enough!  Go back to your room!” said J.  “He’s mine until after the ball!  Come on, we had an agreement!”  

"What are you going to do?  Tell mum?" H stomped into the living room and started to get dressed.  “You do know that whatever he does to you tonight he will be imagining it’s me!” said H.  I put on my dressing gown, suddenly embarrassed.  “I’ll be naked in bed.  All wet and gooey!”

“Get out of here! Have a cold shower!” said J.  H did leave in the end, albeit unwillingly. J told her not to drink so much at the ball tomorrow.  She hadn’t had that much, I thought, but she had knocked it back quite quickly. H gave me a big wet kiss and left saying how much she was looking forward to the autumn term.  Our second year.  “Who was nearly a very lucky boy?” said J, pushing me back into the bedroom.

“I am a lucky boy!” I said climbing into bed.  I could smell H's perfume on the pillow but thought I better not say anything.

“You fucking are!” she laughed and started to kiss me.  We writhed around kissing and licking each other.  We got quite hot and sweaty under the duvet.  I licked up a trickle of perspiration from between her breasts then attacked one nipple with her tongue.  She reached behind her to grab the metal bedstead and I licked her damp, acrid armpit.  It was slightly stubbly but felt really dirty to lap away at a usually off limits area.  I tried it once with C but got a nasty shock from the effects of her deodorant.  I went back to clasping her breasts and kissing and licking them in turn.

"I will be able to tell if you are thinking about my sister!" she said.

"You are my whole world at present!" I said. not entirely truthfully. 

"Half your world!" she laughed.

"Two fourths!" I said, stroking her bust.

"Bastard!"

I parted her thighs and set to on her groin which was pungent and sweaty too.  After a while she tugged at me and pulled me around into a sixty nine position.  I started licking her little clit and she sucked my balls and wanked me. I then felt her tongue on my arsehole, lapping away, something C had never done.  I slid my finger between her arse cheeks; her crack was slick and slippery.  She pulled her knees up to give me better access.I started to tickle her anus and hoping that she had done a poo earlier, started to press my fingertip against her anus. She took hold of my wrist and I thought that she was going to push my hand away but she pulled at my wrist and opened herself up to my probing finger.  She was empty and moist.  I got another finger up her and started to slowly bugger her.  It was then that I felt her finger on my anus.  Surely she wasn't...but then came the pressure.  I relaxed a little and felt myself penetrated for the first time.   I was glad that I had done a poo earlier as she was soon plunging in and out of my rectum.  There seemed to be a particular part of me that responded when she touched it.  It responded so well that I started to ejaculate all over her front.  It was a new, slightly shocking and surprising experience.

"Fucked you!" cried J, triumphantly. 

"My God!" I gasped as she gently withdrew her finger and kissed my anus.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the dirtiest sister of them all?" she said.  There was no competition, really.  "Now finish me off!"