The Christmas holiday after my first term at Oxford wasn't as enjoyable as I had thought it would be. It was certainly nice to get a break from the academic work but I was so exhausted that I seemed to spend a disproportionate amount of time asleep. I had thought, at the beginning of term, that my first vacation would be good, as I caught up with my family but I hadn't counted on missing my little companion, C. Well, I hadn't contemplated even having a little companion when I first went up to Oxford. I missed picking her up for breakfast every morning and walking to the law library. I missed having lunch together and moaning about our curious tutors or discussing what K was up to. I even missed, a bit, her endless chat about the clothes she was making and how stressed she got if things didn't go right. She wrote to me on 9th January, enclosing a birthday card saying how she was having problems setting the sleeves on a blouse she was making. She said that I was lucky to get a card at all, as her mother had forgotten her birthday three years in a row. She was not from a happy family and, in retrospect, I think she was desperate for affection, love and appreciation; something that her academic success gave her, at least.
Our families both consisted of a mother and sister only but her sister was ten years older and married and her mother was distant and critical, as I later found out when I met her. What I really missed, of course, was her body and the sex. During the holiday, my small number of men's magazines weren't taken from the space under my bottom draw, where I stored them, as I didn't need them as an aid to arousal. I just thought about C's orange pussy, her perky tits with those lovely, suckable nipples. The memory of the sparse orange hair under her arms, her deep belly button, round bottom and cute dimples on her back were all I needed. Above all, her pink and juicy cunt with those delicate protruding lips and her clitoris, which used to get so stiff that the tip emerged from her hood like the end of a baby's finger. I had drawn a picture of her parts in coloured pencil towards the end of term and I gazed at it and tried to recall her musky smell, as I lay on my carpet, stiff with frustration.
C was frustrated too and said how she 'missed your touch all over my body, especially between my legs.' She was staying at her sister's house in Birmingham while her mother prepared to move south to a town much closer to where I lived. At Easter it would be much easier to see each other during the vacation. She had to share a bed with her mother which meant she couldn't 'writhe around in bed, pleasuring myself and thinking of you.' She had explained that she had taken to caressing herself in the bath and that we must have a bath together as soon as we got back on 17th January. This letter helped my masturbation fantasies no-end. I couldn't write back in similar vein, as she insisted on reading my letters to her mother, oddly. It was typical of C that she hadn't told her mother my name,so I was referred to as 'thingy' in her house. She did tell me off for writing about K too much in her letter, as her mother didn't approve of my having been to K's house as it didn't accord with her views of what young love (a warning bell at that word) should be about.
I had been to see K the week before C's letter arrived. We both wanted to see the Post-Impressionists exhibition at the Royal Academy and I could easily have made it a day trip into London but K invited me to dinner and to stay over at her house in West London. K only lived about fifteen miles away but such is the nature of public transport in London that I had to get the train into the centre of London and the tube back out again. K's family's house was a large, three storey Edwardian brick pile in an expensive area. Her father was a well known specialist lawyer but her mother had died when K was a child and he had remarried. It meant that there was a women in the house who was the right age to be K's mother but whom she called by her first name, which felt a bit strange to me. The four of us had a nice dinner and they were all as chatty as K. K was, essentially, an only child, although she had an older sister and half brother who she didn't see, as they lived abroad.
"You 're the first young man K has brought home!" said K's stepmother, to K's mortification.
"He's not a boyfriend character!" said K, blushing.
"Why not?" asked K's stepmother. "He looks very suitable!"
After the rest of the family went to bed, K and I stayed up chatting. K apologised for her stepmother and explained that she was desperate for her to get a nice boyfriend at Oxford, 'provided he doesn't interfere with your studies'. K said the problem with boys was that if you got friendly with them they all thought you wanted to do disgusting things which, of course, she didn't. She then went on to attack the characters of all the first year couples she was aware of and said how nice it was that C and I were just good friends, which was much more civilised. I couldn't believe that she still hadn't worked out C and my relationship. Perhaps she saw what she wanted to see, which was what she wanted for herself. A close friend but no 'disgusting behaviour'. Despite all her acquaintances, I thought that perhaps she was quite lonely. I got a peck on the cheek last thing and went to bed thinking about K undressing and slightly disappointed that she hadn't tried anything on. She seemed less tactile than when she was at College.
The next morning I was scandalised, as I was served eggs and bacon for breakfast, which the rest of the family ate too, even though they were Jewish. As we walked around the Post Impressionist exhibition at the Royal Academy the next day K said that if her grandmother was there they called bacon 'Danish fish'. I went home that afternoon and actually got a tentative kiss on the lips from K. I patted her taut behind as we had a goodbye hug and said that I would see her the following week back in Oxford. I had a lot of revision to do but she had done her first year exam at the end of the first term so could enjoy her holiday.
My mother and sister dropped me back at College on the Saturday before the start of term. We went out to lunch, as usual, and then back to my room for tea. I had just poured the tea, demonstrating my new teapot, when there was a knock on the door. It was C. My mother was nice to her and my sister was...neutral, until it was time for them to go.
"So nice to meet the latest girlfriend," my sister said to C, as C and I walked my mother and sister to the College main entrance, to see them off.
"Latest girlfriend?" asked C, pointedly, as we walked back to my room. "I thought I was the first!"
"First proper one!" I said.
"Hmm." As soon as we closed the door into my room we were all over each other, desperately pulling each other's clothes off, as I pressed her up against the door, my hand up her skirt and inside her knickers. She was hot and wet. As soon as we were naked, I picked her up, carried her into my bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. "Yes!" she gasped. "Do it!" This was not the time for a gentle, get to know each other again, exploration. I pushed her thighs apart and plunged right up into her hot wetness. "Fuck!" she cried. She pulled her knees right up to her shoulders and I just hammered into her until I was coming inside her which did not, I admit, take very long at all. "I could feel that one!" she said as I lay on top of her. "Spurting! Terrific!" I rolled off her and she made me lie on my back. She sat astride my head, for the first time, and got me to lick her while she wriggled about. I pulled her bottom cheeks apart and rubbed her anus. She grabbed my finger and pressed my fingertip against her hole. The end of my finger slipped inside her rectum. It was moist but felt nice. It was empty, I was slightly relieved to discover. I pushed more of my finger in and started to slide it in and out of her, as I lapped away at her dripping pussy. She didn't take very long, either, and I could feel her juices flooding over my chin. She lay down on top of me and licked my face. "This term we are going to do exciting sexual things we haven't done before!" she declared.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like just now. Fingering my arsehole. That was good. But we mustn't tell the other what we plan. It has to be a surprise!" C was a great fan of being spontaneous. I was not. I liked to plan everything out. Spontaneity, I thought, often led to disappointment, when something you decided to do didn't work out. C and I had decided, spontaneously, to go to a a film at the Penultimate Picture Palace at the end of the previous term. This was one of the oldest cinemas in Britain but was tiny and only had seats for a couple of dozen people. The projectionist had to climb a ladder from the pavement to get into the projection booth. It was quite a long walk from college, over Magdalen Bridge. When we got there we couldn't get in and had to walk all the way back. I said we should have booked (I'm not sure you actually could) or, at least, left earlier but C was fiddling with her clothes for ages.
"That sounds good!" I said. desperately wondering what this might involve and how I could impress her. She needed constant impressing, as much as she needed constant reassurance about herself. I decided that, just as I was getting comfortable with her, she had added a level of stress to our relationship.
Even more stress was added by the amount of work we had to do. We had a short collection (exam) as soon as we got back but had four proper exams to do that term. We had also started Constitutional Law, a new subject. C and I were appalled to discover that one of the cases we had to read was 240 pages long. Even worse, I discovered that C was to be my tutorial partner for the subject, which hadn't happened before. C was very good at law and I was barely holding my own (I wished I had done History instead, until I heard what K had to put up with - she really hated the Venerable Bede). Even worse, our tutor was a man C really fancied. (for his brain, largely, he was not an attractive man). We stood outside his door at the beginning of the second week, waiting for our first tutorial. We had both had to write essays and one of us would have to read their's out.
"I'm not wearing any knickers!" said C, just as we were about to go in. I wan't sure if this was part of her spice up our sex life initiative or whether she was trying to put me off during the tutorial. We sat in a triangle formation, with the tutor in his study and he asked me to read my essay. This was just what I didn't want, in the first tutorial of a new subject. This tutor had been our criminal law tutor and we had not got on. I started to read and tried to completely ignore the presence of C, sat eighteen inches away. She didn't help by staring at me throughout the forty minutes it took me to read my essay. Fortunately, the tutor looked up at the ceiling most of the time, his fingers steepled. I looked at C about half way through to see if I could get her to stop staring at me and she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, distractingly. She then wriggled in her chair so as to remind me of her knickerless state, no doubt. I got to the end of my essay and looked at the tutor who was still staring at the ceiling. I felt C's foot brush my ankle.
"That. Was very good!" said my tutor, at last, unexpectedly. "Impressive, in fact. What did you think of it C? he asked.
"Oh!" she said looking flustered. She made a few comments and then we discussed the next week's essay. I couldn't wait to get out of the tutorial. "Good boy!" said C, as if I was a dog that had just performed an unexpected trick. "Reward before lunch!" We crossed the small paved area between the tutor's staircase and hers and went straight up to her room. She unzipped my trousers and got me to lie on the bed with my feet on the floor as we 'hadn't got time for undressing'. She pulled up her skirt and sat down on me; bouncing away, my trousers still only down to my knees. "Good boy! Clever boy!" she said as I spurted up inside her again. She hopped off, wiped herself between the legs and pulled her skirt down. "Right! Lunch!" she said. The whole episode had only lasted about five minutes. I preferred to take my time but she liked these 'quickies'.
We sat with some of the other lawyers and C insisted on telling them all how much my essay had been appreciated by the tutor, much to my embarrassment. A couple of days later we decided to go shopping in the afternoon and I bought her a bag of chocolate Brazil nuts in Selfridges, which she scoffed before we got back. I got some more Jacksons tea and we bought the Oxford Mail to see what was on at the cinema. The Penultimate Picture Palace sometimes showed late night erotic films and she thought we ought to go to one together but there was nothing on that week.
"Did you bring your sexy magazine back with you?" she asked suddenly, when we had got back to my room. I remembered that she had wanted me to bring one of my Men Only's back for her to look at. I had brought back my favourite, Volume 41 number 5, which I had found on the train while at school. She lay on the floor in front of the gas fire and started to look at it while I made some tea. She leafed through it slowly, looking at the articles and stories and lingering over the pictorials. She decided that it was a much better magazine than Penthouse or Playboy. There were pieces on female orgasms and foreplay, written by women, which she said she would read back in her room. She had her hand up under her skirt as she lay on the floor and was patently gently caressing herself as she looked at all the girls with spread legs. Her favourite was the lesbian set, Love All, Sauna or Later which depicted three girls in the sauna (naturally). "Do you wank when you look at pictures like this?" she asked, suddenly.
"Sometimes." I admitted, "I think that's what they are for." Neither of us were ashamed about masturbating and both admitted to doing it.
"Wank for me now!"
"Now?" I said. It was the not very romantic time of about four in the afternoon.
"Yes. Lie on the floor and look at the magazine and wank!" She stood up and sat in my armchair in front of the window. I unzipped my jeans. "Take everything off!" she insisted. She pulled her skirt up to show me her pussy and told me to do it over the sauna pictorial. This was quite a strange experience as I was very conscious of being naked and exposed in front of her. She had dropped her long skirt back over her legs but had a hand underneath it and was almost certainly diddling herself. I took myself in hand and started rather tentatively but C encouraged me with dirty talk. My mind became a whirl of the images of the girls in Men Only's open thighs, C fiddling with herself under her skirt and my feeling of complete exposure. "Come for me! Come! Spurt!" encouraged C. I rapidly increased my speed.
"It's coming!" I said. She dropped off my chair onto her knees and knelt behind me.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she said fingering my bottom. Fortunately, I remembered to push my precious magazine to one side but didn't have time to catch my emissions, so spurted all over the rug. It was quite a big one. C rolled me onto my back and sucked me into her mouth before I deflated. I took her right hand and sucked at her fingers which did, indeed, taste of cunt. "Another good one! You have to think of the next experience!" she said. Oh no, I thought. C disappeared with my magazine to read in bed later. We tended not to sleep together during the week but saved it for Friday and Saturday. I never slept in her bed as it was too small. We could both fit in it but it was a foot narrower than my bed so we just used it for quickies.
Several weeks into term C's sister came down to see her from Birmingham. She was more than ten years older than C and had two children. C talked about her a lot and so I was expecting to meet her but no, C never bothered to seek me out. Given I was only known as 'thingy' to C's mother I realised that I had a rather low profile with her family. C's sister took her out for dinner at La Sorbonne, considered one of the best restaurants in Oxford. Since K had told us about the place C and I had planned to go there together, perhaps after our exams that term. I didn't begrudge her going with her sister, though, although she did talk about it endlessly afterwards, especially to K. K was not looking well, we both agreed. Skinny to begin with, she seemed to be getting even thinner and we didn't see her so often in hall for dinner. C thought she might be getting to be anorexic and suggested we both try and get her to eat something. We started ensuring we invited her to tea a lot and bought cakes and scones, which we attempted to stuff down her. K's stepmother was obviously worried about her too and kept sending her slim chocolate bars in her weekly letters. C and I usually had lunch in the place next to the law library but a couple of days a week we arranged to meet K for lunch, who usually worked in the nearby Radcliffe Camera, It enabled us to ensure that K ate something at least; although when she was with us she seemed to eat normally. C thought that K probably went and made herself throw up afterwards, as that was what anorexics did. I had never heard of such a thing and could not contemplate someone who didn't want to eat.
I was out and about in the covered market one day when I saw a shop selling large feathers. I think they were for people who wanted to make them into quill pens but I wondered if I could use one on C. I had an idea and went into Debenhams and got some plain black cloth. Maybe this sex exploration thing could be fun, I thought. After hall that evening I stood C in front of the fire and put the blindfold on her. She was happy and excited and I could smell her musky scent as I undressed her. She had taken to wearing thigh-length socks under her long skirts. Although they were definitely socks, made from raspberry and white coloured speckled wool, she held them up with a suspender belt. She had flashed these at me once before, in the law library but this was the first time I had had the opportunity to inspect them up close. I decided to remove her suspender belt but leave her just standing there in her long socks.
"Bend over and gab your ankles!" I ordered her. She did and presented her pink parts nestled in her orange fluff. I knelt down and kissed her bottom. She giggled. I then stood up, stepped back, brought my hand up and spanked her as hard as I could.
"Shit!" she cried. I knelt down and kissed the other cheek. She wriggled slightly in anticipation before I spanked her again. This went on until her bottom was appreciably pink and her smell was very strong. I told her she could stand up and she asked if she could take the blindfold off but I told her she couldn't. I made her lie on her tummy on the floor in front of my gas fire. I opened my desk drawer and took out one of the feathers I had bought. I ran it down her spine and tickled her dimples with it. "What's that?" she asked.
"Guess!" I said as I ran the feather down the back of her thighs, the pale hair on her legs glistening in the light of the gas fire. I tickled her toes with it then moved the stiff plume up inside one thigh, gently parting her legs with my other hand. I brought the feather up to the top of her thighs and then stroked her bottom with the edge of it. I brought it down, over her anus and perineum and flicked it over her now pink parts. I parted her labia and tickled her pee hole with the tip of the feather. She emitted a little moan. I was surprised that she hadn't guessed what it was yet,
"It's not a comb, is it.? Too soft. Too hard for a piece of fabric." I made her roll over on to her back and used it on her hip bones and belly button. I started to alternate kissing her with using the feather. I rubbed the tips of her pink nipples with it and ran it across the skin on the outside of her breasts which was, other than her pussy, the most sensitive part of her body. This made her squirm about and spread her legs, wantonly. I stood up and quickly stripped off before setting to work with the feather again. I was stiff as a pole but wanted to keep teasing her. "Is it a piece of leather?" she asked. I tickled her clitoris. "God!" I kept tickling it. "It's too much!" she gasped, grabbing my wrist. I tossed the feather to one side, lay on top of her and thrust up inside her, Her legs went straight over my back and she pushed back with the same energy I was expending on her. We both came almost immediately but I kept going until I was too flaccid to continue. She was really wet and I thought she might be having her period again but she was just really, really excited. I kissed her on the lips, pulled her blindfold off and showed her the feather. She berated herself for being too stupid to guess what it was and praised me for being imaginative. She was so pleased that she went back to her room, got her contact lens storage pots and slept over, even though it was mid week. We had a nice cuddle and the next morning she sucked me off before breakfast.
The following week I went to pick her up before going to breakfast and the library and found her still dressed in her white lacy underwear.
"I need to change my Tampax." she said.
"I'll wait!" I said, expecting her to go to the bathroom, Instead, she cocked her leg slightly by bending a knee, pushed the crotch of her knickers aside and pulled it out, before dropping it straight into the bin. I was appalled. It wasn't that I was unfamiliar with these by now. I was used to the little white cord emerging from her cunt for a week a month. I'd even pulled one out myself when we wanted to have sex during her period (she liked to have sex a lot during her period). No, it was something else. "Aren't they supposed to go into a special container in the bathroom? What would your scout think when he has to empty the bin?"
"He won't mind. He adores me. Everyone adores me!" she said, putting a new Tampax in and patting the crotch of her knickers afterwards. "I'm adorable!" I shook my head but she kissed me, pulled on her purple velvet trousers and fluffy cream jumper and led me down to breakfast, rolling her hips and wiggling her bottom for me as she walked in front of me. She really did have a fine posterior.
In the second half of term the workload had got insane. There was no opportunity for any time off at the weekends and we spent fourteen hours a day in the library. Added to this, we had to start looking at rooms for the second year. Most of these were in an anneex next to the Oxford Union, a five minute walk from College. I knew these as I had stayed in one for interview. There were also a number of rooms available in the main part of College. It was a ballot though; you couldn't choose. Unlike today, all the rooms cost the same amount, they were not price banded, depending on size and facilities. I had gone over to see a school friend at Lady Margaret Hall and was staggered to find that he had an en suite bathroom. At least the rooms in the annex had wash basins. C's mother had now moved south to a house only 35 miles from Oxford. When the work eased off a bit to allow for revision time, C went home one weekend to help her mother unpack.
She had left Wednesday early evening after her tutorial. K came around to see me and said she didn't fancy dinner. which was grapefruit juice, jugged hare (even in the early eighties this was old fashioned) and mushrooms on toast as a savoury. I had had some money come through from an investment my mother had made on my behalf so we went to Sweeney Todd's pizza restaurant. We drank a bottle of wine and K got quite tiddly. She did eat, at least, and only left one slice of pizza. We walked back to College arm in arm and, unlike C, she did not disengage as we got back to College and she even gave me a spontaneous kiss as we walked through the quad leading to her room (the one above C's). She had a coffee and I had a tea (we were too mean to spend money on those in the restaurant) and she sat on my lap and told me how homesick she was, how the work was causing her stress and that she was tired all the time. I talked to her for several hours and she cried a lot but then cheered up after I told her how sweet and lovely she was. She put her arms around me and I kissed the top of her head. She was, as I later discovered. a very tactile girl and just needed a lot of hugs.
I thought I better tell C this, when she returned as she would enjoy giving her hugs, I thought. The following day we discovered that dinner was liver and bacon which neither K and I fancied. "I'm going to take you to dinner!" she said as we had breakfast together in Hall, before disappearing to our respective libraries. I had to take good notes on the lecture that morning for C. She had told me that they had to be legible. Legible handwriting was not a particular strength of mine. Even now I have trouble reading my own handwriting. 'His handwriting is not so much spidery as like a scorpion on a drunken orgy', one of my teachers wrote in a school report. I concentrated very hard on getting the lecture notes done as legibly as I could but when I looked at them at lunchtime I realised I would have to re-write them for C. No photocopiers or scanners then!
"I've booked dinner!" said K brightly, when I ran into her coming out of the Radcliffe Camera on my way back from the law library. "Dress smartly!" she said. She wouldn't tell me where we were going and I was baffled as to what to wear. I only had jeans and jumpers or my suit, which I had got for matriculation. Would a suit be too much? I hadn't worn it except for matriculation. I had bought a new blue shirt and had a Pierre Cardin tie my mother had got me 'in case you need it'. I got dressed in it and looked at myself in the mirror which was inside the wardrobe door. Was I over-dressed? I felt it. But what if K was taking me to The Randolph Hotel? That would be far too expensive, though. But if we were going to Sweeney Todd's or Burgerland she wouldn't have told me to dress smartly. When I turned up to collect her from her room (having had to walk past C's room and feeling just a twinge of guilt that she wasn't joining us) I was glad I had dressed up. K was wearing an expensive looking, silver, silk dress (she lived in jeans, usually) and had full make-up on (also unusual). She had replaced her usual pearls (as C had noted they were really expensive wild pearls not cultured ones) with a platinum necklace with emeralds in it. I was glad I had worn my suit.
"Perfect!" she said to me taking my hands. "I'd give you a kiss but I don't want to smudge my lipstick!" We left college arm in arm again, just before formal hall started, so were observed by quite a few people. It was nice to be seen with such a lovely girl and I wished that C wasn't so odd about it. We crossed the High and dipped down a tiny little alley next to an ancient looking building. I realised that this was the fabled (and expensive) French restaurant La Sorbonne, where Raymond Blanc had been the chef until recently, when he had set up his even more expensive restaurant up in Summertown.
"You can't take me here!" I said to K.
"I can and I will!" she said, firmly. La Sorbonne was a prototypical French restaurant. All the staff were French and so, it seemed, were many of the customers. I had a lot of experience of French restaurants as when I was younger we used to holiday in a house down in the south of France and my father took three days to drive there (this was before there were autoroutes down there) stopping in different hotels every time so we could try out the restaurants. I wasn't intimidated by French menus but, as we sat down, I realised that I was nervous anyway, as it was the first time I had been out with a girl in a proper restaurant. "I'll pay half!" I said, noting the fact that the main courses were up to £5 each, compared to the 64p we paid for a three course dinner at college.
"You will not!" said K.
"I'll pay for the wine!" I said, to which she acceded. The restaurant was about as romantic as you could imagine, entirely candlelit and full of couples. K looked lovely and relaxed, especially after a couple of glasses of Côtes du Rhône.
"I'm wearing my new silk stockings for you!" she said, rubbing the top of her foot against my calf. I should have got alarmed, as although I found her desirable, especially that evening, I didn't want to upset C or, indeed, C and K's friendship.
"I don't think you should do that, as C isn't here!" I said. In retrospect I don't know if I was genuinely gently rebuffing her or just strengthening a deniable position on my part.
"She wouldn't mind! We sort of share you anyway!" she answered, somehow managing to eat French onion soup elegantly. She still seemed to be under the impression that C and I were 'just good friends'. I wanted to tell her but I knew C would be furious. I had talked to my old school friend Dobs about C at length , earlier that term, and his opinion was that she was just with me until she got a better offer, which confirmed my own thoughts somewhat. Dobs had also met a girl very early on in the first term and they were still together (they are still together, to this day).
We both had Boeuf Bourguignon, which I had learned to cook at home and which was as good (although not better!) than the ones my father used to cook. The bill for the two of us, with wine was pushing £50 or nearly as much as a whole term's food at college. Still, it was worth it and K looked happy and well for the first time in weeks. K had been home the week before and had a series of blood tests as her family were so worried bout her health. There wasn't anything really wrong with her but she was very anaemic, it turned out, and was put on supplements and told to eat spinach. This seemed like a nightmare prescription to me. When I was six I was very ill with a dangerous health condition and had to spend three weeks in hospital in isolation. I was fed tinned spinach at every meal and, as a result, wouldn't touch the stuff again until the late eighties when I had it in Italy and found that serving it in butter and garlic helped the flavour enormously.
When we got back to college at about 10.30 K had her arm around my waist as we strolled around the quad. D, the law student in the room next to mine, who seemed to dog my steps like a KGB spy, looked at me and raised an eyebrow. K stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the lips. D had walked past us at that stage but I wondered if he had heard us. K asked me to go up to her room for coffee but I said no thanks. As we stood at the foot of her and C's staircase she looked me in the eyes and invited me again. Her pupils were dilated, her lips were parted, I could smell her expensive perfume (Joy). I thought about her long slim legs in her silk stockings and the way her dress seemed to slither across her delicate form like liquid mercury. I said that I had had a wonderful evening but I needed to be up early for revision before lectures, as my exams were the following week. These were proper university exams not just internal college ones. We had four papers in all and you had to pass them to remain at the university. She tried again and put her hands on my hips and stood on tip toe for another kiss. I could hear someone thumping down the wooden stairs above, so firmly but gently pushed her away. Anyway, I was sure she would not be interested in 'physical ghastlinesss'. Many years later she told me that she was planning to seduce me if I had gone upstairs, not that I would have needed much seducing. I went back to my room with a raging erection, congratulating myself on my high moral stance and masturbated thinking of K just wearing her silk stockings. K told me, years later, that she had had a shower and massaged her groin with her sponge.
That weekend I worked hard on my revision and wrote up my lecture notes legibly for C. I was looking forward to her return and. perhaps, a nice gentle welcome back one and waking up to see her little face next to me.
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