Chronicle 19 -1980: The Sisters: Part 1

C had her summer dress up around her hips and I was banging her up against a door. I was trying to be as quick as possible as the door was the one between the two different rooms in the College law library. We were in the smaller inner room and had been playing with each other's genitals under the desk for some time. C had wanted "a proper fuck" so I suggested going back to my room but she said that we had to do it in the library. The library was much quieter in ninth week, even though most people seemed to be staying up for the College ball. However, with no essays to be written, the library was now deserted after dinner, compared with the half a dozen or so always in there during term time. C had persuaded me that taking her up against the door meant no one could surprise us, although I was not convinced of this at all. In order to deal with the height difference she was standing on two small stacks of the All England Law Reports. I couldn't have taken her on the desks (which later became something of a favourite) as they had wooden dividers between each place and fitted lamps in the way. I drove into her as hard as I could, desperate for her to come so we could avoid the ignominy of being caught in flagrante delicto again. although I was starting to wonder if she actually enjoyed the prospect of being caught. 

"The tutors will have a fit!" I said. I thought we might actually get sent down if we were caught but this just seemed to excite her even more. 

"That's it!" she gasped at last, thankfully. I pulled out, not having come myself, due, mainly, to anxiety about the whole situation. She said she would 'dick me', grasping my wet cock. I was covered in her creamy juices. I told her I was fine but she was already on her knees and licking my shaft. I said I really was fine and she could do it back in my room. We weren't against the door any more and I expected it to open any second and have all three of my tutors charge in behind the principal. She was already sucking, though, but it was no use. I couldn't come and so she gave up after a while. "Shit! she said grumpily, pulling her temporarily discarded knickers back on. "Useless! I bet B from Magdalen wouldn't be so timid. I bet he'd let me suck him off in the library!" 

She had been to dinner at Magdalen as his guest at the end of eighth week. I had sat in my room and sulked; my imagination running wild at what they might get up to. At least she didn't come up to my room immediately afterwards telling me how how wonderful it had been. She did at least wait until the following lunchtime to regale K and I about it over lunch. Dinner was wonderful. His room was wonderful. His conversation was wonderful. What I didn't know, at that point, was that she and B had had some sort of intimate episode. Not full sex but not far off. 

We put the All England Law Reports back on the shelves. At least we did after I had had to go to the gents next door and get some toilet paper to wipe the mid-blue covers, as C had dripped on them. She had used her last tissue to wipe her pussy. She dropped both lots of paper into the library bin, typically. 

I hadn't stayed up for the whole of ninth week before and the ninth week of Trinity term was particularly odd. I had been out in Radcliffe Square and seen a very formal procession of dons coming from the Sheldonian Theatre along Catte Street. They were in full academic dress and were led by the Chancellor of the university who was a former Prime Minister of Britain, Harold MacMillan. A figure from history walking in front of me, the back of his long black and gold robe supported by a small boy dressed in black with black tights and a white ruffled shirt, in the manner of a bridal train.  Behind him, dressed predominantly in red, came the dons and those who had just been granted honorary degrees by the university. It was another of those distinctive 'Oxford moments'. Encaenia, it was called. There had been another one a month before with the ceremony of beating the bounds, on Ascension Day in the middle of May. This used to be a common ceremony to mark parish boundaries in Britain but has largely died out. Except in Oxford, or course, where a parade of clerics, dignitaries and hangers on trace the boundaries of two adjoining parishes and stop at key points to cry "Mark! Mark! Mark!" and hit the point with long white sticks. One of these points was in our main quad. C and I watched it in disbelief. 

The next day C and I were down at the pigeonholes in the porter's lodge and she had a handwritten note in an envelope from someone which she got very secretive about. I didn't want to push her but she was distant and critical of me for the rest of the morning. She told me that there was a jazz band at the ball and I was expected to dance the Charleston with her. I said that this was ridiculous. Informal dancing was bad enough but that sort of dance had to be learned. There was a very popular ballroom dancing society at Oxford which was, I gathered, a complete pick-up market. Men who could dance ballroom could basically, according to my friend Dobs, have any girls there they liked. I ventured that any man who could do ballroom dancing probably wasn't interested in girls anyway. 

"Where are we with our relationship?" asked C completely out of the blue as we walked back to her room after lunch. I asked whether it was, in fact, a relationship at all, rankled by the fact that despite everyone up to and including the Principal knowing about it she still wouldn't show any affection towards me in College. I didn't want to snog her in the quad, or anything, but the occasional hand holding or hug might be nice. She looked at me. appalled. 

"I'm not a teenager!" she said, although, of course she was. She was still eighteen. She identified with her sister who was in her thirties and I sometimes thought that she thought she was in her thirties too, emotionally. C said that that was what she was thinking, that we didn't have a relationship at all, as we went up the wooden stairs to her room. She said we had sex but did we have anything else in common? She said that all the things she liked doing l didn't. I said that wasn't true and pointed out some of the things we did have in common like art appreciation and music. She said that a relationship was about doing things you didn't want to do but did anyway to please your partner. I thought about all the times I had trudged around dress and fabric shops. She said I wouldn't dance, I wouldn't go punting. and I wouldn't play croquet. This latter one was another point of recent contention. A croquet pitch had been set up in the quad and people played every afternoon in the summer. I had no hand to eye co-ordination, so didn't want to try and learn the game in front of everyone else sitting on the benches or around the edge of the grass. Most of the men who played croquet were the public school types C lusted after, not coincidentally. 

"I hope we are more than friends," I said, wishing the conversation would end. She said we could be friends without having sex. She said I was very lucky to have had a girl like her. I didn't like the use of the past tense at all. 

"I am very attractive and could have any man I like!" Until they got to know you, I thought. "You, however. are far too timid to get another girl! You take me for granted. I think we can carry on being friends but be free to look elsewhere!"  I thought about the creep from Magdalen and thought she already seemed to be doing that. I decided against arguing with her and decided to leave her to it. 

C told me that I wouldn't be seeing much of her over the next few days as she was in a desperate rush to finish her ball dress. I said I could sit with her while she sewed but she said that would be distracting. She suggested I take some pencils and paper and go out in the sunshine and do some drawing that afternoon. Having done really well on the holiday reading list I thought this actually might be quite fun. You would see a number of people drawing and painting around Oxford, mainly to sell to tourists, so I wouldn't feel odd. I went back to my room and picked up a small A4 pad and some very soft pencils and set out for Christchurch Meadows. 

I had just crossed the High and turned to look at an impressive Aston Martin convertible rolling down the street. It was then I caught sight of C emerging from Catte Street. the far side of St Mary's Church. She was heading towards Magdalen. Slightly surprised, given she said she was going to be sewing all afternoon, I followed her down the High, on the other side of the road, and saw that she did, in fact, go into Magdalen. Even worse she had her little overnight bag with her. I thought about the note she had received which she was so secretive about. My heart was pounding. Was she going to see that odious creep at the college? Had that whole conversation after lunch been about the fact that she had already moved on to someone else? I stomped off to Christ Church Meadows, my mind in turmoil. Had she just been staying with me until the next, more socially appealing man came along and was he it? 

I sat down on the grass and started to draw a view of the colleges. I hoped the technical challenge might take my mind off C's behaviour and, indeed, I calmed down gradually. Perhaps there was a perfectly innocent explanation for going to Magdalen, although I couldn't for the life of me think of one. I wished I hadn't taken her to see my school friend there, as then she wouldn't have met the odious creep.  I sat for about an hour and came up with what I thought was a nice drawing. The bright sunlight was providing lots of shadow which helped give form to the mass of buildings of the different adjoining colleges. 

"That's really good!" said a female voice behind me. 

"He's the person who drew the picture in my room! The College artist!" It was H, the pretty linguist with another attractive girl who looked very similar. H was in sub fusc, having just finished her prelims. I stood up. H introduced her sister, who was at Cambridge. She was going to the ball and would be on our table for dinner. Well, how very nice, I thought. She was quite a bit taller than her sister but just as curvy. Her light brown hair was much longer, though, down to her tailbone, almost. She was wearing a sleeveless sundress and a straw hat. They both looked gorgeous: one formally dressed, one informal. I thought about what C had said about not being able to attract women and being timid, so took a risk. 

"I'll buy you both a Pimm's at the Head of the River," I offered, thinking how annoyed C would be, as she didn't like H and her 'ridiculous tits'. I was feeling quite well off as I had sold quite a few drawings and hadn't spent so much on books that term.

"Oh!" said H, looking slightly uncomfortable. We weren't that far along the bank from where we had had our tentative kisses.

"Thank you! How lovely!" said her sister, J.  It wasn't far along the bank to the pub and just as we arrived some people vacated a table by the river, luckily, as it was always difficult to get an outside table there in the summer. The girls sat under the shade of the red and white umbrella while I went inside to get some Pimm's. They had a special offer on a jug so I bought that, even though it looked like a lot more than three half pints. H was a bit shocked by the size of the jug but J seemed delighted.  She took a proper swig of hers after I had poured it and told me that H couldn't hold her drink and got all giggly and flirty.  I looked at the table and could feel myself blush. H looked at the table too. J could read her sister like a book and started questioning her as to whether anything was going on between us. J was obviously finding the situation very amusing. H and I said no but then H added 'not really' at which point her older sister pointed out that 'no' and 'not really' were rather different. H confessed that she and I had had 'a moment' by the river after 'too much Pimm's' but that I had a girlfriend who J would meet at the ball.

"I think she might be an ex-girlfriend," I said,  bitterly. J wanted to know all about it and because I had had over half a pint of Pimm's by then and was feeling sorry for myself I told J the whole complex, frustrating story. This would not be the last time I regaled women with my sorry story, as I saw it.

"She sounds like a right cunt!" said J.  Her sister was appalled by her language.  "Well she does!" said J.  "Blows hot and cold and expects you to jump at every command while keeping you on a leash and trying to find someone new!" J seemed to have encapsulated the essence of the situation in one depressing sentence.

We sat there in somewhat uncomfortable silence for a few minutes and pretended to look at the boats on the river.  J and I finished the jug of Pimm's between us.  I asked them who they were going to the ball with. H said she was going with another first year from College as she didn't have a partner. J said her sister had set her up with someone from another college. They joked that they were two unloved spinsters and I replied that they were both eminently lovable. They both have me a spookily identical smile. I was making a bit of a play for them, goaded, I admit, by C's comments about not being able to attract women and her slinking off to Magdalen without telling me, The problem was I didn't know which one to concentrate my efforts on. I didn't want to make a move on H (well I did but I knew I shouldn't) but J was in Cambridge, which was hours away by bus. She was just here for a few days. But what if C was off on some innocent visit? If she was still my girlfriend, and I wasn't at all sure now, then I shouldn't be even thinking about trying it on with H or J. I decided to back off with the flirting and just enjoy being with two lovely girls in the summer sunshine.

J said she needed the loo and disappeared inside. I told H how nice I thought her sister was.

"Watch it with my sister!" said H.

"Don't worry I won't do anything untoward!" I said.

"I'm not worried about her, I'm worried about you!" she said. "She can be a bit predatory!" I liked the sound of that. She took her black tie off and unbuttoned a couple of buttons on her white blouse; enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. I tried to keep my eyes on her face. "I'm going inside too!" she stood up and left me there thinking, in a slightly Pimm's befuddled state, about where I was as regards a girlfriend and whether I should be preparing the ground, as it were, for another one. 

H returned first, with three pint glasses of water, to 'cool ourselves down'. I actually welcomed the water and knocked back half of the glass in one go. I then needed the loo too and went inside. I could see J over at the bar and wondered what she was ordering. When I went back outside again there was a fresh jug of Pimm's on the table. H was sticking to water, I noticed. There were some bags of crisps on the table. J opened her pack of smokey bacon crisps and crunched on one. She asked me if I wanted one and offered it to me with her fingers. H shot me a warning look. I thought about C calling me timid, yet again and took the crisp from her fingers with my mouth. Her fingertips just touched my lips. J gave me a smile. H, not to be outdone, did the same with one of her ready salted crisps. We all started feeding each other crisps and H gave in and had another Pimm's

"I think I'm on the wrong table!" said a voice. It was my old friend from school, Dobs. He indicated his girlfriend and some other friends of theirs from their college, on a table away from the riverside where we were sitting. I waved at them, as I knew them all, vaguely, and introduced the sisters. "What are you both doing?" Dobs asked the girls. The first thing you tended to ask other students was what subject they were doing.

"Competing!" answered J. H frowned and glared at her sister. I thought I better go over and say hello to his girlfriend. Like me he had hooked up with her in the first term of university. Unlike me he went on to marry her. I glanced back at the sisters and could see them having an animated discussion before both looking at me.

"Where's your redhead?" asked Dobs' girlfriend.

"We're having a break," I said.

"Consoling yourself?" she asked, nodding at the sisters.

"Perhaps," I said.

"I would," said Dobs. His girlfriend scolded him. He mouthed 'knockers like watermelons' silently to me when she wasn't looking. I went back to the table and H asked me what was it about watermelons? My eyes flicked to her cleavage. I asked her how she had worked out the word as Dobs hadn't spoken out loud. J told me that H could lip read and do deaf sign language, as they had a deaf aunt. I was impressed. H was interested in how languages were constructed and spoke five. I was even more impressed. Although they had been born in England and sounded completely English their parents were from Scandinavia. I explained, embarrassed, the measure of a woman's worth at my school. The girls said that they were more a curse than a blessing, unless they were 'trying to pick up men', as J added, winking at me. J told me that when H first got hers, about five years ago ('they appeared almost overnight', said H, which I was sure they didn't), they used to stand naked in the bathroom, sometimes, and rub them against each other and giggle at the ridiculousness of them. I said I couldn't imagine it, imagining it. J said that they would have to show me as it was quite funny. They grinned at me and J just put her hands underneath her bust and lifted them, as if rearranging herself. It was patently obvious she was not wearing a bra.

"There's flirting and there's making an exhibition of yourself!" said H. They had moved around the table so the sun wasn't in their eyes. "You both look a picture!" I said. H said I should draw them right there, then. I explained that I wasn't really a portraitist and that the hardest thing in the world to draw was a beautiful girl. Or a horse, I added, which made them laugh. Nevertheless, I picked up my pad and dashed off a quick sketch of them sitting at the table with Folly Bridge in the background. They were pleased with it and argued about which one of them would keep it. I said I would have to do some more drawings of them.

"K says you do nude drawing," said H.

"Sometimes, although mostly I am dressed when drawing," I answered, grinning. This conversation was progressing in a very promising way. J was very interested and said she had posed naked for a (woman) photographer but had always wanted to pose for an artist. At this point H said that they had to leave as they had to get some makeup for the ball before the shops shut.

"We could do that tomorrow!" said J, squeezing my thigh under the table.

"We could but we are not going to!" said H. obviously deciding her sister was getting too friendly. We all walked, arm in arm, back up the Abingdon Road, past Christ Church, towards the centre of town. I left them at the end of Cornmarket and got two very satisfactory kisses. J patted my bottom. I said they could come up for tea any time, It was half past three when I went back to College, grinning to myself, like an idiot. I knocked on C's door but there was no answer. I went up to K who invited me in for tea.

"You've been drinking Pimm's!" said K, after giving me a kiss. "Not with H again, I hope!" She wagged her finger at me. I didn't answer but asked her if she had seen C. K confirmed that C had gone to see 'a friend' at Magdalen. I knew now who that was. I told her that I thought she was sewing that afternoon. K caught on straight away and said that she was sure it was quite innocent. We looked at each other and she gave me a wry smile. I knew that C would tell K everything about some man she fancied. K knew something but wasn't saying. K said that she didn't want to get caught between C and I again in some big bust up. This was sounding worse and worse.

I went back to my room and put the kettle on. There was a knock on the door and I leapt up, hoping it was C although the knock was different.

"I've come for my cup of tea!" It was J, resplendent in ornate eye makeup. She looked like a woman not a girl. I asked her where her sister was and she replied that she had gone for a lie down. "She's quite pissed. She can't handle her drink at all." I made her some tea while she looked around my rooms and at my books and cassette collection. She said I had good taste in music but not so in books. She held up a novel I had been reading called 'Slave Girls of Gor'.  One of the other first year lawyers had caught me reading it in the laundry room and seemed most amused by it. I was not a fan of great literature, then as now.  I told J to put some music on and she chose, rather to my surprise, my Glen Miller tape. She said it would get us in the mood for the ball but I said that it wouldn't be that sort of music.  I told her how much I hated dancing and said that C had told me that I had to do the Charleston. She said she could teach me the Charleston as it was easy. "Like exaggerated walking. Now we just need the right music!" She found a piece called Johnson Rag which she said was not quite right but would make a good start. She fast forwarded the cassette until she found the beginning. I said that we didn't have a lot of space but she said we didn't need it as you could do the steps on the spot. She stood next to me and told me to step back on my right leg and swing my right arm up and forward.

J soon discovered what she was taking on and I felt like a right idiot, as I couldn't coordinate my legs and arms at all. I told her I couldn't even do the breaststroke because I couldn't co-ordinate my arms and legs. The first swimming stroke everyone learns and I couldn't manage it (I still can't do the breaststroke). She told me it would take time, winding the tape back. We started again. I messed it up again. She played the piece about five times and by the end I seemed to have cracked it. I still felt like an idiot, though. I suggested we have more tea. She said I was doing very well although I knew I wasn't. She gave me a hug which was a lovely, squashy experience. She patted my bottom again. She told me to imagine how shocked C would be when I knew the steps. I asked her not to tell her so she would be surprised when she failed to humiliate me again. She said she hadn't met C (she had met K) but said that it sounded like C wasn't very good for me at all. I decided she deserved a chocolate biscuit. "After tea we can do the next bit of the Charleston!"

"I thought that was it!" I said. She explained that that was just the basic steps and we had to learn some 'decorations'. Why did anyone bother, I wondered? We kept practising until it was time for dinner. I took out the cassette and tapped it so it didn't get jammed with all the constant rewinding.

"We'll do some more after dinner. I'll see you in Hall but I have to get back to my dozy sister!" I went to see if C was back before dinner but she wasn't. I went upstairs and collected K. We went and sat down and H and J came and joined us. They both had eye makeup on and discussed what they had been trying on with K. There was lots of girly nonsense about lipstick and such like. J, who was sat opposite me caught my eye at one point and winked at me. Then I felt her leg brush mine under the table, just once. They carried on nattering about nail varnish. It became apparent that we had spent the afternoon together and I felt K poke me in the side. We went back to K's and all had tea. I excused myself and went to the loo downstairs. On the way I knocked on C's door again. No answer. It was now nearly eight. K threw us out as she had to write a letter to her stepmother about when to collect her at the weekend.  We walked past C's door but I didn't stop. When we got to the bottom of the staircase I looked back at her window but there were no lights on, although it was still quite light, being mid-June.

J invited me back to H's room for a drink, as the 'Pimm's had worn off'. H said she didn't have any drink so J and I set off for Oddbins, the off licence. She and I went through the square to Oddbins while H went back to her room, which overlooked the High. As we walked along the pavement J pointed out H's windows. She was looking out at us. I gave her a wave and then J grabbed me around the waist and gave me a big wet kiss. I looked back at H's window. She was shaking her head. They had some Rosé d'Anjou in the fridge and H insisted we get two bottles. I paid for them despite her protests. As we walked back into Radlciffe Square J turned to me and asked if I was up for more dancing. I groaned. She poked me in the stomach,

"Do you want to see if your wayward girlfriend is there yet?" she asked.  K must have said something, I thought. I looked at her and said I really didn't. and she said that was absolutely the right answer. She stopped in the quad and sat down on one of the benches. "I need to ask you something before we get back."

"Alright," I said, slightly nervously.

"Don't take it the wrong way," she began. Now, I was really nervous. "But what are your intentions towards my sister?"

"That's all a bit Jane Austen," I said. J explained that H had told her about our kissing and that she really liked me and hoped that I had broken up with C as she wanted to get to know me better.

"She fancies you like mad. Understandably!" she said. "But she is only eighteen, still a virgin and hasn't even had a proper boyfriend yet. I don't want her first time to be as some sort of rebound consolation which will leave her all upset. You are older and a lot more experienced, I would guess."  I didn't feel very experienced. I felt totally adrift as regards the emotional parts of .a relationship. I said I found H very attractive but I had decided that I was not going to have any sort of relationship with anyone in College ever again. I wasn't sure that I wanted any kind of relationship for a while, as it was just too much. J nodded, obviously satisfied. "Don't cut her dead though. A bit of flirting would be OK. Just nothing heavy or serious!"

We climbed up the large wooden staircase to where H's room was. It was the grandest staircase in College; the same one, near the law library, where the nice bathroom was, where C and I sometimes shared a bath. Walking up it with another girl felt odd. When we went inside H's room I was surprised to see she had turned out the lights and lit candles. Really quite a lot of candles. I said it looked very romantic.

"I'm a romantic girl," she said.

"So am I!" added J.

"Or something rather earthier," noted H. "Shall we have some music?" I nodded and she went to look at the line of cassettes on her shelf. H's room was the most impressive I had seen in College. She had a separate bedroom and a large sitting room with two bay windows overlooking the High, with window seats in them. J told her to put on 'romantic' music.

"Not your weird folk music!" she added.

"Steeleye Span!" said H, holding up a cassette. I noticed that all hers were prerecorded ones not put together from records like mine. I said that I had some Steeleye Span too. My aunt had given me an album for Christmas a few years before (like me, she had very eclectic taste) and I wondered what on earth it was at the time but I ended up really liking it.

"No! No! No!" said J, throwing a cushion at her. Her floor was always covered in all different sizes of cushions and beanbags as she preferred to sit on the floor rather than in chairs. In fact all the chairs in the room, other than the one at her desk, had piles of books on them, so you couldn't sit in one even if you wanted to. H put the cassette back and resumed looking. J asked her sister where the corkscrew was. C always got me to open the wine but J handled it very capably. She poured the wine out. H put a cassette in and dropped down onto one of her big cushions. J brought the wine over. Dark and mysterious music flowed from the speakers (she had a proper stereo set up, not a ghetto blaster like I did). I cocked my head and listened to it and J asked if I knew it.

"No!" I said frowning. "Rachmaninov?"

"Very good!" said H. It was the second symphony which J called the world's most romantic piece of music. It really was, I thought. I only knew Rachmaninov's piano concertos and the Isle of the Dead. This was the first of his symphonies I had ever heard. "Sit here!" said H, patting the cushion next to her. I gingerly sat down, carefully, holding my full glass of wine. J pulled up another of the large cushions and dropped down on the other side of me. She held her glass up and we all touched glasses. "What shall we drink to?" asked H.

"A terrible day that turned into a lovely one!" I said.

"Don't fret about her. She may be off with some idiot but that means we have you instead!" said J.

"And how lovely that is!" I said, meaning it. "Drinking Rosé d'Anjou and listening to Rachmaninov with two beautiful women!" H patted my leg and then kissed me. J said that they had to share, so kissed me as well. I wondered what C would think if she could see me now. Neither kisses were particularly passionate but they were on the lips and a fraction longer than a quick, friendly peck.

"I like artistic men. Romantic men!" added H. snuggling up to me. J caught my eye so I didn't put my arm around her sister, which I certainly would have done if J hadn't been there. We talked about what other music we liked and what painters. I tried to explain Piranesi but they didn't know him and preferred paintings. I said that I did a lot of pen and ink drawing and tried to make some of them look like an engraved print. H nodded at my drawing which now looked resplendent on her wall as she had had it properly mounted and framed. J asked when I was going to draw her properly. H said that she hoped that by 'properly' she didn't mean nude. J shrugged and said it depended on how she felt, before adding that she could visit my room tomorrow afternoon for a session. H did not think that this was a good idea at all and said something to her in what I took to be the family language. We agreed that I would draw J and probably H the following afternoon in H's room, which was where J was staying, sleeping on the cushions from the window seats. H said she would turn her room into a proper artist's studio and we had a slightly drunken discussion as to what that entailed. J thought that the presence of peacock feathers in a jug was a key element, for some reason.

We drank both bottles of wine and J told H that she had been teaching me to dance the Charleston, H then wanted to see it, so changed the music for some Bix Beiderbecke she had. This was a lot faster than what I had learned the dance to but we all jumped around like idiots. I said I needed a rest (in fact I wanted to stop looking stupid) and dropped into one of their beanbags while I watched them bouncing around. Bouncing being the operative word as I tried not to get hypnotised by the movement of their breasts under their sundresses, especially J as she had, what I knew from C, was called a sweetheart neckline on her sundress, which showed a lot of cleavage.

"What bouncy girls you are!" I said.

"What a naughty boy you are!" laughed H. She looked absolutely gorgeous and if her sister hadn't been there I would have grabbed her and thrown her onto one of her cushions. Instead she knelt down in front of me and took my face in her hands to give me a proper, wine flavoured kiss. I kept my hands well away from her body, though, sensing J's disapproval.

"That's enough!" said J, as H put her hands on my thighs.

"I think I better leave!" I said.

"Have I done anything wrong? I was too pushy wasn't I?" said H.

"Not at all but I am quite tired! It's been a lovely day. You have both cheered me up a lot!"  Maybe, C was right and I was too timid.

"What a gentleman!" said J.

"Tomorrow C will be back, she will have a perfectly reasonable explanation for her absence and you can go back to being the mysterious couple of College," said H, squeezing my hand as I left. "Unfortunately!" I set off down the ornate staircase. "Tomorrow, for lunch! Here in my artist's studio!" called out H.  I slipped back to my room,feeling virtuous and frustrated at the same time.

Next morning, after lying in bed, gently playing with myself and thinking about the previous day. I got up in time for breakfast. I knocked on C's door. No answer. I went up to K's room. No answer there either. I assumed they were both in breakfast, K was there but C was not. She was sat with H and J who both gave me a perky 'good morning' I grinned at them. H winked at me.

"Don't you all look lovely this morning!" I said, sitting down with my cornflakes. K was on it like a shot.

"What did you three get up to last night?" she said.

"We drank Rosé d'Anjou and listened to Rachmaninov," said H.

"And danced the Charleston. But don't tell C!" said J.

"Is that all?" said K, suspiciously.

"It is a precise account!" I said.

"Today, he is going to draw me, though," said J. "Probably naked!"

"Remember what I said about C actually killing you!" warned K.

"It's just art!" I said.

"Art for art's sake!" said H. "A phrase invented in this very college!"  I knew about Walter Pater, an art critic who was one of the College dons in the nineteenth century.

"Bet that's what all artists say!" said K. K suggested she should chaperone me and J said she could pose with her and her sister, like the three graces. "Hardly!" said K. I asked K if she had seen C and she admitted she hadn't. J said that was not very nice behaviour on C's part and not very faithful. I caught K glaring at her.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, concentrating on trying to pick up the last few cornflakes floating in the milk.

"Alright! Enough!" said H to her sister. She patted my hand and looked sympathetic. Was C making me a laughing stock? Would I become a pitiable creature lurking around College while C paraded a string of upper class men? I remembered some Shakespeare I had done at school where men whose wives went off with other men were supposed to grow horns. Cuckolded, was the word. The bitch. The sisters told me to come to H's room at one o'clock for lunch. They had things to do that morning but told me I needed to think artistic thoughts in the meantime.

"Not too artistic!" warned K. The two left and persuaded K to come for lunch too, which she agreed to, mainly to keep an eye on me, as she later admitted. She asked me if anything had happened last night and I told her nothing much, just innocent fun. She put her arm through mine and marched me out of college to look for something to take to the sisters as a present. "Your idea of innocent fun and mine are rather different!" she said, as we endured the boiled cabbage stink of Brasenose Lane.

"Are they?" I asked her. She stopped and looked at me. I nearly kissed her. She nearly kissed me, I think. But we didn't. 

"Maybe not." she said, "but I exercise control!"

"I did too!" I said.

"No! No! I don't want icky details!" she said.

"There was nothing like that!" I said.

"I hope so. Maybe C has gone to see her mother. Maybe she has taken her dress home so she can use her sewing machine."

"Via Magdalen? She could have left a note!" I said.  "Anyway she didn't have her dress with her!"

"Maybe she went back to college while you were drinking with H and J!" That was a point, I thought, But then I remembered C's overnight bag. "You know what she is like!" I wondered if I did any more.

We went to Selfridges food hall and bought some hideously expensive marrons glacés. As the time approached to go up to H's room I got more and more nervous. Partly it was about the challenge of drawing J. People always expected a true likeness. This was a problem because most people only saw themselves from the front, in the mirror. I actually found profiles of faces much easier. This was less of a problem with someone you knew well who knew you were just doing a life study, for example, but I hardly knew J at all. I had only met her less than twenty four hours ago. She was a beauty but I was right when I said that beautiful girls were the hardest to draw. I was also still worried about C. She really seemed to have, as they would have said at school, 'chucked' me in favour of the creep from Magdalen. But what if there was a perfectly innocent explanation? I hoped for one but was not optimistic. H and, especially, J were sending out strong signals towards me. But the ball was in a couple of days and I would be expected to accompany C. I was in a complete emotional knot when K and I arrived at H's room.

H opened the door wearing a floaty, low-cut sundress, not the skirt and blouse she had been wearing at breakfast. Talk about displaying herself. The spaghetti straps showed she was not wearing a bra which became patently obvious when she moved. I could sense K's disapproval right away and, much as I liked her, I wished she hadn't come along. The sisters had rearranged the room. The cushions were piled in the middle of the floor, the desk had been dragged to one side and covered with a red and white check tablecloth. On it were plates of French bread, Camembert, pate and grapes. There were bottles of red wine and a bottle of Champagne in an ice bucket (a College one I noted from the coat of arms engraved on it); the first time I had seen someone use one outside of a restaurant. Also on the table was a vase with some long peacock feathers in it! Several large Renoir nudes and a Toulouse Lautrec poster had been stuck to the walls.  A long piece of patterned fabric had been draped across one of the rather masculine wood panelled walls. There was even a large potted plant in the corner.

"Is that...?" I asked,

"The one from the JCR? They won't miss it for an afternoon!" laughed H. The Junior Common Room was directly below the room.

"You've done all this in a morning?" I asked,

"We are resourceful women!" said J. There was even a little plaster sculpture of The Three Graces, on the shelves. French music was playing from the stereo; Songs of the Auvergne. They said that they wanted me to be artistically inspired. I said I certainly was. J said she was famished as they had been back and forth to college so many times. Had they done all this just for me? I supposed not. We sat on the cushions and had an indoor picnic, as they put it. J opened the Champagne. She had actual ice in the ice bucket. There were no facilities for making ice that I knew of in College. It turned out she had bought it in Sainsbury's and lugged it all the way back. They must have spent quite a lot of money. J later revealed that she was earning quite good money teaching undergraduates at Cambridge. I hadn't realised that she was a graduate student. I wondered how old she was. Older than me, that was certain.

After our picnic J said that it was now time for me to earn my lunch and Champagne and get drawing. She asked if she should take her clothes off now.

"Oh dear! Is this the naked bit?" asked K, swigging some claret. She had had quite a lot to drink, out of nervousness, she later admitted.

"Nothing embarrassing about naked bodies. If they are good ones anyway! And ours are excellent! said J.  "His is nice too, I would imagine!" she said, pointing at me as I got my Conté crayons out and tried to focus.

"Yes, I know. I've seen it!" said K, smirking slightly.

"Really?" asked H. "All of it??"

"All of it!" said K. I looked at her and tried to indicate she should shut up. J started to undo the buttons at the front of her dress. I told her that the tradition in art schools was that the model undresses in private and then comes out naked, so the undressing doesn't arouse the artists

"What happen if the model wants to arouse the artist?" asked J.

"Well, that doesn't sound very academic!" I said. Despite my cool demeanour my heart was pounding. Was J really going to strip naked in front of, not only me, but her sister and K too?  She had had quite a lot to drink I noted. I briefly wondered if the whole thing had been a plot by C to catch me out and that she would burst in with one of my tutors. "I will just draw you with clothes on," I said. "To get a feel for my subject!"

"Feel away! she giggled. Her sister gave her a look. I said that I would draw both sisters and I got them to sit themselves in the pile of cushions. They wriggled about trying to get into position. I suspected they were not going to be good models. They fussed about and arranged their hemlines. J arranged hers so it was well above her knees. H 'accidentally' let a spaghetti strap fall off one shoulder, which I found surprisingly erotic. They both had lovely, long legs. I told them to bend their knees and how to drape their arms so it was comfortable but added interest to the composition. They tried to get K to sit with them but K said she wanted to watch me draw, which added extra stress to the situation. I didn't like people watching me when I drew.

I had a pad of coloured paper and some pastels as well as the crayons. C had bought me the pastels and I felt a twinge of guilt. I set to work and took about fifteen minutes. They came over and had a look. They were pleased and I was relieved, as ever, when a model approved of my work. I did another half dozen or so sketches of them sat, kneeling or lying in the cushions. K even posed while the others watched me draw her.

"Do you always start at the top left and work down?" asked H, who seemed genuinely interested in the process. She was leaning on my shoulder; a soft breast pressed against my upper arm as she looked at the paper. I explained that otherwise, with pastels and charcoal, you risked smudging the picture with the side of your hand. I explained I would have to spray them with fixative later but it was too smelly to use in their room. We broke at about four and had some more wine. J asked if it was time to take her clothes off but I said that drawing for that long was tiring and maybe another day would be best. K nodded at me approvingly. The girls chose which pictures they wanted and I said I would fix them that evening and take them over the next day. I left, carrying my art folder and K and I went back to her room for some tea. I felt rather emotionally drained.

The two sisters were going to some choral concert that evening and invited K and I to go. I didn't really like choral music so declined but K went along. I wanted to be with the sisters but not with K watching me like a hawk. I was hoping C was back. She was. She knocked on K's door some time after five. She looked a bit shocked to see me and then cross.

"What a surprise to find you here!" she said sarcastically. I asked her where she had been and she said it was none of my business. "We're not married!" she said.

"I didn't think we were," I said.

"Good. Keep thinking that. Maybe you should go!" I did. I picked up my art folder, said goodbye to K and stomped off to my room in a sulk. I decided not to go to dinner and went to Burgerland to get a burger and fries which I took back to my room and ate, listening to Brahms 4th and feeling depressed. I replayed every second of the brief conversation in my mind. She hadn't looked pleased to see me. She certainly hadn't looked guilty. She almost looked straight through me as if I was now of no importance to her whatsoever. The prospect of the ball now seemed awful. What a waste of time and money. I could have gone home early. I never drank alone but I had a half bottle of the Sainsbury's 99p red wine and opened it and poured myself a glass. I sprayed fixative on the drawings and wished I had let J pose naked.

To cheer myself up I picked up and read a letter I had had from A, who was towards the end of her first year at Edinburgh University, as they started a year earlier than in England. We had been trying to arrange meeting up over the summer but it was just not working. My mother had booked a holiday in the Lake District and A was going to Italy with her parents. Edinburgh's autumn term started over a month before ours did. I thought how nice A was and how horrible C had become. I went down and had a shower before bed and was too upset to even get stiff and have a little play as I sometimes did in the summer (never in the winter!).

It was gone ten when there was a knock on the door. I wondered how I was going to deal with C. Be upset? Be forgiving? Ignore her? I took a deep breath and opened the door. It wasn't C. It hadn't been her distinctive knock, of course. It was J, holding a bottle of claret.

"Nightcap?" she said, hopefully. I was delighted to see her and invited her in straight away. She was wearing a different sundress and had her hair in a long pigtail, which made her look younger. K had told her all about the encounter with C. "Ignore the bitch," was her succinct advice. "Let's drink wine, listen to good music and light your candles." She indicated the ones on my desk.

"You can light my candle anytime!" I said.

 "Just what I was hoping!" she said. I got out some wine glasses and opened the bottle, while she lit the candles and turned the other lights out. At that point I didn't know much about wine. That would be something that I would learn in the next two years through my friends L and W. I knew it was claret from the shape of the bottle and I also knew it was a good one when I tasted it. I expected J to chose something classical but she put on the Glenn Miller tape again. I had recorded it so that there were quick numbers on one side and slow ones on the other side. She put on the slow ones. I sat on the chair and must have looked tense. She asked me to dance and I started on my usual anti-dancing speech. "Just shut up! Anyone can do slow dancing, even you!" I reluctantly stood up and we were in each other's arms and moving slowly around my small floor. She was tall, about five foot eight, I guess and she held me close, her bust pressed against me, her arm around my waist. We slowly circled to Moonlight Serenade. I relaxed and felt better. I still can't remember whether I kissed her, she kissed me or if we fell into it together but it was quite different from the kisses we had had before. Deep. slow intimate kisses. I put my hands on her cotton clad bottom. she did the same to me and her thighs straddled one of mine. She danced me towards my bedroom.

"Are you.." I began but she shushed me and started to undo my belt buckle. "Is this a good idea?" I managed as she unzipped me.

"Shut up. I'm going to make you feel a lot better. Just enjoy it!" My protestations became ever more feeble and stopped completely when she stood back and slowly unbuttoned the front of her dress. She shrugged it off her shoulders. She pushed her knickers over her hips and was soon completely naked, apart from a gold chain around her waist, the effect of which was far more erotic than complete nudity. She looked like a Playboy Playmate in the candlelight. Her bust was everything I had dreamed of and her nipples were large, about three inches in diameter I thought. "I don't do one night stands so you'd better be around tomorrow night!" she laughed. "Now, strip off!" I don't think I had ever removed my clothes so quickly. I thought if I hesitated she might change her mind. We embraced, my engorged cock pressing against her soft belly. She stroked my bottom. We kissed constantly. It was so much easier than with C, with her being so tall. "Let's go to bed," she purred.  I guided her gently towards my bedroom door. I didn't even think about the morality of it. In retrospect, I just wanted my desirability to women confirmed and this woman carried no baggage, unlike K, nor any future potential problems, like H. She was like a girl from the letters in Men Only or Penthouse, where the writer said he had met some gorgeous woman with big tits (they all had big tits) and they had sex almost immediately. Even when I was sixteen I thought they were nonsense. Male/female relationships didn't work like that. There was courtship, and tentativeness and maybe goading and begging. Real, busty women didn't appear in your bedroom and strip off less than thirty six hours after you had met them. Yet here she was. "Wait!" she said and bent down to get something from her handbag on the chair by the door. She waved a blue Durex packet at me. I was a bit shocked. Surely it was the job of the man to supply the condom? My face must have shown something. "This isn't spontaneous!" she said. "You've been seduced, my dear!" She grinned in the candlelight.

"I surrender!" I said.

"Good! Now lie on your back!!" She pushed me through the bedroom door, into the dark, into the unknown. I got into bed and pushed my duvet down to the foot of the bed while she blew out the candles and switched the music off. She climbed on top of me, still holding the Durex packet in her left hand. Her soft lips worked their way down my body until she was kissing the shaft of my cock. She pretty much went straight to it and was soon sucking my knob. She then sat astride my thighs, ripped open the packet and put the condom on me with practiced ease, unlike C and my earlier attempts. I wanted to kiss and caress but she had an exciting urgency about her, lowering herself onto me, before pausing. I could only see her outline in the dark but I could sense her staring at me. Was she having second thoughts? "Go on then!" she said. "Touch them! You have been looking at them ever since we met!" I couldn't really see that well in the gloomy bedroom but I put my hands on her hips and slowly slid them up her body. She had sweat running down her sides from her armpits. I brought my hands round and gently clasped her breasts. They weren't as big as other J, the Finnish au pair, but they were still big and much firmer than Finnish J's. She began to move her hips slowly. A flood of conflicting emotions washed through me as she went to work. Firstly, and most cruelly, I wished C could see me fucking another girl, although, to be honest, J was really fucking me. I was barely moving, Then I felt guilty that we were having sex in the very bed where C and I had lost our virginity nine months previously. Mostly, however, I was worried that I wasn't going to last very long at all as the whole situation was so exciting and unexpected. We had only met yesterday. I did actually try and think of tedious things to distract myself and took my hands off her breasts to reduce the sensual experience somewhat but it was no good and I was spurting in no time. She kept going for a bit but then her movements slowed and stopped. I apologised. She can't have even got started. She laughed and she said we still had two more condoms. She climbed off me and I pulled off the condom and hopped out of bed to wrap it in a tissue. They really were revolting things.

I climbed back into bed and we embarked on some lovely kissing and caressing. I could now pay full attention to her breasts. They were so full and heavy as I gently squeezed and lifted them. I started to kiss and lick them. Her nipples weren't as prominent as C's or A's. I gradually worked my way down her body until I was licking up the inside of her thighs, which she spread, wantonly, for me. I set to work on her with my tongue. Her parts were less pronounced than C's or A's. Less fleshy but nicely slippery. She told me exactly what she wanted. She liked me to lick the inside of her entrance and stroke her small clitoris just occasionally. Her breathing got more rapid. She was not a moaner like C. There was a concept in law called 'quiet enjoyment' and this was what J was like. She came, which I could tell from her breathing alone, just as my tongue was running out of steam. There was no flood of wetness as I got from C. At least she didn't clamp my head but just grasped the back of my neck at the critical time, pulling my face into her wet vulva. She tasted different from C or A; a lighter, less fishy, more delicate muskiness that I really enjoyed. Afterwards, she lay on top of me and I could feel those big breasts covering my chest. I stroked her bottom and we didn't say anything, Just kissed and stroked.

"Can you stay the night?" I asked.

"H would have a fit!" she said.

"Shame!" I said, disappointed.

"She can just have a fit, then!" said J. "Where is your loo?" she said after a while. I was in the same state.

"In the basement," I said. 

"You are joking!" H's room, of course, had the nice bathroom directly across from her door.

"I have a chamber pot under the bed."

"You really are joking, now!" I got out of bed and showed her. She looked at it in disbelief. "I'm not going in that!" In the end she pulled on her dress and I put on my dressing gown and took her down to the loo on the floor below, on the next staircase. I waited outside for her, listening to her tinkle and keeping watch. It wasn't that late and someone I knew could appear at any second, as several of my fellow lawyers lived on the staircase. Ten per cent of the students at the college were lawyers. We were everywhere. Fortunately, no-one appeared and we made it back to my rooms undiscovered,

"Does H know you are with me?" I asked as we stripped and returned to bed.

"Not really. I just told her not to wait up. She told me not to wake her up at some unearthly hour because I haven't got a key." I thought about C again. What she would think. What had I just done? Had I ended our relationship? Was part of my behaviour down to the fact I wanted to end it or was it just revenge, perhaps? I reasoned that she had already ended our relationship by going off with the odious creep from Magdalen.

Having a petite 5' 2" girl in bed overnight was one thing. Having a strapping 5' 8" girl was something else. She took up a lot more space and her head was next to mine on the pillow not on my chest as it was with C, when she lay on top of me. We wriggled about trying to find a comfortable position.

"Thank you," I said as we found a position that worked for us both, back to back.

"Literally a pleasure. And we have two Durex left for tomorrow!" she laughed. She was silent for a while. "I don't usually do this." She patted my hip. "It's just because you are an artist and I am your model! Also," she hesitated, "I am afraid that you are rebound consolation boy for me. I have been going through the same thing, except my man went off with another man. You can imagine how that felt!" I thought about C's interest in other women and wondered if I would feel different if she had gone off with another girl.

"A naked model tomorrow!" I said, not feeling able to say anything else on the subject of breaking up. All my previous romantic encounters had been ended by external circumstances.

"Can't wait!" she laughed. I felt so strange, yet so comfortable, having this girl in my bed. I lay awake for some time, enjoying her naked back and bottom pressed against mine and the tickling of her pigtail when she moved. She was up against the wall where C slept, except she was facing the wall. I realised that C and my relationship was now at an end. But had I ended it or had she? Things would be tense, I knew, but at least it was the end of term. There would be a breathing space. Unfortunately, I still had the College ball to cope with. Two women I had had sex with sitting on the same table at dinner. Oh dear.

Chronicle 18 -1980: The Summer of our Discontent - Part 1

"Why won't you ever do what you're told?" C shouted at me in fury.

"I do. I just don't like dancing and a ball is about dancing by definition," I answered.

"Well, I like dancing and you have to do what I want! Don't be so fucking timid!" she said.

"I'm not going to dance!" I said, standing up to her, for once. The ball issue was dominating our lives. The College Ball, which only happened every three years, was in ninth week, for a start. This meant that I would have to stay up at college an extra week, when what I really wanted to do was get home to my family. You might have thought that the extra time with my lovely, if volatile, girlfriend might be welcomed but, increasingly she was becoming depressed and erratic. She still enjoyed sex and, in fact, we were doing it more often, as she seemed to need it. A need for confirmation of her desirability, I thought. It was almost as if she couldn't control her passion. One part of me (guess which) was enjoying her new drive but another part of me realised that this was an attempt to compensate for some sort of other hole in her life.

"If you don't take me to the ball I'll get someone else to take me and then I'll have sex with them and you will be forgotten, you useless bastard!" she said. She started to cry. This was another increasingly common situation. Passion followed by tears.

It had all been going so well. After May Day, C was in a very good mood, buoyed by her excellent results in our exams. That weekend we had had our first really nice weather at Oxford. We went shopping and C bought me a book of Arthur Rackham's illustrations for Wagner's Ring. This was a lovely present and I bought her some antique lace in Little Clarendon Street, which she was going to use in a pair of French knickers she was planning to make. We had soup for lunch in The Nosebag (one of the few places to eat in Oxford then that is still there today) opposite the Oxford Union. She gave me a soupy kiss at the table, surprisingly.

In the afternoon, C and I walked in the sunshine to the river, through Christchurch Meadows and watched all the idiots rowing up and down. C worked herself up by imagining, out loud, what their communal showers were like afterwards and by the time we got back to College she was ready for 'a rough one' as she put it. We didn't even go up to my room, as she decided we would do it in the showers at the basement of my staircase. I knew what she was thinking about! Our height difference made stand up sex difficult but we solved this by her standing in the shower stall and me standing on the floor next to it. I only had to bend my knees a bit to enter her sopping pussy. She certainly was worked up. Neither of us came but she enjoyed it, especially when I put my hands under her bottom, lifted her up so that she could put her legs around my waist and banged her against the tiles. We finished each other off up in my room with me holding her wrists again. She seemed to like being restrained.

"So how many of the crew did you get through, in your mind?" I asked her. She laughed.

"Just one. One per fuck. You have to take me eight more times to manage the whole crew!" She thought it would be fun to be tied up and we looked at the rope fire escape in my bedroom but the rope was too thick, old and inflexible to go around her small wrists. She wanted to rub the rope between her legs but we decided it was too grubby. She said we needed to find a nice crew of girls for me to fantasise about. "Nine naked girls in the shower, all rubbing their soapy bodies up against you. Stroking your cock, fingering your arse and licking your balls. They'd probably be stroking each other and themselves while you take the first one up against the tiles."

"Sounds like you should help me out in there!" I said. She thought that this was an excellent concept and then we discussed the College ladies first eight which had a number of very attractive girls in it. One was another redhead (well, more of a strawberry blonde) with long legs and C fantasised about them sixty-nining each other. I wan't sure how easy it would be for the five foot two (nearly) inch C to service the five foot nine inch S but didn't say anything.

On Saturday evening I told C to put a nice dress on (she had brought some different ones from home for the summer, although she complained most were still in storage) as I told her I was taking her out to dinner. She overdressed again, in a floaty, grey chiffon number with more sequins on it. I didn't tell her where we were going but took her to La Sorbonne. I was a bit worried about this, as it had caused the bust up between us when I took K there but she was delighted. I had had to book in advance, of course, as you couldn't get a table if you just turned up but C liked the fact that it was a surprise. The restaurant was packed, again, mainly with Americans, this time.  I had grenouille, for the first time, which C thought was very brave of me but they were delicious, although they looked odd as they were so patently pairs of little legs. They were served in batter with garlic butter. Then we both had steak au poivre, which I had not had before. This was a huge piece of steak (no nouvelle cuisine in those days), which we had with ratatouille, one of C's favourites. We finished with Crêpe Suzette, which was a speciality of the place. We drank a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, which cost an eye-watering £9.50, although they had a bottle of Chateau Margaux on the list at £145. The whole meal cost just over £40 and although C offered to pay half, as K had done, I wouldn't let her, to her obvious delight.

We had another energetic one back in my room afterwards, although we both stank of garlic, despite a lot of teeth cleaning, so avoided too much kissing. We did it about six times that weekend (I couldn't manage nine) but Monday to Wednesday we had to get our heads down on the Tort and Contract.

However, several other social events, in what was an academically less pressured term, reared their (to me) ugly heads. There was a proposed Tort versus Contract first year's darts match in the bar. Fortunately, there were four of us, including C, A and L ,who had never even held a dart let alone thrown one. We did not relish having to do this for the first time in front of a bunch of drunken rugby players in the bar. None of us went to the subterranean College bar, largely because it was full of drunken rugby players. I think I only went there once in my three years.

Next up was the proposed first year versus second year lawyers cricket match. C, A, L and I (who were now known by the other lawyers as 'The Gang of Four') all thought that this was an even worse prospect than the darts match. I had never played cricket, except once at junior school where I remember being hit by the ball (I had no hand to eye co-ordination) and it being very painful. Cricket, I decided, was dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing. I avoided it at senior school by doing athletics instead. C was even less sporty than I was but the other girls in the year had all played rounders, hockey or lacrosse at school. We thought that given there were four of us we could effectively sabotage this ghastly proposal, as there were only eleven lawyers in each year.

The next issue was more problematic, because unlike darts and cricket this was something C did want to do. Punting. With the warm weather the punts had appeared at Magdalen Bridge. Punting looks easy but isn't. D, the person with the room next door to mine, had fallen into the river that weekend from a punt and he was president of the punt club. One of the other first year lawyers had done it that weekend and said 'never again', having pulled just about every muscle in his body. The sticky mud at the bottom of the river would snatch the pole from your hands, people would try to pull it up and invariably fall into the river. Also, collisions were common, whereupon people would fall into the river. Some people fell into the river just trying to climb into the punt. Everyone else in the punt got showered with water as the pole was pulled out of the river. The problem was that C really wanted to sit in a punt in a flowery dress and have a man propel her effortlessly across the water. It was all part of her Brideshead Revisted image of Oxford. She loved Brideshead Revisted, a book I hadn't read and had no desire to read, but she was always going on about it. In the end C cajoled L, A and some others to go punting. I stayed in College. A fell into the river.

The work that week was very intense and we spent most of our waking hours in the College law library. One of the lawyers, who had matriculated the previous year but had dropped out and had come back for our year, was making an Airfix model kit of a Flying Fortress in the college law library. We hung it up from the ceiling of the law library but it was soon removed by some of the third years, who had no sense of humour.

Things went from bad to worse on the ball front when we discovered that we had to form tables of eight for dinner. K was going but suggesting we join her table didn't go down too well. Our other close friends, A and L, didn't have any girls to go with and were going home at the end of term. The tickets were going on sale that week and I was still wavering, hence C's outburst at me.

"You can forget about any more sex until you buy the ticket and I am not paying half!" she said,  that Thursday. Having just paid £13 for my new law book and £40 for dinner I wasn't too keen on the outlay for something I knew I would hate.

"It's probably worth it just to calm her down," said K a couple of days later. I had done her a pen and ink drawing of college for her birthday present and she was deciding where to put it on her wall. H, a very pretty language student, turned up and admired my drawing and wondered why I hadn't done art instead of law. I was starting to wonder the same thing. H, had long brown hair, a delicate, almost elfin face and, in her summer dress, an extremely impressive bust. She was one of those rare slim girls with large breasts. I tried not to look at them but she was displaying them quite assertively and she caught me looking at her and grinned. She commissioned me to do a similar drawing of College for £15. This would pay nearly half of my ball ticket, as K pointed out. H said that they were looking for another couple to fill their table at the ball and would hold the place for us. I knew when I was beaten, so went to the Lodge and bought the ticket. That afternoon I went to Selfridges and Debenhams department stores and bought some things for C.

"Where's my ball ticket?" hissed C at dinner. "They are selling out!  If we miss out I will never speak to you again!" After dinner I invited her up to my room but she said she didn't want to go. I told her I had something for her. She asked, as usual, whether she could eat it and whether it was brown. I said yes, so she grudgingly trudged up the stairs to my room. I gave her a half pound bag of chocolate coated Brazil nuts from Selfridges and she perked up immediately.

"Take your clothes off!" I said. She said sex would cost a lot more than a bag of chocolate coated Brazil nuts. Even a half pound bag. I told her that if she didn't take her clothes off I would take them off for her. She dared me to try. I grabbed her leg and tipped her over onto the rug. She squirmed and wriggled and even scratched as I pulled her skirt off and removed her knickers. She kicked me in the leg, so I spanked her, quite hard. She yelled. I stopped.

"Don't be useless!" she said. "Work harder!" I sat astride her hips and undid the buttons of her blouse and pushed her bra up to reveal her breasts. She looked aroused and excited. "Are you going to ravish me?" she asked.

"I haven't decided!" I said. She undid the buttons of my shirt and then promptly scratched my chest with her sharp fingernails. "You little bitch!" I said, meaning it. She bit the fleshy part of my thumb enough to leave teeth marks. "Right! That's it!" I said. I leant across and opened my desk drawer and took out the bag from Debenhams. I pulled out the red curtain-tie cord I had bought earlier. It was about half an inch in diameter and was like silken rope.

"You're not going to tie me up!" she said, giving me a look which said that was exactly what she wanted. I rolled her over onto her front and pulled her blouse and bra off so that she was naked. I sat astride her lower back and tied her wrists together, over her head. She struggled until I was finding it difficult to tie the knot and then she helpfully stopped moving until she was secure. I stood up and looked at her lying on the floor. She was sweating and looked pink.  She spread her thighs and presented her pussy and anus to me.

"Get up!" I said.

"It's difficult with my wrists tied!" I stuck my hands under her armpits (she had started shaving them over Easter because of the sleeveless dresses she had brought back) and yanked her to her feet. I pushed her into the bedroom and made her sit at the foot of the bed. I then tied her wrists to the top of my metal bedstead. with her arms over her head. She pulled at her bonds but she was actually very tightly tied and the bed was heavy. She spread her legs again and thrust her orange pussy at me.

"I'm going out!" I announced. She said I couldn't leave her like that. I said I could and would. "I'm going to get a Yorkie," I said, planning to visit the chocolate vending machine and let her wriggle for five minutes.

"Get me a Lion Bar!" she said, as I closed the door on her. I went downstairs and walked across the quad to get to the vending machine next to the law library. I ran into A and L who invited me for tea,

"Where is C?" asked L. "She's tied up," I answered. I told L I could only stay for one tea as I had things to do. We talked about the cricket match and L told me that the lawyers had found some other first years to take our places on the team, which was a relief. I spent about forty five minutes there and thought I better get back to C. On my way back to my staircase I ran into H who wanted to show me the exact view of College she wanted me to draw. This involved leaving the College and going into the square so she could show me the view she wanted. We then discussed the size and whether she wanted it in pencil or ink. On the way back we met K, who stopped and chatted. She asked where C was. I told her she was a bit tied up.

"Not literally, I hope!" said K. I must have blushed as she squealed. "These two's love life is just too much!" she said to H.

"So I gather," said H. looking at me curiously. By the time I got back to my room I had been gone well over an hour. I half expected to find an empty room and C, Houdini like, gone, leaving the pile of red curtain rope behind. But, no, she was still there tied to the bed. I went into my room and the first thing I saw was a wet pool on my lino floor. "You were so long that I had to piss!" said C. She had just gone all over my floor.

"You could have waited!" I said, appalled.

"Didn't know how long you'd be. I knew you were punishing me for being a bitch. You could have been hours. I didn't want to hold it as it's bad for the bladder. I don't want cystitis or something." I sighed and went down to the scout's pantry for some paper towels. This wasn't like her little piss on the rug before. This was a huge one. I made her sit in it while I sluiced hot water on the floor from the kettle. "Shit! That's hot!" she said as some of it flowed to her bottom. Eventually, I cleared the mess up, wiped her down too and then took her down to the shower in my dressing gown and washed her bottom half, making sure she went under the water when it was still cold. She squealed again. "I'm sorry if I have been a bitch about the ball," she said, when I had got her washed and dried and back into my room. "I just really, really want to go!"

"And now you shall go to the ball!" I said, opening my drawer and pulling out the ticket which I waved at her. She squealed with delight.

"Come here and have a kiss!" she said. "Or shall I go straight to dicking you? Or would you like to take me up the arse?"

"A kiss would be lovely!" I said, pulling my dressing gown off her.

Over the next weeks C would blow hot and cold. Some days she was affectionate and friendly and some days she was distant and tense. She would explode at imagined slights and not just with me. K persuaded her to go to the doctor who diagnosed clinical depression and gave her some pills. These seemed to work. Her mood, like the weather, became sunnier, We both found the hot weather effected our libidos. Even when we were working hard on an essay she would pop over to my room for a 'frolic'. She had a series of sundresses with tight tops, underneath which she didn't wear a bra so she would, basically, be wearing just a dress and knickers. She would come and sit on my lap and I would put my hand up her dress and slip my fingers past her knicker crotch and frig her. She would come, give me a kiss and leave to go back to work. I even did this to her in the Bodleian Law Library once; frigged her to climax and then we both went back to our desks, my fingers reeking of her musky smell. She stopped wearing the knickers, even, so that I could get access to her at all times. We were having sex twice a day, every day, except at the weekends when it was three or even four times.

Because our tutorials were on Fridays it meant we could have the weekend off. We took a bus out to Abingdon, a little market town and had lunch. We went to some antique shops as she was looking for a chamber pot although we couldn't find one and eventually got one in Oxford.

"Are you going to put plants in it?" asked the lady in the antique shop. "That's what many people do." 

"No, it's so we can piss in it after sex without having to go downstairs to the loo," C answered.

"Oh!" said the lady.

"Let's try it out!" said C when we got back to my room. "Let's make love first, though!" Interestingly, she was now using the term, 'make love' much more than 'having sex' or 'fucking'' (which she tended to reserve for 'rough ones', especially when I tied her to the bedstead, which she really enjoyed, especially if I teased her with the feather first).  I called her 'lovely' much more and told her I loved her and she glowed with pleasure. That afternoon we had a long gentle session with lots of kissing and stroking. She came first while I licked her lovely pussy and came again when I penetrated her. We lay in bed, afterwards, and she told me about the ball dress which she had decided to make herself, not having found anything suitable in her diminutive size. She and K had found one suitable dress but it was over £175 so she didn't get it. She had brought some dark copper coloured silk, which certainly set off her hair and pale skin. It was going to be off the shoulder with a big full skirt. She had lovely shoulders and delicate clavicles. "Time to try out the pot!" she said, sliding out of bed. I stayed in bed while she went into my living room. "You have to watch me!" she called out. I climbed out of bed and found her squatting over the pot with her knees apart. I could see her stream going into the pot and she grinned at me all the way through the process.

"It's much more genuinely nineteenth century artist's garret," I admitted. She nodded approvingly. She knelt in front of me and held the pot up for me. By the time I had finished there was quite a lot in there. She put the pot down, carefully and sucked my prick into her mouth.

"Salty!" she said, popping off. We had to carefully empty it into the Tupperware piss flask and take it down to the loo in its Athena bag, though. "In the old days you'd just throw it out the window!" she said. Given that someone in college had gotten in trouble for knocking their milk carton out onto the High, I said that that probably wasn't a good idea. We swilled some boiling water around in it and put it under my bed, where I hoped the scout wouldn't notice it. C suggested I do a drawing of her on the pot which I said I would, She reminded me that it was her pot, though, and I was just looking after it for her. I readily agreed and had no desire to own a chamber pot. It was all just part of her exhibitionism.

We had already had to decide if we wanted to become a solicitor or barrister and apply to either bar school or law school. This was a bit odd given we had only done Roman and Criminal Law when we had to decide. The next stage of our ongoing legal education was getting articles to a law firm for two years after law school. All the big firms visited Oxford to try to attract the best candidates and C and I went to a number of these presentations. I found them very depressing, as the City law firms made it clear that you worked fifteen hour days and over the weekend. All the young lawyers they brought with them looked tired and stressed and the job seemed impossibly high pressured. They kept emphasising how competitive it was and I thought it didn't sound like my sort of thing at all. C thought it was just her, although they did keep saying how you needed to be able to get on with people, which I thought would be a problem for her. She had had to apologise to her scout for snapping at him and calling him a 'fucking idiot yokel' when he accidentally knocked something off the precarious pile of stuff on her desk. Her tutor had called her in and said the scout had complained. He then gave her a lecture about keeping the standards of her work up as less able students were writing better essays. This had sent her into a cold fury.

"What a fucking cunt!" she said to me as we sat outside at the Head of the River pub. after the law firm presentation." I'm sick of people telling me what to do!" I knew the feeling.

"They do it because they care about you," I said.

"No they don't. No one cares about me!" she said.

"I care about you!" I said. "A lot."

"No you don't. You only like me because I open my legs for you but you have been nice lately." She gave me a gin flavoured kiss. "Let's get you home and pump some spunk out of you!"

I was finding that, while dense, I was quite good at Tort and Contract and my tutorials were easier than the previous term's work. Still difficult but easier. The fact that the work was in English not Latin helped, of course.

C went back to Birmingham for a weekend, half way through term and I found myself with a free weekend. Oddly, I missed her but also was relieved she wasn't there, being demanding, for a few days. I decided to take my camera down to the river and take some pictures. It was another nice day and just as I was leaving College I ran into H, the busty language student, who was wearing another, even more low cut, summer dress. I made a conscious effort to look at her face.

"Do you like my new dress?" she asked, giving me a twirl.

"It's lovely!" I said. "Very colourful (it was, like many women's clothes of the period, a floral print). Fits you beautifully!" I said, rather naughtily. She looked down at her bust and then up at me and grinned. I hadn't spent a lot of time with H on her own before but I had delivered the drawing of college to her the previous week and she was delighted with it. She told me that she had had it professionally framed. C, when she found out that H had commissioned a picture from me, wanted one too. I'd asked her what she would like; a ballerina or a picture of college, perhaps. 'A chariot race', she had answered. In pen and ink. It would take me over a year to complete.

As we went down towards the Botanical Gardens we spotted an ice cream van and I bought H a Mr Whippy 99 cone with a chocolate flake in it. I half hoped she would spill some on her bust but she didn't. As we watched the rowers training, she said that it was Eights Week the following week and and I should go to the college boathouse to watch. I told her about my miserable rowing experience at school and that I wasn't interested in rowing. When they discovered which school I had been to, several people from the College boat club tried to persuade me to join, on the basis that even my limited experience at one of the top rowing schools in the country was still better than the people who hadn't rowed anywhere. Our College boat club wasn't exactly a rowing powerhouse. All the good rowers (some from my school) went to Oriel or St Edmund Hall.

"It's not really about rowing, it's just an excuse to dress up and drink Pimm's said H. C and I were due to go to the Oxford Law Society strawberry and Pimm's party but I had no idea what Pimm's was. H said it was a lovely summer drink but when she said it had bits of cucumber in it I wasn't at all sure. She said she would get me one right now and we walked on to the Head of the River, where she bought us two half pints. It tasted like lemonade but had a kick and the glass had fruit, cucumber and mint in it. It really was lovely. We had another one and got quite inebriated (Pimm's is much stronger than it tastes). The Head of the River was on the Thames but a few hundred yards along the bank the River Cherwell joined it and this was the river that led back to the Botanical Gardens and Magdalen Bridge. We walked back along the path under the trees. We sat on the bank under a tree watching the people punting. H took off her sandals, pulled up the hem of her dress and dabbled her feet in the water. It reminded me of sitting with A at Runnymede, four years previously. Maybe it was those memories of past passions (as well as the Pimm's) that made me, daringly, put my arm around H's waist. She didn't flinch or object. We sat, waiting for someone to fall off their punt. We didn't see anyone, although we heard someone up the river going into the water with a splash. She turned to me and laughed and I leant in and kissed her. She kissed me back and we sat and kissed for a minute or so. She smelt of warm body and a light, floral perfume. She put her arms around my waist but I decided I better not touch her too much. I stroked her cotton clad thigh. She brushed her hand over the straining groin of my trousers.

"You're lovely!" I said, desperately wondering if I could risk stroking her bust.

"You have a girlfriend!" she answered. "Albeit a difficult one." She patted my leg and stood up. "Time to go!"   When we got back to college I invited her up to my room for tea and biscuits. "I've had a lovely afternoon but I think we both know that would be a very bad idea," she said, squeezing my arm. She looked around warily and gave me a quick kiss. I went up to my room on my own, disappointed, conscious of the effect of the Pimm's and put the kettle on. I thought about H and was just thinking about taking my trousers off and having a nice wank, while thinking about her bust, when there was a knock on the door. I panicked that it was C and went into my bedroom to look at myself in the mirror to see if I had any lipstick on my face, except H hadn't been wearing lipstick.  I suddenly felt guilty. I hadn't been dealing with some girl who had made a move on me; I had initiated the kissing. Fortunately, it was K.

"I hear you have been having a lovely walk and drinks with H," she said.

"Please don't tell C, whatever you do!" I said, in a panic. C, at least ,liked K but didn't like H and the way she 'flaunted her bust'.

"How lovely a walk was it?" asked K, suspiciously. She told me that H seemed quite drunk and kept saying how nice I was.  "C might actually kill you. Crime of Passion. I wouldn't put it past her!" said K.  I told her that we had just had too much Pimm's and we weren't used to it. "You don't realise the effect you have on women!" said K.  She told me about another girl in College who had been asking her if C and I had broken up or whether we were still seeing each other. "Be careful!"

C returned from Birmingham in a grump again. She really didn't get on with her mother. She said she didn't want to have sex as it was her period and she felt awful and had stomach cramps. Usually she was very aroused during her period so I took it as an excuse and let her be. I told her that H and I had had a walk down by the river and said that I would take her to Eights week and buy her Pimm's. She ignored the H comment, fortunately, other than saying something about 'all tits and no brain'', but started to make plans for her Eights Week outfit. I said that hats for ladies were de riguer and she got very excited. We went down to college dinner and her mood gradually lightened. It turned out that she hadn't eaten for twenty four hours, so that might explain the stomach cramps.

"Different pain," she said but was in a better mood after dinner and we went back to K's room for a glass of Port. She gave me a nice goodnight kiss and said she would be ''accessible' in a couple of days. I told her not to worry and wait until she was ready. In the interim she had another depressive patch and we didn't have sex for some time. The beginning of Eight's Week was the following weekend and we were both staggered by the number of people crowding into the College boat houses along the river. You could stand on the roof or on balconies and watch the racing. The river was narrow, so racing was done by letting ranked boats go at timed intervals. The aim was to catch and overlap the one in front which would give you a 'bump'. Sometimes the boats did actually hit each other. People running and on bikes would charge along the towpath trying to keep up with the eights. People in the boathouses would shout and cheer and drink lots of Pimm's. C had a new multi coloured summer dress on with a straw hat and had woven fresh flower around the brim. She drank a lot of Pimm's and flirted with men and women. The College boat club Pimm's was a lot stronger than what we had got in the pub and C was getting quite flushed and loud. K and I managed to get her back to College before she completely embarrassed herself,

The following Saturday my mother and sister came to see me for the day and we had lunch without C, who decided to make herself scarce as she was frightened of my sister. After my family had gone, C and I went for a walk along the river, where I had been with H.  I felt a slight frisson when we passed the place where H and I had kissed. C was in a good mood until it started to rain. It didn't just rain it absolutely poured. We ran back to College, completely soaked to the skin. We hung her white summer dress over a chair and put the gas fire on to try to dry it. There was a knock on the door and when C heard it was K she invited her in, even though she was completely naked. K looked at her and shook her head. K made C put my dressing gown on. I had already changed. C said that she and K needed to go punting as there was a place on the Cherwell called Parson's Pleasure where men went to sunbathe naked and you could float past it. K thought this sounded awful but C, as ever, was insistent. There used to be a similar area for women but it had closed about ten years earlier. K and C did get along to see it but C, who had been expecting fit, naked rowers found that everyone there was an elderly don, to her disappointment.

That night Lincoln College had their Summer Event (they didn't call it a ball) and the pounding music from right next door drove C from her room. My room was no quieter so she disappeared to the room of one of the girl's who had a room in Old Quad and slept there. The next day the weather was better so C and I went to the Law Society strawberries and Pimm's party at Lady Margaret Hall, On the way we passed an exhibition of paintings up on the railings of the University Parks. C pointed out that most of them weren't nearly as good as mine. My reputation for being the College artist was growing and I got several commissions to do drawings, which helped my income. Lady Margaret Hall had lovely gardens that went down to the river and C, now wary of the effect of Pimm's, confined herself to two small plastic cups. She was in a good mood again when we walked back to college, although she still dropped her arm from mine when we got into Radcliffe Square.

That night we managed to get into the nice bathroom again and had a candlelit bath. C used the soles of her feet to massage my cock, which was a new one. I was conscious it was my turn to think of a new 'kink' as C liked to call them. She was getting less and less interested in normal sex and wanted to be tied up, spanked and treated roughly. Although I had enjoyed some of these sessions it wasn't what I wanted to do. I preferred slow, gentle foreplay and kissing but we seemed to have less and less time as the end of term approached. C seemed less keen on kissing, too.

One evening we couldn't get into Hall as the netball team had won the Oxford cuppers and they were being given a special dinner. We went out for a Chinese at the Opium Den in George Street, which was very good and at £8 for two a lot cheaper than La Sorbonne. C was impressed that I could use chopsticks and I showed her how to use them. We walked back down New Inn Hall Street and she seemed to be looking for something. There was an unlit alley down the side of the Methodist chapel and she pushed me in there for s kiss. We snogged away for a bit and then she started to fumble with my fly.

"Take me here!" she said, unzipping me. I told her that we were out in public, next to a church and someone could appear at any moment. She squatted in front of me and started to suck my flaccid prick. She wasn't drunk as we had only had green tea with dinner. It was dark down the alley but the main street had people going up and down it as it wasn't that late.

"We mustn't!" I said.

"Yes we really must!" she said. She bent over and flicked the bottom of her dress over her naked bottom. She wasn't wearing knickers again. "I'll brace on the wall and you take me from behind!" I pushed myself back inside my trousers, as I was too alarmed to get stiff and dragged her out into the light. "You're a coward!" she shouted and stomped off. We had been having such a nice evening until that point. I decided not to chase after her but went back to College by another route. My heart was pounding and when I got back I saw her light was on but decided not to go and find her. I crept up past her room to see K and tell her what had happened. K told me to go up to my room and she would come up in case C heard us talking from below. K told me that C had stopped taking the pills her doctor had given her. She didn't want to become reliant on them, which I sort of understood, but the mood swings were returning.

The next day C acted as if nothing had happened. We went to see my school friend S at Magdalen, for tea. He had a friend with him and I took an instant dislike to him. He was a smarmy, public school type and C flirted with him outrageously. Worse, he flirted back and ignored me completely. He invited C, not me, to dinner at Magdalen.

"What a creepy git!" I said, as we walked back up the High, afterwards.

"I thought he was charming!" said C.

"He was oily and insincere. I take it you aren't going to dinner with him," I said.

"I am. You take me for granted. He would be very attentive!" she said. "I'm sure he is a good dancer!"

On the last two days of term everyone had to attend Principal's Collections: a short, verbal report on your work to date. You had to wear your gown and go into Hall, individually, where the principal, the Chaplain and the senior tutor sat at High Table. Your subject tutors were also there and then gave a brief summary of your progress, or lack of it, to the Principal, not you. You were referred to in the third person. This was easily the most terrifying experience of my life to date. I had to walk up the length of Hall and stand in front of High Table, facing the tutors. The Principal had a distractingly delicious looking sandwich in front of him. The Chaplain was there, I assumed, in case you broke down in tears. The tutor I didn't like, who had snubbed me before the holiday when he had wished C a good vacation, talked about 'disappointing essays' and 'lack of engagement'. Fortunately, my new tutor, the one with the Piranesi prints and the boxed sets of Haydn, stood up for me and said my work was increasingly good and even 'impressive' of late. The Principal looked at the two tutors and indicated that there seemed to be a difference of opinion. He asked the third tutor, who had taken me for Roman Law in the first term, for his view. The College Senior Tutor (who was not a lawyer), who had looked bored until this point, looked interested as there seemed to be some stress between the law tutors. The Roman Law tutor (the one who C fancied) said that my Roman Law, considering I didn't have good Latin, had been rather good.

"However," he continued, "that is not the issue with him. He is not the best lawyer in College but neither is he the worst. More worrying is his intense relationship with C." He called her Miss E, rather than using her first name. I was shocked by this statement. What had it to do with my academic performance? He then went on to describe C as quite the most promising lawyer to join College for years. Her academic background was impeccable and her entrance exam and interview had been stellar. Our 'relationship' was well known but he feared that this relationship was 'detracting her from top academic performance' and it would be better if she be allowed to reach her full potential 'without distraction'. The horrible tutor nodded in agreement. The nice one frowned. I was flabbergasted. I had not expected this. I looked at the Chaplain for moral support but he was looking away, no doubt because I didn't go to chapel.

"Do you have anything to say?" asked the Principal having agreed about C's potential. The Principal was a lawyer too.

"No!" I replied. "Thank you," I nodded at the nice tutor, ignored the others and walked out, shaking.

"How did it go?" asked C, waiting outside. "You'll soon find out!" I said. She looked puzzled. I went out into the quad to get some air. C came out later and I could tell by her face that she had had a similar discussion. She looked furious.

"How did it go?" asked the Airfix kit building lawyer.

"Piss off!" said C. He retreated, quickly. Everyone knew about her moods. I had overheard someone suggesting, once, that she actually had an evil twin and the two alternated living in College. We stood outside hall in Old Quad as our tutors left to go into the Senior Common Room, just behind us. "Let's go and have a bath together!" she said loudly to me, as they walked behind us. She knew they would overhear her.

We went back to her room to get some bubble bath, knowing that no-one would be in the nice bathroom at lunchtime, she told me that they had, indeed, banged on about our 'intense relationship' too, saying she was wasting a precious opportunity. She had been a lot more forthright than I had and had told them that it was none of their business who she had a relationship with, We had a nice bath and then went back to my room and had sex all afternoon until it was dinner time.

"Tell me that you love me!" she said again, her head on my chest.

"I do love you. You are lovely!" I said again. I was now coming to the conclusion that I didn't love her at all; not by her all consuming, emotional, definition, anyway

"Just keep saying it!"

"Tell me about your ball dress!" This cheered her up and she told me it was progressing well but it was taking an age to make as she had to hand stitch it as she hadn't got her sewing machine. Still, we had nearly a week until the ball. I intended to get all my holiday reading done during ninth week.

The next day the nice law tutor caught me in the lodge and invited me back to his study. I was nervous and wary but he gave me a glass of sherry and put on Haydn's 'Hen' symphony, which it is impossible to feel tense to. He apologised for the Principal's Collection and said he had spoken to the Principal about me. I thanked him for sticking up for me. He told me that, as I no doubt knew, C had said, during her Principal's Collection, that I was actually the only thing keeping her together, as she had real stresses in her home life. I explained that she was, essentially, homeless, as her mother, hadn't found a house still and much of her things were in storage. She would have to go back to another rented house over the holidays. I didn't mention the mood swings and the prescription anti-depressants as, anyway, lots of people at Oxford, especially the women, seemed to be on those, due to stress. C, actually hadn't told me that she had said that I was the only think keeping her together but it was nice to know, I supposed.

After I left his room I went to Sainsbury's and bought some strawberry's and cream and a half bottle of rose wine. I spotted something else there and got that too. I put the cream and the wine in the fridge in the scout's's pantry and hoped no-one would pinch them. C appeared at my room at about four o'clock, announcing that she had come for tea and biscuits. I told her I had something nicer and went down to the fridge and brought up the wine, cream and strawberries. She was delighted She sat cross-legged on my floor, eating her strawberries and cream, looking at my May Playboy and admiring a shot of Martha Thomsen caressing her pussy. We soon knocked back the half bottle of rose and I wished I had bought a whole bottle but the Sainsbury's half bottles were good value for 99p.

"I should have saved some cream and I could have put some on your cock!" she said.

"Wait here!" I said.

"Have you got more cream?"

"Yes!" I shot downstairs. I ran back up again and went into my room, brandishing the can of aerosol cream I had bought in Sainsbury's. C was already naked, still sat cross-legged on my rug. She had only been wearing a sundress with no underwear, again.

"What fun!" she said, beaming. We decided against playing with the aerosol cream on my rug as it would be difficult to get it out but C reasoned that my sheet would be easy to wash, so we pulled the pillow and duvet off the bed and set too, spraying each other and getting covered in the sweet (actually too sweet for me, really) stuff. "Next time we must get one each!" she said as I carefully squirted a spiral pile on one breast before licking it off. Since she had been on the pill she had gone up a cup size.

"I don't know if I could eat a whole can of it," I said after giving her a creamy kiss.

"Do my bottom!" she said rolling over. I squirted her round cheeks and kissed and licked away. "Here!" she pointed at her anus and parted her legs, I sprayed a blob on it but the cream was starting to get warm and it dribbled over her perineum and pussy too. I added another squirt. "Now lick it all up!" I lapped away at her pussy first and worked my way upwards to the fleshy bridge of her perineum, She giggled and said the cream really added something to the process. My tongue started to flick over her anus, for the first time. "Fucking hell!" she sighed. "That's excellent!" I'd soon lapped away all the cream but kept licking her sphincter. I slipped a finger up her arse and started to move it in and out while carrying on licking her rim. It became the first and only time I made her come through anal stimulation alone. "How could I ever give you up!" she said, eventually after I extracted my finger. She rolled over and I licked my finger. She grinned and asked if there was any cream left. I shook the can. There seemed to be a bit, still. "On your back! I am going to turn your cock into an eclair!"

An hour later we were down in the subterranean laundry room, putting my sheets into the washing machine. I had a clean one in my wardrobe but the under sheet had got soaked too so we decided to put everything in. On the way there we ran into A coming out of the adjoining staircase. He looked at the Sainsbury's bags and knew what that meant. It was the same for everyone.

"Washing day?" he asked.

"Just his sheets!" said C. "They're covered in cream!" A looked baffled and then shocked and we left him standing there.

Although I usually left my normal washing in the machine to go and do other things, there had been a couple of incidents of sheets disappearing recently, so we stayed in the laundry. It was hot and had a particular smell which was a combination of washing powder and damp. There were a couple of wooden chairs and I sat down on one and C sat on the other and we talked about what we would do for ninth week and the ball. We knew there would be a steel band but C hadn't heard of the main band playing. The much reviled Keble, for example, had the famous Ronnie Scott's jazz group and sixties favourites, Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames. C was trying to calculate how much time finishing her dress would take and how much time she would have for doing the holiday reading list. The washing machine finished and C took all the bedding out and put it in the spin dryer, C came over to my chair and sat astride me, facing me, so we could kiss. I ran my hand up her thigh under her dress and cupped her bare bottom.. As we kissed, I gently fingered her pussy, which was in its usual dripping state. She reached down and started to unzip my trousers.

"We can't!" I said.

"What have I told you about being timid!" she said, undoing the button at my waist, she had her hand delving inside my pants, I was already erect so she only needed to raise her bottom, wriggle forward and drop onto me. I had my fingers touching her entrance where I was sliding in and out of her, as I liked feeling where I entered her. She started to bounce more assertively and I slipped my finger up her arsehole again. "Fuck, fuck fuck!" gasped C. The door banged open, It was F, the first year  who was having a thing with another first year, E. 

"Oh my God! Sorry!" he said, staring at us. I couldn't do anything as I was literally in the process of spurting up inside C.

"AAH!" said C, her insides gripping me. The spin dryer had just stopped, winding down in a descending whine.

"I'll come back in twenty minutes!" said F.

"Five! said C nodding at the spin dyer. "We're all done!" I thought C would be appalled that we had been caught 'at it' but she seemed excited and delighted. I ventured that F probably wouldn't tell everyone, given he was in a relationship within our law group too. He and E hadn't been quizzed by the tutors but maybe they didn't know about them. C said she hoped he did tell and that it got back to the tutors. She thought she might mention it to L as then everyone in the College would know within the day.

"Does that mean I can hold your hand in College, now?" I asked.

"Forget it!" she said. I sighed.