Chronicle 23 -1980: The Summer of our Discontent - Part 2

I woke up to find that H was sucking my penis. She was under the duvet, I was stiff as a pole and she was gently slurping away. I smiled to myself and reached down and stroked her head. She threw the duvet back, popped off me and gave me a lovely smile.

“I read in Cosmopolitan once that this was the best way to wake your man!” she explained. She didn't strike me as a Cosmopoitan reader, I thought, as she kept massaging me with her hand, before kissing the tip of my cock and wiggling the tip of her tongue in my pee hole.

 “I am very happy to be your man,” I said. “And I’ve read about this in stories but I didn’t think it would actually work! I thought the man would wake up as soon as he was touched.” She wriggled up to give me a kiss on the lips but kept her hand on my cock. Her body was lovely and warm and she had that hot girl skin smell.

“Well you didn't! I didn’t know men could get erections in their sleep!”

“I was probably dreaming of you,” I said, stroking her bottom. I slid a finger between her folds to find that she was very wet.

“Or my sister!” she said. “Or C!”

“Definitely you!” I said. She grinned and looked totally adorable. She had very fine hair and it was all over the place in an appealing looking mess.

“I had to wake you because I am desperate to do it again. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and you just lay there, snoring! So I had to take the matter into my own hands. Or mouth!” She laughed. 

“I don’t snore!” I said. No-one else had said anything.

“You do! You do!” she laughed pinching my arm. She gave out a horrific imitation snore.

We rolled about in the bed, gently wrestling and kissing and licking I got her onto her back and dived straight into her moist pussy with my tongue, working on her for ages. Alternating with moving up and down her body so I could kiss her lips and suck her nipples, while gently fingering her. At one point, when I was lying on top of her, between her thighs, she grabbed my cock and guided me right inside her again. It never occurred to me to put a condom on. I had got so used to not using them with C. I also needed the loo and suspected I hadn’t got much sperm to ejaculate anyway, given the way she had drained me the day before. The risk of me going off early was small. As it was, H was so far gone, as a result of me licking her, that she came before I was even close anyway. I pulled out and lay next to her. She rested for a few seconds and then rolled over and started sucking me again. She used her hand and her mouth at the same time. I told her that she didn't feel she had to but she persisted and I eventually dribbled into her mouth. She wriggled up and lay on top of me as I stroked her neck with one hand and her bottom with the other. She said she didn't want to go home but just wanted to spend four months in the room with me 'just doing it'.

I kissed her, rolled he onto her back and started to get out of bed. She asked where I was off to and I said I needed the loo. She said she didn’t want me leaving the bed and I pointed out that that was why a chamber pot was a good thing. She laughed and said she could now see the sense of it.

I put on her towelling dressing gown, left her bedroom and went into the corridor. The bathroom opposite was locked. Someone else was in it. I could hear the bath running. Whoever it was was not going to be out any time soon. I was desperate, however. There was a gents just down the stairs but I didn’t know whether I should descend, dressed in a girl’s, obviously too small, dressing gown. I hesitated. The gents was literally about fifteen feet from the bottom of the staircase but was right near to the law library, the JCR and the Bursar’s office. Even though most people had now gone home for the vacation I didn’t want to risk it. Particularly the chance of another law student emerging. I nipped back into H’s room and started to get dressed. She quizzed me on what I was doing and so I told her. 

“Shit and piss!” she said, which according to K was her favourite combination of expletives and certainly the strongest ones she used. “I need the loo too!” She then laughed at her exclamation. She put on her black silk dressing gown, saying that she sometimes had to go downstairs anyway, if someone was in the bathroom opposite. We tentatively, went down the stairs, expecting who knew who to suddenly appear. What if...?

 “When is your father coming to collect you?” I asked, having a sudden vision of H’s father, followed by her sister, appearing through the entrance from the quad and finding me with H in her dressing gown. She said he wasn't coming until two as he had to do something in the morning. She asked when my family was arriving. I told her about midday but my mother was sometimes early. I looked at my watch. It was nearly nine. She said she would see me in my room in about fifteen minutes. she said. I was a bit disappointed as I thought that we could have gone back to bed for an hour or two but I suppose she needed a poo, perhaps. “Don’t wash!” she added. "We'll wash together!" I cheered up.

I raced back to my room and used the loo and cleaned my teeth. I did change my underwear but not my shirt as I hadn’t really had it on for very long last night. I wondered whether to strip my bed and put it in my packing but then thought that she might want to hop into it, so I didn’t. I had everything else packed except my kettle, two mugs and my cassette player. I thought about what tunes to put on. I knew I was the only one left on the floor so didn’t have to be that quiet, although I didn’t know if anyone was underneath. I hadn’t seen E, the economist, at the ball and I knew he was downstairs. I thought that my tape of Vivaldi concertos (‘concerti’, K always corrected me) would be just the job. 

H reappeared, after more like thirty minutes, carrying my art folder, which I had left in her room. No sooner had she appeared and closed my door than she stripped off her sundress to reveal she was completely naked underneath.

“I do like this new lack of underwear habit!” I said, giving her a kiss.

“All my underwear is dirty. My last pair of knickers smell like sex!” she said, unzipping me. She edged me through into my bedroom and then stopped, staring at the bed “I don’t suppose you have changed your sheets since my sister was in there, have you!” I shook my head. She made a face. “Sorry...” She hadn’t objected the time we were all in together but maybe she hadn’t thought about it at the time, giving the amount she had had to drink.

“Have you ever done it on a chair?” I asked.

“I’d never done it anywhere until last night, you virgin ravisher!” she said. “How does this chair thing work?” I dragged the chair out from my bedroom and reassured her (truthfully) that I had never done it on that particular chair, unlike the desk chair. I stripped off and told her to sit on my lap. This she did but facing away from me not facing me like C did.

“We can kiss and cuddle afterwards!” she said, brandishing the last condom packet, which she had just extracted from a pocket in her dress, which was draped on the armchair. She gave it to me and I slipped it on, now feeling quite expert. She wriggled back on my lap and guided me in herself. She turned her head and twisted her body so we could kiss. It had never occurred to me to take C in this way as I liked to see her face when she got excited. It was, I later realised, my first rear entry time. I told her that she would have to do most of the work and she started to slowly move up and down. I could thrust a bit but the best thing was that I could really caress her lovely tits. This time I came first but she kept moving and I started to tickle her clit which had her writhing around on my lap. I rubbed her shaft and got her to come after a minute or two of rubbing. After quizzing me about my activity in the two armchairs I reassured her that the one by the door had no ‘history’ and she settled on my lap there for a kiss and a cuddle.

I got up after a while and put the kettle on. She said she was still enjoying the whole naked man in a room thing. We sat on the rug and discussed meeting again as soon as possible in the holidays. There were some direct trains to Paddington or she could change at Swindon. I gave her my address and telephone number as well as K’s. She said that she would telephone K when she got home, to arrange something. We went downstairs and had a shower together but, although we had a nice sensual soaping up, we agreed that the bathroom was very grim compared with hers. She said that the bathrooms in the College annexe, where we were going to be from October, were too small for two, probably deliberately, we reckoned. Like bathrooms on a boat, she said. Just as the beds were too small for two people to sleep overnight in. H said that she had heard that someone had been sent down from college the previous year because the scout had found a male student in bed with a girl one morning. I was surprised at the story, as the college had been mixed for some years and what did they think would happen? I was aware of at least half a dozen couples among the hundred and twenty or so first years students. K reckoned there were ten. As I made more tea, H told me that she had a friend at Somerville (one of the three remaining women only colleges) and she said that if a girl there had a male guest after six pm they had to put their mattress in the corridor outside their room. As if that might prevent hanky panky.

“They should have to put chairs out too!” I said. “And rugs!” I said, looking back at mine, in front of the gas fire.

“You’re an animal!” said H. “A ravisher of innocent young women. That’s what my sister said! Thank goodness you are!” She came over to where I was pouring the tea and squatted down to give me another kiss. I slid my hand up between her thighs and she opened her knees so I could get at her pussy, which was moist again. I gave her a little stroke and she almost purred. I asked her if she was going to tell her sister about us. “She’ll know. As soon as I see her. She’ll know!” I asked her if she would say that she had made all the running. “You still think you can have another go with her, don’t you?” said H. “You want us both in bed together again! An orgy!” I denied it but she didn’t believe me. “I’m going to tell her every juicy, spurting detail! Then she won’t want you. I’ll tell her you snore!” She laughed. “I suppose we better get dressed, in case your family arrive!” I looked at my watch. It was around eleven. They could arrive any minute.

In fact it was only about fifteen minutes later that there was a knock on my door. It was my mother and sister. Early as usual. My mother had got a new car and it went like a rocket, apparently. My uncle was a very senior executive for a big car manufacturer. He used to get my mother ex test models every few years. This car was an ordinary looking estate car in which they had fixed a two litre sports engine. Later, every time my mother took it for a service, the garage tried to buy it. She had done the drive in under an hour, which meant she had not stuck to the speed limit.

My sister looked at H as if she was a biology class specimen that she was about to dissect. 

“Who is this?” she asked me, ignoring H completely. I introduced H. My mother was very friendly and asked if H wanted to have lunch with us, once she found out her father wasn’t coming until later. I didn’t expect H to agree but she did. My sister looked annoyed. I said to my mother that she wouldn’t be able to leave her car in the square for more than fifteen minutes but she said that she hadn’t parked in the square yet but up in the science area. In those days you could still park in the centre of the city. There is no chance now as it is all, fiercely patrolled, residents only parking. We got the last few things packed and ready to go. My mother asked me if we needed to empty the bin and reached under my desk for it.

“No! No! That’s fine! The scout will do it!” I said, making a desperate grab for it. It was full of Durex packets and, indeed, used Durexes. “I’ll just tie the bag up!” Which I did. Rapidly.

 We went to the Turl Bar again, which my mother liked as it didn’t feel particularly pub like and was a short walk from College. My mother didn't like pubs and her attitude may have something to do with the fact I don't like them very much either. I probably only go into one a couple of times a year and then only if I am having a meal. When my mother first started going out with my father she went with him to a pub in Rugby, where her presence in the bar was met with a horrified silence. It put her right off, I think. Wearing the latest Parisian fashions probably didn’t help much either. I had lasagne and H had something with chips, some of which she occasionally fed me by hand, to my sister’s all too apparent disgust.

When H nipped to the loo, my mother asked me who H was as I hadn’t mentioned her in any of my letters. I said that, in fact, I had and she was the girl who had commissioned a picture of College from me. My mother thought that there was something going on and what had happened to C? I told her that C had already gone home, which didn’t really answer her question. “When the cat’s away!” she said, mirroring something one of the other law students had said when I took my not really a cousin to Hall when C had been at home.

“She’s very lovely. What a nice figure!”

“She needs to wear a bra!” muttered my sister. “Too much on show!” The outline of H’s perky nipples could just be seen through the soft cotton of her dress but you would have to be looking very closely given the paisley pattern. She also had the top two buttons of her dress undone. The rather provocative display was countered by the fact she had put her hair in schoolgirl like bunches. The erotic power of girls in school uniform had been cemented in me by watching old St Trinian’s films at an impressionable age and by pictures I had seen in NME at school, which often featured girls attached to punk bands dressed like, well, St Trinian’s girls. One week they had published a salutary picture of some not very exciting girls in uniform and wool socks which was captioned ‘and this is what real schoolgirls look like.’ We had a girls' school next door to mine and there were literally no attractive girls there that I could see. Ironically, in the following year I had one of them as my girlfriend for eight months.

“Where does she live? She could come and stay. It’s such a long holiday if she is a new friend!” said my mother, obviously twigging immediately. My sister glowered and poked at her scampi. She loved squid, octopus, snails and shellfish and ate them with a sort of quiet fury, as if getting her own back on the crustacea and molluscs of the world for being really creepy and squishy, which is what I thought of many of the things she happily ate, like whelks and cockles.

I was still imagining H in a St Trinian’s school uniform when she returned to the table, sat down and gave me a kiss on the lips. I thought my sister might have an apoplectic fit. C, or course had never really been demonstrative at all when my family was there. My mother looked at me and looked delighted.

H helped us carry my stuff down to the car, when my mother brought the car into the square after lunch. My mother fussed over her and offered to stay until her father came but H said she would be fine as it would only be about half an hour. She then asked H, again if she could come and stay over the summer but H said they were spending several months in Sweden with her family. My mother then came out with a sentence or two in Swedish. H looked as surprised as I was. I knew my family was part Swedish but didn’t know my mother knew any of the language. It had been as surprising as when she spoke German to P when we had been on Uncle L’s boat. H answered back in Swedish and looked pleased with this new development. H gave me a proper kiss goodbye and a hug while my sister looked on, wrinkling her face as if she had just discovered she had stepped in dog poo.

“Don’t any of these deluded girl’s know you are an idiot?” asked my sister as we drove off, leaving H waving as she stood next to the entrance to the Bodleian.

“Look a Volvo!” said my mother as we drove along Catte Street. “Bet that’s her father!” I looked at the car, a silver Volvo estate, coming towards us, straight into the eyes of J, H’s sister. She smiled and waved. My mother spotted this and I told her that was H’s sister. I turned in my seat and watched the Volvo go into the square. I didn't know it then but it was the last time I would live in the main College buildings.

As the square disappeared behind us, my mother wanted to know how I knew J and I then had to tell the story of how she was at Cambridge and that she came to the ball. My mother then wanted to know everything about the ball and kept injecting not very subtle questions into the discussion relating to H and C. I said that it was all very complicated.

“It will all end in tears," said my sister. "Hopefully.”

Back at home I found I missed my ‘deluded girls’, as my sister called them. Even C, in a way. We had been so close for so long that I started to forget all the horrible things she had done and just remembered the good things. Well, mainly the sex. On Sunday night the phone rang. I hoped it might be H, as no one else ever telephoned, but it was Dobs from school, asking if I wanted to go to the pub. Although I was not fond of pubs, there was a nice one almost opposite our house. We agreed to meet there on the following Friday. That week I went into Staines and bought June’s Playboy as I was feeling very sexually deprived. I hadn’t even dreamed I would have had sex at all that first year let alone with three girls, two of whom were sisters. There had also been enjoyably sensual interaction with K and the girl from New College too. But I had four months at home ahead of me and no settled plans to meet any girls. Playboy, at least, was very satisfactory that month, with a feature on Fellini’s City of Women featuring the pneumatic Donnatella Damiani the Month and the splendid Playmate of the Yearm Dorothy Stratten.  I had to go into the bathroom for ten minutes, despite it being mid afternoon.

Before my passionate 24 hours with H I had been intending, if I could get her address, to write to J and maybe even suggest meeting up. Now I wasn’t sure. If I wrote to J, she would no doubt tell her sister and then H might be hurt. If I wrote to H and J found out what had gone on it would be even worse.

My mother was constantly trying to find out what was going on between H, C and I. I didn’t want to admit C had dumped me (if she had) as that would make me look like a failure and expose me to my sister’s derision. I really needed to talk to K but she was great friends with H and she might not take it well if she found out that I had had sex with H too. She was still very disapproving of ‘carrying on’ at college. I was stuck.

Then I had a letter from A in Glasgow. She really wanted to come and see Oxford (probably more than me, I suspected) but our academic terms were completely out of synch. Her term at Edinburgh started a month before mine and finished three weeks later. She said she would look at her timetable for the new academic year in September and see if she could come to Oxford part way through her term. Just having her letter cheered me up and I started on a long reply about my recent romantic entanglements and asking what I should do, before deciding that none of it was appropriate so never sent it (although I did keep it and it provided much of the material for my last chapter). I wrote a much briefer note saying that I had broken up with my girlfriend (I didn’t mention J or H) and was feeling fed up and wished I could see her.

I found that first week at home very dull. I missed female interaction a lot and it was made much worse by the long months of the vacation stretching ahead. Although not a great follower of pop music, I did watch Top of the Pops on TV when I was at home, mainly, I admit, for the girl dancing troupe, Legs & Co. I was looking forward to seeing it again that week. However, the Musicians Union had organised a strike at the BBC, who had threatened to cut some of the BBC’s orchestras to save money. As a result, Top of the Pops, and the first of that year’s classical Proms concerts, were cancelled. No dancing girls on Thursday. Very disappointing. Even girls on TV were in short supply. I was also starting to get some sort of bug and was feeling very tired.

On the Friday I met up with Dobs, despite not feeling well, as I only had to cross the road to get to the pub. He was full of his new girlfriend from his college and how he was going up to Manchester to meet up with her in the holiday. This made me feel even worse. He asked about C and then the girls he had seen me with at the Head of the River. I told him about H and J. After another two pints of Bulmer’s Woodpecker it all came out. He was incredulous and then jealous and then said ‘it will all end in tears.’ I didn’t want to hear that again.

I started on my holiday essay and was so down and fatigued that I even stopped masturbating. Well I didn't stop but I didn't have the energy to actually ejaculate. My mother decided I definitely had a bug ,as lots of people at Oxford went down with something at the beginning of the holiday. She made me garlic in hot milk with whisky, which was the family remedy for any cold-like illness. Frankly, you were better off just having the cold. I have never liked whisky and although I liked garlic it just didn't go with hot milk.   My mother continued to dig for information about C and H.

"You are being careful, I hope," she said one day, when my sister was at school.

"Yes," I said, hoping to end the conversation.

"You use Durex and everything, although they aren't entirely reliable," she said. I was completely embarrassed.

"C's on the Pill," I said, eventually. My mother thought that was very sensible and then asked about H.

 "We're not really at that stage," I lied.

"Are you running them together?" she asked. "Do they know?"

"It's complicated but..." I stopped, not knowing exactly how to put it.

"Well if one comes to stay I won't mention the other one, of course," she said. "You're just like your Great Uncle Edgar." I'd never even heard of Great Uncle Edgar but my mother's father was one of twelve children.

On the Saturday, I was watching the film The Vikings with Kirk Douglas and thinking about K, who I had visited the Vikings exhibition with at the British Museum, earlier in the year. The phone rang again and it was K, to my amazement. I told her about The Vikings on TV and what a coincidence it was but she didn’t really get the connection. She asked if I was free on Tuesday as she was going to an exhibition of Japanese prints at the British Museum with H, who had telephoned her, and asked if I wanted to come and stay over afterwards. This cheered me up and I enjoyed the rest of the film and its excellent music by Mario Nascimbene.

We all met at the British Museum on Tuesday morning. I got a kiss on the lips from K and one from H. K didn’t look surprised as we were quite a kissy group. The kissing on the cheek thing hadn’t really caught on in Britain yet, so kissing on the lips was for girls you really knew quite well.

We all enjoyed the exhibition, although H said it was disappointing that they didn’t have any erotic Japanese prints there. K said of course they wouldn’t, in a public exhibition at the British Museum, although a couple of years ago the British Museum had an entire exhibition of shunga there. I bought the accompanying book of the exhibition and wondered about trying some drawings using a brush and ink.

We went to the Pizza Express nearby, which I had been to with K after the Vikings exhibition and K asked us what we had got up to during our extra day at college. H said that we had listened to music and told K about the Copland cassette I had bought for her and also the Chinese meal we had been to.  K said that we had better not let C know about that or she would have another nutty. K told H about the whole La Sorbonne dinner incident. H ventured that perhaps C needed some psychiatric help. We didn’t mention her pills.

After lunch we walked to Foyles, the bookshop, as H said she wanted to see if they had any books on Chinese painting. K took my arm and H took the other one, which was how C, K and I sometimes walked in Oxford, although as we got south of Oxford Street it was too busy to maintain this. H, I noticed, was not being affectionate towards me. Friendly, yes, but not affectionate. Not like she had been in front of my family. Perhaps she didn’t want to reveal our changed relationship to K. But then I wondered if she had spoken to her sister who had warned her off me. Perhaps our relationship was already over.

Walking down Charing Cross Road the two girls walked arm in arm and I walked behind them. I felt slightly abandoned and thought, more and more that H had decided our fling was a bad idea. 

Explaining Foyles bookshop in the eighties to anyone who did not go there is difficult. It was in the Guinness Book of Records for having the largest stock and the most bookshelves (over 30 miles worth) in the world. However, within each subject section, books were organised by publisher, not author or title. The, mainly foreign, staff knew nothing and were grumpy and unhelpful. Paying for a book involved three separate processes and queues: collecting an invoice, paying the invoice and then collecting the book; all at separate places. There were no electronic tills; everything was done manually on bits of paper. It was a great shop for browsing but hopeless if you wanted to find something specific. We gave up on Foyles and walked down Charing Cross Road which then, as now, is full of interesting bookshops. In one (Henry Pordes, I suspect, as it had a good art books section) H found her Chinese art book. I went with K, to look for a biography she was after while H paid (a much more straightforward process than in Foyles).

We got back to K’s house at about four in the afternoon. K’s parents were still at work, so K made us some tea which we had in the sitting room. K wanted to see H’s book on Chinese painting, which she got out of her bag. The delicate nature of the painting, as against the more visually solid Japanese prints was discussed. H asked if I had ever done any prints and I said we had done some lino prints at school and it was really difficult. To produce colour prints, needing repeated impressions with different inks, in such detail, would have been a complex procedure indeed.

“What’s the other book in your bag?” asked K, who never missed anything. H said it was a present for me but didn’t pull it out of the bag. K pressed her and H admitted it was of Japanese prints. She had bought it while K and I were elsewhere in the bookshop. H seemed very unwilling to reveal it but in the end pulled it out of the bag and presented it to me. She said it was a thank you for buying her dinner and giving her the Copland cassette. It was a book called Japanese Erotic Art and the life of the courtesan, which I still own. I opened it and K and H sat next to me on the settee to look at it. The first four or five pictures were standard domestic scenes of Japanese life, with exquisitely rendered clothes, and architectural detail. The next picture showed a girl astride a man whose erect penis was shown penetrating her.

“Oh my goodness!” said K. “Really!” The whole book was like that; beautiful pictures of the domestic world of the courtesan mixed with graphic shunga pictures. “Why is he putting his fingers in her...thing?” asked an obviously shocked K.

“Because it feels nice?” ventured H. K looked flustered.  H kept catching my eye and grinning while a slightly traumatised K looked at the first explicit erotic pictures she had ever seen.

“Some of these pictures are lovely but some are just disgusting!” said K. One of the last pictures had a post coital couple surrounded by crumpled tissues. “Why have they got tissues all over the floor?” asked K. H grinned at me again while K gazed at the picture in fascination. “And why is his thing so big?”

“You do know they get bigger when they get excited?” asked H.

“Of course!” said K, frowning. H said that it was just an artistic convention, like making the women’s mouths very small.

“Well, the women’s things aren’t small! Who has one like that, with bits sticking out. It’s horrible” 

“Mine’s like that!” said H.

“Don’t talk about such things in front of him!” she said. “They are private! And you need to stop looking at the pictures with H here!” she added, to me. I told H it was a lovely present and I turned and gave her a brief kiss. “No! No sloppiness!” said K. “Ugh! H isn’t interested in you. Leave her alone. She’s a nice girl not a...a...” She stopped.

“Slut?” ventured H.

“Exactly! Now put that book away before my parents come home!” ordered K.

We had an enjoyable dinner and chatted about where we were living in the second year and how easy it would be to park outside and offload our stuff compared with getting into the square. H talked a lot about Sweden and somehow the discussion moved on to saunas. These were rare and exotic things at the time and only H had been in one. K’s mother asked whether you really had to hit yourself with birch twigs but H said she thought that was mainly in Finland and Russia. They did jump into freezing winter in the winter, though.

“You are all naked, of course!” said H, teasing K.

“Oh dear!” said K. She looked at me with a ‘stop thinking about H in the sauna’ expression.

I wasn’t in the same spare bedroom as I had been the last time I had visited K’s house. I was put up on the top floor of the three storey house, in an attic room. H had the room I had had before. Given I was staying at K’s house I had brought my pyjamas. I sat in bed and looked at my new book for a while. It wasn’t long before I saw my door slowly opening. I put my book down. It was H, dressed in a knee length sleeveless cotton nightie.

“Look at you in your pyjamas!” she whispered. “Move over!” I moved across to the far side of the bed and she pulled her nightie over her head and slipped in, naked, next to me. The bed creaked as she wriggled into a comfortable position on her side. She began to unbutton my pyjama top and I began to get erect. Soon we were naked and she was lying on top of me while we kissed and got to know each other’s bodies again. I slid my hand between our stomachs, heading downwards towards her pussy. “I am out of action this week. Sorry.” I said I didn’t mind, meaning that I didn’t mind she had her period but she thought I meant that I didn’t mind that we couldn’t have sex. She wriggled under the covers and started to kiss my cock but the bed had sheets and blankets and she was struggling in trying to bob her head on me. That wasn’t the biggest problem. The biggest problem was that the springs on the bed creaked with every movement. She appeared above the top of the bed again. “Shit and piss! This is hopeless! Everyone downstairs will be able to hear us. Bugger!” 

“What’s your bed like?” I asked. She grinned. We got dressed again in our night clothes and stepped out of the room to head downstairs. Every single floorboard in that big Edwardian house seemed to creak. H started to get the giggles and I tried to hush her up. We gingerly made our way downstairs, past K’s room, to the back of the house. We shut the door behind us and both breathed a sigh of relief.  We stripped each other, pulled the bed covers off and jumped into bed. The bedside light was on and I tried to switch it off but H wanted to leave it on. We tried a bounce. No sound. We bounced a bit harder. Still no sound. H grinned and knelt between my legs. She alternated massaging me with her hand and sucking me. Taking it slowly.

“Oh my God!” she said, having looked sideways, briefly. She jumped out of bed, to my surprise, and started moving a big, old fashioned standing mirror. She hopped back to me, looked at the mirror again and went back to adjust it. I asked her what she was doing. She said she could watch herself suck me, now that she had positioned the mirror correctly. I couldn’t see it but she was delighted. She took a hair tie from the bed side table and put her hair into a pony tail. She slurped my knob and looked at her reflection. “I can see myself. See myself being a dirty slut!” she said. I had to tell her to hush as she was getting quite loud, in her excitement. Energised by her voyeuristic discovery she set to with enthusiasm, slurping particularly wetly and pausing occasionally to kiss my balls.

“It’s coming!” I hissed. She popped off me.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. I started to spurt. I hadn’t climaxed for well over a week. I had played with myself in bed but hadn’t had the energy to go all the way. I had definitely been unwell and had just sat watching TV for a weekend, not eating much. I had only started to feel a bit better on the Sunday and had a spaghetti Bolognese after watching The Magnificent Seven in the afternoon. My spunk just squirted out, like a fire hose. All over H’s face and hair, all over her magnificent tits. It went everywhere. My first thought was how upset C had been when I came in her hair.

“Wow!” she said, grinning and picking a gob off her nipple before sucking it into her mouth. “Wow!”   

“Sorry!” I said. “I haven’t come for a while!”

“It’s lovely! I thought men were supposed to just do about half a teaspoon. That’s like an eggcup full!  So much more than in College!” She got out of bed and grabbed a tissue from her handbag. She looked at herself in the mirror and wiped her face. It was on an eyelid and in her eyelashes. She turned back towards me and rubbed the rest of it into her skin. She knelt back in bed and licked it off my thighs, balls and prick.

 She switched the light off and we lay together, spooned up. She asked me why there was so much spunk and I said I hadn’t come for a while. She asked why I hadn’t been masturbating and I told her I hadn’t been well. She said she had been playing with herself every night. She then admitted that her sister had caught her doing it inside her knickers when she was sitting in her bedroom reading one evening. She had immediately said that she hoped H wasn’t thinking about one person in particular. It had all come out then, of course. Her sister had been furious at me and told H she had got me to promise I wouldn’t touch her. H had reminded her that she had said that I was J’s only ‘until after the ball’. J had said it was a joke and she hadn’t meant it literally and it didn't mean that immediately after the ball H and I should start having sex. J had then made the mistake of telling her sister that she wasn’t emotionally mature enough for a sexual relationship. H had lost her temper and told J to ‘fuck off’, which was very strong language for H. She said that there was still an atmosphere between them at home. I apologised and asked if I could do anything, like writing to J. She told me to just leave it. It wasn’t about me, despite what her sister thought. It was the usual jealousy between H and J.

I needed the loo and put on my pyjamas to go to the bathroom. I went back to H, who then went to the bathroom too. She returned and settled with me in bed again. Her hand was immediately on my prick and she soon got me stiff again. She said that she had just changed her ‘lady’s thing’ and if I wasn’t revolted perhaps we could 'do it'. I said I didn’t find it revolting at all. It was just natural. She told me to wait and went into the bathroom again to take her new tampon out. She returned and put a thick pad of folded loo paper on the sheet and I was soon deep inside her. I loved the soft, velvety feeling of her wet pussy and we had a lovely slow one. H started to get quite worked up and pulled her legs right back so that they were over my shoulders. I drove in deeper.

“I should pull out!” I said.

 “No! I’m safe! Nearly there!” she replied. Well, I knew that women couldn’t get pregnant during their period but wasn’t sure whether this was impossible or just unlikely. I wasn’t going to risk it. I pulled out. “No! Get back in there!” said H.

 “Can’t risk it!” I said. “You can’t risk it!”

“In my bag! Durex! Now!” I jumped out of bed and found a new box but opening it up in the dark wasn’t easy, as I struggled with the cellophane wrapper.

“I can’t see!” I said. She switched the bedside light on. My cock was smeared with blood. It took me ages to unwrap the box and then get the condom out the packet.

“Hurry up!” she said.

“I’m trying!" At last I got the thing out but had lost my full erection. I started to stroke my cock. 

“Yes! Fantastic! Wank it!” said H, opening her legs and rotating her hips. I got the Durex on and plunged back into her pussy. She left the light on. We both had to work our way back up again, having lost momentum during the break. The annoying thing was that H came but I didn’t. I had lost too much spunk earlier, I supposed. I could have stayed inside her without the Durex. I wrapped it in a tissue and we cuddled up.

"I should go back to my room," I said. "Just a few minutes more," said H. I agreed and we spooned up.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I woke up with a start. The sun was shining quite brightly through the curtains. K was standing inside the doorway with a tea tray in her hands.

“Shh!” said H. “He’s asleep and you’ll wake the others!”

“He’s not asleep and everyone has gone to work. It’s nearly nine o’clock!" She stepped into the room and must have seen our nightclothes on the floor. “Oh God! Are you both naked? What are you doing?”

“Have you bought us some tea? How lovely!” I said, sitting up.

“What’s this us? There shouldn’t be an us. You should be in separate rooms. Separate beds!” K put the tray down on the chest of drawers. “Oh no!” She had spotted the box of Durex on the bedside table. “This was all planned?” She glared at me. "You planned it!"

"I bought the Durex," said H. K then chuntered on, being 'horrified and shocked and appalled'.

“So are you going to pour the tea or not?” asked H. K said that she was so shocked she would probably spill it. H jumped out of bed, naked, and set to on the tea.

“Oh no! H, stop it. You’re worse than...” she stopped. I realised that she was about to say C. “Cover yourself up! He can see everything!”

“He knows what I look like naked,” said H. "He’s seen me before. When drawing me. In the bath. In the shower. In bed. We like being naked together! You don’t take sugar, do you?”

“Why don’t you hop into bed with us, have your tea and we can explain!” I said, hopefully.

“You are really joking!” said K. “I hope!”

"No that will be nice!” said H. “He likes having two girls in bed. One each side!"

“Yes, I know!” said K. She sat down on a chair as far away from us as possible. “When did all this happen? Don’t answer until you have covered your bust up!” H had returned to bed and was sat up next to me, her magnificent pair completely on display. H didn’t move.

“They’re only boobs. You have them too!” said H.

“Not like that! Not so...prominent!” K blamed everything on inflamed passion caused by Japanese erotic art until H explained that we had been together before that. K sat there shaking her head while H gave a brief history of what had happened at the end of term. K, I noticed, didn’t look at me at all during H’s explanation. Eventually, K calmed down but she wouldn’t let H and I have a bath together.  H then had to apologise for bleeding on the sheet. K thought I had taken H's virginity that night. In her house! H said no, it happened before and K thought that was even worse. Then it dawned on K that that we had had sex during H's period and that really was 'too disgusting for words'. K insisted on running the washing machine on boil wash, so that her mother didn’t find out.

H and I left K’s house mid morning, leaving K, who was in a simmering cloud of disapproval. I accompanied H back to Paddington railway station and we had a passionate kiss before she got her train to Swindon. We wouldn’t see each other for months as she was off to Sweden that weekend. As I crossed London I felt the happiest I had been since I got home from College. All this disappeared when I got home.

There were two letters for me. One was obviously from J and the other was from C. I opened C’s first. It was quite friendly and she prattled on about a jumper she was knitting and the horrible flat she was living in back in Birmingham. Her mother still hadn’t found anywhere to live permanently in the south and C moaned on about having to live with her. She said the flat was cold but she had to open the windows to disperse her mother’s cigarette smoke. She said that, no doubt, K would be bombarding me with telephone calls and told me to get K to write to her at her new address.

The second letter was from J, H’s sister. It was brief. While she acknowledged that ‘we had had a fun time’ for a few days I had ‘promised’ (and then she had written ‘promised’ again, underlined three times) that I would not seduce her sister and I had broken that promise as soon as she had left for Cambridge. She said there was no chance of me ever seeing her again and no question of her sister coming to stay with me. If necessary she would speak to her parents to ensure that we didn’t meet over the holidays. She was ‘hugely disappointed’ in me and I was ‘just like all men were; utter cunts’.  It occurred to me that H hadn't told her sister that I was also going to be staying at K's. I thought it was all very unfair as I hadn’t seduced H at all. Admittedly, I hadn’t resisted her either but I had thought that J’s getting a promise out of me not to touch her sister was just to clear the way for her, which was what H herself thought. Well, there wasn’t much I could do at that point. I wrote a brief letter to H saying how I would miss her. I didn’t include anything intimate in case her sister intercepted the letter and read it. I noted how nice her sister was too, just in case.

K wrote to me soon after and apologised for being short with H and I but she was just so shocked that I had seduced her other best friend in college. None of these women seemed to consider that it wasn’t me doing the seducing. It did all demonstrate, I supposed, that having relationships within college was not a good idea after all. The problem was I just couldn't resist lovely, friendly women.

I wrote to C and asked her to come and stay but she said that, although she would love to, she had got a job as a seamstress to earn enough money to pay for all the new law books we needed. Her mother wasn't working, unlike mine, and they were hard up. She was having to cope with the vacation reading list and hadn’t done nearly enough in ninth week, as I had, because she was making her ball dress.  She asked me to send her a photograph of her in her dress to show her mother. I went into Staines to get a print made, once the pictures arrived back from the mail order developers. She wrote back saying her mother had hated the dress and told me not to get any enlargements done, as I had offered.    

K wrote again and said she was going to Morocco to stay with her grandmother for most of the summer. I was starting to feel abandoned. At one point I had all these lovely girls chasing me about and now they had all disappeared. To make it worse A wrote and said she had a new boyfriend and he was just “really lovely” and they were planning to accompany her parents to Italy for two weeks.

My family went down to Sussex for a holiday for a week in July. We enjoyed walking along the South Downs and sitting outside the Golden Galleon pub in Cuckmere, looking at the wonderful view down the valley. We were staying in a holiday flat owned by one of my mother’s friends. When my sister wasn’t around my mother would try to get information out of me about what was going on with my love life. She said I could have anyone to stay with us if I liked. They could come for a week. She even said she didn’t mind if they slept with me in my bedroom, which was very liberal of her. She just told me not to be too affectionate in front of my sister.

C and I kept up a regular correspondence. C was cross that K hadn’t written to her. I had mentioned this to K early on and she said she just couldn’t face writing to C knowing what had gone on between H and I. If I didn’t write back to C quickly enough I got accused of spending all my time with K. Her letters tended to feature her latest clothes making projects, her trials at ordering the relevant law books from the library for our summer reading list and, latterly, a bizarre idea of building a model radio controlled aircraft. Where this latter idea had come from I had no idea. I immediately imagined it was something to do with the creep from Magadalen, although he didn't strike me as the model aeroplane type. More the lounging around in a silk dressing gown and a fez type.

I sent C a postcard from Sussex and she bemoaned the fact that she wouldn’t be getting away from her ‘shitty flat’ at all over the summer. My mother then decided we needed another holiday, so booked a last minute week in Keswick in the Lake District for August. C was even more annoyed that I was going to have two breaks away. She had received a post card from K in Casablanca (as had I), so seemed happier about that but wished she could lounge around in a harem with K, eating pomegranates. She also said that she had had her eyelashes tinted which made her look ‘even lovelier’. The man in the model shop had advised building a rubber band plane first, before the £70 expense of a radio controlled one. I wondered what on earth he made of C, dressed in one of her eccentric nineteen twenties outfits, quizzing him about glow plug engines.

At the beginning of August I got a long letter from C, about her blonde and busty school friend R, who we had been to see at Keble College. R had had her hair cut short, which C thought looked stylish and C had been to stay with her a couple of days. C explained in breathless detail, that she had had to share a double bed with R and that the first night they had ‘kissed and caressed each other' in bed. The following night they had done so naked and C said that she had got her first taste of another girl’s pussy and R had made her come with her fingers. C promised that she would write to me about any more sapphic escapades with R. She decided that girl/girl love was superior to being with ‘grunting, hairy men’. None of this surprised me one bit.

My family then had a nice but exhausting holiday in the Lake District. My mother was a great walker and we embarked on some epic walks, including around Derwent Water and up many fells, including Catbells and Hellvellyn, the third highest point in England. We drove up to Durham and then visited Hadrian’s Wall, somewhere I had always wanted to go. My mother made us walk miles along the Wall too. By the time we returned home I was very fit and felt the lack of female company even more. To compensate for my total lack of sexual activity I wrote up some of my sexual encounters in my journal, which, of course, I have drawn on for these posts.

K rang me up and asked if I wanted to go to lunch and visit the Tate Gallery. I said that would be great and we met a couple of days later. Any residual resentment over H seemed to have evaporated and she chattered about her time in Casblanca. She told me about Moroccan harems and how I could have had C, H and J all living with me in a walled house with a courtyard and a fountain in it. I told her she needed to be in it too but she said that she wouldn't deliver 'the service' I expected. I gave her a kiss as she told me this, as we sat in the Tate's subterranean cafe. She told me off for being a bed post notch collector. I pointed out that it would be very hard to cut a notch into an iron hospital bedstead. K looked tanned and fit. Her grandmother's cooking had stopped her looking quite so gaunt.  

"I saw C last week," she said. "While you were in the Lakes." I asked her how she was. K looked uncomfortable. I asked her what had happened. K was not very good at hiding stuff. She said C had regaled her with a long monologue about her sex life, including the creep from Magdalen, her lesbian fling with R and 'far more about you and her than I wanted to know'. She said that C had been thinking about me and had decided that the best thing to do would be to come off the Pill as it would prevent her being tempted when she went back to College. She had decided that I really was interfering with her work, that we could just be friends and anyway I wouldn't take her from behind which was what she really wanted. The latter point was completely out of the blue. She had never said anything about that. She had, I remembered, made several comments about getting a book of sex positions but I was obviously supposed to work out what she wanted by being a mind reader, as usual. K said she didn't want to discuss it further but C had insisted K tell me rather than C herself. "Anyway, you have H, now!" she said.

I really hoped so. I had been waiting for a card from Sweden but I hadn't had one, slightly worryingly. A week or so later I had a call from my old school friend F. He was going to have his twenty-first birthday in October and was going to have a big party in Cambridge, where he was studying medicine. It would be the weekend at the end of first week but, if my work schedule allowed, I said I would love to come. I had never been to Cambridge and wondered what it would be like. Like Oxford but inferior, I supposed. Of course my thoughts turned to J. Although she had finished her masters she was staying on for a year to do some tutoring for her college, while she looked for a job in the university. I thought if I left it enough months she would have calmed down and so I could write to her.

Through much of September I worked on the big essay we had to do for the beginning of term. C seemed to have given up on it, due to the difficulty of getting access to the correct books and resigned herself to getting a penal collection (a punishment exam) for not doing it. My essay was going well but I needed some books I couldn’t access at home, so went back to Oxford for a day and spent it in the law library. I popped into college to find out when I could move into my new room. My mother was going away with her sister the weekend I would have started (my sister would be staying with a school friend), so I needed to get into College earlier. I was told that moving in the weekend before would be fine. While I was talking to the Porter one of my hated law tutors appeared and asked me how C was. I told him I hadn’t seen her. "Good!” he said and stalked off.

At the end of September we had a few days down with Uncle L and went out on his boat, which reminded me of the German girl P I had been skinny dipping with. His wife asked me about my love life (something that middle aged ladies tended to do, I noticed). When I was evasive my mother told them all about C and then H. My sister fumed and ate crab sandwiches at the Haven House Inn on Mudeford Quay. I drank cider and bought K, C and H postcards. I enjoyed looking at Uncle L's large nude drawing, Ecstasy, in his living room, again, and wished I had done more drawings of H.

When I got home again, there was another letter from A. She said she knew it was short notice and didn’t know if I would even be back but asked if she could come to see me in Oxford the weekend beginning October 4th. That was the following weekend. The beginning of noughth week. I wrote back immediately and said she could come whenever she wanted, just to let me know which train she was going to be on so I could meet her at the station. I was going to see A again! Despite the fact I knew she had a new boyfriend I didn’t care. I hadn’t seen her for more than three years. How lovely! I hoped.

Just before I went back to College, in early October, I received a short letter from H who had returned from Sweden. It had been friendly but not passionate. It just reeked of second thoughts. She said she didn’t want to say anything in a letter but we needed to talk as soon as we got back. This sounded very ominous. I sensed the influence of her sister. ‘Kind regards’ I thought, was not the way you signed off to a lover. Even C still wrote ‘love and kisses’. My initial thought was that her sister had spoken to her again and she had decided to end our relationship. Then I started to worry that perhaps she was pregnant. I reasoned that if that was the case she would have telephoned rather than written but it left me with a sense of foreboding over the last week of my vacation. I started to suspect that the second year at college might not be as enjoyable as I had hoped.