Chronicle 25 -1980: Noughth Week Part 2

Tuesday, October 7th

When I woke the next morning I was lying on my left side looking at A facing me. She was awake. We kissed before we said good morning, which I found rather sweet.  She wriggled on top of me and I got stiff almost immediately.  I could feel her pussy hair on my cock.  I stroked her bottom.

“You fell asleep when I was still inside you!” I said, after a while.

“That’s so lovely!  How wonderful!  Joined in our little capsule!” She kissed me again and then got out of bed, suddenly, and went over to my desk.  She looked out of the window and stretched.  Stretched every long, lean muscle and sinew.  What a wonderful body.  Quite unlike C and H’s rounded softness.  Taut, like the gymnasts I used to fantasise about when I was in my early teens. Especially the magnificent Nelly Kim.  I even had a few gymnastics posters up in my room.  A would look great in a leotard, I thought

“What planet have we landed on?” I asked her, recalling our interplanetary discussion of the previous night.

“Planet sausage sandwich!” she said.

“I cannot understand how someone so skinny can eat so much!” I said, looking at her flat belly as she turned back towards me.

“Running!  I do lots of running!” I asked her if she felt weird running about Edinburgh randomly.  Running wasn’t really a thing then, although in Oxford you saw rowers or people from the cross-country team running.  Not girls, though.  Outside of Oxford I had never seen anyone running on the streets.  I got out of bed and stood behind her. I squeezed her bottom.  It was so soft but so firm.  I knelt down and kissed it. “You seem very keen on bottoms now!” she said.

“Only yours,” I lied.  “I will draw it today!”  She went back and lay face down on the bed.  She opened her thighs and looked over her shoulder at me.  Displaying herself.  I stood and looked down at her. At that lovely toned bottom and the floss of hair and pink parts between her taut cheeks.  I was completely stiff. She smiled. 

“What are you thinking?”

“Well. I...” She had caught me out.  I couldn’t tell her.

“Don’t make something up.  Tell me exactly!” she said.  She didn’t look cross or annoyed.  Amused, perhaps.  I told her.

“I want to take you from behind,” I said.  It sounded awful, I thought; as if I didn’t want to look at her.  As if she was just a bottom, not a person whose expression I could see as we did it.  Not a person whose increasing passion could be judged and enjoyed by looking at her face. “Sorry,” I added.  She got up on all fours, put her knees slightly apart and grinned.

“Kneel behind me then!”  I did and contemplated her parts and her neat little sphincter.  She put her arm between her legs and reached for me.  She guided me into her.  She was wet, of course, I had smelled it on her earlier.

“My God!” I said.  I looked down at myself, half way into her.  The point of penetration; graphically clear. I pushed myself the rest of the way in, fascinated, as I disappeared inside her and my pubic hair meshed with the sparse hairs around her arsehole. It was quite different from the view in girl on top sex. She looked over her shoulder at me again.  I pulled out gently and her labia clung to my shaft, which was now shiny with her juices.  “It’s very...”

“Visual?” she said, smiling.  I pushed in and her parts were sort of sucked in as I gently thrust.

“Fasinating.  Very biological!” I said, withdrawing, as her labia were pulled out again.

“A bit faster would be nice!” she said.  I gently took hold of her hips and started to speed up. I came very quickly.  Before she was even close.  “You did find that exciting, didn’t you?”

“Sorry,” I said, pulling out completely.  A dribble of white liquid was ejected from her entrance a second or two later.  My spunk, I realised.  It dripped onto the sheet.  “Fingers or tongue?” I asked.

“You don’t have to make me come every time, you know.  It’s not a competition. Girls aren’t like men.  A cuddle would be just as nice!”  We did cuddle and when I tried to slide my fingers inside her she told me off.  She said she wanted to save it for a big one later. She promised me ‘a different, interesting position’. 

“Something to look forward to!”  I thought about C and her suggestion we get a book of positions. Perhaps A had one.  Or perhaps it was just all the other men she had been with. Maybe they were all more experienced than me.  I didn’t want to think about that.  K had told me that C had wanted me to take her from behind and I never had.  Would it have been as simple as that?  Would C still be my girlfriend if I had done so?  I suspected not.  There would always be something else she wanted that she wouldn’t tell you about but expected you to know.

We went to The Nosebag for a sausage sandwich.  A made dubious jokes about sausage and I tried to hush her up. When we got back I went into the kitchen and found all the previous night’s plates and pans had been washed and neatly stacked. The American girl, L must have done it. I took everything back to my room and then saw the note L had written, on the piece of paper stuck to my door, thanking us for dinner. She seemed a nice girl.  Not attractive, not to me anyway, but very nice.  She had an attractive low speaking voice.  She didn't squeak like I expected American women to do.

That morning we visted the bookshops and Blackwell’s music shop. A told me that the official Edinburgh University bookshop was called James Thin at that time (although it was bought by Blackwell’s a few years ago) but A couldn’t get over the size of Blackwell’s, especially the huge Norrington Room, in the basement, which was in the Guinness Book of Records as the largest single room selling books in the world.  I let her wander around on her own for a bit as she was looking for some particular books.  When we met up she had two carrier bags of books.  I asked her how she was going to get them home.  She said she was going to donate her lilo to me so that if other girls came to stay they could sleep on that and not have an excuse to bunk in with me. I must have frowned.  It was a joke, she said.  She said I could bunk in with anyone I liked. I thought about how H’s sister J had constantly told me me that she wasn’t my girlfriend.  A seemed to be doing the same thing.

In the music shop I bought the boxed set of Wagner's Lohengrin on cassette and Prokofiev’s symphonies 1 and 7 on record.  I usually didn't buy pre-recorded cassettes but the advantage was that I could listen to them straight away.  I wouldn’t be able to listen to the records until I got home, though.  She bought some Karajan Mahler on cassette and I told her she was mad. I had a low opinion of Mahler at the time (largely thanks to my mother who said they were very long symphonies with no tunes whatsoever). She got me his first symphony on cassette as a present and said we could listen to it while I drew her that afternoon.

We left the Music Shop and headed off to the town centre to get some lunch.  She asked me about the laundry as she had run out of clean underwear. 

“I thought you planned that you might spend longer than a couple of days?” I said.

“If we got on, yes, but I only thought that after I left Edinburgh!  Run out of clean knickers!”

“You could go without!” I said.

“Yes, you told me about your knickerless girlfriend!” she laughed.  “Works with a skirt but not denims.  Seam would rub my bits raw!” I told her that there was a laundry at the bottom of my staircase.  We didn’t need to use the one in College.

“The one where you got caught fucking C,” she said.

“Your language!” I said.  “I blame the Scots!”

“They do swear a lot more,” she admitted, grinning.  I said that I didn’t have anything like a full load of washing yet but told her I had a better idea.  I took her to Marks and Spencer and bought her a pack of three pretty, pastel coloured cotton knickers.  Then I took her to Selfridges and bought her a much racier black pair with a lacy waistband. 

“I’ve got an idea for my drawings!” I said. I bought her a pair of Pretty Polly black hold up stockings.

“Now, these are naughty!” she said.  “Never even put a pair of stockings on!”

“Something to look forward to!” I said.

“Something for you to look forward to!” she laughed

We got some soup and rolls for lunch and when we got back to my room I went into the kitchen to warm the soup up.  L was in there and I thanked her for doing the washing up. She thanked me for the Spaghetti Bolognaise.  I said that had been A not me.

“Is she your girlfriend?” asked L.  I was soon to learn that Americans had a habit of asking direct personal questions that British people wouldn’t.  I hesitated and said that she was my ex-girlfriend. L said we looked pretty friendly towards each other still.  I said we parted because we lived a long way away from each other, not because we didn’t like each other, L had problems comprehending how London to Edinburgh could be conceived as being a long distance apart. I soon learned about American concepts of distance. “So is there a current girlfriend?” asked L, persisting.  I said that there was an immediate ex-girlfriend who she might meet as as she did Law with me.  It was then that I discovered that L was doing Law as well.  She would be doing tutorials with us.  She would certainly meet C.  L might then tell C about A staying in my room. I didn’t care so much about that but what if she talked to H?  It was all so complicated. 

“OK?  You look thoughtful,” said A as I took our soup in.

“I think I am going to take you out to dinner!” I said.

“Don’t like my cooking, eh?” she answered.  I told her it was great and how L had enjoyed it too but she shouldn’t have to cook for me every night.  “It was only one night.  Hardly a chore.”

That afternoon I spent a few hours drawing her while the rain fell on my skylight.  I put on the Mahler which, I had to grudgingly admit, was rather good. She posed naked on my bed.  I got her to pose like Boucher’s O’Murphy girl, on her front, one leg, hanging over the edge of the bed. I also replicated the picture by British artist Anthony Brandt (I only recently discovered the artist) Uncle L had in his living room by draping A over the corner of the bed.  One leg up and head down, almost touching the floor.  I didn’t draw the chair that she rested her leg on, so she did look rather like the original; suspended in air.  She looked at it after I had finished.  I explained where I had seen the pose.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“I look like I am having a massive orgasm!  My mum would have a fit if she saw me like this!” She laughed. I told her to put the stockings on.  She sat on the bed to do so and after she had put the first one on I made her stop and pose in the process of pulling the second one on and did a charcoal sketch of her. After I had finished, she stood up and crossed the room to switch the kettle on.  She squatted down to do so and put two teabags in the mugs. I said that that was another wonderful pose, if she could hold it. I drew her squatting in her stockings, her pink parts just visible among her curls.  “If you had a chamber pot I could wee into it for you!” she said, grinning.  "Tricky to draw, though.  I'd have to do a huge one for you to get the arc right!"

“I think, to be honest, it is the squatting I like.  It’s a vulnerable looking pose.”  She had to keep standing up so she didn’t get the cramp but she liked the picture and said the black stockings really did add something. She went over to my wardrobe and opened the door..  She looked at herself, naked apart from her stockings, in the full length mirror inside the door. “Sorry, mum,” she said. I suddenly felt guilty.  Not so much for now but for three years earlier. When she was just fourteen.  Except, I remembered, she had made all the running in our physical interactions. She went over to the window and looked out.

"Look There is a rainbow!  Over the Union!"  She took a couple of pictures with her Kodak and sent me one, which is at the top of this post. “Take your clothes off.  I’m going to the loo!” she said, taking her Pill and then pulling on her dressing gown.  "Time for sex!"

By the time she returned, a few minutes later, I was naked, erect and in bed.  She dropped her dressing gown on the floor and started to take a stocking off.  I told her to leave them on.  She gave me a naughty look and jumped into bed after pulling the duvet off me.  I kissed her body and licked her pussy for a while, then she sucked me for a bit and we did a bit of sixty nine. She pulled her mouth off me and then shuffled down my body so that she was kneeling astride my thighs.  Then she sat on me in a position I now know as reverse cowgirl but didn’t know it had a name back them.  Like the rear entry position that morning, it was visually very exciting as I could watch myself slide in and out of her.  She looked back at me.

“Like it?” she asked.  I nodded.  “Best for bottom fanciers!” she said, lifting herself up, so that I nearly popped out and then dropping down again. It certainly was.  I could see and stroke her entire, inverted heart shaped bottom. The black stockings really enhanced the sight; making her lovely arse seem even whiter and rounder. I placed my hands on the top of her thighs and stroked her bottom with my thumbs. The little triangular patch of slightly discoloured skin around her anus was clearly visible.  I stroked it and tickled her perineum. I pressed on her starfish very gently.  She looked back at me again but she didn’t look annoyed. “I’ve just done a poo!” she said, although I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.  I pressed harder and I felt her relax.  My index finger slid into her rectum and I gently probed her slimy inside with my finger as I thrust up her cunt with my cock. “Nice!” she said.  “Keep it gentle!”  I did.  Her arsehole was very tight.  Not like C’s or J’s.  I didn’t think I could get a second finger in.  After a time she swivelled around again to face me and then lay on top of me, rotating her hips while I thrust into her.  I didn’t put my finger back inside her arsehole but, to my surprise she took it into her hand and started to suck it.  I started to come but was getting quite good at maintaining an erection after I had.  We kept at it for another few minutes and I felt a wash of liquid, like I did from C. “Oh!” she sighed. She lay on top of me and I stayed inside her.

“That was just lovely.  Exciting and lovely!” I said. I stroked her hair.

“Have you ever had a girl up there?” she asked.

“Up where?”

“Up the bottom.”  I admitted I hadn’t, wondering if she might be up for it, although I just loved being inside her pussy so couldn’t really see the point, other than the innate naughtiness of it.  It also seemed a bit risky, for several reasons.  She said that she had tried it once, before she was on the Pill, but it had hurt and she had stopped 'before it went all the way in'.  She didn’t mind a finger ‘occasionally’ when she was really worked up. Perhaps she was too tight for it.  She said that when she was eight or nine she would finger her arsehole and penetrate herself. “Masturbating, I suppose, although I didn’t know what it was then.  One day I pulled my finger out and there were little white worms wriggling on it.  That stopped me for a bit!”  She wiggled her fingers and made a face. I didn’t tell her that I had had the same experience when I was about eleven.  

We pulled the duvet over ourselves and just lay together for a while.

“Do you have a book?” I asked, as I stroked her pussy.

“I have many books!” she said.  “Even more after today!”

“A book of sex positions!”  I explained that C had wanted me to get one and also admitted that I had never taken her from behind which had been something she wanted.  After I said it I worried that A might think that I had used her as a C substitute, which I absolutely had not. “I didn’t mean...” I began, embarrassed.

“I know. I do have a sex book, actually, but it isn’t just positions.  Do you know about tantric sex?”  She told me she had bought a book called Sexual Secrets: the alchemy of ecstasy, which appeared to be some mystical book, looking at Eastern love texts.  I said that my father had had a couple of books at home. The Perfumed Garden was one. “You’d like it.  It has some lovely erotic artwork.” I told her about the book on Japanese erotic art, H had bought me. She was massaging my cock now but stopped, saying her book said that you had to save yourself sometimes.  “And men shouldn’t waste ejaculations!  You can come after dinner!”  I told her that I didn't think I could manage it anyway.  She kissed my knob.

“Is French, alright?” I asked.  It was about six-thirty in the evening.

“French what? Kissing?” She crawled up me and slid her tongue into my mouth.

“French food.  For dinner.”

“Great.  Starving!  Let’s get dressed!”  I asked her if she wanted a quick shower but she said her book said you shouldn’t wash after sex but should enjoy your bodily scent.  I didn’t think C would have been too impressed with that.  She carefully removed her stockings and rolled them up. She put her knee length white socks back on, which were nearly as exciting, in their own way.

I took A to the Bleu Blanc Rouge restaurant, which was owned by the same man as, and was adjacent to, the rather more expensive La Sorbonne. To be honest I didn’t think she was smartly dressed enough for the slightly snooty Sorbonne. At the more informal Bleu Blanc Rouge you could get an excellent set menu for under six pounds and still take advantage of the kitchen of the more expensive restaurant, without paying twenty pounds a head.  It was another lovely evening.  After dinner we strolled back to the annexe.  She stopped to give me a kiss.  We both laughed when we realised we both stank of garlic.  She said that there was no way we could  smell out bodily scent over that.  Back in my room we spent an inordinate amount of time brushing our teeth.   

In bed we lay spooned up together, with her in front and my genitals nestled up against her bottom.  I was erect but she didn’t seem interested in doing anything about that as she usually did. “I’ve been thinking…” she began, ominously.

“Do girls actually do that?”

“Male chauvinist pig!” she said, slapping my thigh quite hard. What she had been thinking about, as she then told me at great length, was what role sex played in a relationship and what relationships had to do with sex.  Her theory, based on my letters and discussions was that physical pleasure was important to both C and I and we continued in a relationship because of that when, perhaps, we had become emotionally unsuited to each other.  She expanded on this by discussing her recent boyfriend who had, it became apparent, just wanted sex and didn’t care for her as a person that much. “I really love sex with you but we can’t have a relationship,” she said, somewhat to my disappointment.  “We live too far apart.  I need someone who can be with me, if not all the time, then most of the time.”  In truth, I suppose I was hoping to reignite our past and she said that we had had, indeed, a proper relationship three years before.  She would not, though, put her life on hold in Edinburgh for someone living down in Oxford.  “Does that disappoint you?” she said.

“I just want to keep you as a special friend,” I said, hoping that this self-reflection would not lead to a ‘I think we better stop having sex right now’ moment.

“Special friends.  Yes.  Who have lovely sex when they meet up,” she said.  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Recreational sex.  Nothing wrong with that.  Sex doesn’t have to be relationship based or procreative.”

“Indeed not,” I said, stroking her pussy, and slipping the tip of my finger between her wet folds.

“Alright then!  More recreation!  Put some music on first!”  I brought the cassette player over to the bed and plugged it in where my desk light went, so I could turn the volume right down.  I put a cassette in; Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra. The well known opening began.  It was the 1973 Deutsche Gramophon recording by Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic (still by far the finest version, although Kubrick used Karajan’s 1959 version for 2001: A Space Odyssey).  DG recordings always had a really wide sonic range, so if you had the loud bits, like the opening, at the right volume then the rest would be too quiet.  “Space music!” said A, as the opening three ascending notes came out of the speakers, after the almost inaudible double low C beginning.

“Time to get into our capsule!” I said getting back into bed.

“Time to get into my capsule!” she said.  “Spoons position!”  I’d never done it like that, with both of us on our sides.  She pulled her knees up, slightly, into something of a foetal position and after a bit of wriggling about she guided me inside her. I certainly hadn’t ever had such a slow one. Probably because she had drained me the previous few days. I was nowhere near close to coming, even after ten minutes.  She said that this was Tantric.  Going really slowly and just prolonging things. We just kept slowly moving; I was probably only going in and out an inch or so with each thrust. I stroked her breasts and belly and she held on to my hip while I kissed her neck and cheek.  I licked her ear and made her giggle.  There was no race to climax.  There wasn’t even a climax; for either of us, just slow, diminishing hip movements.  After thirty minutes the Strauss came to its musically unresolved finish.  A had stopped moving.  The cassette player switched itself off. She was asleep.  As I hadn’t come I didn’t need the loo.  I stayed spooned up to her.  Inside her.  Again. Lovely A.

Wednesday, October 8th

“Did I fall asleep with you inside me again?” she asked, the next morning.  We woke at about the same time.  I said she had.  “I love going to sleep like that!” She kissed me and got up.  “I need the loo!” she said, putting her dressing gown on.

“Me too!” I said.

“Shall we go in together?” she asked.

“A!” I said.

“I thought you liked to watch,” she said.

“C liked me to watch her.  Slightly different!” I said.

“But you liked it.  I bet!  A pissing pussy! I wanted to see it coming out when you went in the river at Runnymede but I couldn’t quite see. Maybe we are both perverts!” she laughed.

“It’s fine, you go first!” I said, getting up as well.

“No come on!  I want to watch now!  I have decided!” she said, handing me my dressing gown.  "Got any shampoo? I need to wash my hair.”

“Oh alright!” I said. Not wanting to admit that I did find pissing women sexy.  Or, at least, C.

I stood naked and pissed into the loo while A watched me. It wasn’t quite as easy as that as it took me some time to get going as I felt strangely inhibited, in a way I didn’t in front of C or the rather shocked H.  She then sat down, with her thighs pressed together and tinkled away, grinning at me.

“Not much for you to see really,” she said, rather apologetically.

“It’s fine,” I said, still rather embarrassed. With C, there had always been that exhibitionist element.  That provocation.  That inherent sexual challenge. Not to mention squatting over a small pot with her legs apart. A was just doing a wee.  Not pissing.

“Have you ever watched a girl do a poo?” asked A.  I shook my head.  There was a crackling sound and a ‘plop’ into the bowl.  A giggled. I shook my head and went into the shower, to get the water up to temperature and give her some privacy.  I could hear her reeling off loo paper.  This wasn’t sexy at all but hopefully she was happy. She asked me if I needed to go and I admitted I did.  She said she would wash her hair while I did it.  It was the most stressful poo of my life, as I was conscious of her just the other side of the tiled wall, humming Mozart. I half expected her to pop her face around the wall to see how I was doing. I wished I had put some paper in first to cover the noise but hoped the noise of the running water from the shower would obscure the sound.  There were some bodily functions best conducted in private, I concluded. “Nothing much to hide from each other now!” called out A. "Just throwing up in front of you!  Done that with a man before!" she laughed.

Eventually, I joined her in the shower, as she was rinsing her hair. She put some shampoo on her fingers and slid her hand down between my cheeks and over my anus.  Then I felt her fingertip probe me.  Only J had done that to me before.  She got her finger inside and thrust a couple of times. “Nice and clean!” she said, giving me a kiss.  I said I would do her. She turned around, and braced her forearms on the tiles.  I soaped her arse and anus but didn’t penetrate her, worried about any pain for her. I was soaping her tits when she reached behind her and took hold of my cock.  I bent my knees and she guided me into her pussy.  I took her gently from behind for a minute or so and although we didn’t come it was a nice, sensual episode.  She said it was going to be rubbish going back to Edinburgh and having to shower on her own.

Unfortunately, as we left the bathroom we ran into the American girl L, who was just coming up the stairs.  A apologised for us being in the bathroom together but L just grinned and said she was glad we were having fun.

“I like doing it in the shower too!” said L.  A looked distraught.

“Oh dear, sorry!” she said.

“It’s cool.  Fun! It’s not like you are fat ugly people I don’t want to think about!” L seemed genuinely amused but A was embarrassed.

“Well that will get back to C, I suppose!” she said. I said that I didn’t care whether C found out.  C wasn’t my girlfriend any more and had, in fact been really horrible to me.  A’s presence was making this quite clear. A looked somewhat mollified. I put the kettle on and went into the kitchen to get some milk, still dressed in my dressing gown and slippers. L was in there making coffee.  I apologised to her for hogging the bathroom and behaving inappropriately.  She pointed out that it was, in fact, the male bathroom. I started to explain but she hushed me and said it really was fine.

“Let me know if you ever need your back scrubbing!” she laughed and winked at me. I grinned and went back to my room. A had opened her pack of new knickers and was looking at them, standing there is just her bra. 

“White, pink or blue?” she asked.

“What about the black ones?” I asked.

“Saving them!” she said.

“Pink, I think!”  All her other knickers were white.  She put them on and went to look at herself in my wardrobe mirror.  I still couldn’t get over how much women looked at themselves in mirrors; even A, who wasn’t interested in fashion at all. I thought how C would not have approved of different coloured bra and kickers. A posed a bit, looking over her shoulder at her bottom, while I started to get stiff.

“There is something about a new, fresh pair of knickers!” said A. “They really cling to your pussy!” She stroked her groin and clasped her mound. To my amazement she then stuck her fingers inside the crotch of her knickers and began to finger herself. “Christ!” she said. I stepped towards her and literally swept her off her feet, carrying her over to my bed.  I didn’t even remove my dressing gown, just undid the tie.  I pushed her legs apart, shoved the crotch of her knickers aside and buried my cock in her cunt.  “Oh fuck!” she gasped and her insides gripped me. She seemed to be pouring out juice as I started to thrust into her, feeling the cotton rubbing against my shaft. “Fucking hell!” she gasped. She was thrusting her hips back against me as I banged her as hard as I could. “Like that! Like that!,” she was shouting, so loudly I was worried about L hearing her. I pushed her bra up over her tits and started to suck one of her nipples.  “Oh my God!” she cried and started to really flow.  I was pumping out spunk as well by this time and my balls were getting soaked.  Eventually we both came to a halt. And I lay on top of her. “Christ!  Fuck!” said A. “I mean, fuck!” she giggled. “Tantric is all very well but sometimes you just need to be screwed senseless!”  I kissed her.  We were both sweating like pigs.  I pulled my dressing gown off, to cool down. “Thank you for my new knickers!” she laughed.

“I think I can say that they were a very good investment!” I replied, kissing her. We lay there, the sweat cooling on our skin.

“Sorry the weeing wasn’t very exciting!” she said after a while. “I wanted it to be sexy.  A poo intervened! A poo isn’t sexy!  Just embarrassing.”

“I think you more than made up for it!” I answered. “Have to try new things, eh?”

“Never been screwed with my knickers on before.  Animal lust! Brill!”

We had just got dressed, after washing ourselves down a bit with my sponge, when there was a knock on the door.  It was L, with another girl.  I had a panic that they had heard the noise and had come to investigate. L didn’t say anything but introduced W, whose room was next to her. W was Canadian, she wasn’t the first Canadian I had met, as I had some distant Canadian relations who had come to visit us at home some years before. W had short, thick. wavy chestnut coloured hair. Really lovely hair.  I immediately wondered what her pussy looked like. I offered them tea, which W accepted but L asked for coffee, which I didn’t have. She nipped out to the kitchen to get hers and brought some milk.  I got some chocolate digestives out. A and I sat on the bed, which, fortunately, I had made up before they came in. Also, fortunately, A had opened my window as the room had smelled of sex.  Hopefully, any lingering scent of A’s musky pussy had dissipated but that was why I made sure that she and I sat on the bed. L explained to W that we were exes.

“Although they didn’t sound much like exes earlier!” she added.  W laughed.  I could feel myself blushing, which was unusual.

“We haven’t seen each other for three years,” said A.  “We’re catching up!”

“Good for you!” said W.  “I nearly knocked on the door!”

“Sorry about the noise,” said A, looking at her bare feet and blushing as well.

“I wasn’t worried about the noise I wanted to join in!” laughed W.

“That was so embarrassing!” said A as we headed out to visit the Sheldonian Theatre, an hour later.  “I have ruined your image.  It was all my fault; moaning and cursing!” I said I found her moaning and cursing very exciting.  I liked to see her losing control.

We climbed up what seemed like endless stairs into the roof of the Sheldonian, which was where the freshers would be matriculating shortly.  It was the very first building designed by Sir Christopher Wren (who also worked on the College chapel), who was a professor of astronomy at the university at the time. We were right in the rafters above the ceiling before ascending to the cupola which had more great views of the city. When we came down we went into Parkers, the art bookshop and I managed to find a couple of Degas nude postcards I hadn’t got.  A said I must do some more drawing of her.

I took A to College to see if I could get a dinner ticket for Thursday, which proved to be no problem.  I thought about lunch there but A said she would rather have dinner.  I asked her what she wanted for lunch and she said anything with chips. So I took her down Brasenose Lane towards the Turl Bar.  

“My God this is the street that smells like boiled cabbage!  It really does!” she said. It really did. I was glad I didn’t have to eat in Lincoln College.

A and I both had sausage, chips and beans in the Turl.  It really wasn’t that much better than College lunch really, although there was more of it and a better choice. A had a massive piece of apple pie for pudding.  She wanted to pay but I wouldn’t let her. She wanted some exercise as she said she was missing her running.  We went for a walk up towards Little Clarendon Street, where A decided she needed a dress for dinner in Hall, even though I told her she didn’t, as they didn’t have formal Hall until First Week. She picked up a cotton, Indian print one in one of the boutiques I used to visit with C. The woman there wouldn’t let me go into the changing room with A, which was probably for the best. 

"Is she at Somerville?" the lady asked as A tried on the dress.

"No!" I answered.

"They're the worst!" she said indicating the changing room.  I wondered what the Somerville girls got up to.  I hadn't been into one of the three remaining women only colleges, yet.  The held a mysterious allure, although my school friend E said they were full of ugly, hairy, feminist, lesbians with glasses.

We walked on up the Woodstock Road, past Somerville, where I told her what the woman in the shop had said and about the fact that the girls there had to put their mattresses in the corridor if they had men around after 6.00pm, which she found very funny.  I told her my friend E said that it was the other girls they should worry about, not the men.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" I asked A. 

"What, sexy kissing?  Snogging?" she asked as we walked towards the University Parks.

"Yes."

"No.  Just don't fancy women.  Bad luck!  Are you thinking about me and C getting it on?"

"I hadn't been until just now!" I said.  She poked me in the side and laughed.  A laughed all the time.  Unlike C.

We crossed back into the University Parks and then out into the science area and back past the Law Library.  As I passed its grim, concrete steps I realised my lovely time with A would soon be over and it would be back to work, although some of the other law students had said that the second year was not quite as high pressured as the first, as there were no university exams that year. A wanted to keep walking so we went down Broad Street, looked in at Balliol and went on to Worcester College (where, years later, Emma Watson from Harry Potter would study) as it had nice, large gardens.  Technically, most of the colleges were closed to the public, as term was about to start but we looked like students and just walked in.

We got back to my room at about four and A said that she felt much better for the walk and had had a very Oxford day. I made some tea while she wrote up our ‘knickers on screw’ in her journal.  A scribbled away and I got one of my sketchbooks out and did a pencil drawing of her. She looked at me and asked if she was wearing too many clothes.  I said she was but I didn’t want to interrupt her inspiration.  She stood up and took her jeans off before sitting down again.

“Still enjoying your new knickers?” I asked, as she had left them on.

“Don’t want to leave a damp patch on your chair!” she said. I went up to her and, standing behind her, unbuttoned her blue blouse.  She took her pen off the paper, briefly, so I could remove it.  I unclipped her bra and took that off to.  I cupped her breasts briefly, kissed her neck, sat back down on the bed and started another drawing of her. She turned to look at me and slipped the fingers of her left hand inside her knickers. “Would you like me to read a bit to you?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“I was standing there, lost in my own reverie.  Gazing at myself in the mirror.  Gazing at this version of myself. My real self or my alternate universe self? My parts were almost throbbing.  I could feel the blood flowing through them. Was this what having an erection felt like? I had almost forgotten I was being watched, as I caressed my pussy, so snug in its clingy, cotton casing,” she began.

“Very alliterative,” I observed, trying to make light, I supposed, of my increasing excitement.

“Shut up!” She carried on reading her description of how I had picked her up ‘flung her on the bed’ (I thought I had put her down rather gently) and ravished her. “I knew as he knelt between my legs, his cock engorged with blood, his eyes ravenous, that I was about to be fucked senseless. Would he be rough?  I hoped so!  I was seeping at the thought. As he pulled the crotch of my new pink knickers to one side and his cock head penetrated me I came immediately.”

“Did you?”

“Yes!  Shut up, listen and draw!” she instructed me All the time she was reading her fingers remained inside her knickers. I finished my second drawing, got up from the bed, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off the chair onto the floor.  We rolled around as she undid the fastenings on my clothes. I found this very exciting especially as she tugged my jeans and pants down. I liked removing each other’s clothes before sex but A seemed to like watching me do it myself.  It was nice, this time, for her to do it.  She got astride me and was rubbing her pink clad groin against my cock. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her onto the floor next to me.  It was nice to have room to manoeuvre on the floor, compared with the tight confines of the bed. I rolled her onto her belly and pushed her thighs apart.  Her knickers actually had a damp patch. I knelt between her thighs, shoved the crotch of her knickers aside once more and slid right up her. I felt her fingers grip my shaft and she kept her hand down there as I pounded her quite hard.  I lasted about forty five seconds, disappointingly, but I kept going as long as my rapidly deflating cock would allow me.  I pulled out of her and wriggled down across the carpet and attacked her parts with my tongue, sticking two fingers inside her as well. “Shit!” she said.

I started to lick her anus as I carried on finger fucking her.  A always enjoyed being fingered and I found her easier to bring off that way than any other girls I had known at that point. I pressed my thunb on her arsehole but didn’t push too hard, just pressed in time with my finger thrusts. Her internal muscles gripped me and she flowed all over my fingers. I gently slowed down and pulled my fingers out of her.  The crotch of her kickers popped back to cover her bits.

“These knickers must be magic knickers!” I said.  Aphrodisiac knickers. Tantric knickers!”

“I wonder if the other colours will work so well!” she laughed. “And it’s only five o’clock!”

We lay on the floor on our backs, sweating and breathing heavily.

“Sorry if I was a bit rough!” I said.

“Liked it!” She lifted her bottom and pulled her knickers off.  She said that they were really too damp to wear now. “Well christened!” she said. She stood up and put her dressing gown on. She told me to put the kettle on as she would go to get the milk from the kitchen.  I filled the kettle and set it to boil.  I looked for some suitable post coital music and put on the Julian Bream/Gardiner recording of Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez. Bream and my mother had been at junior school together so it was his recording she had bought for me for my birthday a year or two before. She remembered him as being an annoying little boy with a runny nose.  She would never have thought that he would grow up to be one of the world’s greatest guitarists.

I decided to make our tea with tea leaves.  I sometimes did that the year before, especially for C, although it was a pain disposing of the leaves but with a kitchen only a few yards away it was much easier in my new room. I had bought some Royal Blend at Fortnum and Mason over the summer so used that. A returned with the milk carton and said we would need to get another one as it would only just do our two mugs.  Having no milk would be worse than an essay crisis, so after we had had our tea we got dressed and went to Sainsbury’s.  A put on her pale blue knickers as she said her pink ones were now too ‘skanky’.  She said that she thought that these were working for her just as well as the pink ones.

In the previous year I had got my milk in the Co-op but Sainsbury’s was much closer and had more tempting food.  We discussed whether we should cook again or go out.  I had decided I didn’t mind spending my money on A, particularly as she was going like a bomb, although whether that was because of her rebound situation or the fact that she was genuinely pleased to be with me I wasn’t entirely sure.  We had to decide quickly, before the supermarket closed.  At the last minute A decided on steak and salad as she said I needed ‘protein to make more spunk’.

The problem was, as we discovered, that although the Baby Belling had a grill setting there was no grill pan. I searched on the other floors but they didn’t seem to have them either. A said she would just pan fry them. We had enough butter. I made some French dressing with oil, vinegar and some Dijon mustard which we had remembered to buy at the last minute.  The salad wasn’t very exciting; just lettuce. cucumber and tomatoes. A chopped it all up into little pieces with a carrot, left over from the Bolognaise. She called it a Cranks Salad, from a vegetarian restaurant in London she had been to.

L and W came in saying there were nice smells.  A apologised for hogging the kitchen as well as the bathroom but L said she didn’t mind unless we started to have sex in the kitchen too. W said she really would join in then.  I disappeared to Victoria Wine to get some more wine while A started preparing the steak, chopping tiny pieces of garlic to rub into it.  I was slightly worried what she and L might say to each other, so did the whole return trip as fast as I could. I bought three bottles of Chianti as they were on offer.  I took four glasses and a bottle into the kitchen.  Land W were still there, as I had hoped, although they all stopped talking as soon as I went through the door.

“What have you been talking about?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Girl talk!” said A. I offered them all a glass of wine, while A cooked the steak, which they initially turned down but I told them I had bought three bottles.  “How do you like it?” A asked after it had been in the frying pan for a minute. I told her that if she did the other side like that it would be perfect. to L and W’s horror, who said it wouldn’t be cooked at all.  “Come around for some more wine after!” said A to the other girls as she served up the dinner onto my plates.

“After what?  The dinner or more...catching up!” said L.  W sniggered.

When we were back in my room I asked A what they had been talking about.  She told me not to worry, it wasn’t me. Well not directly, she added, not very comfortingly.  I pressed her but she wouldn’t say and said if the other two wanted to say that was OK but she wouldn’t. Over dinner A asked if she could stay over another day and go back Saturday.  I said of course.  I was slightly worried about when C would return but she tended to come back at the last minute.  If C came back on Friday and came up to my room and found A I wasn’t sure what might happen. I tried to banish this train of thought.  Why should I care what C thought?  No doubt she would be off to Magdalen as soon as she got back, although she hadn’t mentioned the creep in any letters.  Perhaps even C could be sensitive.  No, I thought.  She can't.

We were half way through the second bottle of Chianti when there was a knock on the door,

“Are you decent, “asked L.

“Very funny!” I said, opening the door.

L and W were good company and we chatted about College, how it worked and who was who.  I gave L a good briefing on her fellow law students and the tutors.

“I met one, he was a complete shit!” said A.  Being nice and not wanting to besmirch the tutor’s reputation I said that we had particular issues. A then explained the whole Principal’s collection thing.

“So you and this other girl are famous College lovers?” asked W.

“They are! They are!” said A, who was getting a bit tipsy, as we had opened the third bottle of wine. “Especially when they got caught doing it in the laundry!”  L looked at me and raised her eyebrows.  She asked A if she wasn’t jealous but A said we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, just close friends who had sex.  A told them how we had met and how young she had been. L seemed to be a bit shocked when A said she was fourteen at the time.  A and I were shocked to find out  that in the state where L came from the age of consent was eighteen. Different states had different ages, although I realised that all my girls had been eighteen or over so it hadn't made any difference in reality. A then said how we had nearly done it when she was fifteen,  

"How near was near?" asked L.   L, I later discovered, really liked talking about sex, although W was looking a bit uncomfortable. A said that I was just in her entrance.  "Probably counts, legally!" she said. This then started a very personal discussion about how old L was for her first time (seventeen) and we found out that L’s boyfriend was back in America.  He was older than her (and she was twenty four, we discovered) and had been in the Vietnam War.  A asked how this would work and it became obvious that L thought, like A, and that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work.

“He has to be there, inside you regularly or it’s pointless!” added L.  A nodded in agreement. W didn’t have a boyfriend so was ‘on the hunt’, as she said. 

“He likes redheads!” said A. I didn’t really want A trying to foist me on W, who wasn’t that attractive. Well, her face was quite attractive but she had a rather square looking body.  She played lacrosse, I later discovered and had thick, muscular legs. An attribute I had not yet come to value. At about ten thirty, L stood up and said that they had better leave us in peace.  We got ready for bed.  As I cleaned my teeth, standing naked in front of the basin, A came up behind me and cupped my prick and balls. “Sorry if I was embarrassing!” she said.  I turned around and kissed her.

“It’s fine!” I said.  I kissed her again.  There was something about A that just meant I wanted to kiss her all the time.  We got into bed and lay on our sides again, although this time she went behind me.  Spooning up was really a necessity in such a small bed. She reached over me and started to massage my cock and kiss my shoulders.

“How often do you wank?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“Yes you do!  Every day?  Every two days?”

“How do you define wank?” I asked her, as she kept rubbing me.

“That is such a lawyer’s reply!” she said.

“I don’t know.  I don’t count!” I said, reaching behind me to try and get at her pussy.

“No fiddling until you answer the question!” she said, pushing my hand away. “Just playing with yourself counts.  You don’t have to come!”

“Every day, then!” I said.

“How?  What do you do?” I told her that it was just like she was doing to me now.  She obviously wanted details so I said that first thing in the morning I usually had a little play but didn’t always come. I might play with myself a bit if I was reading in private in my room. “I do that!” she interjected.  I said I would usually have a proper one last thing at night, as ejaculating helped me sleep, “What do you think about?” she asked.

“Girls, of course!”  At least she didn’t ask me about men’s magazines.

“Me?”

“I think you will feature very heavily next week!” I laughed.

“You will for me too!” she said and let go of me.  “Do a bit for me now!”  Girls did seem to like watching that, I thought. I started to stroke myself and she immediately gripped my wrist. “Don’t come though!” she said, moving her hand so she cupped my balls.

“Easier said than done with you in the bed snuggled up behind me!  She took her fingers off my balls.  I could feel her undulating behind me. I didn’t go at full speed as I didn’t want to come.

“I’m playing with myself too now!” she said. “You keep going!” she gasped.

“If I don’t stop I am going to come!” I said.

“Alright!  Stop!” she stopped moving. She rolled onto her back and I twisted right round so I was facing her. “How much have you got?”

“How much what?”

“Spunk!  In your balls!” I laughed and said I didn’t think that she had left me with much over the past few days. She had said that she would like to watch me pump out a lot, like I had obviously done the first time on Sunday morning.  "I could feel it but I couldn't see it!" I told her she would have to come back another time and give me sufficient notice. She asked if I would mind not doing it that night so I could make some more for tomorrow. I said that would be fine but I said I would like some sexy fun before sleep. “Fingers!” she said.  I lay next to her and gently fingered her for some time.  We kissed often.  I had two fingers rubbing the top of her cunt and my thumb on her clit.  She clamped my hand with her thighs and flowed. It was ages before I lost my erection but we spooned up again and I eventually fell asleep, despite my frustration.

Thursday, October 9^th

Next morning we had a nice cuddle but A wouldn’t let me come, even though we did it gently for a while. I needed the loo so was able to control myself. She said I needed more spunk making time. We went into the shower together again. Although we made sure we went to the loo separately before then. A teased my cock by wiggling her bottom at me so her lower back rubbed it but she wouldn’t touch it, telling me that I needed to discipline myself.

“Maybe I should discipline you!” I joked.

“Are you talking about corporal punishment?” she said..

“It was just a joke,” I said.

“Sounded more like a promise!  A naughty, inappropriate promise!” she said, rubbing her breasts with her soapy hands.  I couldn’t work out whether she liked the sound of the idea or not. If it had been C she would have bent down, gripped her ankles and ordered me to spank her. I was having trouble, perhaps, identifying the boundaries with A.  In my mind she was still, to a certain extent, the sweet fourteen year old schoolgirl I had met at archery club,  However, sexually she seemed more assertive.  The filthy language from her was more like C than H, who I, initially, thought she would now be more like.  I had a brief image of H in the shower with me as I took A against the tiles for a bit again while squeezing her soapy tits.

We dried ourselves and I stayed stiff throughout the process.  I said it was a good job I had been to the loo earlier, given men couldn’t piss with an erection. She said that she thought having a wee stopped erections.  She had seen it happen.

“I thought you had never seen a man wee,” I said.

“I never said that.  I had never seen you wee,” she laughed, tickling my shaft. “Wee fun!”

We got dressed and I enjoyed A standing in my room dressed in just a pair of pink ankle socks while she sniffed her pale blue knickers.  She had put them on clean the evening before.  She sniffed them again and frowned. I pointed out that she still had the white ones and the black ones.

“Three days but only two pairs of knickers!” she mused, sniffing them again. She decided to wash them in my washbasin using a tiny bit of my new washing powder.  She scrubbed and rinsed and twisted them in her hands to try and get as much water out as possible.  She hung them over my radiator. “Fucks up the elastic though,” she said, arranging them carefully.  I must have looked surprised. “Sorry, messes up the elastic.  Forgot you don’t like swearing! Never heard you swear.  Not bad, like me.  Sorry.”

“It’s fine.  Just not that used to it.  Especially from girls.”  Not quite true, of course. She put her new white knickers on and, after stroking her groin a little, got dressed while I cooked some toast.  I had bought a toaster over the summer, as I didn’t have the gas fire any more.  We had ginger marmalade on it, which was always my favourite.

After breakfast we walked to College so I could check my pigeonhole for post, as it was getting close to term time and there might be the new lecture timetable.  College was now busy and I saw several people from my year. There was nothing except a letter from my friend at Cambridge, F, giving details of his birthday party the weekend after next. I would right to J and see if she might meet up.  Probably not. I thought. We went on a walk around what I thought of as the colleges on the unfashionable side of the High; Merton, University, Oriel and Corpus Christi.  They seemed to be in a quiet, cramped backwater, away from the more buzzing part of town. Merton famously had the best food at Oxford; reputedly because a rich American was so appalled by the food his son had to eat that he paid for a chef to come in and sort the menus out. I always wanted to eat there once during my three years but never did, but then, supposedly, our college had the second best food and it didn’t seem brilliant.  That said, some of the food I had in other colleges (Christ Church!) really was dire and at least ours was cheaper than most.  Outside Oriel, we ran into someone who had been in my year at school, he had been, unusually, in the Oxford Boat Race crew in his first year.. The following April. Oriel would have four rowers out of eight in the Oxford Boat Race crew, such was their rowing dominance and two of those had been to my school.  We chatted briefly and he later told me how attractive he thought my ‘girlfriend’ was. Sadly, she was back in Scotland by then.

We bought lunch at Sainsbury’s, baguette and brie, while we wondered what to do that afternoon. It had started raining again so we sat and wrote up our journals for a while; reading out passages to each other and getting aroused, although A said I had to ‘build up more steam’ before I got any release. At about two thirty there was a knock on the door and it was R, from my year, who had just moved into the room opposite.  We made her some tea and gave her some biscuits. An hour later L turned up with a fruitcake.  She said she had tried to get us something called chocolate brownies but nowhere sold them. It was some sort of American cake but none of us had heard of them.  She said she would attempt to make some another day. We were all going to Hall that evening so agreed to go together. After they had left A said it was time to put her new dress on.  She decided to eschew a bra and put her black hold ups on again.  She put on her new black knickers and they certainly looked very fine.  They had a sheer triangle of fabric at the front, with lace flowers embroidered on it, a matching sheer seat and the two parts (of course it was one part, really, but I thought of it as a front and back) were connected by a narrow band of elasticated lace at the sides. 

“Wow!” was all I could manage as I looked at her in them. They were so low cut the top curls of her pubic hair peeked over the waistband, which was, in fact, well below her waist.  She looked at herself in the mirror.

“I should charge you fifty quid to do me in these!” she said.

“Happy to pay!” I said.

“Really?” she said.

“Yes!” I answered laughing.

“I can’t charge you fifty pounds.  But would you pay five?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said.

“Five pounds to fuck me in these knickers?  You don’t have to, of course.  But it would be very exciting for me to be bought!”

“Exciting for me too!” Luckily, I had a fiver in my wallet and I handed it to her. She looked at it and grinned at me. She folded the note and tucked it over the waistband of her knickers. She then worried about wearing plimsolls with stockings but I said no one would notice.  She said girls would.

R, L, W, A and I all walked to College together. A took my arm and W took my other arm. There were some people from our year there but most of the people were freshers who bombarded us with questions over a not bad dinner.

“Giving them a false sense of security about dinner,” as R observed. A had to explain that she wasn’t at College and B and L had to explain that they were technically freshers too.  Many of the questions revolved around the imminent matriculation ceremony.  None of those near us were lawyers, although one or two on other tables, who were, were pointed out to us. None of them were attractive girls as I had half hoped. There were anxious questions about the workload and what tutorials were like, which R and I tried our best to answer. “Don’t worry, as you aren’t lawyers you don’t have the most to do, at least,” said R. The freshers looked at me in a rather awestruck way.

After a main course of pork and Portuguese potatoes, which were just normal roast potatoes cooked with some tinned tomatoes, the pudding was the dreaded Pear Condé, of poached pear and cold rice pudding.

“Is the food always like this?” asked a cute little fresherette from up north.

“No,” I said.  “It’s usually much worse!”

“And never sit next to Mr C from China if it is rice at dinner,” added R.

“The most important lesson,” I said.  The freshers nodded.

“My God they seem so young!” said L, as we walked back to the annexe.

“Same age as me!” said A. She then had to explain that in Scotland they started university at seventeen so, although she was in her second year, she was still only eighteen. “You seem older,” said L.  “You certainly behave older!”  A laughed. “And you,” she said to me.  “Are a cradle snatcher!”  When we got back to the top floor of the annexe L asked us all in to her room for coffee. “Unless you two have other things to do!” she said.

“Sometimes it’s good to build anticipation,” said A.

“She is very tantric,” I added.  R looked baffled but L seemed to know what was going on. We all piled into L’s room, which looked out onto New Inn Hall Street, rather than the Union.  It had a proper ceiling and a conventional window rather than my skylight.  It was also quite a lot bigger than my room. R’s room was a mirror image of mine and, coincidentally, one of my male friends would have it the followingyear. Strangely, also, he had the room next to H’s for that year.  I sat on the floor and A sat between my legs.  R kept glancing at us and I wondered how much K had told her about C and I. We chatted for an hour or so until about 9.30. L said she was still feeling a bit weird from the jet lag, even though it was technically the afternoon for her.  

“Have fun!” said L, as we left.

“Hope you’ve got earplugs!” said W to R.

A and I closed the door to my room and just stood and looked at each other.  I thought she might jump me, like she had all those years ago in my bedroom, after our picnic at the river. She grinned.

“Dirty as you want tonight,” she said.  “Only one rule.  I need to see you ejaculate!”  For the first time, I felt a bit of pressure to perform with A.  What did she want me to do?

“Get on the floor!” I said.  Her smile showed that this, at least, had been a good start.  We had a good roll about; snogging and gradually removing each other’s clothes.  I got my hand under her dress to feel her thighs above her stockings and then slipped my fingers under the flimsy black knickers.  I found the five pound note, still tucked in the waistband of her knickers. I pulled it out and waved it in front of her face.  She smiled.

"Do anything you like.  I'm paid for!" I rolled her over onto her tummy and kissed her bottom through the black knickers, while pushing her dress up.  The fastenings of her dress were at the back so I undid them and pulled her dress off.  She squirmed about as I kissed her backbone and neck. Eventually naked, I knelt between her thighs.  She was on her back again, her stockings still on, although one of them had slipped down a bit, and her pubic hair was barely contained by the tiny black knickers.  I looked at her crotch. She reached down and took hold of the crotch of her knickers and pulled the fabric up into her crack. Her thick labia closed over part of it.  She tugged at it so it rubbed against her parts; looking at me all the while.  She looked like a Penthouse Pet.

I leant over her and started to suck her nipples, while nuzzling my cock head against her groin.  She took hold of me and I slid into her, her black knickers crotch rubbing against my shaft. I gave her half a dozen strokes and then pulled out of her.  I wriggled up over her so my cock was against her mouth, a position we wouldn’t have been able to manage in bed because of the wall.

“Suck it!” I ordered, knowing it was dripping with her juices.  I suddenly wanted to see how dirty sweet innocent A had become. My cock head was in her mouth in a second but she didn’t move.  Instead she pressed my bottom. I pushed myself into her mouth.  She still didn’t move.  I pulled out and thrust in again. “Mmm! Mmm!” she said. I knelt up astride her chest and started to fuck her mouth in earnest.  She reached around me to caress my balls.  She was making huge amounts of saliva as I carried on thrusting.  I could feel her tongue working on my shaft now as her spit dribbled over her chin. I pulled out briefly, worried I was choking her, given the noises she was making.  “Fucking hell!” she said. I wriggled back down her and pulled her knickers down to her knees before pushing her thighs back towards her shoulders.  I kissed the exposed skin above her thighs, her bottom and her pussy while I stuck my thumb in her cunt. I slid one finger up her arsehole.  Deep inside I felt a squishy pellet of shit.  I didn’t stop; squeezing my finger and thumb together against the thick fleshy barrier between her two holes.  I pulled my hand out so I could lick her parts and she grabbed my wrist and started to suck the finger and thumb fthat had been inside her. 

I rolled her onto her tummy and parted her thighs.  I entered her from behind and gave her another half dozen strokes.  I was on the edge of coming so pulled out, to try to recover my composure a bit. She wriggled out from underneath me and made me lie on my back.  She sucked me for a bit and then sat on my face, smothering me with her musky, sopping pussy.  My tongue worked at her frantically.  She was swearing and gasping as she ground herself on my face. After a while she pulled off me and moved back so she could kiss me. I must have tasted of her prawn cocktail flavoured cunt but she was licking my face like a dog. Then she moved back and knelt over my thighs.  We looked at each other, panting.

“Don’t come!” she said, sitting over me and rotating her hips.

“Easier said than done!” I replied.  I was aware that in several of our couplings that week I had gone off far too early.  She still had her knickers and stockings on.  “I’m close!” I said.  There was nothing I could do to stop it. She lifted off, squatting over my thighs, keeping the crotch of her knickers pushed to one side and to my complete shock pissed on my erection.  It was only a very short squirt but she had quite clearly pissed on me. It was a flood of wet warmth that I might have not been shocked by if it had been C.  But A? She took hold of my dripping erection and began to rub it, frantically.  It had only been twenty four hours since I had come but I went off like a fireman’s hose squiring foam.  Straight up it went, about two feet.  Pattering over A’s hair and face. She held me upright, having stopped wanking me and the next one went all over her belly and tits. I kept emptying my balls, all over her hand and my hips and thighs.

“Spunk!” she said, looking completely delighted.  “Christ!  I’m covered in it!” She was too. Spattered with thick gouts of pearlescent white which was gradually liquefying and running down her body.  She lay full length on top of me, mixing my spunk and her piss as she undulated over me.  “Dirty!  Dirty!” she said.  I rolled her over on to her back stuck two fingers into her and rubbed the top of her cunt until she came.  I knelt astride her hips looking down at her.  She grinned.  “Sorry to wee on your carpet.  More came out than I intended!”

“Oh!” was all that I could manage.    It wasn’t nearly as much as C had let go by accident once but it was different as this was deliberate. She had apologised to me about pissing on my carpet but not about pissing on me.

“Nice?” she asked.  “Or nasty!”

“You are a surprising girl,” I answered, thinking that this really was was more the sort of thing that C would do.   C had told K once that she had pissed herself when we were having sex and K was absolutely appalled at such disgusting behaviour. I wasn’t sure how to answer.  The warm squirt had actually felt very nice and was certainly naughty.  I wondered if it came from her Eastern sex book.

“Sorry,” she said, realising that I was shocked.  “Thought you might like it!”

“I think I did.  Just really surprised!” I said.

“Told you I was a dirty girl, now!  Let’s have a bedtime shower! I put my dressing gown on and looked out of the door.  I could actually see if the bathroom was occupied from the doorway.  It wasn’t.  I told A and she followed me out in her dressing gown.  I would certainly be putting mine in the wash, which I intended to do on Saturday.  I needed a piss but A hustled me into the shower section. “Come here!” she said.  She was standing in the back of the shower but hadn’t switched it on yet.  She came forward to embrace me and rubbed her groin against my thigh.  I pushed my leg forward to press against her pussy and then I felt the now familiar warmth again.

“Oh my God!” I said.  She just flowed and flowed over my thigh.   After a while she stepped back and I watched fascinated as another pale jet was squirted from her pussy.  She looked down at her pussy and then up at me as she continued to flow in ever decreasing spurts.  Eventually she must have lost pressure as it ran down the inside of her thigh. “Now it’s your turn!”

“I think I’m alright!” I said.

“You always need a wee after you’ve come!” she said, correctly.

“Oh!  Well stand back!” I said.  I took hold of myself and realised her abandoned display was starting to make me swell a bit.

“Don’t hold it!  Just go!” She said.  I did and it went all over her shins.

“Sorry!  Sorry!” I said.  She then put her hand in my stream and brought it up so her fingers were cuping my genitals.  My piss flowed all over har hand and down my legs, She grabbed my prick and waved it about so I spattered her tummy and pussy.

“Isn’t that warm and nice?” she said. It really was except I was now worried about cleaning up the shower stall. Her hand was now holding my slightly erect cock up and she was massaging me as I kept pissing.  All that tea at L’s. It was now going all over my stomach and running down my legs.  Eventually I stopped and I switched the shower on, as I was desperate to get all the piss washed away.  Of course, without having warmed it up it came out cold and most of it landed on A.

“Shit!” she squealed. We washed each other and I made sure plenty of shampoo was swilled around the shower floor. We dried ourselves and put on our none too clean dressing gowns.  I knew there was some bleach under the kitchen sink.  I discarded my dirty dressing gown in one of my dirty linen Sainsbury’s bags and pulled on my jeans and shirt.  Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen so I could take the bleach, swill some around the shower and run more really hot water down the drain after it.

Eventually I got back into my room.  A had lit just one candle and was standing, naked, at my wash basin, cleaning her teeth. She asked if I had any clean sheets as mine must now be a bit 'skanky'.  I said I did and got them out of the wardrobe.  The kettle boiled and A poured a little water on a couple of patches on the carpet. She added a couple of drops of shampoo and scrubbed it with one of my dishcloths.

“Is that all?” I said.

“Yes, hardly any at all, really!  All clean.  Anyway, it’s sterile, wee, so you don’t really have to worry about the shower.  I made the bed and put the dirty sheets in with my dressing gown.  I even had a spare duvet cover so changed that too, although that was more of performance, although A came and helped and sorted it our by actually climbing inside the duvet cover. Her bottom was sticking up out of it and I kissed it as she wriggled about inside.  We climbed into bed and the clean sheets and pillowcase felt lovely on our recently washed bodies.  I lay behind her and put my arm around her. I didn’t say anything for ages. “Sorry. Failed again!” she said. “I thought you’d like it.  I loved my first time for wee fun!” So it hadn’t even been her first time.  This upset me even more.  I told her she didn’t have to be outrageous to be sexy.  I liked her as she was. She said that who she was now was different from who she was three years ago.  I told her that she didn’t have to be anyone other than herself.  She didn’t have to compete with C or H. “Or her sister!” she added.   “I’ve grown up.   My parents don’t realise.  I’m a woman and know what I want.  They look at me and see the little girl in a pink dress, with pigtails, cutting out pictures for her scrap book.  They would die if they could see me on my back, my knees up to my shoulders being fucked by some man.  Him spurting in my cunt.  Me swearing and coming.  But that is who I am as much as their version.  More so now.”  She asked me if I had met any of my women’s fathers.  I realised I hadn’t.  She said that when I did I should take notice of how they looked at me.  To see if they were thinking about their little angel being ravished.  I hadn’t thought about it.

She asked if we could agree now that when she went back to Edinburgh we shouldn’t save ourselves for each other.  She made me promise that I would pursue any girl who took my fancy as she was going to do that with men. 'Don’t look for a girlfriend,' she said. 'Look for sex. It’s much less complicated'. 

“But I want to have a girlfriend!” I said.

“Do you?  Do you really?  Or do you just like fucking?”  I said I really liked her more than for just that.  She said she knew and kissed me. “How about a nice traditional one before sleep?” And a traditional one we had; in the missionary position with lots of kissing.  Slow and gentle until I dribbled inside her. I pulled out and lay on my side, facing the wall, She spooned up behind me. “Sorry!” she said, kissing my neck.

“Nothing to be sorry about!” I replied patting her bottom.  But I had realised that A was no longer the girl I had known more than three years before.  

Friday, October 10^th

I woke first on the Friday morning, A’s last full day in Oxford.  We had had five days of fun and lots of sex. The most sex I had ever had in one continuous period of time, I thought.  A seemed to want it about three times a day.  C and I had had days like that but not for day after day. It had far surpassed anything that I had hoped for when I had stood waiting for A at the station on that rainy Saturday.  Like H’s sister J, though, she had made it clear that she was not my girlfriend.  With J, after my initial disappointment, that didn’t matter.  Just lovely sex with no strings. I didn’t mind, really.  With A, however, I had been hoping for more, especially after we did It, properly, for the first time.  Could we go back to being boyfriend and girlfriend, despite the distance between us?  There were people in College who had partners back home and L, indeed, had her boyfriend back in the US. I lay on my side, facing the wall, thinking about this. I needed the loo but didn’t want to wake A, who had her back to me.  I thought about her pissing antics the previous night.  I had found it sexy, in retrospect, not least because it was such an intimate thing to do.  If it had been C or J. it would have been wildly exciting and naughty but because it was A I felt that she was demeaning herself in a way.  We had a reverend as one of our teachers at school and he told a dirty joke once in class which shocked us all.  Not because it was particularly dirty but because he was a reverend.  He shouldn't be doing that, we felt. Likewise I felt that piss games were perhaps, a bit desperate for A.  I wondered if it had anything to do with her previous partners but I didn’t really want to know.

“You awake?” she hissed, quietly.

“Yes!” I said.  She turned over so she was spooned up behind me and immediately grabbed my cock which was partially erect.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, starting to rub my length.

“Lots of things.  You and me.  Us.”

“There is no us.  There is a you and me.”   I decided not to pursue it.  “Roll over!”  I lay on my back and she wriggled down the bed and started to run her open mouth along my length.  She didn’t suck my knob but was performing on me as if I was a mouth organ.  Literally. She stopped after a while.  “You’re distracted.  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” I said.

“It was the wee fun, wasn’t it?  You didn’t like it.”

“It was exciting and different.  Do you do that a lot?”  I had to ask.  She told me a story of her having rough, dry skin on her feet. One of her fellow cross country runner had said urine on her feet would soften them.  She had tried it in the shower and discovered she liked the sensation of ‘weeing down my thighs’.  It felt naughty but also warm and nice.  She later found out that she was supposed to wipe her feet with urine and let it soak for fifteen minutes not just piss on herself in the shower and then wash it away instantly. Abandoning the supposed medical reason she just tended to let the first one of the day go in the shower. She soon started to masturbate while doing it and now associated pissing with sex.  Especially when she told her boyfriend and he wanted to watch.

“I tried to get him into the shower with me so he could go too but he wouldn’t!” she said, still stroking my cock.  “Wanted to watch but didn’t want my wee on his feet!”

“So I was the first?” I asked.

“No.  Sorry!  I must sound like a completely weird, nympho slag!”

“I enjoy your sexuality!  It is refreshingly adventurous!”

“I just love sex!” she laughed.  She pulled me onto my back and sat astride my hips, guiding me inside her. “I’d like to wee all over you now!” she said.  I asked her not to, as I didn’t want a soaked mattress and I had clean sheets. She laughed and climbed off me.  She bent down and licked my slimy cock for a bit, laving her own juices off me. She kissed me and then sucked me some more until I came in her mouth. She knelt between my legs on her haunches, grinning.  I told her I was going to miss her.  She told me I needed to get a nice young fresher to despoil.  “Eighteen.  Wide-eyed.  Innocent.  Until you stick it up her and she discovers a whole new world.  A new planet!” I had actually thought the same thing.  Largely to annoy C, although definitely not one from College.  One of my old school friends had said that the first week of the year was full of events for fershers and that they were excellent hunting grounds for men looking for innocent and impressionable girls.  It didn’t sound like my sort of thing at all. Girls had always approached me, I hadn’t really pursued them. “Time for a shower!” said A, after a while.  “Do you want to watch me poo!” she asked, as she sat on the loo. I demurred on that one and just ran the shower to warm it up while she did her business.  

Fortunately she didn’t then insist on watching me, as I feared she might, and I was able to go in private. We got dressed and looked out the window.  It was pouring with rain again. I asked her what she wanted to do on her last day.  

“Glad to be rid of me, eh?” she said.  I said not at all but she seemed to think that she had gone too far with me and I was disappointed in her.  I reassured her that she wasn’t but she seemed quiet and distracted.  I said that she needed a proper cooked breakfast which cheered her up a bit.  I took her to The Nosebag and she seemed to be returinng to her usual cheery self.  I didn’t want us parting under even the smallest cloud, so vowed to give her a good day.  It was not a day, however, for wandering the streets. It was a shame that we had already done the Ashmolean. I told her I needed to go to Smiths to get some lined paper.  It was just a short walk from the Nosebag.  We looked around separately.  There weren’t many pads of paper left so I was glad I had gone in.  It was a big Smiths and had a record and a book section.  I spotted a book I thought would be perfect for A, which I manged to buy without her noticing.  I put it in the bag with my pad of paper.   I caught up with A at the till.  She was buying a big pack of coloured felt tip pens.  I asked her how she was going to fit anything else in her bag and worried about the book I had bought her. She said everything went in the backpack. Even her scooter. I discovered that she had a motor scooter and had also passed her driving test.  I had tried when I was seventeen. Failed and given up on it. I wouldn't pass my test for nearly another ten years. As I stood there, G, one of my fellow lawyers came up to me and asked how my holiday had been.  We talked about the contract essay and said that he had seen C and she was in a right state as she hadn’t written it. 

“Is she back, then?” I asked.

“Got in late last night!” he said.  I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. A came over to me, smiling.  G looked at her with interest. I introduced her as an old friend from home who had come to have a look at Oxford.  I was worried she might put her arm around me or something but she didn’t, thankfully. We trudged back to my room.

“Alright?” she asked.  I said I was fine. I wasn’t.  Why was I worried about C at all or what she might think? When we got back to my room there was a note on the piece of paper on my door.  ‘Where ARE you?  I need you NOW!  Come to my room IMMEDIATELY! Cxx’.  She had put the time on it.  About an hour and a half previously. “Is that from her?”  I nodded.  “What a bossy bitch!” I let us in and put my bag down.  I started to take my shoes off.  “What are you doing?  You have to go to C!” said A.

“Not going to!” I said.

“You must!  And I’m coming with you!  I have to meet this girl!  Unless you don’t want me there!”  I took the latter comment as an implication that I didn’t want A’s presence to queer my pitch with C.

“OK!” I said.  We went downstairs and across to the  house where C and K had their rooms that year.  C’s room was on the first floor.  She wasn’t in, to my immense relief. A told me to leave her a note.  I worried that C would then come up to my room as soon as we got back. I wrote a very brief note.  I did not put a kiss after my name as I usually did. Back in my room I hid the book I had bought for A on the top shelf of my wardrobe.  I would give it to her later. I fretted about C arriving any second.  “Let’s go out to lunch, as it’s your last day!” I said.

“Let’s go out so you don’t have to see your mad girlfriend with me about!” said A.

“That would be an added benefit, although she is not my girlfriend!” I said.

“She really messed you up, didn’t she?” asked A.  “Come on then but nothing too heavy!  We had a big breakfast!” We didn’t want to go far so I took her to the Oxford Union where we had soup in the Macmillan Room.  A was very impressed by the place and I gave her a tour.  On the noticeboard was a poster asking for writers, photographers and artists to work on a new student magazine.  There was a name of a girl at Balliol as a contact.  “You should do that!” urged A.  “Meet some new people!”  I didn’t really want to meet new people but who, knew, there might be some nice girls signing up.  I wrote the name down on my hand with a felt tip from the reception desk.

When we got back to my room C had left another note. ‘In the Stally (the law library). Pick me up for dinner!’ 

“Let’s go out for dinner too!” I said.

“Was she always this bossy?” asked A.

“Yes.”

“Let’s have a cuddle!  You’re all tense!  You need a nice relaxing blowjob!”  It should have been lovely, as A went to work with her soft, wet mouth, a few minutes later but I kept expecting C to bang on the door any minute. “Dear oh dear!” said A.  “You are tense, aren’t you?”

“Sorry!” I said. She crawled up and lay on top of me.  She kissed me.  “Don’t get emotionally involved with any girls this year.  Find ones who want sex, just do them and move on.  You won’t have any trouble attracting girls.  You’re gorgeous.”

“So are you!” I said, kissing her. We lay there, together, the rain hammering on my skylight.  It was so dark I had had to put the light on. There was a knock on my door.  My heart leapt.  I didn’t move and realised I was actually holding my breath. There was another knock and then someone wrote on the paper on my door. I heard them go downstairs.

“That was her!” said A.  I told her it wasn’t and it sounded like K’s knock not C’s.  “That’s a shame.  I wanted to meet her too”  I was glad she hadn’t.  Given the remote possibility that there might still be something between H and I, I didn’t want K blabbing about a girl in my room, as she certainly would.  

I asked where A wanted to go to dinner. I ran some types of restaurant past her.  “Not Italian.  Loads of those in Scotland.  Chinese would be nice!” I told her that there were a couple close by, given the weather.  I later found out that there had been around four inches of rain in twenty four hours. We got dressed and spent some time writing up our journals.  I made some tea and put some music on, Brahms Fourth, and started to feel better. It was one of A’s favourites and I had played it for K once when we had had a bit of a moment the previous year. I leant over and took, A’s chin in my hand.

“I love you!” I said.

“Course you do!  But try not to!” I felt a wash of disappointment flood through me. “No, no more moping!  It’s my last evening and I want a nice dinner, alcohol and to have lovely sex afterwards.  Do you think you can do that?”  I nodded.  “Good!  I’ll even go knickerless in my dress for you!”  We had a nice dinner at the Opium Den.  A had duck in plum sauce and I had beef.  She asked if I wanted a beer and I told her I didn’t like it, to her surprise.  “Probably best if I don’t have it then.  It makes me wee buckets!  You couldn’t cope!”

“I probably could.  Not in my bed though!  I don’t know if wine goes with Chinese,” I said. A said that German wine went well.  I looked down on German wine, as it had a pretty poor reputation among proper wine drinkers at the time but A was keen and I ordered another bottle.  A was getting quite merry and very tactile, stroking my thigh under the table.

“How do you want me?” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“How do you want to have me?  After dinner?  Me on top. You on top?  Spooned up? From behind?”  I looked at her and smiled.

“Every way!”

“Good answer! Fancy some lychees?”

When we got back to my room we did indeed go through every permutation we could think of, rolling around on the floor. Kissing, licking and sucking.  I told her she was a very naughty girl abandoning me to go back to Edinburgh  I pulled off one of her stockings and tied her wrists together and then to the leg of my desk, pushed her into a kneeling position and took her from behind.  She cursed absolutely filthily throughout and I came deep inside her. She was collapsed on the floor, her chest on her thighs, panting.

“OK?” I asked, wondering if I had been too rough with her.

“That.  That was fantastic!” I untied her.  She pulled off her other stocking and dropped them in the bin.  They had both got big holes in.  “What’s the time?”  I looked at my clock.  It was about ten. “Can I ask for something outrageous?”

“What?  Haven’t we done everything outrageous, now?” 

What A wanted was to have a bath in the nice bathroom in New Quad back in the main College building.  I tried to gently dissuade her but she was adamant.  I pointed out that it wasn’t actually that nice, by any other standards, only in comparison to other bathrooms in College.  I said that someone might be in it and we would have to get dressed and walk all the way there in the rain. She insisted and so ten minutes later we were walking through the drizzle to College.

“Thanks for this!” she stopped to give me a kiss in the dark shadows of Brasenose Lane. She had packed the candles in a carrier bag but I drew the line at taking my cassette player.  We also didn’t have bubble bath.  Amazingly, there was no-one in the bathroom and not much sign of life in College at all. “Maybe we’ll run into C!” she said.  This had been the main reason I hadn’t wanted to go back as I suspected C would be in the law library desperately writing her essay. Although it was due in at the beginning of term G had said that they didn’t actually have to be submitted until Tuesday.  No doubt C, being brilliant, would pull it off and avoid the penal collection. The curtains of the law library onto the quad were closed.  We walked in to the building and turned the corner, away from the short corridor to the library and up the big broad stairs where H’s room had been the previous year.  I was just congratulating myself when a voice called up from the bottom of the stairs.

“C is looking for you. Oh!” It was M, a fellow lawyer from my year and one of my two close male friends in College.  I saw him take in A and look her up and down briefly.  “Are you going to have a b..”  I came down eight stairs and waved two fingers in front of his face.

“I’m not the one you’re looking for!”  He grinned.

“You’re not the one I’m looking for.”

“You can go on your way!”

“You can go on your way!”  He looked at A agin, smiled and went towards the law library.  I knew I could rely on him and was grateful that it wasn’t one of the more gossipy students from my year.

“He felt the Force!” laughed A as we climbed to the top of the stairs.

“I really hope so!” I said.  The problem with this staircase was that everyone knew it had a nice bathroom on it. I only relaxed when we were inside the bathroom and I had bolted the door.

“I bet,  for a teeny tiny second. I bet that you wanted C and I in the bath together!” said A, pulling off her kagoule and shaking the rain off it.

“Yes.  If C had a completely different personality!”

“Have you been in this bath with two girls?”

“Look at it.  It’s big but not that big!”

“I take your point.  Have you ever...”  I stopped her and asked her not to ask questions about my romantic past.  She said she liked to know.  I said I knew that. She found a bottle of bubble bath on the windowsill.  “Look,look!”  I tried to persuade her not to steal it but she said she would only take a tiny bit, which she did, pouring it into the running water. She said she would top it up with a bit of water and the owner would never know. I told her it was theft, as she was intentionally depriving the owner of it. She told me to shut up being a lawyer and take my clothes off. She did the same. Naked, we climbed into the bath.  A made me take the taps end. She sat there massaging my erection in the foam.

 “Always nice and hard!” she said.  “Better than some of my men!”

“I don’t want to know!” She was quite tipsy, I realised.  I didn’t much like the German wine, which was too sweet for my tatse and she had drunk most of it.

“One of them was in his forties and sometimes he couldn’t get it up.  I mean it usually went in eventually but wasn’t pussy poundingly rigid like yours!” I didn’t say anything.  I couldn’t imagine not being able to get stiff for A.  I couldn't imagine not being able to get stiff at all. “Otherwise he was nice.  Bought me presents.  All great until his wife found out!” I asked her if he was one of her tutors, thinking of J.  She told me that he was a fellow student’s dad.  I was shocked but she just grinned.  “Got to try everything.  Even being a mistress!”  I told her I had brought her a present.  She asked what it was and I told her it was a book. “Good!  I like books!  Is it a picture book?  You only like picture books!”  I told her that if she had to read forty or fifty cases a week she would only like picture books too.  She said I had always preferred books with pictures in, even before I started studying law.  She knew me too well, I said. She leant back in the bath and tickled my sides with her feet.  I told her I was going to miss her and would she be off very early the next day.  She said we would have time for a goodbye one tomorrow morning as her train didn’t leave until after midday.  I asked her when I could next see her, wishing I hadn’t, thinking about how J had reacted. 

“You can come to see me in Scotland any time!” she said.  “You pay the enormous train fare!”

“Glasgow or Edinburgh?”

“Oh Glasgow would work really well. Hi, mum and dad, my friend is coming to stay.  I sucked him off when I was fourteen and he ate my pussy.  You remember, I stayed with him in Oxford and we fucked three times a day.  He can stay in my room so we can do it all night!”

“Perhaps Edinburgh might be better.”  The problem was that my terms were very short and intensive.  I couldn’t see how I could take enough time out from my studies to make it worth while.  Going to Cambridge was one thing but Edinburgh was a whole different country. She was doing languages and it was less pressured, well for her anyway, as she was really good at languages.

“Well it will have to be before May as that is when I finish the second year and I lose my room.”

“Or you could come and stay with me over the summer.”

“I’m going to Canada.”

“For how long?”

 A year.  I had forgotten that language students had a year abroad and A was going early to see the country and stay with some relatives in Vancouver before going to Quebec in September. I asked if she could come at Christmas.  She said that they didn’t have very long holidays at Christmas but after Christmas might work.  I offered to pay her train fare.

“Do you enjoy this paying for sex thing?”  I told her it wasn’t like that but she said she was joking.  She told me that I mustn’t forget to get a fresher by Christmas. I didn’t have to keep her just have her, she said. I thought the chance of that was unlikely. I hadn’t seen anyone very appealing looking when we had dinner in Hall. Anyway, I was worried that my 'famous' relationship with C would put them off.   Outside College, though.  Hmm.  She moved and sat on my cock and gently moved up and down a bit. “Never done it in the bath before!” she said, as I rubbed her tits.  It wasn’t really very easy in the bath and we stopped after a bit.  She sat on my lap facing the same was as me. “Can I see my present when we get back?”

“If you are very good I might let you see it tomorrow morning!”

“If I am very bad can I see it tonight?”

“There’s a thought!” I said.   I felt a wash of warmth between my legs.  She was pissing in the bath. I was stroking  her tummy and slid my hand over her mound.  I could feel the warmth flowing out of her.  "You are a bad girl, Aren't you?"  She said if I didn't let her see her book she would poo in the bath.  I hoped she was joking. She wriggled around so she was lying on top of me.  She asked me if I needed to go. I did after pushing so hard I was worried that I might pop out a poo.

"Wee fun!  You like it really!" she said.  I had to agree. I stroked her bottom. The bath foam had made it nice and oily.  

“You’re nice and oily!” I said.

“Like a seal!” she flapped her hands and made seal noises.  I shushed her and told her not to alarm the residents of the staircase.  I had insisted on showering after the bath but she said it was a tiny amount of wee in the whole bath, really. "I always wee in my bath!" she said. "Makes my skin soft!" Fortunately there was a bottle of bathroom cleaner on the windowsill as well. "You are so well behaved!" she scolded. By the time we had set off to the College annexe it was around midnight,

 Brasenose Lane was very dark.  The place was silent.  A turned to me and pulled the hem of her skirt up to her waist, displaying her knickerless pussy. “For another fiver you can have me up against the wall!” she said. I said I’d pay her a fiver to shut up and stop behaving like C.  She stuck her tongue out at me but we carried on walking down towards Cornmarket.  Just as we reached the end, one of my fellow lawyers from my year appeared coming the other way.  He looked at me and A, who had her arm around me, very carefully, as he approached.

“C is looking for you!” he said. “To talk about the contract essay!” Whether she was or whether he was just making it up because of A’s presence I was not sure. He walked on.

“He nearly got a good show!” laughed A.  I said it was a good job he hadn’t.

Back in my room A went to the loo, told me to light the candles and get her present out. I needed the loo too so she went down to the ladies. Ten minutes later I gave A the book I had bought for her: a copy of Starliners: Commercial Travel in 2020.  One of a series of books featuring the fictional Terran Trade Authority universe created by Stewart Cowley, they were largely an excuse to showcase a lot of science fiction book cover art illustrations by a number of artists. 

“Lots of pictures to inspire your space travels!” I said.  She flicked through the pages silently.  “OK?” I asked, after a while.  She was sat at my desk looking at the book in the candlelight.  She looked up at me and I could see tears trickling down her cheeks.

“It’s just perfect.  Perfect!”” she said.  She reached out for me and gave me a lovely, soft kiss. "Write something in it for me." I wrote: 'for dearest A and all the lovely time in our space capsule'. “You’ve been so nice to me.  I probably don’t deserve it!”  I told her that she certainly did. “Can you manage one more before sleep?” She stood up and took her dress off. 

“I don’t know!” I joked as she undid my shirt buttons.  I liked it when she stripped me.

“It will be a special one, I promise.  An exciting one!  An oily one!”

“I don’t have any more clean sheets!” I said as she undid my belt buckle.

“Old reliable!” she said, stroking my erection through my pants.  She stripped off the rest of my clothes, knelt on the floor and licked my cock for awhile.  She didn’t suck it or touch it with her hands just licked it. She stood up after a while and stripped my duvet and bedcover off. She went over to her backpack and pulled out her towel.  She folded it and put it midway down the bed.  I looked at her.  “I’m due.  Might get a bit messy. Do you mind?”  I told her that it didn’t worry me.  We kissed and cuddled and caressed on the bed.  To show her I wasn’t worried about her imminent period I licked her pussy enthusiastically.  I thought it did taste a bit different but I may have been imagining it. “Lie on your back!” she said and hopped out of bed.  She walked across the floor and squatted down in front of my little cupboard.  She came back holding my olive oil.

“What’s that for?”

“Have you ever seen Last Tango in Paris?”  I told her that I hadn’t.  She made me hold my finger out and poured a few drops on it. She rubbed it in.  "I am going to kneel down and you are going to penetrate my bottom with your finger"  I told her that I didn't want to hurt her and she said it wouldn't and it was a special present for me as I seemed to like arseholes so much.

"I like yours!" I said.  I knelt behind her and rubbed the pad of my finger over her sphincter,  She said not to worry as she was empty. I slowly massaged her and gently pressed on her until I felt her relax and I slid in.  I took it very gently, slowly pulling in and out and slipping my other fingers between her fleshy labia.  She started to push her bottom back against me so must have been enjoying it.  She didn't feel as tight as the time earlier in the week.   I pulled my finger out and gave her anus a good lick and she really seemed to like that. She turned around and we had a lovely kiss, kneeling in front of each other,  She reached for the olive oil on my desk and dribbled (no one yet said 'drizzled'!) some more into the palm of her hand,  She wrapped her hand around my cock and started to massage it in.  She turned so her bottom was pointing at me.

"I'm ready!" She said and pulled her cheeks apart, revealing her arsehole.

"You don't have to!  I know you don't like it and it hurts!"

"For you, I'll try again.  Didn't have oil before.  An Italian girlfriend told me.  If it hurts I'll ask you to stop.  I should have just declined but I was very, very excited at the prospect of doing something so naughty. (and, as I later found out, still illegal in Britain at the time) I went back to fingering her and managed to get two fingers up her,  She was gently frigging herself.  "Now!  Try now!" As I placed my knob at her entrance I knew it wasn't going to work.  My glans looked so swollen and her sphincter so small and tight. I held my shaft and just rubbed my head over her entrance.  Amazingly I saw it open up a little; a dark hole opened surrounded by a red, shiny rim.  "Push!  Now!" she said.  I did and got about half of my glans in.  "Oh!" she said.  I asked her if I should stop.  "One more push!"  I was wincing, imagining her pain and just trying to tell myself to stop. I stopped pushing and prepared to withdraw but then she pushed her bottom back against me.  I felt a tightness just below my glans and then it relaxed and I slid in. "Fuck!" she sighed.

"OK?  Let's stop!" I said.  She said no but told me not to move.  Very slowly she moved her bottom backwards and forward.  It seemed easier and less tight with every movement. I looked down at my cock in the candlelight, stretching her hole so the rim looked taut and shiny.

"Buggered!" she sighed.

"It must hurt!  Let's stop!"

"No it's better now.  The oil really helps.  Butter in Last Tango in Paris!"  I started to push in and out gently.  It wasn't really sex at all, just a sort of naughty trick, really.  Doing something for the sake of it not to express passion and intimacy. "Oooh!" she moaned.  "It feels quite nice now.  Like when you know you have a monster poo inside you and are about to drop it!" I felt her hands caress my balls. "Come in me!"  But I couldn't.  I couldn't move fast enough to ejaculate, given how much I had come over the previous days.  I didn't want to hurt her by hammering into her. Eventually I pulled out.  She emitted a little fart and we both laughed; it breaking the tension. I rolled her over onto her back so we could kiss properly.  I told her how touched I was by her letting me do such an intimate thing with her.  "Much better than the other time!" she said, caressing my erection.  We wriggled into a sixty-nine position and she happily slurped on my slimy cock while I licked her pussy and gently fingered her rectum  again.  This time I came and so did she, about five minutes later.  We lay together, kissing and stroking each other. After a while she got up, cleaned her teeth and went to the loo, with a tampon.

In a few minutes we were spooned up under the duvet.  I was kissing her neck and shoulders.  I thanked her for the most erotic week of my life.  She thanked me for the same.  I said that she must come and stay after Christmas.  I told her my mother wouldn't mind her sleeping in my bed. A nice big bed, she pointed out.  I put my arm around her waist and we soon dozed off.  

"Good night, lovely, A," I whispered to her when I thought she was asleep. She patted my thigh.

Saturday, October

 A had her period in the night and got up to change her tampon at about four in the morning.  I was barely aware of it and, as usual, I fell asleep almost immediately after having been woken.  She was up before me on Saturday I looked at her, naked, trying to stuff things into her backpack. She apologised if she had woken me but she just wanted to get it done so we could enjoy the morning.  

We did enjoy some sensual experiences first thing.  We had a long slow, sticky one, once she had removed her tampon and she said it was another thing she hadn't done before as 'men find it revolting'. I said I didn't find anything about her revolting. We had a nice shower together and she pissed on my leg again.  Afterwards she said she had never put a tampon in with a man watching, either.  

I told her that I bet she wanted a big breakfast and she did, so it was off to The Nosebag, again.  She was chatty and happy and thanked me again for her spaceship book.  We had at last managed to get everything stuffed into her back pack although I was left with the lilo which I put at the back of the top of my wardrobe.  I was dreading some sort of "we aren't boyfriend and girlfriend' conversation but she mainly talked about food and tried to persuade me that haggis 'was actually really good'.  I was not convinced.  We didn't get back to my room until gone eleven as we had a bit of a walk around town.

"Don't buy anything or your backpack will explode!" I told her.  She wanted to buy some postcards of Oxford for her wall in Edinburgh but I said I would send her some and prevent a straw that broke the camel's back scenario.  She gave me her address as she was living in a flat in the second year. We walked down to the station and I carried her backpack.  It was enormously heavy and I worried about how she was going to carry it.  I gave her some money for a taxi at the other end. I went on to the platform with her, as you could in those days, until her train arrived.  The train was due to sit there for a few minutes so I could carry her backpack onto the train and put it in the luggage area.  We had a rather awkward hug and a kiss, as we were in front of the other passengers. 

"Don't be good!" she said.  She had  a tear in her eye which I was very pleased about. I squeezed her hands and stepped off the train.  She stood looking out of the window and waved as the train pulled out.  I watched her little pale face until I couldn't see it any more. Lovely A.  We had had a wonderful week, full of passion (lots of passion) and fun. I could feel my own eyes welling up a bit,  As I walked across the car park of the station to head back to my room I had a horrible premonition that I would never see her again.