“I need a shit!” said C to me, the minute I woke up the next day. “Don’t get out of bed. I’ll need you in a minute. Your face looks awful!” She got out of bed and, despite everything, I enjoyed watching her naked body before she pulled on her slug suit and then her glasses. “Piss in the washbasin!” she said and left the room. I went over to the washbasin to look at myself in the mirror. The chip on my tooth didn’t look as big as it felt but my top lip was a quite swollen and the whole area ached. I wasn’t going to go in the washbasin. I put on my dressing gown and went to the bathroom on the floor below. When I got back C hadn't yet reappeared. I shook the kettle and there was enough water to boil it. I flicked the switch. It was early, just before seven, but too late to go back to bed. I thought about C and my fuck last night, as a fuck it very much was. Her on top, bouncing away. Using me. Until our teeth clashed. I tugged at my front teeth and was sure they were a bit loose. Maybe I shouldn’t wait to see a dentist at home. Maybe I should try and find one in Oxford. Eventually, C returned.
“Tea?” I asked.
“Later!” she stripped, pulled the duvet of my bed and fell, lazily onto the matress; lying on her back. I thought maybe she had put on some weight over the holiday. She looked good with it, anyway. It had gone on her bust and bottom but not around her waist. Well maybe there was a bit more on her belly. She did absolutely no exercise apart from walking to and from the library. I was doing the Canadian Airforce Exercises most mornings and at the weekend I tried to have a long, fast walk somewhere for an hour or so. I was not tempted to go running however, despite A's example. That would have been weird.
"You look fantastic!" I said.
“Course I do! Make me come!” she ordered. She started to stroke her pussy.and I got erect. She grinned, teasing me, and let her thighs fall apart.. "Do something different!” I had a thought, pulled off my dressing gown and rolled her over onto her tummy, eliciting a gratifying squeal.
I pushed her thighs apart and started kissing and licking her bottom. I jammed my face into her pussy and licked away at her for a bit. Then I licked her anus and she almost purred. I didn’t spend long, as I could sense that she was in the mood for a quickie. I wriggled forward and put my cock head at her vagina entrance.
“Oh yes!” she said. I shoved myself up her as hard as I could. She was sopping wet. I started to pound her, my hips slapping on her bottom. I pulled out, briefly.
“On all fours!” I said, putting my hands under her hips and pulling her upwards. She looked around and grinned at me. K had told me that she had always wanted me to take her from behind, so now I was. I knelt up behind her and penetrated her again. I started to rub her sphincter and then pushed my finger into her slimy, warm rectum.
“Mm! Mm!” she said. as I carried on banging and fingering her. I stuck another finger up her arse. She was pushing her bottom back against me. I pulled out of her again. “Don’t stop!” she gasped. I placed my cock head at her anus. “Oh YES!” she said. I pushed myself into her rectum. It was completely different from my experience with A. There was no appreciable tightness at all. I just slid right in and resumed my thrusting, holding onto her hips. She was breathing hard now and I knew she was close to coming. I concentrated, as I was just seconds away myself, watching myself penetrate her arsehole. I started to come inside her but kept going. Fortunately, she wasn’t far behind. I knew her sexual rhythm so well now that I could predict her orgasm to the minute. We both stopped moving and I pulled out of her and reached for a tissue. I didn’t want any of my spunk to dribble down into her vaginal entrance. She asked what I was doing, so I told her. “It’ll be fine. Stop fussing about like an old woman. You are worse than fucking K!” She rolled over onto her back and I knelt between her legs. looking down at her.. Her skin was pink, she was perspiring and strands of her hair around her forehead looked damp. “That was superb! Fucked up the arse! Terrific!” She stroked my hip with the side of her calf. "Clever boy!" She then pulled her knees right back to her shoulders and evacuated my spunk from her arsehole onto my sheet. Thanks a lot, I thought.
She said she was going back to her room to have a shower and get changed and said she would be back for toast and ginger marmalade in half an hour. She left, giving me another kiss. I was a bit disappointed as I had hoped we might have a shower together. A had really got me into the habit of sharing a shower. I went and had one myself before getting dressed. I wiped my sheet with some tissue but decided I would have to put it in the wash. She reappeared about forty minutes later and I put some toast on and made her some leaf tea in the teapot. She mused on what our tutors would have thought of us committing ‘an unnatural act’. She said they would report me to the Law Society and disbar me before I had even qualified. I asked why and she told me that buggery was illegal. I said I thought it had been legalised some years before and she said that was only for homosexuals. I was surprised. Needless to say she later looked it up and was quite right. Technically, it was punishable by life imprisonment. She said I had to do anything she wanted now or she could report me. She gave me a gleeful look and then said I was a poor baby and kissed me on the cheek.
We went off to the library for a lecture and as we sat listening to the lecture she wrote me a note. ‘I can still feel you in my bottom. Good boy! xx’ That evening we went to the Oxford University Law Society to hear a talk from two of the Law Lords. C had dressed herself up and put on full makeup and, as a result, one of the male organisers, who was obviously taken with her, introduced her and me to Lord Diplock and Lord Roskill. It was a bit intimidating to meet the men whose judgements in cases we read every day. One thing we did learn, talking to some other lawyers there, was that the law schools released their places in batches, so we might still get places at our chosen colleges, as most weren’t allocated until the beginning of the following year. C started flirting with the organiser, so any hopes of renewed passion were dashed and, in the end, I left her to it. I thought she might turn up later but gave up at midnight and went to bed, happily thinking about her nice, slimy arsehole.
The following evening, in complete contrast to meeting the Law Lord, we went to see the film of The Secret Policeman’s Ball at the Penultimate Picture Palace, a funny little cinema in an unfashionable part of East Oxford over Magdalen Bridge. Even C found it funny and we walked back together, happily, afterwards, arm in arm but she announced she was tired and sloped off to bed. I didn’t even get a kiss, despite paying for her cinema ticket. She was so unpredictable.
The following morning I got a letter from M in Cambridge. It said that she had had ‘a very special and precious experience’ with me and wondered if she could come to Oxford in the next few weeks. I wrote back immediately and suggested some possible dates. I met C in the law library and she said she was going to dinner with her friend R, the lovely blonde I had met the year before. This was the girl C claimed she had had lesbian sex with over the holiday. She had said, in a letter, that she was going to give me all the details but she didn’t, needless to say. They had been at school together and C had had a crush on her for ages which led to some sapphic fumbling during a Duke of Edinburgh Award camping trip at school. I remembered R as a tall, busty, athletic looking blonde, although C had said she had had her long hair cut over the holiday. H’s sister J had done the same, as I discovered when I met her in Cambridge. It was not a fashion I approved of, although having seen the performance C had to go through to wash her hair I could sort of understand it.
Given C was off with R, K and I went to Hall together but found that we couldn’t get in due to the number of freshers there. This was the first time we hadn’t been able to get into dinner. We went to Sweeney Todd for pizza instead. K, who always knew what was going on in College said the Norrington Tables, which ranked each college by academic performance based on the previous year’s finals, had just been published and we had come 27th out of 28. The Principal was furious, apparently, and had ordered all the academic staff to crack down, which meant extra collections that term. K had already had a collection at the beginning of term and didn’t fancy another one.
K said that C had told her that we had had sex again and wondered whether that meant we were a couple again. I said I wasn’t sure that we were ever a couple. I started to say that when C wanted any sexual pleasure she would… K interrupted and said she didn’t want any ‘icky details’, so I changed the subject. I asked K back for tea after dinner but she said that would be a bad idea if C didn’t know. I thought that was a shame as I quite fancied a cuddle with K.
I poured myself a glass of Vermouth with ice from my new ice tray and thought about what I nearly said to K. It was almost as if C was using me as some sort of sex aid. I had just become a cock and a tongue. Should I enjoy what I got or put a stop to it?
The next day there was no sign of C. She had missed the lecture in the morning and she didn’t seem to be in either the main or the college law libraries. I wondered if she was ill. I went up to her room. K hadn’t seen her either.
That evening I poured myself another vermouth. Unlike wine where you had to open a bottle or half bottle you could just have a glass. I went back to the kitchen to refill the ice tray and ran into L, the American. I asked her if she wanted a vermouth. She said we could do better than that as she had a bottle of vodka. She made Vodka Martinis in her glass water jug and stirred it with a chopstick. We poured them into two of my wine glasses and sat on the floor of my room drinking them and listening to André Previn’s great George Gershwin record of Rhapsody in Blue, an American in Paris and the Piano Concerto. She said we might have to make Martinis every Friday and she would buy some glasses. I said I would get a shaker. She always stirred her Martinis but my father had always shaken his. We agreed that whoever was hosting the Martini drinking had choice of mixing method.
She asked me how my relationship was going with C and I said I didn’t think it was a relationship, she just came to me for random sex acts. I told her about M, the girl from Cambridge and how I hoped she would be coming to Oxford soon. L said I had better have sorted out where I was with C before then.
On Saturday there was still no sign of C. I looked everywhere. No one had seen her. I did some notes in the College law library and went to the lodge to check my post and ran into H next to the pigeonholes. She was looking really cute and had her hair in two long pigtails.
“I hear you and C are back together!” she said. I didn’t think L would have said anything. Anyway, she didn’t know H. K I wasn't so sure about. She and H were close and it was just like her to shop me if she thought I was behaving inappropriately, by her high moral standards. Maybe out of some misplaced moral sensibility. I said we weren’t. “Not what I have heard! I slept with you because I thought you had broken up with her! I’m not going to be your bloody bit on the side you…you…shit!” she said and stalked off before I could say anything more. I looked around to see the porter looking at me from out of the window of his office in the lodge. He grinned and winked. That would be all around the staff by the end of the weekend. I sighed.
When I got back to my room there was a note on my door from C. ‘Lunch today? You’re buying!” typical, I thought. I wondered if she might want me to perform some sex act for her that afternoon. Even the thought cheered me up a bit while I cursed myself at the same time for being so weak. Effectively, I realised, C had torpedoed my chances with H and I knew who I would rather have been with. Perhaps, if M worked out, I might have a proper girlfriend, albeit one in Fenbog.
I went up to see C and see what she wanted for lunch. She insisted I take her to the Turl Bar, as she fancied chips, which was something they did do very well. We liked it because you never saw any other students in there, only tourists. After she had sat down with a plate of lasagne and chips she looked at me, in her short sighted way, as she was giving her contact lenses a rest for the day.
“I’m in love!” she announced, dramatically. Yes, with yourself, I thought, cruelly.
“Not the creep from Magdalen!” I said, realising that was where she must have been the last few days. I actually had now come to realise that I wouldn’t mind that much if she got another man, as I had shown myself quite capable of attracting other women. Just not him.
“He’s not a creep. No, it’s R, of course. We have been having a wonderful period of softness and sensuality together. I have been sleeping with her in her bed and we have been kissing, caressing and making love.” It didn’t surprise me at all.
“Sounds lovely!” I said. She looked slightly annoyed, as if she expected me to be shocked or appalled. I was just enormously relieved that it wasn’t the creep from Magdalen.
“Well, yes. It is!” she jabbed at her lasagne and frowned. “I bet you want to hear all about it? What we do to each other!”
“Maybe you should check with her first. She may want things kept private!” I said.
“Why should we have to keep our love secret?” she said. “There are lots of girls in relationships with each other at Oxford.” She mentioned the college lesbians and I pointed out that the very fact they were known as the college lesbians showed that they had already been dropped into a category of slightly weird people. “It’s not just about sex, it is about the flowering of your own personality through the love of another. There was a long ramble about ‘awakening’, ‘fulfilment’, ‘bliss’ and such like. And licking, I thought. You just like having your pussy licked. I stood up to get some mustard from the bar. “Don’t fucking walk off when I am talking to you!” C hissed when I got back.
“I’m glad you are happy. It will help your work if you are happy!” She frowned and then smiled. Her work was what really counted for her.
“Yes exactly!” she leaned forward and gave me a garlicky kiss. She said she still found me sexually attractive but we had stopped making each other happy and that was what she needed.
“Indeed so!” I said. “It’s all good!”
“It is!” She smiled and was friendly and a bit flirty for the rest of lunch, even asking if my tooth and lip was fine now. We went back to my room so as not to pay the rip off price for tea in the Turl. She announced that she was going to be sleeping at R’s for the forseeable future. I said I hoped she had a bigger bed than we did as R was a big girl. She said it was more like the one I had in the first year. An image of the two of them in the sixty-nine position came into my head. Splendid, I thought. R was a sexy girl indeed. I wondered what she saw in C.
C said their Staircase was having party on Thursday. I hoped she didn’t want me to go. I had been with her to the Engineers’ party that term which was so unmemorable that I have no notes on it or recollection of it whatsoever. I said that Thursday night was an odd night for a party. All parties had to be approved by the Junior Dean, who was the unpleasant law tutor and, it seemed there was another party on the Friday so he had made them have it on Thursday.
Anyway, C eventually got around to why she was being so nice to me. She had invited R for dinner on Thursday and the next day they were going back to Birmingham for the weekend. She couldn’t invite R for a nice quiet romantic dinner with a Staircase party going on. I asked her about Wednesday and she said that both she and R had tutorials on Thursday. What she wanted was to borrow my room and use my kitchen for her dinner. I could have college dinner and go and see one of my friends, I thought, so I agreed. She told me to make sure that there was clean bed linen too. Then she said that she was going to cook the dinner she had done for me earlier that week, except with chicken not pork, so she would need some of my vermouth. The demands kept coming; to make sure that my candles were not burnt to a stub, to clear my desk, have my room tidy etc, etc. I agreed to everything, of course, and wondered if R and C would have sex in my bed. Something to tell A in my next letter, at least.
Thinking of letters, I thought that if C was going to be away the following weekend that would be the perfect time for M to visit from Cambridge. After C had left I dashed off a letter and went to the main Post Office down near Pembroke College, to just catch the last post, so she should get it on Monday, hopefully.
The following week was very intense and the increased academic pressure was apparent as we were told we would be getting two collections in the last week of term. On the way to lectures on Thursday C reminded me that it was her dinner with R that evening, which I had completely forgotten about. I left the library early and as I had to do my washing anyway, bunged in the bed linen and put clean ones on. It was all done by the time I had finished my tutorial and I put everything into the dryer. C arrived to inspect everything and after sniffing the bed told me off for not ironing the sheets. I left her to it and went along to Hall early, so as to get in. I ran into D a South African graduate lawyer and we had dinner together, surrounded by squeaking freshers; the men all in jackets, which wasn’t done for informal Hall. I explained that I was homeless for the evening and D invited me back to his rooms. He had two, including a large sitting room. He opened a bottle of South African red wine and was surprised that I had had it before, as Uncle L’s daughter was an air hostess for South African Airways and brought it home regularly. You couldn’t buy it in the shops at the time, although, coincidentally, there was one shop that imported it in Staines. D said he was having a party later in the term and he would invite C and I to it.
There were concerns from some of the more politically active people in college about having a South African studying there and he was the first South African I had met but he was a very nice, amusing chap and in interacting with the one black person in College he was always friendly and pleasant, so we decided that he must be the mythical nice South African. He assumed that C and I were still a couple and, after another glass or two of wine did ask me if we had really been caught in flagrante, in the laundry. He used the legal term, of course. I said that was true although C and my relationship was rather more complex now. He asked if I would prefer if I didn’t invite her but I said he should go ahead as we were still friendly, hence me letting her use my room to entertain her old schoolfriend. I deliberately didn’t say ‘girlfriend’.
After we had drank the whole bottle of wine I left D’s room at about 10.30 and walked back to the annexe. It had turned cold and I hadn’t taken a jacket so I was glad to get back. The music was still pounding from C’s staircase, as I told her when I got back to my room. Dinner had all been cleared away and the room was lit by just one candle. My Vivaldi tape was playing quietly in the background. R who was wearing a white dress with a plunging neckline, which made the best of her impressive bust, gave me a hug and a kiss on the lips. I thought that C would be cross but she gave me a big kiss too. I saw two nearly empty bottles of wine on my desk, which had been dragged into the centre of the room, so assumed that they were both pretty relaxed. I sat in my armchair and R poured me the rest of the bottle of red wine and gave it to me. She expressed concern at my broken tooth and I admired her short hair cut. It wasn’t that bad, actually, as her hair was thick and wavy and she now had a nice mop of blonde hair which just reached to the base of her neck. R sat on my bed, and C snuggled in between her thighs. R put her arms around C. They did look happy together. The bedcover was still on I noticed, a bit disappointed. I had fantasised about going to sleep in a bed still warm from the bodies of two lovely girls. C said that they would go back to her room for a cuddle and I told her they would need earplugs as the party was still in full swing.
“We can’t stay here all night!” said R to C. “You can come back to my room.” C wasn’t keen, saying she was all warm and affectionate now and didn’t want to go out walking in the cold for ten minutes. I told them that it was now really cold out. C suggested that I go out for a walk for forty minutes but R said that wasn’t fair. Too right, I thought. I didn’t volunteer.
“I’ve got an idea!” said C and ordered me out of the room ‘for a minute’ I popped into the kitchen to see if one of the girls was there but the kitchen was empty. I looked out of the window at C’s staircase but the music was still going and all the lights were on. I wondered where K was. Maybe she was actually attending. Technically, parties at College had to finish by midnight but that was still over an hour away.
When I returned to my room, C and R were standing facing the door with their arms around each other’s waists. C told me to sit in my armchair and not move or speak until I was told I could. She blew out the candle and the room was plunged into darkness. The blind was closed and the only illumination was a thin sliver of light at the bottom of my door, to my left, as I sat in the chair. Having come from the bright kitchen I couldn’t see anything at all. The room was silent; they had switched the music off, until I heard the distinctive sound of a zip being undone. There was a series of rustling noises and I realised that they were undressing in front of me. I strained to see but couldn’t. I heard them climb into bed. They must have taken my bed cover off, so were now under my duvet in their underwear or perhaps even naked. The first kiss rang out in the room, hitting me like an electric shock. Was this really happening? I heard a second kiss. Slowly more followed. The duvet rustled as bodies shifted beneath it. A little sigh and then more kissing. Before long it was apparent that a full on snogging session was in progress. Someone made a little ‘mm’ sound. I couldn’t tell who. Gradually, as I sat there, the two girls became more active and were making more noise. It was as if, at the start, they were both very aware of me sitting in the room, just six feet from the foot of the bed. Now, however, as their engagement with each other became more passionate then, perhaps, I was forgotten. At the same time, my eyes were becoming more attuned to the low light in the room. When C had initially blown out the candle it was almost pitch black, apart from the light at the bottom of the door. Now, however, when I looked at the bed in front and just to the left of where I sat, I realised that I could see the white hump of my double duvet, draped over the two, now moving figures. I couldn’t see anyone’s head so I had no idea who was where but it seemed to me that one figure was on top of the other. The kissing had stopped and now there was just gentle rustling as if hands were stroking skin beneath the cotton covers. “Umm!” said C, quietly but quietly. I leant forward to get my head even a few inches closer, my erection throbbing in my jeans. There was a shift of bodies under the duvet and I heard a wet lapping noise and soft breathing. I slid my hand over the bulge in my denims. I desperately wanted to get my cock out and rub it but didn’t dare; not least because I didn’t want to upset R. Suddenly, there was a movement and I could just see the white hump of the duvet thrown back, revealing a white shape which must have been R’s naked back, from the size of it. Her pale hair glowed in the limited light. The shape dropped and I heard the wet lapping again. I could now just about see C’s knees either side of R’s body. R was licking C’s pussy. This was another level above the kissing and caressing that C had done with S at the New College party the previous year. In that case they had both remained clothed but now both girls were, as far as I could tell, completely naked. R was making little vocalisations as she licked away.
“Mmpl. Mmm. Mmpl” she breathed. I could imagine the musky, creamy taste of C running over her tongue, the hard little bud, the soft, fleshy labia, the feel of her orange fluff on R’s nose.
“Fuck me!” said C, softly. I could see R move her shoulder and I imagined her slipping a finger up inside C’s juicy cunt. After a while R seemed to move up and resume kissing C but I could still hear her finger or fingers thrusting in and out of C’s wetness. C’s breaths were becoming increasingly ragged as I could now see R’s elbow clearly moving as she finger fucked the redhead. I couldn’t work out how long it took R to bring C to orgasm. My sense of reality and time had been lost in a sensual miasma of sound that permeated the whole room. It could have been a minute or it could have been five but eventually C let out a long ‘aaah!’ All movement stopped and all there was was the sound of intermittent kissing. “On your back!” ordered C, after a while. I watched as they swapped places, so that R was underneath. C looked over her shoulder, right at me and I could imagine but not quite see her smile in the dark. Was she laughing at me? Taunting me? Or was it something more complicit? The presentation of an enjoyable performance? A reward? C kicked the duvet completely off the bed and got between R’s thighs and the lapping sound started again. R was more mobile than C, writhing around and kicking her legs. C concentrated on R just as I used to concentrate on her; licking away steadily; not breaking for kisses on the mouth or other places. C had her bottom in the air and she was rotating her hips as she serviced R. At one point she appeared to put her hand between her legs and stroke herself.
“Ooooh!” murmured R, after a while. C wriggled up R's body and lay on top of her. There were a few kisses and then nothing. No sound. No movement. Just two immobile pale shapes in my bed. I had thought that watching C bring herself to orgasm earlier in the term was the most erotic thing I had witnessed to that point but this murky coupling, which was more about sound than vision, had topped it. I sat there, still painfully erect and then started to worry about what would happen if they both fell asleep. I’d be stuck in my own room with nowhere to lie down. I thought of A’s lilo in the cupboard. No chance of inflating that quietly. I didn’t move. C sat up, astride R’s waist. She turned her head to look at me and I sensed her grinning again.
“Go and see if the party noise has stopped!” she said to me. “While we get dressed.” It seemed like a reasonable request. I stood up and left the room, deliberately not looking at the bed as the open door flooded it with light. I was still erect, my mind full of the glimpses of white flesh and the sounds of passion I had just experienced. I got to the ground floor, left my staircase and headed left towards the house where C’s room was. There were still a lot of lights on but the booming noise had finished. Maybe someone had complained. The idea of a staircase party was to invite everyone so no one did that but in the annexe there were so many staircases close together that you couldn’t invite everyone. There was always someone who had a tutorial the next day. I walked over to the door and let myself in with my key, as we had a key which would open all the annexe staircase doors. I went up to C’s floor. It was quiet. There was some conversation from the floor above. I looked up the stairway and saw the two college lesbians sat at the top, snogging. I smiled. They were what would today be called Goth chicks; always dressed in black with dyed black hair. When I returned to my room, R was dressed but C was standing in her laciest lingerie holding her dress; no doubt having waited for my return just to tease me. I told them what I had seen, including the snogging lesbians. C was excited and wanted to take R over there straight away but R said she needed to get back to college. C frowned and looked annoyed in that way she did when people didn’t do what she wanted. I looked at my watch; it was now quite late. I said I could walk R back. C said that would not be necessary but R said it would be nice. She was a tall, attractive blonde and got hassle sometimes, late at night. I grabbed my coat and we all trooped down the stairs together. C to my surprise, did not see R off at the gate to the annexe but said goodbye at the door to my staircase. She gave R a wet kiss, at which R looked a bit uncomfortable. R reminded her she would be round at midday tomorrow to pick up C on the way to catch the bus back to Birmingham for the weekend. C waved dismissively and stalked off to her staircase, swinging her bottom, provocatively.
I took R out the main annexe entrance, not the one past the Union which led onto Cornmarket, which could be a bit boisterous late at night. We went along George Street and into Broad Street to head towards Parks Road where Keble was. It was about three quarters of a mile altogether. We walked in silence, until we passed the end of Cornmarket.
“I don’t really know what to say,” said R. “I’m very embarrassed. I’ve never done anything like that before! Been such an exhibitionist.” I said that I wasn’t surprised and C made people do things they wouldn’t have imagined before they met her. I recalled C making me piss in the street outside New College and trying to get me to fuck her in the street. I said that I had enjoyed it and felt very honoured that they would share something so intimate with me. She admitted that it was more exciting knowing I was there. I asked her how long she had known C and she said since they were eleven.
“Has she changed?” I asked. “Personality wise, that is.” R gave out a short laugh and said she had changed a lot over the last year. She thought she was very depressed.
“You seem to have helped for a bit but now...since you went off with the girl with the big...” She stopped and laughed, looking down at her chest, now concealed under her smart beige raincoat.
“It wasn’t quite like that,” I said. “I was reacting to C going off with the creep…” I stopped. It sounded a bit mean and petty, like school children accusing each other in the playground, although I had been unbelievably hurt and upset at the time.
“I thought as much,” she said. We turned into Parks Road and walked on in silence for a while. “I’m not a lesbian. It’s just C wants… I don’t know. Shit!”
“C wants unconditional love and worship entirely on her terms!” I said.
“You do know her well,” she laughed. We reached the main gate of Keble, looming, as ever, in its red-brick awfulness, like a horrible, American effort at English stately home grandeur; an ugly pastiche that didn’t look quite right; like those fibreglass replicas of cars from the thirties, so popular at the time with Hollywood stars. “Come in for a drink,” she said. I said it was fine and I better get back. “It wasn’t really a request. An instruction!” She laughed. An odd barking laugh, like a feminine version of the actor Kenneth More. “I’m telling you not asking! Being like C!”
“I’m not sure,” I said. C would have a nutty.
“Don’t worry. I won’t eat you. Not tonight, anyway! Eaten pussy instead!” she gave me such a naughty smile that I gave in and followed her into the brick pile. We walked down the side of the main quad next to the chapel and up to her room. Inside I recognised some of her things from when I had visited her room with C in the first year, which was the only other time I had met her. Her desk lamp in an old chianti bottle, which had a red shade. A Welsh flag (she didn’t sound Welsh). A golf club, propped up in the corner. A large teddy bear with an eye missing. This wasn’t the same room and, unlike mine for the second year, was rather bigger. It looked over the main quad and the chapel. There were several prints of Degas and Renoir nudes on the wall. I looked at them. “I know, I know!” she said, laughing again. “C bought them for me.” She put the cosy Chianti bottle light on, switched off her overhead light and drew the curtains. “Romantic, eh?” she said. Please don’t get romantic, I thought. I watched her as she hung her raincoat up. Then, looking at her in her Hollywood style dress, I thought, please get romantic. She asked me to undo the zip at the back of her dress. I did. My heart pounding. “Could you see anything in your room?” she asked. “It was brighter than I expected once my eyes adjusted.” I admitted I could.
“Just a vague outline. Shapes. You know.” I replied.
“In that case!” she pushed her dress over her hips and revealed her lacy white lingerie. Nothing to hide!” I wasn’t surprised to see the stockings and suspender belt. I am sure C would have insisted.
“I bet C made you get those!” I said as she carefully removed her stockings, after sitting on her bed.
“True! Never would otherwise, She bought them for me.” she said. “She does love her lacy frou-frou!” She unclipped her suspender belt and dropped it into a small wicker basket next to her wardrobe. “That’s better! It’s bit tight, to be honest.” It had left a mark around her waist. She had a marvellously ripe body but it was different from the soft ripeness of H and her sister. Her long legs had powerful thighs, bellied with muscle at the back and with large quadriceps at the front. She was a rower, I knew. Her arms were similarly toned. She seemed to have something of a light tan, although it was difficult to be sure in the red light. She caught me looking at her. “What?”
“You have a fantastic body!” I said, meaning it.
“My legs are too muscly!” I said they looked superbly athletic. She grinned. “Nice to know someone appreciates them. C thinks they are unfeminine.” Typical of C to tell her, I thought. I said that they were the best pair of legs I had ever seen and she said I was very sweet. She went to the drawer of her chest and pulled out a grey Royal Shakespeare Company sweatshirt which she pulled on, covering her chest, disappointingly. She didn’t put anything over the knickers and said she would let me carry on appreciating her legs but pulled on a pair of pink ankle socks. She went over to a small cupboard on the far side of the room, next to her desk. “Drink?” she asked.
“Tea would be nice!” I answered.
“I was thinking of Calvados!” she held up a bottle of the French apple brandy. My father loved Calvados and had introduced me to it when I was about ten. I remember going back for my final year of junior school after the summer holidays. The teacher, Mrs N, had asked some of us what we had done for the holidays. She asked me, as I rarely said anything in class. We went to France, I said. We always went to the same house near the Pyrenees. I think my father owned it with a friend of his. We used to take three days to drive down there from Dieppe, as my father sought out hotels with interesting restaurants. There was no question of children’s menus. My sister and I ate what he ate. Escargots (which my sister loved), grenouilles, riz de veau, cheval, cassoulet, rognons, calamari, tripes... Mrs N asked if I had had anything interesting to drink, which was different from what we got in England. ‘Calvados!’ I answered. ‘It’s made from apples!’ ‘Yes. Well. Let’s move on shall we?’ she had replied.
“Calvados would be lovely!” I said. She started to peel off the capsule and I told her not to open it especially for me. She said she had been looking for an excuse to try it as it had been a present from her uncle. She poured a little into a couple of tumblers. She looked at them carefully and poured us both some more. She handed me the tumbler which was not a cheap one, like I had, but a crystal one. Heavy and comforting. I sniffed the Calvados. A good one. “Nice glasses,” I said.
“That reminds me!” She got up and got her contact lens pots out. She took out her lenses and put on a pair of severe black glasses which made her look like a librarian. A librarian with an Olympic athlete’s legs. “Not the glamorous girl you were hoping for!” she said.
“I wasn’t hoping for anything!” I said, taking my first appreciative sip of what really was a very good Calvados indeed.
“Come and sit with me!” she said patting the bed next to me. No! No! No! I thought, already imagining C rapping on the door. I must have looked hesitant. “Come on, baby!” she said, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the wall. I crossed the room and sat next to her; fearing and hoping that she might pounce. She didn’t. I took a risk and took my shoes off. “That’s better!” she said. We sat and drank Calvados and talked about C. I found myself, inexplicably, defending her bad behaviour. I said her home situation was making her fed up and grumpy. She said that she had known C for eight years and she was always fed up and grumpy. We gradually relaxed and she teased out the details of C and my relationship. She wanted intimate details and I held back. She said that given I had just watched C make her come with her tongue, not talking about intimate details was a bit silly. She said she knew that I had taken C up the arse recently which she had told R she had loved. She had wanted to demonstrate on R using her fingers but R didn’t fancy that at all. She asked me if I wasn’t worried about what I might find ‘up there’ but I said I knew she had just been to the loo, which she thought was worse. She asked if C went to the loo in front of me. I said all the time and told her about the chamber pot. She said when C had stayed with her over the summer she had been cleaning her teeth and a naked C had just come into the bathroom, sat on the loo and 'spent a penny'. R had been completely shocked. I thought about telling her about A pissing on my leg but decided not to. She asked me if I was really good at oral sex and had taught C what to do. I told her that in the beginning I had no idea what to do. She didn’t believe that I had no previous experience. I must have blushed as she pointed at me and went ‘ah ha!’
“Maybe a bit of experience!” I admitted, thinking of the first time I had blindly dived into A’s pussy, on my orange carpet at home. She climbed off the bed and went to refill our glasses.
“Shut your eyes!” she ordered. I did. I heard her take some clothes off and the drawer opened again. I was very tempted to peer through my eyelashes but didn’t. Anyway, today had taught me a lot about the erotic power of sound alone. “OK!” she said, after a while. I opened my eyes. She was wearing a white cotton vest, roughly cut off at just below waist level and a pair of soft, cotton black shorts. The vest was voluminous and I could catch glimpses of the sides of her breasts if she lifted her arms. Without a bra her breasts moved delightfully beneath the cotton. I found it a very erotic garment.
“So cute!” I said. She gave me a twirl and flashed a slice of her waist. I noticed how the shorts clung to her bottom. “And the outfit!” I added. She laughed. She stood there looking at me. She picked up her drink from the desk and took a big swig.
“Stay the night!” she said.
“C would literally kill me!” I replied, thinking of something K had once said to me.
“C doesn’t have to know. C doesn’t own us!”
“But you’re her girlfriend! You’re going back to Birmingham tomorrow. She is staying with you!”
“She’s sleeping with me. In my bed. Did she tell you what happened over the summer?”
"Some of it,” I admitted.
“I’m not a lesbian,” she repeated. “I like boys. Tall ones with muscle and stiff, veined cocks. Sorry. I’m being crude.” She came over and sat next to me, handing me my second Calvados. I glanced at her alarm clock. It was getting on for one AM. "It was C instigated the... well. You know. We had that incident during D of E camp, Just hormonal teenage girls experimenting. I almost forgot about it but C had obviously been thinking about it a lot. It never occurred to me that because we were sharing a bed when she came to stay that she would want to have sex.
"But you didn't stop her?"
"No. I know. You know what she is like. She made me come. That was a surprise. I did kind of enjoy it. I like orgasms!"
"What about this evening?" I asked. There hadn't been any apparent reluctance on R's part. She shrugged.
"Do you know what made it really exciting, tonight?" I shook my head slightly but I could guess.
"Knowing you were there. Knowing we were getting you aroused."
You certainly did that!" I said. She looked at my groin, briefly.
"I'm going to have to have a difficult conversation with C this weekend. I don;t have time in my life for a lover. Especially such a demanding one." I wished her luck and suggested maybe she should save the discussion for the Christmas holidays.
“I need to go!” I said. I had a vision of C bursting in to one of my tutorials and starting to rant about me having had her girlfriend.
“You haven’t started your second Calvados. I can’t drink it and I can’t pour it back into the bottle. Be a waste!” She leaned forward and kissed me with her appley lips. Oh no! I thought. Oh yes! I thought.
“I could sleep on the floor!” I mused.
“Misses the point," she said. What point, I wondered? "In my bed. With me. If I was C. I’d blackmail you by threatening to tell her you kissed me!” I agreed that that sounded like exactly the sort of things she might do. “Maybe I am worried I am a lesbian and don’t want to be. Maybe I need some masculine reassurance!” Maybe you don’t need that second glass of Calvados, I thought. She put her long, tanned, bare legs over my lap and I focussed on not getting stiff. She carried on chatting about C at school and how C was convinced she was going to be elected school captain because of her academic achievements but R had got the nod because she was sporty and popular and C had never really forgiven her, despite her being her best friend. C couldn’t understand why people didn’t vote for her. She ended up fourth in the election.
After a while R stood up and picked up my shoes. She said she was going to have a shower and was taking my shoes hostage so I couldn’t make a run for it. She went over to a door next to her wardrobe and opened it. I thought it was a disused doorway from the days when, perhaps, it had been part of a set of two rooms which used to be normal in Oxford, even as recently as the sixties.
“My God! You have a bathroom!” I jumped off the bed. She had a bathroom with a loo, a washbasin and a small shower cubicle. Dobs had a bathroom in his room but he was at an ex-women’s college where they were a bit more pampered.
“Lots of people at Keble have ensuite bathrooms!” she said. “Do you want to shower first or second. Not enough room for two! C and I tried it!” I stood, still mesmerised by the bathroom. “No dirty boys allowed in my bed! Only dirty girls!”
“C will kill us both!” I said.
“I’ll go first. You can sit here and imagine it! Like you did earlier!” She shut the door but didn’t lock it. Was that an implied invitation? Should I casually step in? I decided that that would be crass. I went back and sat on the bed and drank my Calvados, thinking what an exciting night I was having. I heard the water running and her singing away, tunelessly. After about five minutes she came out, just dressed in a pink towel, holding the shorts and vest. The ends of her hair were wet, tickling the tops of her shoulders but it was not sodden. She must have a shower cap, like C. “Your turn!” she said gaily and headed back over to her glass of Clvados. As soon as I got inside the bathroom I suddenly realised I didn’t know what to do. I had nothing to change into other than the clothes I was wearing. I had never worked out the insouciant towel wrapping technique and, anyway, there was only a face towel left. I stripped off anyway and hopped into the very small shower. It had a plastic shower curtain. I closed it and started the shower. At least it didn’t have to warm up. After about thirty seconds I could tell the door had been opened. I looked over my shoulder and could see R’s shape through the curtain, leaning against the door. I could even tell she was holding her glass, so I assumed she could see me. There was some shampoo in the shower so I washed myself with that although I kept my back to her. Suddenly the shower curtain was whipped back.
“Oh!” I said, brilliantly.
“Time for bed!” she said. “Wear these!” she was dressed in her vest and shorts again and was holding another pair of soft shorts. These were grey.
“I’m really not sure about this!” I said, reaching behind me for the shorts. I could feel her eyes on my back and bottom. “Are they…?”
“They’re mine. I don’t keep random men’s clothes in my room on the off chance a man will come to stay.” She handed me her damp bath towel and I dried myself while she watched every move. I felt her eyes run up and down my body. Assessing it. She nodded. I hoped in approval. I didn’t make any attempt to cover myself, given she had pulled the shower curtain back herself. I pulled the shorts on. “They fit perfectly!” she said.
“A bit tight!” I said. I was conscious that they were clinging to my genitals.
“Exactly!” She laughed. She went over to the desk and switched her lamp off. “Come to bed. No sex. Just…”
“A cuddle?” I asked, hopefully.
“Just sleeping,” she said and yawned.
“What if I get…”
“Fine. I know men can’t help it. Just sleeping though!”
“Back to back!” I suggested.
“Solves it!” she said. She got into bed first. I gingerly got under the duvet and perched at the edge of her bed. At least it was bigger than mine. She was a big girl and there was no way of avoiding contact. I became erect almost immediately; more from the situation than any actual sensuality. Nothing happened, other than a tired sounding ‘good night’ and she fell asleep almost immediately. It was late and I wasn’t far behind, despite my erection. C, I thought again, will actually kill us.
I woke early the next morning and could feel the effect of the Calvados in my head. I hadn’t gone to the loo last thing and was desperate. I slipped out into her bathroom for a piss and crept out again later, intending to pick up my clothes and flee. R turned over and looked at me. I had a sudden fear that the whole thing had been some sort of test, conceived by C. To what purpose, I wasn’t sure.
“Sorry!” I said. I had wondered about not flushing but that would have looked bad. She wasn’t C, with her cavalier attitude to pissing.
“Back to bed!” she said. I hopped in next to her. This time she spooned up behind me, in a much more intimate way and I felt her big cotton covered breasts pressing against my bare back. She put an arm around my waist. I looked at her alarm clock. It was about six thirty. I had no lectures and had done my tutorial. Just a day in the library beckoned. I started to get stiff but R seemed to have fallen asleep again. Eventually, there was a sound of gentle snoring. I grinned. C was going to kill us. Or just me, if it was all a plot. She would never believe nothing had happened. I must have dozed off again. We both woke about two hours later. “Hey,” she said.
“Morning, loveliness!” I said. She put her head over my shoulder and kissed my cheek.
“You behaved impeccably!” she said. “What a gentleman!” We wriggled around so that we were facing each other. I looked at her blonde eyelashes and eyebrows and those ice blue eyes. She told me that she had really needed me close last night. She expected to sleep with C the previous night until she saw the sizes of our beds in the annexe. “I can’t really explain! You’ve been so nice!”
“We must do it again!” I joked.
“Maybe,” she replied, not very encouragingly. She sat up. “Up you get before we do something we shouldn't!” I rolled out of bed and she climbed out of bed too. We stood looking at each other for a few seconds. She looked all warm and bed rumpled. I fought an incipient erection as there would be nowhere to hide it in those shorts. I also fought a strong desire to take her in my arms. I wondered if she might be thinking the same. I could sense that if I moved even two inches towards her we'd be pulling each other's clothes off. We stood and looked at each other. I could see her nipples were erect through the thin cotton of her vest. My cock twitched. I could see from her reaction that she had noticed. She smiled. My heart raced. Now! Step forward now, I said to myself. I didn't. She turned away, looking flustered and grabbed some clothes from her drawers before going into the bathroom, this time bolting the door. I got dressed outside. I could here her having another shower. She came out dressed. She asked me what sport I did as I 'looked athletic'. I replied that I used to be a good 400m runner. Southern Counties level. A hand timed 53.1 on cinders at fourteen. She said I looked like a quarter miler. She said she wasn’t really built for running. She looked down at her chest. They looked nearly as big as H’s. She really was a blonde goddess.
“I’ll buy you a bacon sandwich at the Queen’s Lane Coffee house!” I said. It wasn’t a C haunt. I’d taken J there, after our first night of passion. The lack of passion with R, it seemed to me, shouldn’t militate against a bacon sandwich.
“With HP sauce?” she asked.
“What a sound girl!” I replied. Over breakfast, she started to try to explain why she had wanted me with her the night before but struggled and I said she had no need to explain. If it made her feel better that was good enough for me. She leaned across the small table and kissed me on the lips. I said I did like a girl who tasted of HP sauce. I walked her back to her college.
“Oh well. Better pack for my weekend of lesbian sex with C! Laciest underwear! See you soon!” The last comment put me in a good mood as I felt that C had deliberately kept me away from her the previous year. I walked back to the annexe, for a shower and a change of clothes, fantasising about what the gorgeous R’s body was like underneath her shorts and vest. Should I have surprised her in the shower? Maybe it would have been a mistake. Maybe she had intended to seduce me but had had a change of heart. Perhaps I should write to her and say I would like to draw her but that would be a bit obvious. It was up to her, I decided. It had been a nice experience, anyway. Totally unexpected, which made it all the more satisfactory.
My bed was still rumpled from where R and C had left it.. After my shower, where I got nicely stiff, still thinking about the previous night’s unexpected activities. I went back to my room. I sniffed the sheet, hoping to smell musky female scents but there was nothing appreciable. I took off my dressing gown and hopped into bed for a play, remembering everything that had happened the previous night. There was a knock on the door. I jumped. I knew it was C. I kept still and silent.
“I know you are in there. There are water drops running from the shower to your door! You never dry yourself properly! Open up or I’ll sthcream and sthcream and sthcream until I’m thick!” she said, echoing another monstrous redhead, in Richmal Crompoton’s William stories. I sighed and got up, still naked and still partially erect and opened the door. C pushed her way in. “Were you having a wank?” she said, squeezing my cock in greeting. “Thinking about me licking R’s pussy. About her juices soaking your sheet. Bet you don’t want to wash it now! Two gorgeous girls, licking each other in your lonely bed! Lucky, lucky boy!”
“It was a lovely experience indeed!” I said. She started to remove her skirt, a thick reddish brown ankle length one. Underneath she had her thigh high cream woollen socks on, held up by a suspender belt. She was wearing her big cream jumper again. She pulled this off to reveal a cream silk blouse, which she started to unbutton. She kept her bra on but removed her knickers. She pulled the duvet off my bed and lay down on it with her legs spread.
“Get to work! Let’s soak your sheet again! See how you compare to R!” I might have known that she would make it competitive. I didn’t know what she was up to but I knelt between her legs, my cock at full stiffness again and started to kiss the insides of her thighs. “No foreplay!” she said. “Get to it!” I slid my tongue between her fleshy petals. I went at her hard; mercilessly working on her stiff little clitoris and she bucked beneath me moaning and swearing. She came very quickly. I wriggled up her and kissed her, as I knew she liked to taste her own juices. “Terrific! Make sure you shave next time first. Girls are so much smoother! Now, I want tea and a biscuit!” I had been hoping to slide into her, as my cock nuzzled at her pussy when we kissed but she was obviously not in the mood for that. I stood up, my cock still at full elevation. “You can have a wank when I’ve gone!” she said, generously. She wiped her pussy with one of the tissues from my desk (‘your wank box’, she called it). She pulled her clothes on as I made the tea. Half way through her third custard cream (“get better biscuits this weekend”, she ordered) she asked me if I had kissed R goodnight after I took her back to her college.
“She kissed me!” I said, flicking the switch on the kettle again.
“Cunt!” she said. I grinned, triumphantly. She left and said she had to pack. “Have a nice wank!” she said. "Think about what R and I are going to do tonight!" She kissed me on the lips and said how delicious she was. I closed the door and heard her jumping down the stairs, three at a time again. I didn’t feel like it now and got dressed. M was supposed to be coming from Cambridge, this weekend, when C was in Birmingham, but she hadn’t confirmed. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t checked my pigeonhole for two days. In a panic, I raced over to College. It was Friday. I’d lost track. There was a greetings card from Cambridge. It was postmarked Tuesday. She would be arriving at the bus station just after midday, today. It was already well on the way to eleven. The first thing that occurred to me was that I better change the bed linen. The second thing was that I had better get some more biscuits. I raced back to the annexe via the Co-op and quickly changed all my bedding. Hoping that we would, indeed, end up in bed together. No guarantees though, I thought. At least I had A’s lilo.
Thinking of letters, I thought that if C was going to be away the following weekend that would be the perfect time for M to visit from Cambridge. After C had left I dashed off a letter and went to the main Post Office down near Pembroke College, to just catch the last post, so she should get it on Monday, hopefully.
The following week was very intense and the increased academic pressure was apparent as we were told we would be getting two collections in the last week of term. On the way to lectures on Thursday C reminded me that it was her dinner with R that evening, which I had completely forgotten about. I left the library early and as I had to do my washing anyway, bunged in the bed linen and put clean ones on. It was all done by the time I had finished my tutorial and I put everything into the dryer. C arrived to inspect everything and after sniffing the bed told me off for not ironing the sheets. I left her to it and went along to Hall early, so as to get in. I ran into D a South African graduate lawyer and we had dinner together, surrounded by squeaking freshers; the men all in jackets, which wasn’t done for informal Hall. I explained that I was homeless for the evening and D invited me back to his rooms. He had two, including a large sitting room. He opened a bottle of South African red wine and was surprised that I had had it before, as Uncle L’s daughter was an air hostess for South African Airways and brought it home regularly. You couldn’t buy it in the shops at the time, although, coincidentally, there was one shop that imported it in Staines. D said he was having a party later in the term and he would invite C and I to it.
There were concerns from some of the more politically active people in college about having a South African studying there and he was the first South African I had met but he was a very nice, amusing chap and in interacting with the one black person in College he was always friendly and pleasant, so we decided that he must be the mythical nice South African. He assumed that C and I were still a couple and, after another glass or two of wine did ask me if we had really been caught in flagrante, in the laundry. He used the legal term, of course. I said that was true although C and my relationship was rather more complex now. He asked if I would prefer if I didn’t invite her but I said he should go ahead as we were still friendly, hence me letting her use my room to entertain her old schoolfriend. I deliberately didn’t say ‘girlfriend’.
After we had drank the whole bottle of wine I left D’s room at about 10.30 and walked back to the annexe. It had turned cold and I hadn’t taken a jacket so I was glad to get back. The music was still pounding from C’s staircase, as I told her when I got back to my room. Dinner had all been cleared away and the room was lit by just one candle. My Vivaldi tape was playing quietly in the background. R who was wearing a white dress with a plunging neckline, which made the best of her impressive bust, gave me a hug and a kiss on the lips. I thought that C would be cross but she gave me a big kiss too. I saw two nearly empty bottles of wine on my desk, which had been dragged into the centre of the room, so assumed that they were both pretty relaxed. I sat in my armchair and R poured me the rest of the bottle of red wine and gave it to me. She expressed concern at my broken tooth and I admired her short hair cut. It wasn’t that bad, actually, as her hair was thick and wavy and she now had a nice mop of blonde hair which just reached to the base of her neck. R sat on my bed, and C snuggled in between her thighs. R put her arms around C. They did look happy together. The bedcover was still on I noticed, a bit disappointed. I had fantasised about going to sleep in a bed still warm from the bodies of two lovely girls. C said that they would go back to her room for a cuddle and I told her they would need earplugs as the party was still in full swing.
“We can’t stay here all night!” said R to C. “You can come back to my room.” C wasn’t keen, saying she was all warm and affectionate now and didn’t want to go out walking in the cold for ten minutes. I told them that it was now really cold out. C suggested that I go out for a walk for forty minutes but R said that wasn’t fair. Too right, I thought. I didn’t volunteer.
“I’ve got an idea!” said C and ordered me out of the room ‘for a minute’ I popped into the kitchen to see if one of the girls was there but the kitchen was empty. I looked out of the window at C’s staircase but the music was still going and all the lights were on. I wondered where K was. Maybe she was actually attending. Technically, parties at College had to finish by midnight but that was still over an hour away.
When I returned to my room, C and R were standing facing the door with their arms around each other’s waists. C told me to sit in my armchair and not move or speak until I was told I could. She blew out the candle and the room was plunged into darkness. The blind was closed and the only illumination was a thin sliver of light at the bottom of my door, to my left, as I sat in the chair. Having come from the bright kitchen I couldn’t see anything at all. The room was silent; they had switched the music off, until I heard the distinctive sound of a zip being undone. There was a series of rustling noises and I realised that they were undressing in front of me. I strained to see but couldn’t. I heard them climb into bed. They must have taken my bed cover off, so were now under my duvet in their underwear or perhaps even naked. The first kiss rang out in the room, hitting me like an electric shock. Was this really happening? I heard a second kiss. Slowly more followed. The duvet rustled as bodies shifted beneath it. A little sigh and then more kissing. Before long it was apparent that a full on snogging session was in progress. Someone made a little ‘mm’ sound. I couldn’t tell who. Gradually, as I sat there, the two girls became more active and were making more noise. It was as if, at the start, they were both very aware of me sitting in the room, just six feet from the foot of the bed. Now, however, as their engagement with each other became more passionate then, perhaps, I was forgotten. At the same time, my eyes were becoming more attuned to the low light in the room. When C had initially blown out the candle it was almost pitch black, apart from the light at the bottom of the door. Now, however, when I looked at the bed in front and just to the left of where I sat, I realised that I could see the white hump of my double duvet, draped over the two, now moving figures. I couldn’t see anyone’s head so I had no idea who was where but it seemed to me that one figure was on top of the other. The kissing had stopped and now there was just gentle rustling as if hands were stroking skin beneath the cotton covers. “Umm!” said C, quietly but quietly. I leant forward to get my head even a few inches closer, my erection throbbing in my jeans. There was a shift of bodies under the duvet and I heard a wet lapping noise and soft breathing. I slid my hand over the bulge in my denims. I desperately wanted to get my cock out and rub it but didn’t dare; not least because I didn’t want to upset R. Suddenly, there was a movement and I could just see the white hump of the duvet thrown back, revealing a white shape which must have been R’s naked back, from the size of it. Her pale hair glowed in the limited light. The shape dropped and I heard the wet lapping again. I could now just about see C’s knees either side of R’s body. R was licking C’s pussy. This was another level above the kissing and caressing that C had done with S at the New College party the previous year. In that case they had both remained clothed but now both girls were, as far as I could tell, completely naked. R was making little vocalisations as she licked away.
“Mmpl. Mmm. Mmpl” she breathed. I could imagine the musky, creamy taste of C running over her tongue, the hard little bud, the soft, fleshy labia, the feel of her orange fluff on R’s nose.
“Fuck me!” said C, softly. I could see R move her shoulder and I imagined her slipping a finger up inside C’s juicy cunt. After a while R seemed to move up and resume kissing C but I could still hear her finger or fingers thrusting in and out of C’s wetness. C’s breaths were becoming increasingly ragged as I could now see R’s elbow clearly moving as she finger fucked the redhead. I couldn’t work out how long it took R to bring C to orgasm. My sense of reality and time had been lost in a sensual miasma of sound that permeated the whole room. It could have been a minute or it could have been five but eventually C let out a long ‘aaah!’ All movement stopped and all there was was the sound of intermittent kissing. “On your back!” ordered C, after a while. I watched as they swapped places, so that R was underneath. C looked over her shoulder, right at me and I could imagine but not quite see her smile in the dark. Was she laughing at me? Taunting me? Or was it something more complicit? The presentation of an enjoyable performance? A reward? C kicked the duvet completely off the bed and got between R’s thighs and the lapping sound started again. R was more mobile than C, writhing around and kicking her legs. C concentrated on R just as I used to concentrate on her; licking away steadily; not breaking for kisses on the mouth or other places. C had her bottom in the air and she was rotating her hips as she serviced R. At one point she appeared to put her hand between her legs and stroke herself.
“Ooooh!” murmured R, after a while. C wriggled up R's body and lay on top of her. There were a few kisses and then nothing. No sound. No movement. Just two immobile pale shapes in my bed. I had thought that watching C bring herself to orgasm earlier in the term was the most erotic thing I had witnessed to that point but this murky coupling, which was more about sound than vision, had topped it. I sat there, still painfully erect and then started to worry about what would happen if they both fell asleep. I’d be stuck in my own room with nowhere to lie down. I thought of A’s lilo in the cupboard. No chance of inflating that quietly. I didn’t move. C sat up, astride R’s waist. She turned her head to look at me and I sensed her grinning again.
“Go and see if the party noise has stopped!” she said to me. “While we get dressed.” It seemed like a reasonable request. I stood up and left the room, deliberately not looking at the bed as the open door flooded it with light. I was still erect, my mind full of the glimpses of white flesh and the sounds of passion I had just experienced. I got to the ground floor, left my staircase and headed left towards the house where C’s room was. There were still a lot of lights on but the booming noise had finished. Maybe someone had complained. The idea of a staircase party was to invite everyone so no one did that but in the annexe there were so many staircases close together that you couldn’t invite everyone. There was always someone who had a tutorial the next day. I walked over to the door and let myself in with my key, as we had a key which would open all the annexe staircase doors. I went up to C’s floor. It was quiet. There was some conversation from the floor above. I looked up the stairway and saw the two college lesbians sat at the top, snogging. I smiled. They were what would today be called Goth chicks; always dressed in black with dyed black hair. When I returned to my room, R was dressed but C was standing in her laciest lingerie holding her dress; no doubt having waited for my return just to tease me. I told them what I had seen, including the snogging lesbians. C was excited and wanted to take R over there straight away but R said she needed to get back to college. C frowned and looked annoyed in that way she did when people didn’t do what she wanted. I looked at my watch; it was now quite late. I said I could walk R back. C said that would not be necessary but R said it would be nice. She was a tall, attractive blonde and got hassle sometimes, late at night. I grabbed my coat and we all trooped down the stairs together. C to my surprise, did not see R off at the gate to the annexe but said goodbye at the door to my staircase. She gave R a wet kiss, at which R looked a bit uncomfortable. R reminded her she would be round at midday tomorrow to pick up C on the way to catch the bus back to Birmingham for the weekend. C waved dismissively and stalked off to her staircase, swinging her bottom, provocatively.
I took R out the main annexe entrance, not the one past the Union which led onto Cornmarket, which could be a bit boisterous late at night. We went along George Street and into Broad Street to head towards Parks Road where Keble was. It was about three quarters of a mile altogether. We walked in silence, until we passed the end of Cornmarket.
“I don’t really know what to say,” said R. “I’m very embarrassed. I’ve never done anything like that before! Been such an exhibitionist.” I said that I wasn’t surprised and C made people do things they wouldn’t have imagined before they met her. I recalled C making me piss in the street outside New College and trying to get me to fuck her in the street. I said that I had enjoyed it and felt very honoured that they would share something so intimate with me. She admitted that it was more exciting knowing I was there. I asked her how long she had known C and she said since they were eleven.
“Has she changed?” I asked. “Personality wise, that is.” R gave out a short laugh and said she had changed a lot over the last year. She thought she was very depressed.
“You seem to have helped for a bit but now...since you went off with the girl with the big...” She stopped and laughed, looking down at her chest, now concealed under her smart beige raincoat.
“It wasn’t quite like that,” I said. “I was reacting to C going off with the creep…” I stopped. It sounded a bit mean and petty, like school children accusing each other in the playground, although I had been unbelievably hurt and upset at the time.
“I thought as much,” she said. We turned into Parks Road and walked on in silence for a while. “I’m not a lesbian. It’s just C wants… I don’t know. Shit!”
“C wants unconditional love and worship entirely on her terms!” I said.
“You do know her well,” she laughed. We reached the main gate of Keble, looming, as ever, in its red-brick awfulness, like a horrible, American effort at English stately home grandeur; an ugly pastiche that didn’t look quite right; like those fibreglass replicas of cars from the thirties, so popular at the time with Hollywood stars. “Come in for a drink,” she said. I said it was fine and I better get back. “It wasn’t really a request. An instruction!” She laughed. An odd barking laugh, like a feminine version of the actor Kenneth More. “I’m telling you not asking! Being like C!”
“I’m not sure,” I said. C would have a nutty.
“Don’t worry. I won’t eat you. Not tonight, anyway! Eaten pussy instead!” she gave me such a naughty smile that I gave in and followed her into the brick pile. We walked down the side of the main quad next to the chapel and up to her room. Inside I recognised some of her things from when I had visited her room with C in the first year, which was the only other time I had met her. Her desk lamp in an old chianti bottle, which had a red shade. A Welsh flag (she didn’t sound Welsh). A golf club, propped up in the corner. A large teddy bear with an eye missing. This wasn’t the same room and, unlike mine for the second year, was rather bigger. It looked over the main quad and the chapel. There were several prints of Degas and Renoir nudes on the wall. I looked at them. “I know, I know!” she said, laughing again. “C bought them for me.” She put the cosy Chianti bottle light on, switched off her overhead light and drew the curtains. “Romantic, eh?” she said. Please don’t get romantic, I thought. I watched her as she hung her raincoat up. Then, looking at her in her Hollywood style dress, I thought, please get romantic. She asked me to undo the zip at the back of her dress. I did. My heart pounding. “Could you see anything in your room?” she asked. “It was brighter than I expected once my eyes adjusted.” I admitted I could.
“Just a vague outline. Shapes. You know.” I replied.
“In that case!” she pushed her dress over her hips and revealed her lacy white lingerie. Nothing to hide!” I wasn’t surprised to see the stockings and suspender belt. I am sure C would have insisted.
“I bet C made you get those!” I said as she carefully removed her stockings, after sitting on her bed.
“True! Never would otherwise, She bought them for me.” she said. “She does love her lacy frou-frou!” She unclipped her suspender belt and dropped it into a small wicker basket next to her wardrobe. “That’s better! It’s bit tight, to be honest.” It had left a mark around her waist. She had a marvellously ripe body but it was different from the soft ripeness of H and her sister. Her long legs had powerful thighs, bellied with muscle at the back and with large quadriceps at the front. She was a rower, I knew. Her arms were similarly toned. She seemed to have something of a light tan, although it was difficult to be sure in the red light. She caught me looking at her. “What?”
“You have a fantastic body!” I said, meaning it.
“My legs are too muscly!” I said they looked superbly athletic. She grinned. “Nice to know someone appreciates them. C thinks they are unfeminine.” Typical of C to tell her, I thought. I said that they were the best pair of legs I had ever seen and she said I was very sweet. She went to the drawer of her chest and pulled out a grey Royal Shakespeare Company sweatshirt which she pulled on, covering her chest, disappointingly. She didn’t put anything over the knickers and said she would let me carry on appreciating her legs but pulled on a pair of pink ankle socks. She went over to a small cupboard on the far side of the room, next to her desk. “Drink?” she asked.
“Tea would be nice!” I answered.
“I was thinking of Calvados!” she held up a bottle of the French apple brandy. My father loved Calvados and had introduced me to it when I was about ten. I remember going back for my final year of junior school after the summer holidays. The teacher, Mrs N, had asked some of us what we had done for the holidays. She asked me, as I rarely said anything in class. We went to France, I said. We always went to the same house near the Pyrenees. I think my father owned it with a friend of his. We used to take three days to drive down there from Dieppe, as my father sought out hotels with interesting restaurants. There was no question of children’s menus. My sister and I ate what he ate. Escargots (which my sister loved), grenouilles, riz de veau, cheval, cassoulet, rognons, calamari, tripes... Mrs N asked if I had had anything interesting to drink, which was different from what we got in England. ‘Calvados!’ I answered. ‘It’s made from apples!’ ‘Yes. Well. Let’s move on shall we?’ she had replied.
“Calvados would be lovely!” I said. She started to peel off the capsule and I told her not to open it especially for me. She said she had been looking for an excuse to try it as it had been a present from her uncle. She poured a little into a couple of tumblers. She looked at them carefully and poured us both some more. She handed me the tumbler which was not a cheap one, like I had, but a crystal one. Heavy and comforting. I sniffed the Calvados. A good one. “Nice glasses,” I said.
“That reminds me!” She got up and got her contact lens pots out. She took out her lenses and put on a pair of severe black glasses which made her look like a librarian. A librarian with an Olympic athlete’s legs. “Not the glamorous girl you were hoping for!” she said.
“I wasn’t hoping for anything!” I said, taking my first appreciative sip of what really was a very good Calvados indeed.
“Come and sit with me!” she said patting the bed next to me. No! No! No! I thought, already imagining C rapping on the door. I must have looked hesitant. “Come on, baby!” she said, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the wall. I crossed the room and sat next to her; fearing and hoping that she might pounce. She didn’t. I took a risk and took my shoes off. “That’s better!” she said. We sat and drank Calvados and talked about C. I found myself, inexplicably, defending her bad behaviour. I said her home situation was making her fed up and grumpy. She said that she had known C for eight years and she was always fed up and grumpy. We gradually relaxed and she teased out the details of C and my relationship. She wanted intimate details and I held back. She said that given I had just watched C make her come with her tongue, not talking about intimate details was a bit silly. She said she knew that I had taken C up the arse recently which she had told R she had loved. She had wanted to demonstrate on R using her fingers but R didn’t fancy that at all. She asked me if I wasn’t worried about what I might find ‘up there’ but I said I knew she had just been to the loo, which she thought was worse. She asked if C went to the loo in front of me. I said all the time and told her about the chamber pot. She said when C had stayed with her over the summer she had been cleaning her teeth and a naked C had just come into the bathroom, sat on the loo and 'spent a penny'. R had been completely shocked. I thought about telling her about A pissing on my leg but decided not to. She asked me if I was really good at oral sex and had taught C what to do. I told her that in the beginning I had no idea what to do. She didn’t believe that I had no previous experience. I must have blushed as she pointed at me and went ‘ah ha!’
“Maybe a bit of experience!” I admitted, thinking of the first time I had blindly dived into A’s pussy, on my orange carpet at home. She climbed off the bed and went to refill our glasses.
“Shut your eyes!” she ordered. I did. I heard her take some clothes off and the drawer opened again. I was very tempted to peer through my eyelashes but didn’t. Anyway, today had taught me a lot about the erotic power of sound alone. “OK!” she said, after a while. I opened my eyes. She was wearing a white cotton vest, roughly cut off at just below waist level and a pair of soft, cotton black shorts. The vest was voluminous and I could catch glimpses of the sides of her breasts if she lifted her arms. Without a bra her breasts moved delightfully beneath the cotton. I found it a very erotic garment.
“So cute!” I said. She gave me a twirl and flashed a slice of her waist. I noticed how the shorts clung to her bottom. “And the outfit!” I added. She laughed. She stood there looking at me. She picked up her drink from the desk and took a big swig.
“Stay the night!” she said.
“C would literally kill me!” I replied, thinking of something K had once said to me.
“C doesn’t have to know. C doesn’t own us!”
“But you’re her girlfriend! You’re going back to Birmingham tomorrow. She is staying with you!”
“She’s sleeping with me. In my bed. Did she tell you what happened over the summer?”
"Some of it,” I admitted.
“I’m not a lesbian,” she repeated. “I like boys. Tall ones with muscle and stiff, veined cocks. Sorry. I’m being crude.” She came over and sat next to me, handing me my second Calvados. I glanced at her alarm clock. It was getting on for one AM. "It was C instigated the... well. You know. We had that incident during D of E camp, Just hormonal teenage girls experimenting. I almost forgot about it but C had obviously been thinking about it a lot. It never occurred to me that because we were sharing a bed when she came to stay that she would want to have sex.
"But you didn't stop her?"
"No. I know. You know what she is like. She made me come. That was a surprise. I did kind of enjoy it. I like orgasms!"
"What about this evening?" I asked. There hadn't been any apparent reluctance on R's part. She shrugged.
"Do you know what made it really exciting, tonight?" I shook my head slightly but I could guess.
"Knowing you were there. Knowing we were getting you aroused."
You certainly did that!" I said. She looked at my groin, briefly.
"I'm going to have to have a difficult conversation with C this weekend. I don;t have time in my life for a lover. Especially such a demanding one." I wished her luck and suggested maybe she should save the discussion for the Christmas holidays.
“I need to go!” I said. I had a vision of C bursting in to one of my tutorials and starting to rant about me having had her girlfriend.
“You haven’t started your second Calvados. I can’t drink it and I can’t pour it back into the bottle. Be a waste!” She leaned forward and kissed me with her appley lips. Oh no! I thought. Oh yes! I thought.
“I could sleep on the floor!” I mused.
“Misses the point," she said. What point, I wondered? "In my bed. With me. If I was C. I’d blackmail you by threatening to tell her you kissed me!” I agreed that that sounded like exactly the sort of things she might do. “Maybe I am worried I am a lesbian and don’t want to be. Maybe I need some masculine reassurance!” Maybe you don’t need that second glass of Calvados, I thought. She put her long, tanned, bare legs over my lap and I focussed on not getting stiff. She carried on chatting about C at school and how C was convinced she was going to be elected school captain because of her academic achievements but R had got the nod because she was sporty and popular and C had never really forgiven her, despite her being her best friend. C couldn’t understand why people didn’t vote for her. She ended up fourth in the election.
After a while R stood up and picked up my shoes. She said she was going to have a shower and was taking my shoes hostage so I couldn’t make a run for it. She went over to a door next to her wardrobe and opened it. I thought it was a disused doorway from the days when, perhaps, it had been part of a set of two rooms which used to be normal in Oxford, even as recently as the sixties.
“My God! You have a bathroom!” I jumped off the bed. She had a bathroom with a loo, a washbasin and a small shower cubicle. Dobs had a bathroom in his room but he was at an ex-women’s college where they were a bit more pampered.
“Lots of people at Keble have ensuite bathrooms!” she said. “Do you want to shower first or second. Not enough room for two! C and I tried it!” I stood, still mesmerised by the bathroom. “No dirty boys allowed in my bed! Only dirty girls!”
“C will kill us both!” I said.
“I’ll go first. You can sit here and imagine it! Like you did earlier!” She shut the door but didn’t lock it. Was that an implied invitation? Should I casually step in? I decided that that would be crass. I went back and sat on the bed and drank my Calvados, thinking what an exciting night I was having. I heard the water running and her singing away, tunelessly. After about five minutes she came out, just dressed in a pink towel, holding the shorts and vest. The ends of her hair were wet, tickling the tops of her shoulders but it was not sodden. She must have a shower cap, like C. “Your turn!” she said gaily and headed back over to her glass of Clvados. As soon as I got inside the bathroom I suddenly realised I didn’t know what to do. I had nothing to change into other than the clothes I was wearing. I had never worked out the insouciant towel wrapping technique and, anyway, there was only a face towel left. I stripped off anyway and hopped into the very small shower. It had a plastic shower curtain. I closed it and started the shower. At least it didn’t have to warm up. After about thirty seconds I could tell the door had been opened. I looked over my shoulder and could see R’s shape through the curtain, leaning against the door. I could even tell she was holding her glass, so I assumed she could see me. There was some shampoo in the shower so I washed myself with that although I kept my back to her. Suddenly the shower curtain was whipped back.
“Oh!” I said, brilliantly.
“Time for bed!” she said. “Wear these!” she was dressed in her vest and shorts again and was holding another pair of soft shorts. These were grey.
“I’m really not sure about this!” I said, reaching behind me for the shorts. I could feel her eyes on my back and bottom. “Are they…?”
“They’re mine. I don’t keep random men’s clothes in my room on the off chance a man will come to stay.” She handed me her damp bath towel and I dried myself while she watched every move. I felt her eyes run up and down my body. Assessing it. She nodded. I hoped in approval. I didn’t make any attempt to cover myself, given she had pulled the shower curtain back herself. I pulled the shorts on. “They fit perfectly!” she said.
“A bit tight!” I said. I was conscious that they were clinging to my genitals.
“Exactly!” She laughed. She went over to the desk and switched her lamp off. “Come to bed. No sex. Just…”
“A cuddle?” I asked, hopefully.
“Just sleeping,” she said and yawned.
“What if I get…”
“Fine. I know men can’t help it. Just sleeping though!”
“Back to back!” I suggested.
“Solves it!” she said. She got into bed first. I gingerly got under the duvet and perched at the edge of her bed. At least it was bigger than mine. She was a big girl and there was no way of avoiding contact. I became erect almost immediately; more from the situation than any actual sensuality. Nothing happened, other than a tired sounding ‘good night’ and she fell asleep almost immediately. It was late and I wasn’t far behind, despite my erection. C, I thought again, will actually kill us.
I woke early the next morning and could feel the effect of the Calvados in my head. I hadn’t gone to the loo last thing and was desperate. I slipped out into her bathroom for a piss and crept out again later, intending to pick up my clothes and flee. R turned over and looked at me. I had a sudden fear that the whole thing had been some sort of test, conceived by C. To what purpose, I wasn’t sure.
“Sorry!” I said. I had wondered about not flushing but that would have looked bad. She wasn’t C, with her cavalier attitude to pissing.
“Back to bed!” she said. I hopped in next to her. This time she spooned up behind me, in a much more intimate way and I felt her big cotton covered breasts pressing against my bare back. She put an arm around my waist. I looked at her alarm clock. It was about six thirty. I had no lectures and had done my tutorial. Just a day in the library beckoned. I started to get stiff but R seemed to have fallen asleep again. Eventually, there was a sound of gentle snoring. I grinned. C was going to kill us. Or just me, if it was all a plot. She would never believe nothing had happened. I must have dozed off again. We both woke about two hours later. “Hey,” she said.
“Morning, loveliness!” I said. She put her head over my shoulder and kissed my cheek.
“You behaved impeccably!” she said. “What a gentleman!” We wriggled around so that we were facing each other. I looked at her blonde eyelashes and eyebrows and those ice blue eyes. She told me that she had really needed me close last night. She expected to sleep with C the previous night until she saw the sizes of our beds in the annexe. “I can’t really explain! You’ve been so nice!”
“We must do it again!” I joked.
“Maybe,” she replied, not very encouragingly. She sat up. “Up you get before we do something we shouldn't!” I rolled out of bed and she climbed out of bed too. We stood looking at each other for a few seconds. She looked all warm and bed rumpled. I fought an incipient erection as there would be nowhere to hide it in those shorts. I also fought a strong desire to take her in my arms. I wondered if she might be thinking the same. I could sense that if I moved even two inches towards her we'd be pulling each other's clothes off. We stood and looked at each other. I could see her nipples were erect through the thin cotton of her vest. My cock twitched. I could see from her reaction that she had noticed. She smiled. My heart raced. Now! Step forward now, I said to myself. I didn't. She turned away, looking flustered and grabbed some clothes from her drawers before going into the bathroom, this time bolting the door. I got dressed outside. I could here her having another shower. She came out dressed. She asked me what sport I did as I 'looked athletic'. I replied that I used to be a good 400m runner. Southern Counties level. A hand timed 53.1 on cinders at fourteen. She said I looked like a quarter miler. She said she wasn’t really built for running. She looked down at her chest. They looked nearly as big as H’s. She really was a blonde goddess.
“I’ll buy you a bacon sandwich at the Queen’s Lane Coffee house!” I said. It wasn’t a C haunt. I’d taken J there, after our first night of passion. The lack of passion with R, it seemed to me, shouldn’t militate against a bacon sandwich.
“With HP sauce?” she asked.
“What a sound girl!” I replied. Over breakfast, she started to try to explain why she had wanted me with her the night before but struggled and I said she had no need to explain. If it made her feel better that was good enough for me. She leaned across the small table and kissed me on the lips. I said I did like a girl who tasted of HP sauce. I walked her back to her college.
“Oh well. Better pack for my weekend of lesbian sex with C! Laciest underwear! See you soon!” The last comment put me in a good mood as I felt that C had deliberately kept me away from her the previous year. I walked back to the annexe, for a shower and a change of clothes, fantasising about what the gorgeous R’s body was like underneath her shorts and vest. Should I have surprised her in the shower? Maybe it would have been a mistake. Maybe she had intended to seduce me but had had a change of heart. Perhaps I should write to her and say I would like to draw her but that would be a bit obvious. It was up to her, I decided. It had been a nice experience, anyway. Totally unexpected, which made it all the more satisfactory.
My bed was still rumpled from where R and C had left it.. After my shower, where I got nicely stiff, still thinking about the previous night’s unexpected activities. I went back to my room. I sniffed the sheet, hoping to smell musky female scents but there was nothing appreciable. I took off my dressing gown and hopped into bed for a play, remembering everything that had happened the previous night. There was a knock on the door. I jumped. I knew it was C. I kept still and silent.
“I know you are in there. There are water drops running from the shower to your door! You never dry yourself properly! Open up or I’ll sthcream and sthcream and sthcream until I’m thick!” she said, echoing another monstrous redhead, in Richmal Crompoton’s William stories. I sighed and got up, still naked and still partially erect and opened the door. C pushed her way in. “Were you having a wank?” she said, squeezing my cock in greeting. “Thinking about me licking R’s pussy. About her juices soaking your sheet. Bet you don’t want to wash it now! Two gorgeous girls, licking each other in your lonely bed! Lucky, lucky boy!”
“It was a lovely experience indeed!” I said. She started to remove her skirt, a thick reddish brown ankle length one. Underneath she had her thigh high cream woollen socks on, held up by a suspender belt. She was wearing her big cream jumper again. She pulled this off to reveal a cream silk blouse, which she started to unbutton. She kept her bra on but removed her knickers. She pulled the duvet off my bed and lay down on it with her legs spread.
“Get to work! Let’s soak your sheet again! See how you compare to R!” I might have known that she would make it competitive. I didn’t know what she was up to but I knelt between her legs, my cock at full stiffness again and started to kiss the insides of her thighs. “No foreplay!” she said. “Get to it!” I slid my tongue between her fleshy petals. I went at her hard; mercilessly working on her stiff little clitoris and she bucked beneath me moaning and swearing. She came very quickly. I wriggled up her and kissed her, as I knew she liked to taste her own juices. “Terrific! Make sure you shave next time first. Girls are so much smoother! Now, I want tea and a biscuit!” I had been hoping to slide into her, as my cock nuzzled at her pussy when we kissed but she was obviously not in the mood for that. I stood up, my cock still at full elevation. “You can have a wank when I’ve gone!” she said, generously. She wiped her pussy with one of the tissues from my desk (‘your wank box’, she called it). She pulled her clothes on as I made the tea. Half way through her third custard cream (“get better biscuits this weekend”, she ordered) she asked me if I had kissed R goodnight after I took her back to her college.
“She kissed me!” I said, flicking the switch on the kettle again.
“Cunt!” she said. I grinned, triumphantly. She left and said she had to pack. “Have a nice wank!” she said. "Think about what R and I are going to do tonight!" She kissed me on the lips and said how delicious she was. I closed the door and heard her jumping down the stairs, three at a time again. I didn’t feel like it now and got dressed. M was supposed to be coming from Cambridge, this weekend, when C was in Birmingham, but she hadn’t confirmed. I suddenly realised that I hadn’t checked my pigeonhole for two days. In a panic, I raced over to College. It was Friday. I’d lost track. There was a greetings card from Cambridge. It was postmarked Tuesday. She would be arriving at the bus station just after midday, today. It was already well on the way to eleven. The first thing that occurred to me was that I better change the bed linen. The second thing was that I had better get some more biscuits. I raced back to the annexe via the Co-op and quickly changed all my bedding. Hoping that we would, indeed, end up in bed together. No guarantees though, I thought. At least I had A’s lilo.
