Friday, 2 June 2017

1980: Easter and May Day

Dramatis personæ 

In this episode:

Women at College
C my petite redheaded girlfriend
K C's best friend at College
L another female law student a
E another female law student

Men at College  

D a law student with the room next to mine
F a male law student having a relationship with E

Women from elsewhere

P, my  chool friend's girlfriend at art  school

Men from elsewhere

O my school friend at art school
E a former schoolmate of mine at another college

The day after K, C and my 'Berlin Nightclub evening', as I called it, to C'e amusement, was our last full day before the end of term.  C had a hangover and was not in an affectionate mood.  She disappeared off to her room first thing in the morning and said she wasn't having breakfast.  I didn't have a hangover so did go to breakfast.  There was no sign of K either.  I read a letter which had arrived from my school friend O, who was now at art school.  They were having an exhibition at the end of their term and he asked me to go and see it, in Kingston.  I would be back home by then and wondered if C might go with me.  I went back to my room to start to pack, as my mother and sister were coming to collect me the next day.  We didn't have to take everything out of our rooms, fortunately, as they didn't use my room for visitors over the Easter holidays.  The girls had to get everything out of theirs, though, because as they had washbasins and modern bathrooms on the staircases, they were used a lot by visitors in the vacation.  C was going to put all her stuff in my room but she was going to stay on a few days so was also going to live in my room. I was worried about her blowing up the room trying to light the gas fire.  She did not seem to have the knack of striking matches.

We spent all afternoon, when she eventually surfaced, looking fragile, moving her stuff from her room up to mine.  Well, she didn't do much moving.  She supervised (i.e. sat and ate chocolate) while I went up and down the stairs dozens of times.

"Are you finally moving in full time?" D, the lawyer in the next room to mine, asked C (she later told me),  "Best way to keep an eye on him, eh?"  C was not amused.

It was only when we had got all the stuff that she wasn't taking home, into my room that I realised quite how much she had, compared with me.  

"If you can call it a home," she moaned.  I told her that she was starting to sound like Marvin the Paranoid Android from The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  We both liked the radio show and I had bought the LP version, which I had recorded so I could play it on my cassette player. Douglas Adams had done a book signing of the novelisation in The Paperback Shop and he signed copies for me and C.  C got me to read it aloud to her, as she liked being read to. One of the things about studying Law was that you got reading fatigue.  You just couldn't bear to read any more after 12 hours a day of solid reading. Today, I tend to only really read on aeroplanes and I am unable to read anything dense or challenging as I am read out, basically. My reading is confined to historical novels, history or art books.  My sister always derides me for 'only reading books with pictures in them'.

We met up with K for dinner, who told us never to let her drink so much again. We had tea in my room afterwards and K and I agreed to meet up to see the Vikings exhibition in London, which C didn't fancy at all.  K was going home first thing the next day, Saturday.  

"We're going to have our last night together before the holidays," said C to K.  "You can join us or watch!"  K opted to disappear, although she looked amused rather than offended.

"Actually, tonight I am glad she is not here," said C after she had gone.  "You have been a very good boy and you can do anything you like!"

Well. we went through our complete repertoire.  Beginning with her sucking my cock, particularly wetly, in front of the fire. Then I licked her for a bit before I swivelled around so we could sixty-nine each other.  I was on top and when I pulled my cock back from her mouth I accidentally pulled out to far and I started to ejaculate outside her mouth; emptying my balls all over the lower half of her face. I expected an appalled comment but she licked up my spunk with her tongue and laughed.

"Sorry!" I said.

"I liked it.  This time!" she said, nevertheless getting up to wipe her face with a tissue. in front of my my wardrobe mirror.  "I wonder what K would think if she could see me with your sperm all over my face!" 

"Perhaps she'd like to lick it off!" I said. 

"That's not the part of my body I'd like her to lick!" said C.  "Now get on your back.  I'm going to cover your face with my juices!"  She knelt over my face, but was facing towards my feet so I licked her pussy and tickled her arsehole with my finger.  "I'm empty!" she said.  I slowly pushed my finger inside her, deeper than I had ever gone before.  "Mmm!" she said, encouragingly.  I started to gently push my finger in and out of her soft, moist rectum as I resumed licking her.  She had a big, 'spasmodic one', as she called them, when her thighs went into spasms and she sat right down on my face until I worried I couldn't breathe so I had to gently push her off.  She rolled over onto her back with her legs spread wantonly, her vulva was pink, swollen and wet.  I couldn't resist it so I went down and started licking her again.  "No!" she said.  "It's too much!" I didn't stop, though,  "Stop it!" she said again, so I did.  "Not really!  Back to work!" she said.  She came again within a few minutes.  I gave her a pussy juice flavoured kiss.  "Excellent!" she said. I lay next to her on the rug. She looked at my ceiling.

"Are you alright?" I asked.  She was still being moody.  She was feeling the stress of her domestic housing situation as well as pressure from the tutors to do well.

"Yes.  Do you know what you need?" She was always telling me what I needed, whether it was Cabaret on cassette, another white shirt (she had a think for men in white shirts), packets of Lebkuchen biscuits, a bottle of gin, a different hair cut etc. etc.  All designed around her personal preferences.

"What?" I asked, resignedly. 

"A thicker rug!  This one isn't very comfortable!  You need a sheepskin!  Or a tiger skin.  She recited a poem:

Would you like to sin 
With Elinor Glyn 
On a tiger skin? 
Or would you prefer 
To err with her 
On some other fur?

I had no idea who Elinor Glyn was, so she told me about the English writer who later moved to Hollywood and invented the concept of 'It'; that charismatic indefinable something that some people had and most didn't.  C considered she had 'It' in spades. of course.  All this time she was fondling my genitals and it didn't take very long before I was stiff again. I rolled on top of her and she guided me inside her.  I thrust away gently until she told me to go harder and faster.  She started to scratch my back and clamped her legs around me, pushing back with her hips. I grabbed her wrists and held both of them in one hand over her head.

 "Ravished! ravished" gasped C.  I kept pounding away, not even feeling close to coming, given I had emptied my balls only half an hour before. I felt a flood of warmth around my cock root and down my balls. I slowed down and pulled out.  There was a big wet patch on the rug.  "Oh dear!  I think I have just pissed on your tiger skin!"  And she had too.

She was distraught, very apologetic and washed me down with some damp tissues.  She then dabbed away at the damp patch in the rug with more tissues, which seemed to make no difference at all.  I went down to the Scout's pantry and got some thick, industrial paper towels.  These did a much better job and soon we had a Sainsbury's plastic bag full of wet paper towels.  As ever, we were amused by the 'It's clean, it's fresh, at Saisnbury's' writing on it.

C said I shouldn't have to mop up her pee and I said I didn't mind as it was hers and I loved all her emissions. She gave me a kiss and went back to pressing the paper towels onto the rug.   C sluiced hot water from the kettle over the patch. We didn't know what to do with the wet paper towels. C wanted to put them down the loo but we thought they might block it,  She wanted to put them in the Scout's pantry bin but he wouldn't be there until Monday and we were worried about what the smell would be like by then.. In the end we put them in the bin in the bathroom in the basement on the basis that it was so disgusting in there already it wouldn't make any difference. While we were down there we had a shower and C scrubbed away at my cock and balls, using lots of one of her expensive soaps.   She soon had me stiff again and so we went back upstairs and had a slow gentle one in bed, with me on top.  This time I did come, inside her, although I suspect there was not much in the way of spunk.  Afterwards she made me lie on my side and clamped on my back like a monkey.

"I'm going to miss you over the holidays.  You must come and stay!" I said.

"I won't be able to sleep in your bed, though!"  I could feel her breath on the back or my neck.  It was little things like that I would miss almost as much as the more intimate moments.  I nearly said something about my mother not minding and then stopped myself, worried about revealing anything about A.  Then I started to worry about what my mother and my sister might say about A and J, from Finland.

"The spare room is right next door to mine!" I said. She started stroking my genitals again although I had no chance of getting erect at that point.

"I think we need a book of positions?" she said, suddenly.

"A book?"

"Yes. Of sex positions.  Like the Kama Sutra.  It's usually you on top and you are a lot bigger than me and I feel squashed, sometimes!"

"You go on top sometimes, like just now.  I like that.  You can do it more!" I said.  To be fair, I was conscious of our size difference.  I was nearly a foot taller than her and three and a half stone heavier.  "Where would you get such a book?" I asked.

"I don't know.  Soho?" she suggested.  I thought of all the dubious looking places A and I had seen when we went there a few years before.  She didn't say anything more about it and we drifted off to sleep.

The next morning C didn't want to get up.  She pissed in the 'piss flask' and got back into bed.  She wanted to 'play' and was in an active mood; squirming. wriggling and crawling about in her otter like way.  I enjoyed it but wanted breakfast and to get my packing done as my mother and sister were due that morning.  My mother would probably be early as she would be so keen to see me.  I didn't want her to discover a naked C in my room, although she probably wouldn't mind.  My sister, was a different matter, however.

"You're not being very relaxing!" I said, as she pushed my head down towards her orange pussy.

"Don't want relaxing!  Want to come before breakfast!  Don't worry I won't piss in your bed.  Probably not, anyway!""   We just made it to breakfast before they stopped serving.  I had a cooked one, as it was Saturday.  "He needs to regain his strength!" said C to K.  K giggled and some of the other students grinned.  I was annoyed because she seemed to be treating me as a pet, again.  After breakfast we went to the Lodge where C told them that she didn't need the room that she had been allocated for ninth week, as she was going to move into mine.

"Of course," said the Porter giving me a look which said 'we all know what you are doing.'  I was probably imagining it.

"Did you think that the Porter gave us a knowing look?" asked C as we went back to mt room.

"I don't think so," I replied. "You were imagining it!"

"He did.  He knows we are doing it!  Everyone knows!"

"K didn't," I reminded her.

"Now K knows you do it with me she will want to do it with you too!"

"I thought you liked the idea," I said.  She had mentioned it more than once.

"Only if I am there as well. Joining in.  Not the two of you on your own.  No groping in the Vikings exhibition!" she said, waving her finger at me. As we were about to go through the archway past the organ scholar's rooms our Criminal Law tutor emerged and wished C a nice holiday.  He ignored me.

"That was rude," I said.

"He's jealous because he know we are going back to your room make love again!" she said.

"Are we?" I said.  It was gone nine and although my mother said she wouldn't be there until eleven she could well be early.

"Don't you want to?  Or would you rather get between K's skinny legs?  Thrusting away in her hot little cunt!"

"C!"  I said.  "Shh!"  there were lots of people about, as most of them were going home that day.

We went back to my room and had a 'quickie' on my chair.  She didn't get undressed and I just pulled my trousers down to my knees. I opened the window as the room now stank of sex,  C looked happy and we swapped her bed clothes for mine.

"I'm going to lie in your bed with my legs apart, like a Men Only, girl diddling myself!" she said, as I put the last of my clothes in my case.

She was well behaved when my mother and sister arrived.  Polite, even. The college had opened the square so parents could get their cars in.  C even helped carry my stuff to the car.  My mother then invited C to join us for lunch.  Which she did, to my sister's dismay.

"I hope you can come and stay for a few days over Easter, now you live so much closer!" said my mother. My sister was sitting next to C and I saw her jaw clench.

"How lovely!  That would be every nice.  I am so keen to see his bedroom!" she said.  I kicked her under the table. "You can learn a lot about someone by looking at their books and records!" she added, smoothly.

"Science fiction and Wagner!" said my mother.

"Interesting!" said C.  The term 'geek; was not in use in Britain then but you could tell by looking at her face that that was what she was thinking.

We walked back to the car from the Turl and C said goodbye to us.  She gave me a rather more lingering kiss than I would have preferred in front of my family and my sister screwed up her face.

We drove out the square and C waved us off.

"What a relief!" said my sister.

"Don't be horrid!" said my mother.  "She is very nice.  Very pretty.  Such lovely hair!"

"She's weird.  She looks at you in a weird way!" said my sister.

"She is very short sighted.  She didn't put her contact lenses in this morning!" I said.

"How would you know, that!" said my sister.  "Hasn't she got glasses?  Really ugly, National Health glasses!"

"She probably didn't wear them as she wanted to look her best and impress you!" I said.

"She didn't!" said my sister.

C wrote to me the next day, Sunday 17th March, telling me about all the men in college she had been flirting with and warning thatas  now she was living in the south she would be able to keep an eye on me and K.  She said I could go to the Vikings exhibition with K but nothing else (underlined).  She asked if I could bear to go around the Post Impressionists exhibition again, with her.  She was fed up because her sister and small nephews would be coming to stay for much of the Easter holidays.  Worse still, their hot water wasn't working properly so she had lukewarm baths 'just like college'.   She apologised for the less than happy tone of her letter and wrote: 'I need you to cheer me up, in fact I really need you to make love to me.  When?' However, her brother in law was going to try to get her a holiday job with the legal department of his firm, so she might not be free to come and stay with me.

What I also hadn't appreciated was that her 'new house' was only a rented house and that her mother was going back to Birmingham for a week.  Her mother expected C to try to find a house for them to buy and so C was trudging around town looking at houses with estate agents who didn't take her seriously and treated her like a little girl.  That first week back at home it was cold and there was heavy snow.  I wrote back to C to suggest some dates when she could come over to my house and said, if it was alright, I would rather not go around the Post-Impressionists exhibition again.  It had been expensive and I had spent a lot of money that term so needed to horde my money for the expensive Contract and Tort books we would have to buy at the beginning of the following term.  I told her I was still going to the Vikings exhibition at the British Museum with K and did she want to join us at that?  I was not expecting the letter that followed.

She wrote back and said she was very disappointed with the tone of my letter and suggested that I obviously just saw her as a friend and not anything more. She said I needn't worry about taking her to an exhibition as that was 'obviously the sort of thing I did with K'.  C felt she was, to me, apparently, 'the slutty one', while K was the 'favoured one'.  She said she would not come over to my house and 'lie on my bedroom carpet and be a K cunt substitute'.   She would come over if I could bear to see her 'without my vagina'.  Oddly, the second half of the letter was all about some material she had bought and how she was going to make a blouse with it over the holiday.  It was all rather schizophrenic.  I was shocked.  Where had all that come from?  I didn't really have anyone to discuss it with.  None of my school friends, certainly, as talking about relationships with girls with them would have been very weird. Not my mother.  Certainly not my sister.  There was only one person.

"Well, of course," said K, after we had been around the Vikings exhibition the next day and were sitting in Pizza Express in nearby Coptic Street, having a tea, "She has been talking to her mother about the whole La Sorbonne thing!"  C had spent a couple of days with her mother before she had returned to Birmingham.  "Her mother has been winding her up and telling her you have treated her badly for some reason!"  We both agreed that C's mother sounded a little odd.  I told her that I knew that C read all my letters to her and had criticised me in the past for talking about K.  K was supportive and friendly and, fortunately, there was no hint of the brief sexual frisson we had had between us.  I was finding one girl more than a handful.  K advised me to write C a loving, supportive but surprised ('don't get sharp with her, you know what she is like!' ) reply.

It took three attempts to write an appropriate rejoinder to C's weird letter.  Well, perhaps I didn't write an appropriate response as that would have begun 'what on earth are you on about you schizo bitch'.  Instead I began my letter,' My dearest, darling love' on the basis that you could never pile it on too thick.  I expressed surprise at the tome of her letter and apologised (again), for the La Sorbonne incident and there was no question of any rivalry with K as C was 'my only true love'.  'Say 'love' a lot', K had advised, as C was reading all these books on courtly love in medieval times.  I posted the letter in the village post box and waited, with some trepidation, for a reply. One day, two days. three days.

"Your dyed redhead is on the phone!" said my sister one evening, as I sat upstairs, putting some more of my records on tape.

"Hullo!"  I held my breath.  She sounded bright and happy.  The blouse she was making was going well and now she decided she wanted to make a suit but she needed to find some material in London and perhaps we could meet up there the next day.  There were no odd comments, no recriminations.  Maybe someone was listening and she would tell me what she thought of me the next day.

My mother dropped me off at the station the following morning, so I could get the train to London and I waited for her at Waterloo Station under the famous clock; a rendezvous point for couples for decades.   I didn't have long to wait because, as it turned out, she was on the same train as me but I had got on at the front and she was at the back so she hadn't see me on the platform.  She was wearing her fur coat as it was still cold.  We started an epic trek around West End department stores looking at material and we stopped for something to eat in a cafe near Oxford Street.  She stroked my leg, under the table, and was generally affectionate.  After  a long day we got the same train home but it was rush hour so there was no opportunity for any kissing, other than one when I got off the train.   I went home in a very good mood, much to my sister's annoyance.

Two days later a letter arrived, addressed in her beautiful script, which I opened, nervously.  It was only a side and a half, worryingly. She said that she thought I had been very noble in trailing after her while she chose her material (which her mother didn't like) and that: 'I am going to be very good to you as a reward.  Perhaps I will lick around the base of each of your toes and then suck over the top of them.  Perhaps I will let Noel (her ghastly pine marten fur stole) stroke them longly and lovingly. Perhaps I will take that most beautiful soft-hard part of you and lick it very gently all over and blow-dry it with my breath.  perhaps I will take it and put you inside me and be perfectly still, joined together for half an hour before we begin.  Perhaps, afterwards I will wrap you in your quilt and sit against your wall and cradle your head against my breast like a baby.  What would you like?'  There was a brief description of a fox fur that her sister had bought at an antiques fair which C was going to turn into a stole like Noel.  She finished by saying that she had to go up to Birmingham with her mother on Easter Saturday so probably wouldn't see me again. She apologised for the short letter but said that 'unless I disclose some more of my ideas of what to do with your beautiful body I shall have to finish here and I would like to keep a few surprises.  I love you (little drawing of a heart) C.'

Well, I was delighted by this complete volte-face from the previous letter.  Maybe, as K had suggested, it was all down to the influence of her mother.  I went into the bathroom and masturbated happily, having not felt like doing it for days since I had had her negative letter. Having pumped out an enormous amount of spunk and feeling brave and generally in a good mood I went downstairs and did something I never did.  I telephoned her.  Her mother answered and sounded grumpy.  I gave her my name and heard her call out.  'I think it's thingy!'  I heard C say, 'go away mother!  No listening!'

I told her that I really enjoyed her letter and was desperate to see her again.  I told her about my school friend O's end of term exhibition at Kingston Art Schoolsand we would be able to go the next day, just before they finished for Easter.  C was delighted by something so spontaneous and I told her how to get there by getting the train to Clapham Junction and then changing for the Kingston line.  I could go on the bus like I used to with A.

Next day I met her at Kingston Station and we had a late lunch at The Mulberry Tree cafe in Bentalls Department store.  The entrance to this was in an old medieval looking set of buildings at the back of the main store.  It also contained their famous pick 'n' mix sweets area in the food hall.  I had to buy C a huge bag. C then dragged me around the store looking at clothes.  She had no intention of buying anything but liked to get ideas.  Bentalls had a big selection of dressmaking patterns, however, and she spent an hour looking at these. to my despair.

Eventually, we made our way over to Kingston Art School and met up with O and looked at the student art exhibition.  There was all sorts of different styles of art by the students on display and I realised that, technically, I wouldn't have had any problem attending, as I had wanted to at one point. One of the projects that they had had to work on that term was pop up books, which was really more about engineering than art, although I was very impressed with one of O's friends who had produced a huge pop-up Salisbury Cathedral.  It was amazing. O kept steering us away from one corner of the exhibition but C soon caught on to this and dived back on ourselves, behind a display board.  One of the students had produced a number of collages featuring pictures cut out from what looked like Men Only or Club International.  There were lots of spread thighs and displayed pussies,  O looked embarrassed.

"Excellent!" said C, looking at them closely.  The artist, a girl, with short, punk hair and wearing black dungarees appeared and she and C had an animated discussion about the 'beauty of cunts' and the expression of female sexuality.  O introduced me to his new girlfriend who was at college with him.  She was a bubbly blonde and O told her that I had actually been the best artist at school but had gone to Oxford instead.  Blonde girl looked impressed and asked if I had seen The Light of the World at Keble College which, of course I said I had. I suggested that O bring his girlfriend, P, up to Oxford for a day or two in summer term, which they thought would be great.

O had a car (an old Ford Cortina) and after the exhibition he drove us all the way back to Staines so C could get a direct train back to her house.  C kissed him and his girlfriend on the lips, to her evident surprise. S squeezed my groin as we said goodbye. O dropped me off at home on his way back home and we said we would arrange a visit when I worked out what my work schedule was back at  College. C had been good company, again, and I hoped her strange earlier letter had been a one off.  You never knew, with her.

Over the Easter holiday my family went down to see my aunt and uncle in Kent and went to a point to point horse race, which I found very tedious.  I wrote to C explaining what it was and she wrote back from Birmingham and said that she was insulted that I thought she wouldn't know what a point to point was and that she was a very good horse rider and she bet I didn't know how to do a rising trot.  One of my classmates from school had taken part in that year's Boat Race over Easter, where Oxford just beat Cambridge (who had a then unknown student called Hugh Laurie in their crew) and C had recognised his name when she saw it on the TV coverage and wanted to go and meet him when we got back as he looked 'hunky'.  She told me that when she had got back from our Kingston trip she was so tired that she went straight to bed and didn't wake up until ten the next day.  We had both had really bad colds and were ill for a number of days, Surprisingly, she didn't blame it on me.  Our short, eight week terms were so high pressured that we all found that when we got home at the end of term we all went down with bugs and slept all the time.  She apologised for the lack of erotic content in her letter (I had told her about masturbating, thinking about her, after reading her sexy letter, which she had enjoyed and 'wished I could have been there') but her snivelling nose made her not feel very sexy.  She did, however, promise to bring some 'immodest' summer dresses up with her for the summer term.  She told me I wasn't to 'wank for several days' before I got back so I had 'balls full of spunk' for her. She then went into al ong diatribe about how her mother had failed to buy her an Easter egg. She said she could sort of understand not remembering her birthday every year but the shops were full of chocolate eggs and there were two Bank Holidays either side.

Trinity Term started on Sunday 27th April but I arrived on the Thursday before, as we had to meet our new subject tutors on the Friday (although one of them, the one who had ignored me before the holiday, we had had before).

"I thought I was going to have to ravish you in front of your family!" said C, pulling off her clothes in my room.  She had appeared while I was having tea with my mother and sister and exuded impatience so my family left soon afterwards.  I had to write to them and say C was sorry if she made them felt thy had to leave.  She said nothing of the sort, of course.  All of her things had gone from my room, I was relieved to see and she had got some of the other male students to move all her stuff back to her room by flirting outrageously.  She had just removed my clothes too and was massaging my erection when there was a knock on the door.

"It's me.  I know you're both in there!"  It was K.

"We are literally just about to have sex.  Come back in an hour or come and join in!" said C, still not giving up on a threesome with K.   K laughed and said she would come back.  Having had two letters from C talking about toe-licking I set to work on her feet, much to her delight.  She reciprocated and we had a lovely foreplay session.  As she had mentioned in her letter, when I entered her I didn't move and just lay on top of her.  She started to squeeze me with her internal muscles and she was so good at it and I was so excited she made me come inside her without me moving a muscle.  "Good boy!  Lots of spunk!" she said.  I must have squirted about seven times as I emptied my balls into her. We left a very damp patch on my clean sheet.  Not long afterwards K returned.  I got dressed while she waited outside but C just put my dressing gown on.

"Oh dear!  The smell!" said K opening my sash window.  "Still getting along then?" K asked C while I put the kettle on.

"Yes. Why shouldn't we?" asked C, frowning.

"Time apart and everything!" said K.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder!" said C.  "And the pussy wetter!"

"C you are an animal!" said K.  C growled like a big cat.

"That reminds me!" said C.   "Off to the chocolate machine!  I need to talk to K!"  I left and shot downstairs (there were so many stairs I tended to jump them three at a time) heading towards the vending machine near the law library.  Some of the other law students were there and we all congratulated each other on our results. Someone asked where C was and I said in my room.

"Getting to know each other again, eh?" said one of them and I could feel myself blushing.

"Still friends then?" asked L, the lawyer who had started all the trouble about K and I the previous term.

"Of course!" I said, annoyed.  She had caused a lot of stress and trouble.

I picked up three Lion Bars and managed to get a free one, as I knew C would chomp her way through them in short order.  She was not an occasional chocolate eater.  K could have a bar on her desk for days without touching it (her stepmother was still sending her slim bars of Cadbury's Dairy Milk every week by post),  C however, ate any chocolate she had as soon as she got it.  When I got back to my room C was dressed again and, as I suspected, she later confirmed that she had dropped my dressing gown and displayed her naked body to K before getting dressed again.  She said that standing naked in front of K had got her almost as excited as making me ejaculate.  C ventured that she bet K didn't diddle herself.  I knew differently but I wasn't going to say anything.  That had been a private confession by K to me.

At dinner that night, the talk was of two things; the planned College Ball, at the end of term, and May Morning.  Most Colleges had a ball every three years and this would be the only one at College while we were there.  C of course, assumed I would take her despite it being £33 for a double ticket.  I was not keen at all, given it mainly seemed to be about dancing.  I didn't dance.  I felt uncomfortable, clumsy and thought it was ridiculous (as I still do).  This was not the time or the place to have that argument with C, however. The other topic of conversation was May Morning which was the following Thursday and, apparently, madrigals were sung at dawn from Magdalen Tower and everyone turned out to hear them,  C, of course, wanted to go.

With all this in prospect, C was in a very good mood after dinner.  K went off to see someone at another college and C went back to my room where she stripped off immediately and stood in front of my mirror admiring herself.

"Do you think I need to lose weight?" she said, looking at her bottom in profile.

"Of course not!  You are perfect!" I said.

"Perfect naked, yes," she agreed (of course) "but to look good in clothes you have to be super skinny!  I need to look good in my ball dress!"  She pinched some flesh at her hip and frowned, I asked her if she had a particular dress she needed to fit into but she said no, she would have to get  a new one.  I suggested that she just buy one that fit and there wouldn't be a problem."That's what L would do.  Buy a tent to fit her!"  She didn't put her clothes back on but made me strip off too so we could both look at ourselves in the mirror.  She said I was fit and trim and didn't need a diet.  I told her that she didn't need a diet either.  "Don't you want me as skinny as K?" she asked.  I said no, of course not, I loved her curvy figure (in those days 'curvy' had not become a politically correct synonym for 'fat', as today).  I said that while K looked great in tight jeans she would undoubtedly look like a stick naked.  "See!  You said she looks good in her jeans!  Because she is super skinny!  I need to diet!"

"You really don't!" I maintained.  We didn't eat a lot, any of us, given the paltry servings at College mealtimes.  I often paid for a double lunch (although you only got one third more food) to keep my strength up.  Even C did sometimes (although not of it was the dreaded Boston Baked Beans -cheap watery beans with under-cooked strips of pork fat lurking under the surface like decaying carcasses in a swamp).

The next day all the exam results had been posted in the Porter's Lodge and I was relieved to have passed them all (especially Roman Law), as did all the other lawyers in College, although we later found out that many people in other colleges had struggled with some of the papers and they would have to do re-sits. Fortunately, however much we moaned about our college tutors, they were pretty much the best Law tutors in Oxford. C had done well enough to get her scholarship renewed, to her delight, as it also had a monetary aspect to it. That day we met our tutors for our reading lists for Tort and Contract.  Not only had we got our exams out the way but we only had eight, not twelve essays to write that term.  I was relived that I didn't have C as a tutorial partner although she was not.

Saturday was nice and sunny and after working in  the library until lunch time (it closed at one as term wasn't properly started) C and I had a walk in the Botanical gardens, although I didn't think their flowers were as good as in my mother's garden.  My mother had left me with some bread, margarine (which she thought would keep better out of the fridge than butter) and some ginger marmalade so I toasted it in the morning for C and I.  The gas fire would toast bread in thirty five seconds.  We went round our favourite shops and I tried to get a new boxed set of Mozart symphonies played on period instruments by the Academy of Ancient music but the man in Blackwells Music Shop had said that they had sold out in four hours.  I did buy the new Arthur C Clarke paperback of the Fountains of Paradise for £1.25.  I had worked out that I had spent £50 on books and records the previous term so decided to limit myself a bit, especially as one of our new law books was £13.

Sunday, C and I did a bit of reading together in her room and stopped for a quickie before going out to lunch at the Turl Bar. We had slept together every night since we had got back but usually didn't on Sunday, although this time she said she wanted to.  After dinner we went to the nice bathroom near the college law library and had a candlelit bath again.  This time, unlike on previous occasions, we weren't so lucky when we came out and not only ran into the tutor who was on the staircase but two of our fellow first year lawyers, E and F, who were at the bottom of the stairs.  These two had hooked up during the Easter holidays, the ever gossiping L had told us, and we gave each other some conspiratorial grins.

"It is the only nice bathroom in College!" said E, taking in our flushed faces and my wet hair.  C had worn her flowery shower cap which made her look like a seventeenth century wench, I thought.  "We should try it!" she said to M.

"I prefer a shower!" he answered.

"Not so romantic," said C.  "Especially if you have candles!" said added, pulling one out of her bag.

"Candles even!" said E.  "We need to try harder!" she said to F, who looked resigned.

We managed to extract two for one Lion bars from the vending machine again, to C's delight.

Having had the gas fire on before dinner the room had stayed warm as it was getting cold outside again.  It certainly didn't feel like the summer term. I switched it on again.

"Can I have a Lion bar now?" asked C.

"Beg!" I said, uncharacteristically.

"Beg?" she said, sounding surprised.

"Yes.  On your knees.  Naked!"

"Excellent!" she said, starting to strip off.

"Keep those on!"  She had been wearing thigh length woolen stocks held up with suspenders.  I suppose they could have been called woolen stockings but they were thick and ribbed like socks.  I thought they were superlatively sexy.

She knelt in front of me, just dressed in her long socks.

"Please can I have chocolate?" she begged, holding her curled hands under her chin, like a small mammal.  I unwrapped the Lion Bar and held one end. I teased her by putting it near her lips and then pulling it away.

"Cruel person!" she said.  I brought it up to her lips again, the thick, knobbly bar placed on her pouting lower lip.

"You can suck it but not bite it!" I teased.  She wrapped her lips over the end, looked up at me and started to faux fellate it.  "Hands behind your back!" I ordered, as she started to stroke my thighs.  The bar was starting to melt and she soon had chocolate around her mouth.  I pulled it away and kissed her.  A big, wet, chocolatey kiss.

"Mmmn!" she sighed.  I could smell her musky scent.

"On your back!"  She lay down obediently and I teased her nipples with the Lion Bar. I ran it down her belly and left brown marks on her alabaster skin. I pushed her thighs apart and slid the chocolate bar down her labia.

"Oh God!" she said, smiling.  I slid the bar over her perineum and left another brown mark,  She spread her legs wider and I prepared to rub it between her pink petals again.  Her entrance was swollen and red.  Instead, I slid the bar into her cunt, getting some three inches into her. "Fucking hell!" she sighed.  I started to push it in and out.  "Fucking HELL!" she cried, loud enough to alert D, next door.  The bar was becoming a sticky mess and I had chocolate all over my fingers.  White goo was coating it now and dribbling down over her anus.  I changed hands and slid a chocolate coated finger up her rectum.  She came almost immediately, clamping her legs around my hands.  She relaxed and I pulled out my finger and the Lion Bar.  I held the chocolate up to her mouth and she bit the end off.  I had a bit too.  I did think that the combination of her juices and chocolate were almost the taste quintessence of her.  I looked at her swollen parts and licked the chocolate off. "Christ!  Too much!" she said, gently pushing my head away.  I lay down next to her, still fully dressed.  I stroked her orange thatched mound while she finished the Lion bar and gazed at me in that shorr sighted way of hers.  "So," she said, eventually.  "Which do you prefer?  Cunt flavoured chocolate or chocolate flavoured cunt?"

"Less chocolate more cunt!" I answered, feeling naughty just saying the word, which had become one of C's favourites.

C couldn't stop talking about the 'chocolate fucking episode' as she referred to it, in subsequent days.  I had obviously met one of her spontaneous sex standards.  She asked if I had planned it and I said no.  I told her I just saw her all spread and pink, realised I was holding a phallic object and given it was her favourite food...

"You just shoved it up me!  Terrific!" she grinned and gave me an unexpected kiss, given we were outside in college in the paved area between our two staircases.  She must have been in  a good mood as she still usually didn't display any signs of affection within College.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday we worked hard but on Wednesday evening we went to find my school friend E.  However when we got to his College we found out that, basically, he had had a nervous breakdown and was taking a year off and would start again the following year.  Somebody said that the Oxford University History course had the highest suicide rate of any academic course in the world other than the Japanese civil service exam.  We doubted this but it did indicate the pressure we were under.

"I'm glad I have you to support me.  It is much easier to cope with everything," I said to C on the way back to College.

"Oh!" said C.  "What a lovely thing to  say!" She stopped dead and pulled me into a kiss in the narrow confines of Oriel Street. The kiss turned into a snog and she didn't stop, even when an embarrassed looking middle aged lady edged past us. "Come on!" she said, pulling away at last. "I'm wetting my knickers!"

Afterwards, lying in C's cramped bed we realised that the next day would be May the First and we wanted to go and hear the madrigals from Madgalen Tower.  We didn't know what time it was, other than dawn.  We went to bed early, in my room, and set the alarm for four fifteen in the morning.  C hopped out of bed for a pee and looked out the window but it was still dark.  I asked her if I should reset the alarm for five but she said she was awake now and I should get the gas fire on.  I got dressed and went to fill the kettle and use the bathroom.  We had some toast and marmalade and left the college at five fifteen, as I could see from my window overlooking the High that people were starting to walk down towards Magdalen  There were quite a lot of people about already and when we got to the High we found several hundred people.  They were a strange mixture of students, tourists, French schoolchildren and the Oxford punks.  The Oxford punks used to congregate around a memorial in a little cobbled square on the corner of New Inn Hall Street,  They had multi-coloured hair and pins through their noses and were already looking a bit old fashioned.  They appeared a bit intimidating at first but as soon as you heard them speaking in their yokel Oxfordshire accents they appeared a lot less scary.

We made our way towards Magdalen Tower and although it was bright it was getting colder and colder.  A few hundred people soon became thousands as the entire High Street was choked as far as you could see. Although C had her fur coat on she only had a light summer dress on underneath and she was shivering.  I put my arms around her to try to help her keep warm and, surprisingly, she didn't pull away.  Some people started to climb the outside of Magdalen Tower,  Eventually  twelve very small choir boys walked up the street under police escort and we heard them sing for about five minutes through loudspeakers attached to the top of tower.  And that was it.

We made our way back down the High to College; a distance of four hundred yards.  It took us half an hour to work our way through the dense but good-natured crowd.  There were people dressed in full academic dress, evening suits, tailcoats, sports gear and blazers and straw boaters,  There were several people in Father Christmas outfits and many of the girls were wearing hats with flowers around them, something C wished she had known about. There was a jazz bands and a punk band playing on small stages set up in the middle of the street and a whole group of English Civil War re-enactors from the Sealed Knot with fifes and drums.  All the pubs and restaurants opened at  six am to serve breakfast and there was a lot of activities going on. There were Morris dancers in Radcliffe square who C thought looked ridiculous but I always found them a bit sinister.

C and I went back to bed (separately) to get some more sleep and met for breakfast at eight, where everyone was in a very festive mood, considering most people had been up for hours.  C and I had to finish essays that day for tutorials in the afternoon so missed out on most of the May Day activities although I finished my essay by three thirty so got to see the Sealed Knot do a pike and musket drill.

I was worried about the tutorial with my new tutor but he was, unlike the other two college Law tutors, a delightful man.  He had a massive collection of boxed sets of classical records in his rooms and I was really impressed that he had some genuine Piranesi prints on his wall.  He was impressed that I knew that they were Piranesi prints and we got on well as a result.

However, over the next few days C and I would have another stressful period between us.  All caused by the College Ball that term. 

Friday, 12 May 2017

1980: Fighting, Sulking and Provocative Behaviour

Dramatis personæ 

In this episode:

Women at College 
C, my petite redheaded girlfriend
K, C's best friend at College
L, another law student
F a student living on C and K's staricase

Men at College
D, a law student with the room next to mine
P another law student
A Law student friend of mine
L Law student friend of mine

Women from elsewhere 
R a school friend of C's at another college

After K and my lovely dinner at La Sorbonne on the Thursday I had got back to my revision the next day and over the weekend.  K and I met up for lunch and dinner in Hall on Friday and Saturday but otherwise didn't spend any time together.  I was waiting for C to return from her mother's new house in Berkshire.  This she did on Sunday afternoon.  C was not in a good mood and I got a very perfunctory kiss when I went to her room in the concrete monstrosity that formed the staircase where many of the girls had their rooms.   She told me about her new house, which she didn't like at all and she hated her new bedroom which, she claimed, was half the size of her old one in Birmingham and much smaller than her college one.  Her mother had discovered the house price differential between the Midlands and the South, to her cost.  We had dinner in hall with K and carried on ranting about her domestic situation to K andall through the meal and then afterwards in her room.  K excused herself after an hour of this and shook her head at me when C wasn't looking.  C had discovered that the reason her mother had moved south was to be close to her boyfriend, who lived nearby.  C didn't like him.  She didn't like his clothes (I immediately sympathised with him), she didn't like his voice, she didn't like his face, she didn't like his job, she didn't like his hair ('it looks like a cheap wig but it isn't, which makes it worse' she had said) and she didn't like the fact that he was only five foot seven inches tall.  

"He is a squit!" she declared.  "A boring squit too!  He's an accountant.  The very definition of boring!"  She had wanted to berate her mother about him but he was still there when she left to return to Oxford.  She was waving her arms around, as she carried on fulminating. 

"Calm down! Give me your little hands," I said, holding mine out and deciding that some contact might make her feel better and stop the Italianate arm flailing, which was threatening to send things on her overcrowded desk flying.  It was amazing that she could get any work done as the desk was covered in boxes of fruit tea, books, biscuits, numerous beauty products, candles, boxes of tampons, items of clothing and all sorts of other rubbish.

"They're not little hands!" she said.  "You're always saying I'm little (I didn't) and I'm not!"

"You're five foot two!" I pointed out, realising immediately that this wasn't the right thing to say.

"I am five foot three!" she said, almost stamping her (little) foot.  I said nothing.  I thought I was being generous saying that she was five foot two.  K was five foot four and had more than a couple of inches on C.  She edged away from me and I thought it very unfair that I was being berated because she didn't like her new house or her mother's new boyfriend.  I was grateful my mother hadn't pursued men after my father had died, though.  There was something unseemly about older people getting together, I thought.  Sex was for young people. "You can go now!" she said after I tried to mollify her a bit more.  I tried to give her a hug but she wriggled out of my grasp.  "I don't want a hug!  I don't want anything else!  Leave me alone!  Fuck off!  All men are bastards!" I sighed and left her. I wasn't quite sure where the anti-men statement had come from.  Perhaps she had been reading Cosmopolitan again.  I later found out that her mother's new man had tried to give her a hug, which she thought was very dubious.    She had these volatile little explosions every now and then.  Usually a few seconds of invective followed by hours of sulking.  Almost always caused by something so trivial that I often never even knew what it was that had set her off.  Then she was back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. although she never apologised for, or even mentioned, her "nutties" as K called them.  K thought she was schizophrenic.  I went back to my room and put the bottle of wine, glasses and matches for my candles away.  I wouldn't be needing them that night.

I stood outside her door the next morning, waiting for about half a minute, summoning up my courage.  She might well still be in a bad mood.  She took against a comment of one of the tutors on one of her essays, once, and sulked for three days. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.  There was no reply for about fifteen seconds (I am sure it was calculated) but then she opened the door and even gave me a smile, to my relief,

"Hullo!" she said.  She was still wearing her glasses which, because the lenses were so thick, always made her look vulnerable.  I was a bit early for breakfast so we sat down for a bit, on her window seat, overlooking the flat roofs of the adjoining modern staircase (although, as it had no stairs, calling it a staircase was a bit peculiar).  I knew she was tense because she was holding 'rag', a small piece of pale cream silk which she used to stroke her face with when she was stressed.  It was part of the bed jacket her mother had worn when she was nursing her.  I thought it was weird but if she ever mislaid it she would go into a total panic.  I was starting to realise that she was not a very emotionally stable girl.  When things went her way she was lovely but when they didn't she could be a complete bitch.

Everything proceeded pretty much as a normal day, though.  C and I went to lectures but returned at lunchtime to get some revision done for our imminent exams. That afternoon, I was in my room, revising my Criminal Law when there was a knock on my door.   It was K.  I needed a break from the revision so was happy to make her a cup of tea.  She commented on how grumpy C was, following her trip to her new home. 'It''s not my home', she had said to me.  'I don't have a home any more!'

Half an hour later C turned up too and glared at K.  She asked us if there was anything we wanted to tell her.  I was genuinely baffled, as was K.

"Nothing about you taking K to the best restaurant in Oxford and then snogging her in the quad in front of the whole College?  What else did you do?"  K and I looked at each other in disbelief.

"It wasn't like that at all!" said K, recovering her equilibrium quicker than me.  Talk about a distorted version of events.

"You shut up, you fucking cow!" yelled C at K. I couldn't believe it.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!", yelled K back at her, showing surprising assertiveness.   I took a step back from the two glaring women. C pushed K on the arm. K pushed back. C carried on swearing and shouting. I thought she was having a complete breakdown. K slapped her face. "Just because your life is shit doesn't mean you can take it out on us!" said K. 

"What's this us?  said C, standing with her hands on her hips.  She looked like she was about to smack K back.  I was worried about a full on cat fight.  I was also worried about what D, the lawyer next door would think about the raised voices.

"What are you doing?" I asked.  "Calm down!"

"What are you doing?" replied C.  "Or who? Not that everyone doesn't know now!" said C.

"Tell us what you have been told and we will tell you what actually happened," said K, reasonably.

C, it turned outhad been talking to one of the other lawyers, L, who had asked her when she and I had broken up.  C had been flabbergasted but  L had said that K and I had been seen dressed up, arm in arm off somewhere.  Then she told her that we had been seen kissing in New Quad, opposite the law library.  Someone else had told C that K had said she had been to La Sorbonne with me.   C had put two and two together and made seventeen.

K explained that she and I had gone out for a pizza (fortunately she didn't mention that I had paid) as she was fed up and C wasn't around for her to talk to.  She then had taken me to La Sorbonne as a thank you for being nice to her.  We had had a quick peck in the quad but C had seen us do that in front of her many times. K and I always kissed each other on the lips when greeting.  K and C did it too.   K then pointed out, that C had already been to La Sorbonne and raved about it, so K wanted to try it too.

"I wanted him to take me there first!" said C, ignoring me completely.

"But you have already been, with your sister," I said.

"It's not the same.  I wanted you to take me!"  We had discussed it, it was true.  I assumed that she had done La Sorbonne and perhaps we could try another of the nice restaurants in town, like Restaurant Elizabeth, down near Christ Church.  "And what are you doing walking arm in arm with my boyfriend and kissing him in College?" she turned her icy gaze on K who had, sensibly, switched the kettle on again.

"It was a friendly peck!  We're all friends together!" she said.

"We're not all friends together.  He is my boyfriend.  We are a couple.  We have sex!" said C.  K looked genuinely surprised.  She looked at me and then at C and you could tell exactly what she was thinking: a mixture of horror and fascination.

"For how long?" she asked.  C told her the whole story and added that she couldn't believe that K didn't know when everyone else in College did.  K asked us why we hadn't told her, to which C didn't really have a good answer. The conversation subsided.  K looked hurt.  I wanted to give her a hug but didn't dare. K sat down in one of my armchairs.  She pouted, briefly, which she did when she was thinking about something important.

"Let's have some tea!" I said.  The one thing I didn't like about girls was how emotional they got over nonsensical things.  I tried to work out in my head if it was C's period.  It was due, I decided.

"Got any biscuits?" asked C.  I breathed a sigh of relief and was glad I had some chocolate ones.

C didn't apologise to K, I later discovered, Although K got the impression that she was more cross with her than me for 'leading me astray'.  C's grumpy mood gradually passed, over the next day or so, and, anyway, we were deep into exam revision and we needed each other as revision partners so there was no time for sulking.  C was every stressed about the forthcoming exams.  The tutors had made it clear that she was the star student in the year, she had a scholarship and they were expecting great things of her.  She was feeling the pressure.  All I had to do was pass the exams but she decided she needed to get the best mark in the year and there were some very bright people in our year.  We spent some time revising together in her room, especially Roman Law.  Unlike her, I didn't have Latin 'O' level, having given up Latin for Art at school.  One of the reasons I didn't contemplate Cambridge was that they required Latin 'O' Level to read Law.

C did not, however, come up to my room at any time and there was no sexual interaction.  I didn't push her about it but one evening she said that after the exams we could 'go back to normal'.  One of the tutors had stopped her in the quad and told her she should 'forget about distractions' while she studied.  She got the strong impression that he was referring to me.  I told her I thought that was nonsense. This would not be the last time that this issue would be raised, however.  I did ask C if she minded me talking to K, if she came around for tea, for example.  C said of course not.  I pressed her on the point.  I didn't want another 'nutty'.  She said it would be good for me, as she was in such a mood. I told her that I understood her stress, given moving home, the forthcoming exams and her mother's horrid new boyfriend.  It had been, I said, an unpleasant concatenation of events.  She laughed and said how much she hated Thomas Hardy as well.

K did come up to my room quite often, usually at around five o'clock, when she left the library.  She was looking better and not so thin, although she was always slim.  She certainly ate a lot of chocolate biscuits.  The main favourites of my male friends. L and A, were custard creams and bourbons which were cheap.  Chocolate digestives were more expensive so I tended to reserve those for C and K.  One evening K appeared at my room after dinner.  C had gone to see a friend in St Catherine's and didn't ask me to come as it was a girls only session. 'Moaning about men, probably," she had said, laughing.  K asked if it was alright to come in because she knew I was revising. I said that I didn't think I could take much more that day. She had brought me a box of very posh looking German biscuits called Choco Leibniz.  She said that they were the best chocolate biscuits in the world, which, after I had had one, I tended to agree with.

She had eaten three biscuits and was looking at my cassettes to choose some music.  She settled on Brahms fourth symphony, one of my favourites.  It was also one of A's favourites and had strong erotic associations for me.  This was not just because of A but because I first listened to it when I drew my first representation of a woman, when I was twelve.  Well, it was actually the Indian goddess, Sarasvati, and I was doing it for a school religious studies project.  I had a photo of a statuette of the goddess in a book on Indian Mythology and I drew a detailed pencil drawing, using that as a basis.  It was the first time I had drawn a figure other than the historical soldiers I used to do for fun.  I left out all the decoration around the statue and just left the figure of the four-armed goddess.  It was certainly the first time I had drawn female breasts and I boldly drew the hinted at nipples of the figure.  The picture caused a bit of a stir at school.  The book had been given me for Christmas by the older daughter of a family friend and I even had a brief fling with her in 1981.  K couldn't have known all this back history, of course (I hadn't told anyone at College about A), but the first movement of Brahms Fourth is very romantic, or at least it was to me.

"Tell me about sex," said K, starting on her fourth biscuit.  I was surprised, to say the least.  I asked her in what way.  I felt like a parent being asked the question for the first time by one of their children.  When I was about seven I had asked my mother why children often looked like their parents, as this couldn't be linked to marriage which was 'only a ceremony', after all.  My mother had looked flustered and told me it was 'something to do with genes' which was, I suppose, technically correct.  Oddly, the answer to the mystery of reproduction started to coalesce in my mind when I went to see "You Only Live Twice" at the cinema that same year.  It was the first film I had seen which had love scenes in it and I started to realise that the interaction between men and women had a physical aspect that I had not been previously aware of (my parents were not physically demonstrative).  I didn't think that K was that innocent but asked her what she meant, exactly.  "What's it like?  What do you do?" she added.

I asked her whether she meant what one did or what I did.  She said that she couldn't stop thinking about C and I doing it.  I tried to gently redirect her conversation by talking about why we hadn't told her about our relationship but she wanted to get back to sex,  The 'act itself', as she said.  I suggested that my male perspective would be rather different than a woman's so perhaps she would better be asking C.  She gave me a look which told me that that would not be a good idea.  

"I'm happy to talk about sex," I said, "but you need to appreciate that I won't use euphemisms and it will be very frank."  I had hoped this might put her off but it didn't.

"That's what I want!  Details!" she said. "What does it feel like?  How long does it last?  How do you know when you want to do it?  Who initiates it?  Do you feel disgusting afterwards?"

"I don't know where to start!" I said and I didn't. We started with a discussion about attraction.

"Are you attracted to me?" asked K.

"Yes, you are a lovely girl," I said.

"But sexually attracted?  Do you want to have sex with me?"  This was starting to turn into a minefield.  I said yes and she asked how I could tell. I thought I might shock her and get her off the subject.

"Because when I think about you sometimes I get an erection," I said.

"Oh dear!" she said and did look shocked.  "And is that,,.nice?  I just can't imagine it!"  I said that I am sure it was a similar feeling to her getting wet when she thought sexy thoughts.  "Oh goodness.  This is frank, isn't it?"  I asked her if she wanted to talk about something else.  She said that she wanted to talk about erections because that was the key to the whole thing, she felt. "You get stiff and ram it in!" as she put it.  She wondered what it felt like to have a penis and I said as I couldn't imagine not having one it was difficult to explain.  She asked if I was conscious of it all the time and I said no, not at all. "Only when it get stiff!" she said.

"Or when I go to the loo!" I added.  She then said that that was a real difference between men and women.  that we held ours many times a day.  She asked about keeping it clean and I said I just washed it a couple of time s day when I showered.

"Do you get...stiff when you wash it?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I answered.  I was starting to enjoy the conversation, now I was satisfied that she was genuinely interested.

"Isn't that inconvenient?  How do you make it go down again?"  I said that it would soon go down again if I didn't think about it.  Sometimes it was nice to have a little rub, though.  I watched her eyes carefully to see if she was shocked.  She wriggled in her seat. "Isn't doing that wrong, though?"  We had a very frank discussion about masturbation.  I told her I enjoyed it, like virtually every man and that C enjoyed it too. She seemed to think that men had to do it to get rid of sperm or there balls would explode.  I admitted that there was an element of this but girls liked it too, surely.  She admitted that when she was in the shower she sometimes enjoyed rubbing her 'parts' with her sponge. C had been impressed when they first met because K had real sponges not cheap foam ones.  C had gone out and bought a real one as a result.

"Why just use a sponge.  Why not use your hand?" I asked. She said that she didn't do that as it was 'dirty'.  I joked that if she did it in the shower it couldn't be dirty.  She frowned. She stood up suddenly and said that she needed to let me get on with my revision.  I worried that I had been too frank with her but she gave me a nice kiss and disappeared, looking thoughtful.

"Guess what K asked me about last night?" said C, ta couple of days later, as we walked to the law library after breakfast.  I had an instant panic that K had spoken to C about our conversation two nights ago, which I had not reported to C.

"No idea," I said assuming an air of total disinterest.

"Sex. She asked me about sex! She wants to know all about it.  She's probably thinking about you, the lascivious creature!" I told C that K was far from lascivious and reminded her of all the negative things K had said about other couples at College.  C was insistent that that is what a lascivious person would say.  "She is like all those anti-pornography campaigners, looking at dirty magazines and being offended but wanking all over them!" I said that I was sure that K did nothing like that. C agreed and said that was probably why she was so uptight.  "She needs a good frig!  Or I could do it for her!"

"I'd be happy to watch!" I said.  C laughed, something of a rarity of late.

C and I had both done (and passed) our Criminal Law collection (an internal mock exam) that term and to celebrate we took a few hours off to go and look around the Ashmolean Museum for the first time.  C really liked the medieval paintings section, as she had decided to work on producing an illustrated manuscript in the style of the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry; a book her friend R owned  She also liked the Degas ballerina statue and asked me to draw her a ballerina picture.  I thought K would make a good model, as she had done ballet, but on second thought decided that that would a be a very bad idea.

My first girlfriend, A would have made a good ballerina model too as she also did ballet.  I had had a birthday card from her after Christmas and we had started to write to each other again fairly regularly.  Latterly our letters had taken something of an erotic turn.  She said that she had broken up with the boyfriend who had taken her virginity and wanted to hear bout all my sexual adventures.  She was studying at Edinburgh University.  She was now in her second year because although she was younger than me she hadn't had a year off and Scottish universities took students at seventeen not eighteen as in England but then they had to do four year not three year degrees.

Walking around the museum I spotted a pair of ancient carved stone Roman candelabra which had come from Hadrian's Villa outside Rome.  I had been there with my mother and sister.  The candelabra had been owned by Piranesi, the Italian engraver.  I had been to an exhibition of his work in London and later bought a splendid and expensive book about him with my airport earnings. I thought that there was a picture of the candelabra in the book.  I even had a poster of the exhibition up in my college room.  I gave C some of the history about the candelabra and Piranesi.  She actually put her arm around me and gave me a kiss; the first proper one since the big bust up with K.

"I love it when you talk about art!" she said.  She really liked Uccello's The Hunt in the Forest, one of the first paintings in the world to use proper perspective, so I bought her a print of it for her room.  She brightened up again.  As long as you kept buying her stuff she was happy, I had realised. We lay on her bed and had a kiss and a cuddle.  I didn't push for anything more but I could feel her gradually relax in my arms.

"Tell me that you love me," she said. I told her that of course I did, although deep down I don't know whether that was actually true.  "You have to tell me!" she said.

"I love you because you are beautiful, creative, intelligent, complicated and a real friend," I said.

"All true!" she said but she looked pleased. "I am rather lovely, aren't I?"

That evening, after a quick cup of tea in C's room after dinner, I went back to my room to do some more revision.  As I got to the bottom of the stairs I ran into K who asked if she could come up to my room. I told her I needed to do a couple of hours revision but I would love to see her after that. I told her to ask C too.

It was well after nine when K turned up at my room.  C was not with her and K had said that she had told her that she was working until midnight and was then going to bed. K had brought me a bottle of wine; a Chablis, which must have been quite expensive.  I was surprised because it was chilled and she said that she had just bought it in Oddbins across the road.  I dug out my corkscrew and opened it.  I now had proper wine glasses, rather than the tumblers I had used in the first term.

"I thought we could continue our discussion," she said.

"What discussion?" I said, already knowing what she was going to say.

"About sex!"  I poured her a glass of wine and pretended not to hear. "I talked to C about it.  She was useless!"  I told her C had mentioned it.

"What did she say?" asked K, sipping her wine.

"That you need a good frig!" I said.  K blushed.

"I have a confession!" she said.  She told me that the morning after our first conversation when it came to washing her parts she had soaped herself with her hand not her sponge as usual.  "It was nice.  Very nice.  It was so nice I couldn't stop and I..."

"Came?" I asked.

"Yes!  Really hard!" she said, laughing nervously.

"You'll make me hard talking about it!" I said.  She looked at my groin with interest.  I said that if we were going to have a sexy discussion maybe we should sit on the floor rather than staring at each other across the room from our armchairs.  This was probably a terrible thing to say on my part but K looked lovel, C had made some catty comment to me earlier and I wanted to be as close to K as possible. We sat in front of the fire with our wine and looked at each other.  Then I realised that this had been a bad idea as if she did make some sort of move I would have to gently rebuff her. The minute I sat down opposite her and smelled her perfume I realised what a dangerous situation I had put myself in. Despite my dismissive denials to C K and I had always been strongly attracted to each other. I did not want an incandescently furious C to deal with and she would know if anything untoward happened.

"Shall I tell you about my..." began K.

"Frig?" I asked.

"Frig.  My lovely frig.  I did it again this morning!" she said.  She told me, in surprising detail, about how she had been washing her tummy and found her hand straying lower.  She had put down her sponge and set to work with her bare hand.  She said that tomorrow she was going to do it again.  At seven thirty and I could think about her.  She said that we couldn't do anything more because I was with C but thinking about it didn't count.  "You're very attractive!" she said, after her second glass of wine,  She stroked my thigh through my jeans.  Fortunately, the erection I had got while she told me her masturbating story had subsided.  I hadn't thought about myself being attractive, really, despite the lovely girls I had interacted with in the previous years.  I thought they were interested in me just because I was, well, there.  However, the previous week I had been walking back to College down Brasenose Lane, having been to the Co-op. Three girls about my age appeared from Radcliffe Square.  'Oooh!  hello, handsome!" one said.  I was so surprised and embarrassed I kept walking and ignored them.  The girl had sounded quite posh so I guessed she was a student rather than a local.  Afterwards. I regretted not stopping and saying something but I ignored them and shot around the corner like a frightened rabbit.

"C finds me attractive, anyway.  I think.  You never know with C!" I said deliberately bringing C into the conversation.  K reeled off a list of other women in college who also found me attractive, she said.  I was surprised at some of the names.  One of them I would end up with after we graduated. "Can we do something?" She asked.  Oh no, I thought.  "Lie on your back!" she said. I was going to object and although the good part of me knew I should refuse, the naughty part of me wanted to see what might happen.  I put my glass on the mantelpiece and did as she asked.  She then came and lay down on top of me, her thighs astride my hips.  I could feel her small breasts pressing against my chest. She gave me a kiss.

"There.  Isn't that nice?" she said.  I couldn't deny it.  I was holding my hands up in the air, thinking that if I touched her I didn't know what would happen.  "Relax," said K.  I put my hands on her back.  She was wearing one of her cashmere jumpers and it was amazingly soft.  I stroked her back without even thinking about it.  She wriggled in pleasure and kissed me again.  I began to get erect, despite willing it not to happen.

"You're a very exciting and desirable woman!" I said. I wondered whether she could feel my erection. She kissed me again. her kisses were tentative and showed a lack of experience.  They weren't like C's.  I put my hands on her bottom.  She was wearing her usual skin tight jeans. She wriggled again.  Now I  could feel the heat coming from her groin.  Fortunately, she didn't make any more moves but stayed on top or me.  She was a lot lighter than C.  We just lay there listening to Brahms.  When the music finished she got up and said she should go.  I didn't know if she really wanted to stay and was trying to get me to ask her but I wished her good night.  We had another Chablis flavoured kiss and she was gone. I stripped off and masturbated furiously.

Although this didn't happen again that year, the following year K and I used to regularly just cuddle up together in a gently sexual way, without anything ever happening. We drifted apart a bit after college but saw each other more later in the eighties when we lived close to each other in London.  Every time we met at her or my flat I would lie of the floor and she would lie on top of me and we would chat and gently caress, although we always kept our clothes on.

The first year lawyers had three exams on the Wednesday and Thursday of the last week of term: Criminal  Law, Roman Law and Constitutional Law. These were proper university exams (law ones were called Moderations, for some reason, while people in other subjects did Preliminaries) not collections.  The next exams we would do would be Finals at the end of the three years. We had to pass these to be allowed to continue the course. The exams were held in the daunting Examination Schools building on the High and we had to wear full academic dress and gowns for them.  Those people on military scholarships had to wear dress uniform, complete with swords.  Every minute I wasn't doing the exams I was revising for the next one.  I was most worried about Roman Law because of the Latin but in the end it wasn't too bad.

C and I left the examination Schools for the short walk back to College after the last exam.  She was in a good mood as they had gone well. I gave her a kiss in the street at which she looked surprised but pleased.  She looked around to see if there were any other lawyers from College about and, not seeing any, she gave me a kiss back.  As we walked through Radcliffe Square we ran into K who was just going to the library in the Radcliffe Camera.  She gave C a kiss and then gave me one too, to which C didn't react at all, thankfully.  She suggested we all go out for a drink to celebrate. after dinner.  C agreed, rather to my surprise, C was very friendly towards K and gave her a hug  We agreed to meet at dinner.

"I've got you a present!" I said to C as we went through the College gate.

"Can I eat it?  Is it brown?" she asked.

"No!" I said, "But I'll get you a Lion Bar on the way!" We stopped off at the vending machine next to the Law Library and saw P, who had also just finished his Law exams.  He and C had a conversation about how the exams had gone.  I hated that.  When I had finished an exam I just wanted to forget it, not do a post mortem on it. Eventually I managed to drag her away from P and we walked back to my room, the first time she had been there for ten days.

"What's my present?" she said again, as we trudged up the stairs.  "Can I wear it?"  I didn't tell her and insisted on going down to the scout's pantry to fill the kettle, much to her annoyance.  Patience was not one of her qualities.  After I had made the tea I went into the bedroom and got her present from the top of the wardrobe, where I knew she wouldn't be able to reach it.  She admitted to having searched for it while I was downstairs, as I knew she would.  I suspected she was one of those people who prodded their presents under the tree before Christmas Day, so that they could guess what was inside.  I handed her the oblong parcel which I had carefully wrapped in very expensive paper.  She liked  posh wrapping and nice presentation.  She looked at me and weighed it in her hand regarding it carefully.  She told me I had done a nice job wrapping it and she undid it carefully.  She pulled it out, looked at it and burst into tears.  "I have been a shit to you, haven't I?" she said, in an almost unique apology. I shook my head as if to say, 'of course you haven't, when I actually meant 'yes, you have, you snotty little bitch'.  I had bought her the complete reproduction of the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, which was quite the most expensive book I had ever bought.  It came in a slip case and cost £60, or about three quarters of my termly food bill.  "It's the best present I've ever had!" she said, crying even more now.

"I thought you might like it!" I said.  I had had to order it from Blackwells and was worried that it wouldn't arrive by the end of term.

"I love it!" she said, looking at the first few pages before putting it down on my desk. I was slightly surprised that she didn't lie on the floor and go through it slowly, which was what she usually did with new books or magazines.  Instead she took off her gown, then her tie, then her black skirt and white blouse.  She was wearing black lace underwear and stockings again, like on matriculation day, when we had both lost our virginity to each other. She then set to work on removing my clothes, starting with my white bow tie (I hadn't dared tell her that K had done it up for me at the beginning of each exam day).  Soon I was completely naked but she was still in her underwear. She stood on tip toe and I leant down to kiss her, my throbbing erection pressing against her soft belly above her lacy suspender belt.  I stroked her back and undid her bra clip before tossing her bra onto the armchair by the door.  She pressed her hard nipples against me and rubbed her lacy crotch against my thigh.  I swept her up into my arms and told her I was going to kiss every inch of her body.

I placed her gently in my bed and pulled her knickers slowly down her thighs, kissing her hip bones and soft fleece.  Fortunately, the heat from the gas fire had started to permeate into the bedroom. The weather that month had been cold and wet. I undid the clasps on her suspender belt. gently removed it and rolled down her stockings, being careful, as always, not to snag them. I paused to kneel at her feet and look at her pale, soft body.  I could smell her musky scent and gazed at her amazing orange fluff.  She sat up and then knelt in front of me, spreading her thighs.  She took hold of my cock and started to massage it.  I slid my hand up the inside of her thigh and let my fingertips run through her amber curls.  I stroked her stiff little clitoris with my thumb and we kissed as she continued to pump me.  I slid two fingers up inside her and stroked her bottom with my other hand.

"I've missed being close to you!" I said.

"I've missed this!" she said, squeezing my erection. She bent down and slipped her mouth over my knob.  After about a  minute of slow sucking she knelt up and kissed me on the lips; a really soft, wet kiss, as she kept gently pumping me at the same time.  I wiggled my fingers inside her and she bent down and set too again.  C would quite often suck me before we had sex but usually it was not an end in itself but foreplay only, This time, however, as she slurped noisily and caressed my balls I could tell that she wanted to go all the way.  It didn't take long, given my enforced sexual drought, before I was spurting into her mouth, which was also a rare occurrence.  In fact, I think it was only the second time I had done it.  She pulled off me gently and swallowed, then set to again, licking my deflating cock until I had to gently push her head away as my tip was unbearably sensitive. We kissed again and I could just taste some of my own sperm on her probing tongue.  We fell back onto the bed and I started on my mission to kiss every part of her body; starting with her ears and neck.  She did not just lie there, though, but squirmed around, presenting different parts of her body to my eager lips: the sides of her breasts, her belly, her toes (for the first time), the soft popliteal pads at the back of her legs, behind her knees.  As I kissed her bottom, with her lying face down, she ground her hips into the sheet.  I pulled her arse cheeks apart with both hands and licked up her vulva, over her perineum and across her anus.  I kissed her rosy sphincter and she giggled.  I rubbed the pad of my finger over it but she told me not to go any father.  "I need a poo!  Maybe later!" she said.

Eventually, she lay on her back and I knelt between her legs and slowly licked her to orgasm, as she gripped the bed rail above her head. Her hips bucked, her thighs squeezed my head and she was generally very animated.  It took much less time than usual. I wriggled up and gave her a wet kiss as I knew she liked to taste her own juices.

We lay next to each other on our backs.

"That was excellent.  You are nearly forgiven!" she said after a while.   I should have shut up and not said anything but I didn't.

"Forgiven for what?" I asked.  I still didn't think I had done anything wrong.  Well, that set her off again and she raked over the whole 'K affair' as she called it.  I realised that perhaps I had been a bit insensitive having taken K  to La Sorbonne before C.  If I had taken K, after I had taken C, she wouldn't have minded, except she then went on about how I really lusted after 'the lascivious K', not her and I was only with her because she was a slut while virtuous K was even more appealing because she wouldn't have sex.  I thought about K's recent sexually flirtatious behaviour and was glad I hadn't succumbed to her charms.  I apologised (which is what she wanted) and said that I hadn't wanted to upset her and that by any standards she was more attractive than K (not quite true) and had a 'rare and luminous beauty', a phrase she really liked. She said that maybe she and K should go out to dinner and leave me on my own and then they could snog.  I told her that sounded like a very good idea.  I said I didn't want a silly misunderstanding to break up the three of our's close friendship.  She admitted that K was pretty irresistible and said I would have to deal with it if she could get physical with her.  I told her I didn't mind at all, although I didn't say that I doubted K would want to have anything to do with such behavior.

"I'm going to have a poo.  Don't get dressed but put the kettle on!" she said, bouncing out of bed.  She pulled on her skirt and blouse but didn't put any underwear on.  She gave me a kiss and disappeared downstairs.  I flicked on the kettle and put some music on; Bach Brandenburg concertos which always cheered me up.   I put some tea in the pot and opened the biscuit tin; a biscuit tin being one of the first and most valuable items a student acquired.  I  did everything with my left hand, as my right hand smelled of cunt.  Although C would probably like cunt flavoured biscuits, I thought.  There was a gentle knock on the door.

"It's open!" I said going over to the door to give C a hug. The door opened and K stepped into the room.

"Oh my God!" she said, staring at my naked form.  She looked totally surprised but did not, I noticed, avert her eyes.  She just stood there, looking at me.  Her eyes flicked down to my groin and then up to my face.  then down to my groin again. Equally, I didn't cover my genitals or turn away..  J from Finland had lectured me about not being ashamed of naked bodies: 'like all English people seem to be'. "Why are you naked?" K managed, after a few very awkward seconds. I realised in retrospect that I was enjoying displaying myself to her.  Although I wasn't training for my 400 metre running any more I was tall and had an athletic figure.  I did press ups and sit ups every day and I walked miles around Oxford, as I didn't have a bike.  I was in good shape.  "Perhaps you should put something on.  Not that it isn't nice!" she added, gratifyingly.  I wondered about getting completely dressed but then when C returned she might then guess K had arrived when I was naked.  I went into the bedroom and put my green dressing gown on.

"Better?" I said, going back into my living room.

"Not better, perhaps but less disturbing!  You're the first naked man I have ever seen!"  I told her I was surprised and hadn't she at least seen her father naked.  She said 'of course not' in a horrified way.  My parents had often been naked in front of us, so I didn't think anything of it, as I had told J when she was banging on about more liberal Finnish body culture. At this point she noticed C's bra on the armchair she was about to sit on.  She recoiled as if she had realised that she was about to sit on a pile of hot coals.  She picked it up as if it were a particularly nasty piece of seaweed.

"Is it C's?  Where is she?  What have you been doing?" I took C's bra and put it on my bedside chair. From where K was now sitting she could see straight into the bedroom.  She looked into it and obviously saw the very rumpled bed.  She looked back at me blushing visibly.  "Oh!" she said.  "Oh dear!"  I handed her a mug of tea and carefully kept my right hand behind my back in case she could smell it.

At this point C returned, dressed in her black skirt and white blouse.  She looked at K and frowned. before coming over to me and giving me a big kiss while sliding her hand inside my dressing gown and tickling my cock.

"Should I leave?" asked K.  K later said that was the first real  signs of affection she had ever seen C show to me.

K, it turned out, had come around to ask where we should go to for our post exam drink after dinner.  C, ever distrustful, observed, after K had gone, that she could have asked that at dinner and she was still 'lasciviously throwing herself' at me. I didn't mention that K had caught me naked and hoped K wouldn't say anything either.  C, after giving me a very long wet kiss, disappeared back to her room to change.  I went and had a shower and got stiff thinking about K seeing me naked.  I wondered if she might come up to my room again one night.  I also worried about what she might say to C.  I needed to speak to K before dinner about this, I decided, but she had the room above C's room.  I went down to the bottom of my staircase and carefully slunk around the perimeter of the small paved area which our staircases opened onto.  If I could follow the edge I could get into the space below C's room without her spotting me from her window.  I got to her staircase and had to creep up the wooden stairs.  C knew my footsteps pattern so I took it very slowly and silently and hoped that I wouldn't run into one of the other girls I knew, like F.  My heart was pounding as I passed C's door and ascended to K's floor.  I gently knocked on K's door but she didn't hear me or was out.  I knocked a bit louder and the door opened.  K was dressed in a black blouse but no skirt.  She was wearing black stockings too and I could just see a slice of slim naked thigh above them.

"I thought you were C!" she said, letting me in.  "A minute earlier and you would have seen me naked!" she laughed. She was wearing make-up and looked sexy as hell. She also smelled fantastic, as she was wearing one of her expensive perfumes. I was relieved to discover that she hadn't said anything to C and I asked her not to mention it.  She reassured me she wouldn't, as she didn't want 'another insane, four letter word nutty'.  She wanted me to stay but I thought I better go in case C turned up. She kissed me goodbye and I patted her bottom.  It was almost time for dinner, too.  I left, leaving her still flashing her fantastic legs and crept down the stairs to ground level again.  I then waited a few seconds and went back upstairs in my normal way and knocked on C's door.  She was wearing her black sequinned dress.  It was far too over the top for going to the pub but I dare not say anything.

"You look fantastic!" I said, which she did.  Just way over the top for dinner in hall.  There was a knock on the door and K appeared.  Much to my surprise she wasn't wearing the black blouse and a skirt but had a little black cocktail dress on instead.  She was wearing her expensive pearls.  C and K admired each other and stood with their arms around each other's waists to look at themselves in the mirror.

"You're a very lucky boy going out with two such stunning women!" said C.  She often told me I was a very lucky boy.  Increasingly I was getting the impression that my status of 'very lucky boy' was increasingly precarious and I better keep delivering everything she required or things would turn out badly.

We caused a bit of a stir at college dinner to C's delight and K's embarrassment, as they were both so overdressed. W one of the other male lawyers, winked at me. C had berated me for not having a jacket.

"Are you going out?" asked L, the lawyer who had reported K and my kiss to C.

"Yes.  We are all going out together!" said C.  L looked confused.

We left college and walked, arm in arm, with the girls either side of me, down the High on our way to the Head of the River pub.  This was a big pub on the Thames (or the Isis, as that part of it which runs through Oxford is pretentiously called) and in the summer you could sit outside by the water.  I didn't like pubs as they had too much cigarette smoke and I didn't drink beer.  In those days, however, there were no wine bars, so there wasn't much option other than the bar of the Randolph Hotel and C insisted I wasn't smart enough for that as I was just wearing black cords and a turquoise jumper,

"Did you see L's face?" asked K as we walked past Christ Church.

"It was priceless.  The fat, ugly bitch!" said C.

"She can't help looking like that!" said K.

"She could eat less and then she'd only be ugly!" said C.

Fortunately, the pub wasn't too crowded, although there were quite a few people still in sub fusc, obviously also celebrating their exams finishing. Both the girls had gin and tonic, which my mother drank too.  As a result I always think of it as a girls' drink and don't trust men who drink it.  They were quite drunk and giggling by the time we returned to college.  I decided to invite them up to my room to get some tea down them and help them sober up. C stopped off to pick up her contact lens pots which meant, I knew, that she was going to sleep over: something she  hadn't done for ages.

K and I went up to my room together  and I got the gas fire going, which was always the first thing I did when returning to my room; even before putting the kettle on.  I stood up and K put her arms around my waist and kissed me.

"I think you'd better stop!" I said, pulling at her slim arms.

"Don't you like it?  Don't you like kissing me?" she said.  "I know you do!"  Oh dear.  She had had three gin and tonics and wasn't really used to the alcohol.  On top of that she only weighed six stone ten (94 lbs) so alcohol always went to her head. " You're very handsome.   Let's take our clothes off!"

"Let's have some tea," I said, hoping C would return as quickly as possible.  K was rubbing her body up against mine and her hand slid across my crotch.  I had only had a pint of cider so I didn't feel intoxicated at all and although part of me wished for C's return another part of me wished I could play with K.  In fact one part of me wanted to play more than the rest of me.

"Oh!" said K, squeezing my rapidly engorging penis through my trousers.  She let go and then immediately put her hand back again. "Oh!" she said again.  "Am I doing that?"

"You must stop!" I said, desperately, expecting C's return any second. "Imagine what scale of nutty C would have if she saw you doing that!"

"You like it!" said K, thankfully stepping back

"It's lovely.  You're lovely!  But C..." I said.

"Well C can be quite horrid, sometimes," said K, sitting down and accepting a mug of tea. "I'm always nice to you.  I suppose it is all about sex.  Nice girls come last!" I nearly made a risque joke but decided against it.

I tried to change the subject and talked about what we were going to do over the six week Easter holiday.  She said she wanted to come and stay at my house 'without C'.  Fortunately, at this point C returned with her little overnight bag and having changed into a skirt and blouse.  K said she felt overdressed.  C suggested that K should take her dress off, as a joke (I think).

"I will if you will!" said K, to my surprise.  C looked surprised as well but K was already fiddling at the hook at the back of her dress. C moved across the floor in a flash and started to undo the hook and zip at the back of K's dress.  The dress dropped down to her hips and then K pushed it down and stepped out of it.  She was wearing a silk black camisole and French knickers with a suspender belt and stockings.  As a result, she wasn't actually showing much skin at all, really. C cooed over her outfit and knelt down so she could run her hands up K's long, slim legs. C put her hands on K's skin above her stocking tops and, perhaps fortunately, the increasingly sensual mood was broken by K squealing . K was so ticklish that you couldn't touch any part of her skin without inducing fits of giggles.  I later wondered how K would ever be able to have sex if she couldn't be touched. K leapt back from C so she couldn't touch her again.  C was impressed by the fact that K's stockings were real silk stockings.  I asked how she could tell and she said that silk tockings all wrinkled slightly around the ankles.

 K didn't put her dress on again, though, and sat in my chair with her legs crossed and one elegant calf and foot extended into the room.  C, not to be outdone, took her skirt and blouse off too to reveal her own black underwear and stockings.  I felt like I was sitting in a pre-war Berlin nightclub.

I didn't have any pre-war Berlin nightclub music (it was a subsequent girlfriend who introduced me to Cabaret) but I did have some Edith Piaf so put that on the cassette player instead.  C, it turned out, loved Edith Piaf and could sing along in French.  I lit the two candles I kept on my desk and switched my lamp off.

C and K started to dance with each other in the middle of the floor, adding to the Berlin nightclub atmosphere, C with her thigh between K's legs, guiding her around in gentle circles.  C put her hand on K's silk clad bottom and I just sat there quietly enjoying it.   The two of them happily carried on slow dancing.  Piaf started to sing La Vie en Rose and C gave K a tender kiss.

"This is my favourite!" said C.

"James Bond's too," I said.  "In the books."  Neither C of K had read the books.  Although I had been trying to sober them up, a thick atmosphere of sensuality was now pervading the room.  C was kissing K's neck and K was now rubbing her thigh against C's groin.  I was sitting quietly, not wanting to destroy the moment, enjoying the scene and my raging erection.

"Do you have any more drink?" asked C.  It was the last thing I should have done as they were both quite tiddly as it was.  They both needed to sober up or they might do something they regretted the next day.  I needed them to drink tea, coffee or water otherwise I might be taking advantage of them or they of each other. I definitely shouldn't be giving then any more alcohol.

"I have some Madeira!" I said.  My mother had been given a bottle fro Christmas by someone at work but she had passed it on to me. She didn't like it because it reminded her of an unpleasant uncle.  She didn't like Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue for the same reason.  I had brought some proper stemmed glasses from home for drinking sherry and port from. C was impressed I wasn't going to serve it in tumblers.  We had been to another student's room that term and he had served us port from a mug.  C's sneer was something to behold.  Another point scored, anyway.  K sat down again in my armchair and C sat on her lap, crosswise.  They sipped their Madeira and K stroked C's arm and legs.

"You should take some clothes off too!" said C.  I really couldn't understand her.  She had had a fit when I had been out to dinner with K and now she wanted me to display myself to her.  It might have been about power, I supposed.  She knew I would do almost anything for her.

"Yes!  Otherwise it's not fair!" said K.

"He's shy!" taunted C.  I was not, actually.  I pulled off my jumper and socks but stopped at that.  The two girls said I said needed to take off more than that.  K suggested we played strip poker but I didn't have any cards and then we all had to admit that we had no idea how to play poker anyway. They got the giggles over our inability to play strip poker so I poured them some more Madeira, disgracefully.  They made me take my trousers off but not my shirt, thankfully as I didn't want K to see my erection.  Well, actually I did but not at that point as I didn't want C to launch into me for something I had no control over..  I was still sober enough to realise we would all have to face each other tomorrow.  Maybe enough was enough now. I suggested we get dressed again.

"I need the loo!" said K, pushing C off her lap and pulling on her dress.  She disappeared out of the room but I noticed she left her handbag behind so she obviously intended coming back.  Either that or she had forgotten it.  I started to put my trousers back on.  C asked what I was doing and didn't I want to help her seduce K.  I said not really, if she was then going to have an unexpected fit at something I did which she then decided she the didn't like, when it was too late.  She told me to shut up, strip off completely and put my dressing gown on. I hesitated and she told me not to spoil it for her.  It was, of course, all about her. I didn't want to lose K as a friend if something unfortunate happened.

"Get a move on!  She'll be back soon!" said C. I did as I was told, of course.  K returned and picked up her handbag.

'I'm pissed!" said K  "I'm a disgrace!  I'm going to bed!"  C tried to persuade her to stay but it seemed the trip down to the freezing basement bathroom had sobered K up.  C gave her a goodnight kiss and I gave her a quick peck, aware of C's eyes on me. "Are you going to have sex now?" asked K.

"No.  We're going to fuck.  Fuck like animals!  Watch us! Join us! said C.

"Oh!" said K.  She hesitated and I could almost see her weighing up the possibilities in her head. "I think I'd better go!" She left, somewhat flustered.

"Shit!" said C.  "I thought I had her!"  C made me strip off and lie on my back in bed.  She didn't go in for any foreplay but just sat down on me.  She was hot and wet. She didn't even take her underwear or stockings off, just pushed the crotch of her knickers to one side and started bouncing.  She leant forward and gripped the metal bedstead either side of my head, her thighs clamped on my hips, her cunt gripping me.  She didn't kiss me.  She just looked at my face.  Bounce, bounce, bounce, she went.  I gripped her lace covered bottom.  I started to spurt inside her.  She started to flow even more. Her blue eyes bored into me as she carried on bouncing.  "You're mine!  You're mine!  You're mine!" she cried, coming.