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. 


  1. As addictive as ever. So you lasted the first year with C. On tenterhooks for the return of A.

  2. "Do you prefer cunt flavoured chocolate or chocolate flavoured cunt?". "More cunt less chocolate!". Priceless...