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The woman entered and stood watching her son, who didn’t look up. Rain blattered the big windows of the dining room, willows and rowans in the garden whipping in the wind. He sat morosely at the oak table, flicking pages of a book he wasn’t reading. They had a tolerant and normally easy relationship, but he was beginning to get on her nerves this Sunday afternoon.
– Sandy, it’s driving me daft seeing you like this. Just because you cannie get on your bike’s no reason to mope.
– Ach sorry mum. You know I need the training for my easter trip.
She did know that. Sandy and Donald had planned their most ambitious adventure yet for the easter break: an average hundred miles a day between youth hostels, over almost every big pass in the Highlands, with heavy panniers. Sandy had finally been able to buy the bike he’d coveted with eighteenth birthday money: a bespoke Flying Scot, 531 and Campag throughout. He wanted, he said, to ‘put it through its paces.’
He and Donald had spent a weekend poring over maps to decide the route and book the hostels, and he’d been training for an hour every day after school, and more at weekends, getting his muscles into trim. She was very proud of his cycling stamina, though she could never have told him that.
– Well sitting here fretting’s no doing you any good. Why don’t you go up and see Bill and Calum?
– Aw Mum, they’re all right. Just a bit boring sometimes. And they move in a different world to mine.
– You need company occasionally. They’re nice lads. And they seem to have a livelier social life than you do, from what Seonagh tells me. Go on, it’ll do you good…
– Ach, I suppose you’re right. As usual.
She reached out and clipped him gently on the lug:
– Less of the cheek young man.
He grinned wickedly:
– Aye… auld wumman.
He managed to dodge a more serious blow, and went through the house to grab his rainwear.
He walked disconsolately up the brae past the golf club, gusts of rain soaking his combat jacket. Turned down the cul-de-sac at the top of the hill, glad of the respite from the wind, and approached the house up its long drive. Bill and Calum weren’t close friends, but they lived nearby and he hadn’t seen them for a while. And they always had a stash of Export, courtesy of their indulgent Dad.
There was a car he didn’t recognise parked before the house, beside Bill’s wee Anglia. A brand new Triumph 2000.
Bill came to the door, grinning as he opened it. The Kinks new album sounded along the hall from the open living room door.
– Well Sandy, you timed it nicely. How did you know?
– Err, know what?
– That I have some rather attractive company. More than even I can handle alone. Come and meet them.
Two mini-skirted girls stood at the window, watching the rain, their hips swaying to Ray Davis’s words. They turned at Bill’s voice:
– Here lassies, meet my friend Sandy. He’s providentially dropped by to even up the numbers.
Sandy knew Bill’s girlfriend Adrienne, but not the other girl. He recognised her from an inter-schools debating competition though. She’d been quite good, he remembered. And very sexy in a rather puppy-fat way. He’d been interested, but in his paralysing shyness couldn’t breach the phalanx of admirers surrounding her after the debate, so they hadn’t spoken.
Adrienne stepped up to him, and gave him a rather cool kiss on the lips. She had no idea what Bill saw in this studious, rather withdrawn boy. Hell, he even preferred folk music to the Beatles. He was boring. But politeness overcame her disdain, and she introduced him to her friend:
– Sandy, this is Julie.
– Hello Julie…
He stepped forward to shake her hand, but the girl ignored it and moved closer, her mouth raised for a kiss. Her straight blonde hair was cut in a pageboy, which made her slightly acned face look very young. He bent his head to oblige, ready to brush her mouth courteously, but as their lips met, hers opened. His first encounter with Julie became a brief snog. She drew back after a few seconds:
– Lovely to meet you Sandy. — a giggle — I’ve heard all about you from Adrienne.
– Oh no…
His voice was mock-concerned, to cover his real disquiet. He knew what Adrienne thought of him, and the distance between them was mutual. She was a stuck-up bitch, and not too bright either. He didn’t have a girl-friend, and Julie had something he found instantly exciting. He wondered what Adrianne had told Julie. He was querulous enough with girls; knew his single-minded interests, and nervous uncertainty in their company, didn’t endear him to many.
Julie giggled again, and patted his arm:
– Don’t worry silly. Adrienne’s my best friend, but we have different interests. I like folk music.
One of Adrienne’s eyebrows rose. She was about to speak, but didn’t.
Bill returned to the room, placing a tray of red cans and glasses on the coffee-table:
– Anyone for a beer? The choice is wide: McEwan’s Export.
– Thought you were ayaş escort never going to offer Bill. Thanks!
Julie gave him a thank-you kiss, drawing the tall rugby-player’s mouth down to do so. She sniffed after the kiss, licked his cheek:
– Mmm, gorgeous after-shave.
Sandy was very conscious that he wasn’t wearing any, though fortunately he had shaved his embarrassing bum-fluff that morning. He opened a can, poured a beer, handed it to Julie. Poured himself one.
Bill turned to Adrienne, who seemed a wee bit withdrawn:
– One for you?
– Bill! You know perfectly well that I got that car for my birthday last week! No way am I drinking. May I have a coffee please?
– Sure, one coffee coming up…
Adrienne followed him out of the room. Sandy turned to Julie:
– The Triumph 2000 is Adrienne’s car?
His surprise showed. The car was upmarket, and brand new. He knew Adrienne’s parents were rich: she wouldn’t be at St George’s otherwise. But even rich parents, the only ones who could afford to buy their children motors, usually settled for something cheap and second-hand, like Bill’s Anglia.
– Uhuh, it’s hers all right. She came here today to show it off to Bill. To make him jealous, knowing her. Offered me a ride, is why I’m here. I’m glad you’re here too, I hate being a third wheel. And no, Papa hasn’t bought me a car. Says he wants my admission to St Andrews confirmed before I get one, so I have to wait for my Highers results. What do you drive Sandy?
He gulped. He was socially out of his class with these people:
– I… I err… don’t have a car. My mum doesn’t have a car, so I can’t drive. Not till I can afford to pay for lessons. Which is some way off yet.
To his surprise, she smiled, sweet crinkles at the edges of amber eyes. Cooed in her very English voice:
– But I hear you’ve an Aston Martin of a bike? Papa was very impressed when I told him. He used to be a keen cyclist. Says the Flying Scot’s the best there is?
This girl he’d never met before, who had just snogged him, had spoken of him to her father? He was absolutely out of his depth here. But he knew Julie’s kindness, as well as her physical attraction. Well, blatant sexuality. He gulped his beer down to cover his embarrassment, and reached for another can.
– One for me too?
She giggled, holding out her empty glass. He sat on the sofa to pour the beers, and Julie lowered herself beside him. The short skirt hitched up when she sat. God her thighs… He’d had a couple of girlfriends who’d nervously allowed him to touch their tits and cunts through their clothes, and one had rubbed him off through his trousers, but that was the extent of his sexual experience. Julie excited him, and she seemed to like him. His cock twitched.
– Hey Julie!
Adrienne’s imperious voice rang through the house. Julie rose and followed the sound, deliberately flouncing her arse at him so he saw her panties under the tights. She brushed past Bill going through the door. Bill lowered the mug of coffee to the table:
– More music Sandy? What’s your choice?
– Aye, that’d be good. Thanks.
Sandy liked the rawness of the Stones, knew they drew heavily on an R&B tradition that went back to Lightning Hopkins and the folk roots of the blues. Jagger’s gravel sounded as Bill sat beside him:
– So. D’you like Julie?
– Um, yes, I do. She’s at St George’s too?
– Aye, of course, Adrienne wouldn’t talk to her if she wasn’t. Her folks are loaded. Papa has a Mark Ten. But — he drew his mouth close to Sandy’s ear — she fancies you rotten. Ever since you won the debating competition. And I’ve heard rumours…
– … that she opens her legs for the right guy. Just as well that you turned up this afternoon. I was about to phone you when you rang the bell. You might just be lucky today. Adrienne and I are going out in a wee while: she wants to show off her new motor. You’d be best staying here when we leave. We’ll be gone a couple of hours.
– Jesus… Bill, thanks for the tip. Fuck…
His mind was a blur. She was way out of his league socially. She fancied him? And the other information… then he realised… shit. He hadn’t brought his Durex. He had one pack which accompanied him to parties, hope over reality, but it was in its hiding place at home, unused:
– I, err… could I borrow a rubber, just in case. I didn’t bring mine, didn’t expect…
– D’accord, mon copain. Attends…
Sandy gulped more beer as Bill left the room. He heard his feet on the stairs through the giggles of the girls in the downstairs bathroom. He was reaching for another can of Export when the lassies returned. Adrienne sat demurely in an armchair, reaching for her coffee. Julie plumped herself beside him, enveloping him in scent he didn’t recognise, but knew was expensive… and most alluring. It hadn’t been there before.
– My beer’s empty. I want to get bağlıca escort tiddly this afternoon; I’m not driving. Pour me another Sandy?
Adrienne finished her coffee and stood:
– I’m taking Bill for a drive in the Triumph. You two want to come?
From her tone it was clear that they weren’t really welcome. Sandy was summoning up courage to find a polite way to say no, but Julie got there first:
– I think I want another drink. Would it be all right with Bill if we stayed here while you’re out?
Adrienne was about to respond when Bill’s voice came from the door:
– Aye, stay if you want. The folks are out, Calum’s playing rugby, there’ll be nobody here till we get back.
He nodded to Sandy, who rose and moved beside him. Bill pressed the small package in his hand surreptitiously, but Adrienne caught the movement. A cool smile crossed her face:
– Well, are we going then Bill?
– Ready when you are. I’m looking forward to a ride in your swish new motor.
Julie rose, a bit unsteadily. Adrienne whispered something in her ear, then she and Bill left with laughing calls to enjoy themselves.
Sandy sank into the sofa. Julie stood by the door still, swaying slightly to the driving beat of the Stones. He was struggling for words. She got there first again:
– So Sandy. Just you and me, eh? I want to dance…
She swayed and shimmied over the parquet floor. Sandy sat entranced for a few seconds as he watched her, arse out, tits jiggling, before something in him made him rise, almost against his will. Fear and excitement clutched his throat as he moved towards her:
– I want to dance too lassie. But first I need to do this.
He grabbed her body and drew her to him. Bent and kissed her roughly. She didn’t back off, but sank in his arms. Her tits pressed against him, and her groin moved against his of its own volition. She clutched his arse to her, and he knew she felt his erection against her belly. The kiss continued. He’d never kissed or been kissed like this before. The rising fire in him vanquished his nervousness, and his mouth broke from hers. He licked her ear inadvertently as they swayed together to ‘Walking the Dog’, and she shivered in his arms:
– Fuck, do that again, whatever you did to my ear?
The obscenity sounded strange to him, in her high English voice. Excited him further. He kissed her mouth again, hard and needy, reservations dispelling with alcohol and arousal, then focused attention on her ear. Her hips ground tighter to him as his tongue teased into her and she squirmed against him. His lapping on her lobe brought gasps, and he thrust his erection against her. The last bars died and she looked into him, pupils dilated as she panted:
– Must sit down.
He pulled her onto his knees as he settled on the sofa. His left hand went to her tit as she sank into him, fumbled under her loose lacy blouse, dug below the bra. Found soft flesh, then a firm insistent hardness. Instinctively, his fingers closed round the point. He’d never done this before, but he’d furtively read ‘Lady Chatterley’ and Henry Miller. She gasped as he manipulated her nipple cautiously, and her thighs parted on his lap.
There was a faint aroma he hadn’t ever smelled before, seeping through her expensive perfume. His right hand moved almost by instinct to her thighs, fingers inching upwards over her tights, under the rumpled wee skirt. His mouth closed on hers, slack with need, and fuck… he was stroking her cunt through knickers and tights, and her thighs were wide apart. The aroma grew stronger. As he continued exploring, his fingers felt dampness through the material.
She was moaning in his mouth now, her hips moving against his careful fingers. In his excitement the hand on her tit had stilled, but he renewed the grasp on the hardness there as his right hand moved more firmly against her cunt. His mouth had left hers, and he was watching in wonder as her eyeballs rolled upwards. Her body tensed, jerked, her eyeballs disappeared, and there was a trace of moisture on his right hand. His jaw dropped… fuck! He’d made her orgasm.
Her eyes flittered open:
– Sandy? What did you do?
Her grin was as wide as the North Sea. He didn’t know what to say, so said nothing. She wriggled her plump arse on his arousal and he groaned.
She sat up on his lap, more pressure on his trapped cock:
– I think we need to get more comfortable.
– Yes, we do.
His heart was exploding. They were going to fuck, sure as night follows day. Eventually he managed:
– Bill’s bedroom’s the best place.
She seemed much calmer than he was, but she’d done this before. He thrust his hips under her:
– Well get up then. I can’t move easily when you’re sitting on me.
She kissed him wetly and stood, a bit unsteady still. He rose, patted the back pocket of his cords to check for the condoms, and led her up the stairs, her wee hand slightly damp in his.
Bill’s room was tidy, bala escort posters of cars and rugby trophies on the walls, the single bed neatly made. Sandy knew they had a housekeeper who came every morning. They were silent as they stood gazing at each other. Only a slight ticking and gurgling from the radiator, and the gentle croo-croo of a cushie doo in the garden, intruded on their privacy. Julie smiled and thrust her breasts forward:
His heart was in his mouth. His fingers trembled as they sought the buttons on her blouse. It parted to reveal spotty young womanhood swelling above a cursory bra. She pecked his cheek and turned to give him better access to unhook her. He fumbled — never in his life had he done this — and the fragments of lace fell away. She turned, shrugged the bra off. He gasped and flushed, fingered plump tits, watched her nipples grow.
– Suck them Sandy.
He knelt before her awkwardly, his erection painful against the tight cords. She stood there smiling as his mouth closed on one nipple, fingers on another. Her breathing changed, and his free hand touched her knee, slid up the nylon under her skirt. He fought the trembling in his hands, made them focus on what they were doing. She shuffled her legs apart, breathing heavily, as his mouth and fingers aroused her. She wondered briefly if the rumours were true, that he was a virgin, but it didn’t matter. He’d already got her off once, and she was heading for another. No boy had ever given her two…
She pushed his head gently from her teat:
– Undress me properly.
– Oh god yes. Want to see you.
Shaky fingers found the catch and zip on her skirt, and it fell away. He couldn’t resist, pressed nose and mouth to her crotch, inhaling the scent, touching the dampness through flimsy fabric. His fingers eased tights and panties down her legs and there it was, the first cunt he’d ever seen, lightly strewn with delicate fair hairs. When she lifted each knee in turn to allow him to remove the flimsies completely, her cunt parted, dewy pink between the lips. His head went there again, licking her flesh, tasting where he knew his cock was going to go. Her fingers grasped his hair, pulled it back:
– Get up Sandy. I want to see you naked. I want you to lick me again though — she hesitated — no boy’s ever done that before.
He stood, hopping inelegantly to remove his socks. Thank god they were clean this morning. Her fingers expertly unbuttoned his shirt, moved to his belt… the button and zip on his cords. Her eyes never left his. When her fingers brushed his hardness through the damp spot on his y-fronts he jerked. She tugged trousers and pants down over his hips. He danced clumsily again and finally removed them. She touched his urgency and he moaned. She knew:
– This is your first fuck Sandy?
Oh jesus, he was pink all over:
– Aye, first proper fuck.
– I’d best get you off before you go inside me then. You have Durex?
He stammered, bent to remove them from his pocket:
– I want to lie beside you Julie, hold you, touch you…
He took her hand and they lay close on the narrow bed, both bearing a sheen of excited sweat. His arms went round her and they kissed. Fuck, the thrill of holding her nakedness, feeling her tits pressing him, her open cunt wetting his thigh where she rubbed it. Both moaned into the kiss. Then her wee fingers closed firmly round him:
– Touch me as I make you spunk.
She lay back, legs apart, her hand wanking him gently. His fingers found her cunt, now a wee vale between distended labia, and his mouth sought a nipple. The sensations were building in him, and he rubbed her cunt gently, till his fingers found a bead of hardness and she jerked:
– Yesss… just there. Harder, just a little bit.
He raised his head from the tit to watch her face, amber irises rolling up, felt his balls tighten as his fingers played her cunt more firmly. Her hips rose quivering under his hand, and it hit him. He cried out, spunk surging up his cock, flying to splatter her belly and tits.
– Oh god, more, harder Sandy…
The words barely penetrated his dazed brain, but he rubbed again and she jerked hard against his wet hand, groaning the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Then stilled in his arms, her eyes lightly shut. Their sweat mingled. He was lost in amazement at what had happened. It was everything he’d ever read about and more. His head fell to the pillow, face nuzzling hers. Her eyes flickered open:
– Never done that before, two in a row. Goodness… But Sandy, you need to wipe yourself off me, otherwise it’ll stain Bill’s bed — her head rose and she looked down — there’s rather a lot.
He rose shakily and looked around the room. Nothing to wipe her with. Padded through the empty house to the bathroom and returned with a warmly damp facecloth. Her splayed cunt was glistening with moisture and he wiped her there first. She squirmed at the touch of the cloth:
– Christ, you could make it three…
But her raised hips returned to the bed as the cloth moved to cleanse her belly and tits of his spunk. He knelt back, looking carefully, but her skin appeared clean, just the odd smears of stickiness. He returned the cloth to the bathroom, gazed down at her in wonder. She was already dozing.
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