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All characters are at least 18 years old, except where stated otherwise.
Jake, Amy and their schoolmates are finishing their A level exams. They’ll be starting at university in September or October.
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“Thank fuck that’s over,” said James as we headed out of our final maths exam. It really was all over. Thirteen years of school had culminated in a question about the momentum of colliding billiard balls.
“You fancy a quick pint to celebrate?” I asked.
“Yeah, why not?” James replied. “Let me get my shit together and let’s get the fuck out of here!”
We grabbed our bags and coats, then headed to the School Office to hand in our locker keys and to say goodbye to the support staff.
The pub down the road from the school was pretty quiet when we arrived shortly before five. I hadn’t yet developed a taste for real ale, so ordered a pint of lager and I think James did the same.
“You up to anything tonight?” I asked.
“Not much,” he said. “Becky’s coming round.”
“She’s done too?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, “Finished on Tuesday. What about you?”
“Just going home for a quiet evening with my parents,” I said. “I’m feeling pretty shattered to be honest – I need a good night’s sleep. Lauren’s going to pick me up with the car later.”
“Hey, there’s a group of us going clubbing in London tomorrow night, you should come too!” he said excitedly.
I hesitated. I was going away with Amy for the weekend; perhaps it was time to tell him about us.
“That would be cool,” I replied, “but actually I’ve got other plans this weekend. Look, there’s something I should tell you.” James looked a little shocked, as if I was about to reveal that I’d been diagnosed with a fatal disease.
“You alright?” he asked, concerned.
“N-n-no, it’s nothing bad,” I said scrambling to reassure him. “It’s just, I started going out with Amy this term and, well, we’re going away for the weekend, this weekend.”
“Woah, woah, woah! You and Amy? Amy Norton?” James said, astonished. So his mum had been true to her word, she hadn’t told him. “That is the right Amy?”
I nodded, blushing a little “Yeah, Amy Norton,” I confirmed. “Me and Amy.” I couldn’t stop myself smiling a little; ‘me and Amy’ had a nice ring to it – I don’t think I’d ever said it out loud before.
“Hey man congratulations!” he said patting me on the shoulder. He leaned forward, “Does anyone else know?” he asked quietly.
“Lauren does – she found out, but you’re the first person I’ve told,” I said. Strictly speaking this was true, my Mum had told my aunt, who in turn had told Lauren and she’d told Danny. James didn’t know that Lauren and Danny were an item and it wasn’t my place to reveal their news.
“We’re kinda keeping it private at the moment,” I explained. “I’d prefer it if you can keep quiet about it too, if that’s OK.”
“Of course,” he said. “Whatever you want.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Hmm, you and Amy Norton,” he mused. “Didn’t see that one coming! Even during the play – I thought she might end up with Ritchie,” he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s why we’ve been keeping it quiet, especially with exams on,” I admitted.
“So when did you ask her out?” he pressed, “Or did she make the first move?”
“It was a kind of a weird mixture of both,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Actually it might have been earlier, but she thought I was going out with Lauren!”
“With Lauren?” he scoffed. “She didn’t know the two of you were cousins who live on the same farm?”
“Nope,” I said. “Don’t forget she only started at school with us two years ago. I think she just saw me and Lauren together a lot and assumed that we were a couple. It just never came up in conversation that we were blood relatives!”
“You and Lauren!” he laughed. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
“And you and Becky? Still going strong?”
“Yeah,” he said, “really well. Really, really well! And the sex is amazing. That’s the great thing about Study Leave, no school and a house to yourself. We must have done twice as much fucking as revising! If hadn’t been for working with you at the library in the afternoons, we wouldn’t have got out of bed for most of it!
“Still,” he continued, “I’m sure you and Amy have taken advantage too!”
I blushed and said nothing, not wanting to reveal that Amy and I were still virgins and that we’d been so boring that we really had spent our Study Leave revising on her dining room table. We’d only had oral sex once and that was three weeks previously at the start of the Half Term holiday.
If he’d noticed my embarrassment, James ignored it. “Hey, Dad’s hired a limousine to take me and Becky and Rachel and Stijn to the Prom,” he continued. “Do you and Amy want to ride as well?”
“That sounds great. Let me ask her,” I replied. “I’ll let you know after the weekend. Would we have to come to Bostancı Escort you, or would you pick us up en route?”
“If you get yourself to Amy’s, we’ll pick you both up together, how about that?” James said.
“OK,” I said. “I’ll let you know.”
“Are you doing the whole corsage thing?” he asked.
“The what?” I replied.
“The corsage thing,” he repeated. “It’s like a bunch of flowers that girls wear round their wrists to Proms.”
“Around their wrists?” I asked. “Don’t they get in the way?”
James shrugged. “Sometimes they wear it pinned to their dresses,” he said. “But, I dunno, it depends what the dress is made of or something, the pins can damage the fabric, so they wear it on their wrists instead.”
“And I have to buy it for Amy?” I asked.
“Yeah,” James said. “The guys buy them for the girls. You’re supposed to wear a matching buttonhole.” He paused, “Do you know what dress she’s wearing?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Why?”
“So you’re supposed to choose a colour scheme that goes with the dress. Becky is very insistent on that.”
“Why doesn’t she choose it herself?” I asked, wary of the minefield ahead.
“Because she wants it to be a surprise,” James said. “Come on, you know what girls are like, they want to be surprised by something that they’ve known is coming for a long time!”
“This corsage business sounds like a trap devised by womankind to trip up innocent boyfriends,” I said.
“No, that’s the rest of our lives,” James replied wryly.
Amy’s mum had taken much persuading to allow her 18-year-old daughter to spend a weekend away with her boyfriend of only two months. Not only had the idea of a romantic city break abroad been vetoed point-blank, when she did agree to the back-up plan of two nights in Amy’s uncle’s holiday cottage, it came with a long list of conditions.
We would have to travel down to Dorset by train, as Jenny didn’t want me to drive Amy for such a long journey. This one was particularly restrictive, as we’d have to go up to London first, take the tube to Waterloo station, before taking another long train ride down to the south west. It would add an extra hour and a half to the journey at least.
Not only that, but the cottage was some distance from the railway station at the other end, around a five-mile walk along a fairly busy road with no bus service to speak of. We’d need to buy food for the weekend in the town and lugging the shopping and suitcases on foot was impractical – we’d have to take a cab.
In short, the cottage was an idyllic get-away-from-it-all retreat for an adult couple with a car, but for the two of us there’d be very little to do, unless we spent a fortune on taxis. It didn’t help that Amy had been completely swept up with the whole idea of a staying in a romantic bolthole, but to be fair, I was also looking forward to the opportunity to be alone with her for two days.
Although I’d accepted the ‘driving ban’ with good grace to her mum’s face, inside the cocky 18-year-old me was seething at the perceived slight.
“It’s not fair,” I moaned to my Mum. “We’re going to be in the middle of nowhere and the cottage doesn’t even have a television.”
Mum let me rant on for a few minutes, until I’d exhausted myself. (I suspected that she was secretly pleased as well that I wouldn’t be driving such a long distance.)
“Look Jake,” she said. “I agree with everything you say, and I know you’re offended at not being able to drive and I can see your point about there not being much to do when you get there, but try to see the bigger picture!”
“The bigger picture?”
“Yes,” Mum said. “I don’t know for sure, but this is probably Amy’s first holiday away without either her family or her school. I’m sure she’s really excited. And the bonus is she gets to go away with you. I’m sure she’d want to go away for the weekend even if you were camping in the middle of the sewage works – it doesn’t matter for her. But if you spend all of your time moaning, then it will ruin the magic. You’ve got to play the game here, this weekend is about having a good fun time on your own together.”
“We’d have more fun if we had a car,” I sulked.
Mum rolled her eyes. “I know you had grand visions of taking her up the Eiffel Tower and I know Dorset feels a long way from second best. But, if this goes well, then I’m sure you’ll get to take her to Paris or Venice or wherever come Christmas time. Think about this as a dress rehearsal. You want to be Romeo, but for your first school play in ten years you’re given Tybalt. But next time…”
“Next time, Ritchie Gasson will still be the leading man again, because he can lick the Director’s arse far better than I can!” I snapped back sarcastically. Reluctantly I could see that Mum had a point.
“You’re welcome to rant at me all you like, Jake. But promise me, you won’t be negative when you’re with Amy. You need to be sure she has a good time and if that means indulging her idea Anadolu Yakası Escort of an idyllic weekend, then so be it.”
“All right, I promise,” I said. Mum was right, she was always right.
The journey down to Dorset was uneventful, marked only by Amy’s insistence on taking selfies of the two of us at every conceivable point. She really was excited about going away together on our own and she chattered away happily. It seemed to be the first time that she’d taken a long-distance train journey – being squashed in the middle seat between her two step-brothers in the back of the car was her more usual mode of transport.
In contrast, I was fairly quiet, still tired from finishing my final maths exam the previous afternoon. But despite my misgivings about the location, I was also excited about going away with Amy, to finally have some of the privacy that we’d craved since we’d got together and to be able to spend time with each other without the risk of being interrupted by the various members of her family!
We arrived in Dorset around mid-afternoon. I’d booked a mini-cab to take us to the cottage for an hour after our train was due, to give us time to go to the supermarket and to allow for any delays en route. With time to kill, we decided to take a quick look around the town.
The town itself was pretty small, but had an interesting history, back over 1000 years to Saxon times. There was a little museum that Amy and I agreed we’d visit at some point and we spotted rowing boats available on the river to hire.
It took slightly longer than I was expecting to reach the cottage by taxi, partly because the driver missed the turning off the main road, but mainly because the mile-long single-track lane that led down to the cottage was rough and potholed. I made a mental note as we parked outside, to change the location of our pickup on the Sunday morning to the main road.
I’d seen a couple of photos of the outside of the cottage, so I knew already what to expect. There was a small, well-tended front garden and Amy had told me that her uncle paid a local couple to keep the place in good order. Knowing that the property wasn’t connected to the mains gas network, I was expecting the interior to be pretty basic and a little pokey, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Wow, this is amazing!” I said as we opened the door.
The downstairs was open plan, with a kitchen area in the front, a dining area in the centre, then a more informal seating area to the rear with a couple of sofas. Beyond that a pair of French doors opened out onto a small patio with a wooden table and chairs. Clearly a fair amount of money had been spent on the place in the past year or so and the brand-new furnishings and kitchen equipment were of very high quality.
After placing the perishable food in the fridge and having filled the kettle, we raced up the stairs to explore further. There were two good-size bedrooms, the slightly larger one at the front (above the kitchen) had two twin beds and the one at the rear, which had a king-sized double, looked out over the patio and the fields beyond. I noted a large, free-standing, roll-top bath in the central bathroom, but there was no shower.
Leaving our suitcases in the double bedroom, we went downstairs. I made the tea, while Amy scouted around for the key to the French doors. Then we sat outside with our mugs, looking across the gently rolling fields.
“What time is our hack tomorrow?” Amy asked.
“We have to be at the stables at ten,” I replied. “The lady on the phone said they’d get us to ride around the field so that they can check our ability. Then the hack itself should start around ten thirty and we’ve got two hours riding out.”
It had been my idea to get us both on horseback. The relative isolation of the cottage meant that there were only two amenities within walking distance. The first was the riding school, which we could actually see from the house and the second was the local pub, where I was planning to take Amy for lunch. She’d be starting for Jackie as an employee at the Stables the following week and I thought that riding somewhere new and different would boost her confidence further. The other advantage was that I would get to see her wearing her tight jodhpurs and leather riding boots again – very much a sight for sore eyes!
Our tea drunk, we decided to head out to explore the neighbourhood (mostly fields of sheep and horses to the south and a large forest to the north) and to get our bearings more generally.
I’d borrowed the map of the local area from the town library and had been sketching a rough route on the train. There was a footpath behind the cottage which ran parallel to a small river, a similar size to the one back home on the farm. So taking each other’s hand we struck out, walking upstream to the woodland a mile or so from the cottage. We chatted away happily about our plans for the rest of the weekend and starting our jobs the following week.
“Oh, Ataşehir Escort by the way,” I said casually, “I told James about us, last night.”
Amy turned her head towards me, giving me a piercing look. “Why did you do that?” she asked, there was a coldness in her voice that was new to me.
“Er, I, er thought with the Prom coming up and exams being over we should, er start telling people,” I stammered, taken by surprise by the sudden change in the tone of her voice. “And if Danny knew, I thought he should too.”
She stopped walking and pulled me back with my hand. I turned to her. She was angry with me; something I hadn’t seen before.
“Did you not think you should ask me before you told him?” her eyes flashed. In that instant, she reminded me so much of her mother.
“I, er, um, er, listen,” I said, “I’ve known James almost all my life, he’s not going to tell anyone. Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?”
That was the worst thing I could have said.
“No, Jake, I am not overreacting,” she snapped back. “This is our relationship, ours! That’s right there are two of us, you and me. If we’re going to start telling people, then we need to make that decision together. It’s not right for you to do that without me. I hardly know James, the only reason I know his name is because of the play.”
“I’m sorry,” I stammered sheepishly. “I’ve known James all my life – just like Danny. He knew, so I thought telling James would be OK.”
“Yes, but that’s different,” she replied, her voice becoming a fraction softer. “Lauren told Danny and I know that you didn’t tell Lauren.”
“Do you not think we should tell people?” I asked.
“Well actually, I was going to talk to you about that this weekend and for us to decide together. Yes, I do think now is probably the time. I do want to go to the Prom as a couple. But that’s not the point, we should have discussed it first.”
We started walking again, but there was a frosty silence between us. Our first disagreement.
“Amy,” I said in a small voice. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t think. I should have asked you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She turned to me and hugged me. “Oh Jake,” she sighed. “I love you and I know you didn’t mean to. Look, there’s no harm done and let’s forget about it. Now let’s get back to the cottage, because I have plans for you and your willie tonight!”
I was still in the doghouse when we got back to the cottage. No matter how hard the two of us tried to be jovial and to re-establish our usual teasing banter, the crystal perfection of our first two months together had received its first blemish. And it was my fault. Consideration for Amy’s opinions and feelings could not have been further from my mind when I’d told James about us; I’d ruined everything with my selfishness.
Perhaps it was a lesson that was long overdue; I’d been riding on cloud nine since the start of the year, ever since I’d opened the envelope containing my offer from Cambridge University. Getting my first girlfriend at Easter, after rescuing her from my nemesis, had elevated my own sense of self-importance and infallibility. Maybe that was part of the problem, I’d behaved as if Amy was another prize I’d won, another accolade that I could use as I pleased perhaps, and now my hubris had put that at risk.
What made it worse was the relative isolation of the cottage. The only two amenities within walking distance were the Riding School, which was shut by the time we’d arrived, and the village pub, and going there with Amy would very probably be more awkward than staying in the cottage.
The mood improved slightly over supper. I cooked, which should have helped me to take my mind off things, but I could feel Amy’s eyes burning into my back, even when she wasn’t in the room. Fortunately a couple of glasses of wine helped in taking the edge off things.
Unknown to me, Amy had brought her Mum’s old laptop, for us to watch a DVD after we’d eaten. It was a French rom com from at least a decade before, which I was convinced I was going to hate from the get-go, but actually enjoyed. But more importantly, it gave Amy an excuse to snuggle against me and for us to re-establish the bond of trust that I’d thoughtlessly weakened.
When the film finished, she led me upstairs by the hand to spend our first night together in a proper double bed. We undressed each other, then knelt facing each other in the centre of the bed, holding each other’s hands and interlacing our fingers. There was a calmness to the way we looked lovingly into each other’s eyes, undoubtedly helped by the alcohol we’d consumed.
I pulled her to me and we began to kiss – soft kisses, tender and light. Then she pushed me back down and, lying on her side, took my cock into her mouth as I gently stroked her hair.
“Amy?” I asked tentatively. “Can I kiss you? Please? I want to make you feel good as well.”
She looked up at me and nodded, her mouth still filled with my shaft. I lay down on my side, placing my head between her legs and gently kissed her mons. Then I blew lightly across her labia, before starting to cautiously lick the length of her slit. She shivered in pleasure at my touch and began to bob her head more rapidly, as if trying to race me to the finish.
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