Beware the Roasburies! Pt. 01

She climbed in beside me and lay on her back, as I was. I turned towards her. She saw my bare chest and gave a little gasp. I wondered how far any of her previous paramours had got with her, or how many clothes, if any, they had managed to shed!

"Come here," I said gently.

She turned and came over my arm so we were snuggled together. She lifted her face and we kissed. The kiss was certainly not chaste, having an element of primal passion about it, as her hands roved tentatively over my bare flesh, my free hand resting on her waist, unmoving.

She gave a quiet whimper as her hand reached the side of my briefs, and rapidly brought it over my back to my neck out of danger. We gazed at each other and both smiled.

"I like this," she said. "You feel nice."

"You feel wonderful," I responded, and moved my hand over her pyjama jacket, to caress her back and side in turn, grazing the swell of the side of her breast. I dared not go further for I could sense her reticence. I would have to go very slowly indeed. Yes, she was still wearing her bra.

She sighed.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night, sleep well," I replied and we settled to sleep.

So began our slow and stately courtship. Slow because she was embarking on the final slog to finals and had little time to go out in the evenings, and slow because I became embroiled in some complex contract stuff at work that involved very long hours and some weekend work at home. Slow because I knew she had not had many dealings with men, and had strong views on sex and relationships, and finally slow because I had other friends and a hobby that took up a good deal of time.

However, there was progress. Kisses became hotter, and hands ranged over each other's backs and over bottoms, no less! If she felt my regular erections, she gave no indication of it.

At some stage I began to say "I love you."

She rejected it quite strongly at first. "You can't you say that, we hardly know each other."

Eventually I wore her down by virtue of regular repetition and she allowed it, though without saying the same to me. Then in our talks one day I told her I believed that she was the one for me, and asked how she felt. She was unsure. While she liked me a lot, it was too quick for her to be sure, but her kiss that night was passionate in the extreme. It was as if she was telling me not to give up.

The hobby I mentioned is somewhat relevant, as will become clear later. A year before we met I had taken up church bell ringing and joined the team of ringers at a church near my flat. There is no short way to describe church bell ringing. What needs to be said at this stage of the saga, is that it is highly skilful, good exercise, and there is always more to learn. Bell ringers' practice took up one night a week and there was ringing for Sunday services. I would often visit a different tower from my own during a week to improve my skill. Ringers are hospitable folk on the whole and welcome visiting ringers.

Penny and I met on average once a week during the week and at weekends when she was not writing an essay or preparing for a tutorial. We would go to a pub, a folk club, or visit mutual friends, mainly hers. Sometimes we'd take in a film.

There was no repeat of the overnight stay and little opportunity to spend time intimately, but I would tell her of my certainty that I wanted her for keeps. It always had the same effect: she would kiss and caress me with fiery passion, but say nothing in return.

Friday 21 March 1969 (Vernal Equinox, OK the day after, that year)

It was just over a month after our first night together, when Patty, George (Patty's current man), Penny and I went to an Equinox party (any excuse). I had the only car, and so was the designated driver. It was a good party, even without drink for me, or at least much of it. The breathalyser had already been introduced, so one had to be careful. A car full of what appeared to be students was ripe for the plods' picking, and a solicitor's career would be ruined by a drink driving conviction. Thankfully my car was fairly upmarket and did not in the slightest resemble a student's banger.

We all went back to the girls' flat for coffee. Afterwards, George and Patty announced they were going to bed. Clearly tipsy, they disappeared into the bedroom giggling and shut the door. A moment later Patty, wearing a pair of very thin pyjamas, passed through the room to use the bathroom, obviously having changed in front of her current beau. The prognosis for the rest of the night was also obvious: it would not be a peaceful one.

On returning she said, "We're changed and in bed if you want to come in," and went back into the room leaving the door slightly ajar.

I stood up and announced that I was going home. Penny looked exasperated.

"Can I come with you?" she asked, with a grimace in the direction of the bedroom. Of course she could.

She collected toiletries and stuff for the night and a change of underwear for next day, and we were off. As we drove to my flat, she related the last time George had stayed and how embarrassed she was at the sexual noises the couple made, though she knew they were trying to keep it quiet. It is difficult to mask the regular creaking of bed springs when coitus is in full spate, nor the grunts and moans or more when climaxes hit.

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Chapter Two

She liked my flat; it being her first visit. As before she changed in the bathroom and joined me in bed wearing a full length high necked thin cotton nightdress. It didn't strike me at the time that she knew there was a second bedroom, but chose to ignore its allure, or was she attracted to mine?

I had kept my briefs on. When my hands roamed as we kissed, I realised she had removed her bra, though her full briefs were still in evidence, the nightdress having ridden up. I took this as an invitation and caressed her breasts over the nightie. She sighed and moaned but stiffened when my hands went down to go beneath the garment. I stopped.

She whispered "Thanks," and snuggled closer to press herself against me and my urgent erection.

I boldly returned the press against her, and she reciprocated by pushing her breasts against me. Those nipples were sharp!

"Penny this isn't fair," I said. "When are you going to trust me?"

She pulled back with a start.

"I'm sorry," she said, and after a pause, sat up, pulled the nightdress over her head and threw it aside, then burrowed down again into my arms. "You can touch them if you want."

Not immediately, I thought. She was now naked from the waist up, and wearing full flowery pattern briefs below. She lay down on her back.

It was her waist I went for first, stroking her sides and back while nuzzling then kissing her neck. Then I gave some attention to her stomach, lightly caressing it all over and dipping into her navel. She began to breathe heavily and to move her hips languidly.

She sighed and she moaned, so I took this as the signal to accept her invitation, and kissed down to the tops of her swelling breasts, and then gently nipping all around her nipples. Now she began to writhe, moving her chest to get my mouth on her teats. Her hands went to my head as she tried to guide me. She was out of control.

I licked the right, drew a palm over the left, and she squeaked. I continued the treatment and got an 'Oh!', and then a groaning 'Yes!'. I kissed down and applied some oral love to her navel, when she giggled and gasped, pulling my head up for a kiss.

Her kiss was intense, open mouthed. My hand drifted to her thigh and traced up the inner surface, but moved along the crease of her groin, avoiding her sex. She was rubbing her tit against my chest and seemed at ease with my attention down below. The third time my fingers made the journey the track was over the centre gusset of her knickers.

She stiffened.

"Be a bit adventurous," I whispered. "You'll like it. Please?"

She relaxed and lay back. I pulled at her briefs and she raised her bottom to help me pull them off! Then I played with her sex, tracing over her inner lips and grazing her clitoris. She jerked with a sharp intake of breath.

"Graham! What are you doing?"

"Ssh! Relax. You know what I'm doing."

"I don't. Ooh! Aah! I don't know..."

It struck me then. She had never masturbated, never had an orgasm. Now in the sixties this was more common than it is now, especially among women who were not all that highly sexed. Those who rode bicycles or horses would get a pleasant sensation, but it seems this feeling did not centre on the clitoris.

I continued a lazy stroking with one hand while caressing her breast with the other, while she lay stiff and wondering. Her hand had ceased to rove over my back, head and neck as she began to get lost in the feelings my hands were giving her, and she moved her hips and began to sigh.

"You mean you've never...?" I asked.

"Never wha-a-a-t?" She was now breathing hard. "What's happening to me? O-o-h!"

"Sweetheart, just let me... Just let it happen. It'll be good, I promise."

She relaxed for a second, then tensed, this time in response to her rising libido. I rubbed her, circling her little nubbin. Then with a cry she stiffened, and bucked. Her eyes screwed shut than opened, amazed, as wide as her mouth as she was taken by her first climax.

"Ahh! Ugh! Gerr! Mm!" Her range of non-verbal expletives was impressive, bearing testimony to the intensity of the experience. I felt smug.

I played gently with her private parts as she slowly came down and rejoined the human race.

"Is that...? Was that...? They said the earth moved... That was just... Oh!"

Then she giggled. "Oh, Graham, that was... different!"

"Told you," I replied.

"Mm, I never felt anything so good!"

"That was your first ever?"

"Yes, it never occurred to me. I never felt the need."

My prick was still standing hard, begging for attention. I nudged her side with it and she looked at me questioningly. Then lifted the quilt and looked at bulge in my briefs. Then at me again. It was obvious she didn't have a clue what to do.

I slid my underpants down and freed my cock, she lifted the quilt again and her eyes went wide. It was obvious this was another first for her. Again, today that would be surprising, but then there was no internet porn, and women's magazines were not at all explicit; Cosmopolitan Magazine was still six years away.

She looked at me with a 'help me' expression.

I took her hand and led it to my prick, wrapping her fingers round it and then moving her hand up and down the shaft. I let go and she continued to rub me.

"Is this right?" she asked eventually.

"Oh, yes!" I said as my excitement rose.

I took her hand again and led it between my legs, placing it against the crease of my bottom, then pulled upwards over my perineum, groaning as I did so. Then as we reached my balls I let go and she held them before fondling them. She stifled a giggle.

I have to say she was a quick learner. She wasn't totally ignorant about sex; after all, Patricia's and George's activities in an adjacent bed were surely educational. She said later that even though they confined their activities under the bedclothes, the movements of Patricia's hands and George's backside moving up and down under the covers indicated clearly enough that something was going on.

She returned to stroking my cock up and down.

"Am I doing this right?" she asked.

"Mm," I replied. It was bliss. Then her other hand went to my anus and pressed. That surprised me. She traced over my perineum and pressed a little. As I said: quick learner.

I moaned, "Oh, Penny, that's good!"

She giggled and repeated the exercise, all the while wanking my prick.

"Oh that's so good! Keep doing that!" I was begging, and getting close. She speeded up, pressing up between my legs.

"I'm getting close!" I warned, as she was crouched over my stomach.

"Mm?" she asked, "Close to what?" Too late. I erupted. She was so surprised at the splash of semen that hit her cheek that she stopped stroking.

"Don't Stop!" I cried. "Please!"

To her credit she began again but kept clear as I sent two or three more gobs over my stomach and chest, and catching her arm.

I had been rigid during my orgasm, and now fell back.

"Oh," I gasped, and she stopped, "Penny, that was intense. You are wonderful."

"So that's what you squirt inside a woman," she said, "sort of milky, slimy and a bit messy!" and she giggled again. Then got out of bed and ran to the bathroom to clean up, while I wiped myself dry with some loo roll that I had by the bed. Why else would a single man have a roll of loo paper by his bed?

She ran back into the room and dived into bed, wrapping herself round me.

"Was that OK?" she asked with a triumphant smile, not really needing an answer.

"Pretty good for a first attempt," I tried, but my grin got a punch for my pains.

"OK," I compromised. "It was bloody marvellous."

"That's better," she said complacently, snuggling into my side, her head on my shoulder.

Nothing more was said, for we both fell asleep until the morning, by which time we were back to back. I know I was supposed to be spooned up against her, my erection pressing into the crease of her backside, but it simply did not happen like that. Neither did I have an erection that morning, so spooning would have been a waste of time.

In fact, from what happened next, spooning would not have gone down well at all.

I rolled out of bed, naked, went to the kitchen and made tea, taking it back to the bedroom for Penny. The bed was empty, and when she appeared out of the bathroom, she was fully dressed. She looked unhappy, resentful.

"What's the matter?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Last night," she said.

"Yes?"

"You knew my views on sex and you took advantage of me. You knew I didn't want to go that far and you went ahead and did it anyway."

"Hang on!" I protested. "We've been a couple for four months, and exclusively at that. I got the impression you were committed to me in some sense, and I'm certainly committed to you."

"You've been after me the whole time. You've been wearing me down, and last night you got your wish."

I was staggered. My memory of the previous night was not of a woman who was resisting or even reluctant in any way. Puzzled, yes, but not reluctant. In fact I'm sure I detected a certain curiosity once she got going! I certainly remembered a good deal of giggling on her part.

"Look," I said, somewhat conscious that I was naked while she was fully dressed: somehow I felt it weakened my argument. "Take your tea and go sit down in the kitchen while I dress, then we can talk."

"If you think you can talk me round, you're wrong. It was wrong what you did last night, and you can't wriggle out of it."

I was getting annoyed. "Go to the living room or the kitchen and I'll get dressed."

She turned and left. I washed, shaved and dressed, and on emerging went in search of her. I looked into the living room then the kitchen, and realised at last she had gone. I was completely at a loss. Her picture of the night before was completely different from mine, and her reaction extreme.

I had breakfast and it gave me time to start to feel unjustly treated and annoyed as a result. I got in the car and went to her flat. I rang their bell once at the front door and waited. At length I heard the clattering on the stairs and the door opened to reveal Patricia, very pretty in skin-tight jeans and tight sexy tee shirt - very revealing!

"Oh, it's you," she said with a certain distain.

"Yes, it's me," I replied, "and I'm not happy."

"Well, neither is she. You fucked her after seducing her. You know she didn't want that. She was keeping her virginity for marriage."

"Hey, Patty, hang about! She told you that?"

"She said you had sex. What else does that mean?'

"In her case, me getting her off with nimble fingers, and she wanking me off."

"You mean?" she stuttered. "That's all? No fuck, not even oral? You did her first?" Patty did not euphemise her sexual vocabulary.

"Of course, then she wanted to do me, so I showed her how. She clearly enjoyed doing it - she kept me on edge and giggled about it, shoved a finger up my arse, played with my balls. She was fine with all that last night, went to sleep in my arms. This morning she had a guilt trip and put all the blame on me, then ran off before we could talk about it."

She looked at me with disbelief. "You're joking! That all? And she went without talking to you. Silly cow!"

She stopped and thought. Then, "Look Graham, go home. I'll talk with her. Can't promise she'll come round, but personally, if you were going out with me, I wouldn't let you go so easily. You're one of the good ones." She looked wistful, "Got her off first, hmm!" She sort of shook herself, then turned and climbed the stairs. She left the front door ajar - what a bottom! What a mover!

Her repines felt good, coming from an experienced woman (five years younger than me). She looked good too as she climbed the stairs; she certainly knew how to move it. Enough to allow a passing thought of putting my name down on the waiting list for when she finished with George, instantly banished.

I went. I needed to do the weekly shop and then clean the flat. Shortly after I finished my household tasks the doorbell rang. I opened the door. There stood Penny. She did not look happy, but it was difficult to read her. I stood back and she walked in, and went to the living room, where she sat down, upright as if she had a rod up her back, on the sofa. Did not take her coat off!

"I had a long talk with Patty, so I'm here to listen to your apology."

"Then you'll be here a long time, 'cause I'm not giving you one." (That was true in more senses than one).

She looked disconcerted. "But Patty said you came to apologise."

"Did she really?"

"Well, she said you'd come to talk, but I assumed-"

"You assumed wrong. I'm prepared to talk. In fact I want to talk with you. But apologise? What for?"

"For taking advantage of me."

"I didn't. You wanted it."

"I did not!"

I was getting frustrated with her attitude, but kept my cool.

"Penny, you asked to come home with me, you took off your bra for the first time before getting into bed, you pressed your braless tits against me and pressed yourself against my cock."

There were raised eyebrows and an 'O' of the mouth at my language, but I continued.

"When I showed my frustration you took off your nightdress and invited me to play with your tits. You invited me! You french kissed me urgently. When I took my hand to your thigh and up to your groin, you moaned and did not stop me. You wanted me, OK?"

"I never wanted to-"

"I touched your sex and you froze, but I told you I'd give you a good time, and you lifted your bum to help me get your knickers off.

"After that you wondered what was happening to you, but you never gave any indication you wanted me to stop, quite the reverse, you were trying to get me to touch you where you wanted. You had an orgasm and afterwards said you'd never felt so good.

"Then you wanted to know how to get me off, and you enjoyed playing with my prick and you even played games making me wait; you stuck a finger up my arse, for heaven's sake!

"After you cleaned up you snuggled with me and fell asleep in my arms. You had fun, you enjoyed it all. I don't understand what your problem is. You. Did. Not. 'Have. Sex'."

That concluded my deposition. As a lawyer I thought it conclusive.

The experience was vivid in my mind (I told you I do have a photographic memory), and I think she was amazed at the accuracy of my account. It silenced her for a minute or two, then her features softened and she looked thoughtful.