Educating Laura Ch. 06

Andy sat up. "I've only got one spare key -- I'll have to give that to Laura today. See ya later."

Richie vanished, to return to the hurly-burly of central London and the strange dynamics of working in a lab. It would be a contrast, for sure.

"We'd best drop everything left at the centre, then get back to your friend's place. Ten, you said?"

"She's hardly my friend!"

"Bollocks she isn't. Chatting away, you were. Blether, blether."

Just because I understood the issues of moving countries. Not that my dad had ever fully committed and got rid of our house here, but enough of my friends had been expat brats, moving every couple years, that I knew how it worked.

"No-one was stopping you! You've moved from Scotland here, need to start again; it's exactly the same thing. Look for someone moving out, acquire stuff. Build a network."

Andy said nothing. I guessed it was like when he'd been new at the centre; he needed to gain confidence in his position before saying much of anything. He silently made three mugs of tea; I restored the sofa to occupy less space. Then Andy unselfconsciously flicked his briefs into a drawstring laundry bag and strode, naked, to the bathroom. Yes, I did watch until the door swung shut!

I put one mug in a pulled-out drawer next to Ali. She barely stirred.

I flung on clean clothes, ate, and debated turning on the TV.

Andy returned, nodded, dressed. He downed his tea. "Laures, come down the centre with me, empty the van. We'll leave Ali here -- she's crashed."

"One of her migraines?"

"She's never had migraines. That's just the shut-up explanation. Her body just gives up, every time she overdoes it, or sometimes even if she don't. Let's leave her. See how she is when we get back."

The five-minute drive took twenty, being rush hour, but Pete was delighted with our haul. "Even a little telly! Mate!"

I propped up bedrolls to air. The huge bags of laundry were piled outside Pete's tiny office. The staff tent was shoved to the back of the storage area, unneeded until next year.

An empty van. Right. "Pete, there's more. A washer, and more furniture and stuff."

"Yeah? Need a hand?"

"Is your shoulder better?"

"Mostly. As long as I don't swing it wildly. I can do my share of lifting."

"Come on, then. We'll leave Ali asleep."

Back in Dulwich, Pete shook Jane's hand and thanked her profusely. She was delighted to send belongings to a good home. She took his card, promising to tell all her friends about us.

"I know house clearance firms have to make money, but they really were rather unpleasant."

"Fridge-freezer first?" Pete suggested. Andy looked sheepish.

"Er, Pete? We kinda earmarked that for Andy's downstairs neighbours. You can have their old fridge, though."

"OK. A stop at yours on the way back, then. Hm. What other bulky items do we have?"

The cooker and washing machine came with the property, sadly, but a dryer and dishwasher were apparently fair game. The lads managed to line them up on folded-down seats, one behind the other, with my help, the tall fridge-freezer lying next to them.

Jane kept pointing at items to get rid of, and I kept stuffing them in bin bags and shoving them between the seats. Packets and tins of food, spices, toiletries...

"It's a shame about everything in the garden, really," Jane mused.

"Garden? We've got a community gardening project. Any tools or pots?"

We added those. But it was a pair of glorious shrubs which Jane was particularly sad to see merely return to a faceless landlord. Andy looked at Pete.

"Double bag, careful with the roots, and I reckon we could take those," Pete confirmed.

"They'd look good in that bare area behind the building, for sure. Are you willing to plant them?"

Pete was.

Andy and I started delicate digging. They took up much of the free space in the van, but the red variegated leaves would cheer up the back of the centre, which overlooked bare concrete.

"You might as well take these herbs -- plant them on your windowsill."

Two single mattresses from a children's bedroom were slid in, on their edges.

"Unless there's furniture that can slide on top of the appliances, we might be done. I don't suppose any of it's flat-pack?"

"There's pine wardrobes we bought for the children. They come apart. Oh! I don't have any tools."

"I do," Pete replied. "There's an electric screwdriver in the glove box."

Andy returned, silently, with the desired item.

He'd never ask. As he and Pete reduced two oiled-pine cupboards to boards, I said, What about upgrading your wardrobe to one of these?

Andy looked nervously at Pete, no matter that he was doing this on his own time. I supposed we were using the centre's van and fuel.

Pete nodded. "Why not, if we can take the old one?" I messaged Ali with a heads-up.

Jane was delighted with her nigh-empty house. "I'll refer all my expat friends to you!"

Pete warned her we couldn't always take much, but small items like bedding and pans were always welcome, and we'd take anything else we could.

Andy was still in quiet shock. Especially when I showed him the classy striped curtains that should roughly fit his window.

"Always avoided second-hand, growin' up. That's for poor folk."

"Or for rich folk!" I laughed. "It's how they stay rich: someone buys quality, then it's passed on to as many people as possible. Or repaired and all. I mean, if patched shoes and jackets are good enough for Prince Charles..."

"Definition of middle class, innit," Pete said. "Working class people are terrified people will think they're poor, so buy cheap stuff new. Middle class people are much more scared people will think they're working class, so buy quality stuff second-hand. Upper class types don't give a shit so track down exactly what they want, a second-hand bargain if possible, otherwise, just buy it new."

Andy and I nodded. That pretty much summed up our respective upbringings. I don't think I'd had any new clothes -- pants and socks excepted -- until I was around ten. Everyone went to the church jumble sales or the NCT, except for those families my mother tutted at for 'wasting good money on nylon and lacy things'. I'd envied them their prettier clothes, until I'd learned more about family income.

Of course, after that, Ma had gone even more batshit, in between being off her face, and Dad was mostly absent, but money in itself hadn't been a problem. Not once I'd seen Ma type in her PIN, anyhow, so I could withdraw cash myself and ensure all the bills got paid.

Andy parked sideways in the street, half on the pavement. "Unloading. It's allowed."

I let Andy run upstairs, where a drowsy Ali had already dumped out his wardrobe contents. Two minutes had it unscrewed, five more got the chipboard pieces downstairs. I guarded the van while they carted wooden panels up -- not that I'd try to stop anyone determined from stealing anything! We reassembled the cupboard, then Andy and Pete extracted the fridge.

I knocked on the ground floor flat's door. No answer. I called hello, in case a woman didn't want to greet a man, but silence.

"Just leave it here with a note," Pete said. "Take a van and collect their old fridge any time. Besides, fridges need to settle, after transport." News to me.

The door opened. I greeted the little old lady, but gesturing 'This is for you' didn't work. "Is Darman there?"

Andy made a telephone sign. The woman's face lit up, and she returned with her mobile. She spoke, then handed the phone to Andy.

"Hallo, mate? Yeah, we picked up a fridge-freezer, so if we can shove it just inside your flat so it don't get nicked -- stolen -- then you give us your old one later, in exchange. We pass yours on to someone with less space, all good, yeah?"

He returned her phone. In a moment, the lady grasped the plan. I helped push the thing into her living room -- also her bedroom? -- and left it for her family to worry about later.

"Right, Laura. What else are you doing to spruce up my humble abode so it meets your exacting standards?" Andy wasn't completely joking.

"Do you have a hammer to bash this backboard back into place? Right. I'll let Ali put your stuff in, in case there's anything private."

"You've seen my dick. There's nothing any more embarrassing than that," he retorted.

"Whatever. Are you sure you want the curtains?" I hesitated. "I really don't mean to, like, swoop in and totally change your whole house. I just can't resist a bargain!"

While we sorted the wardrobe, Pete whizzed round to Jude's to acquire all of Ali's boxed-up possessions. Andy did have a point that his room now looked cramped.

"So what are you taking, of all this lot, that you can carry back to college?"

I shrugged. "I've acquired a few sharp knives and a spatula, and that plant. And a big towel. That's about all I can handle."

"Fair exchange. I'm thinking, I might as well do my shift of work now, so I'll trot off in the van. Ali's got the spare key, so it's up to you where you go."

Ali spoke up. "Leaving me on my lonesome? Like Piffy on a bun?" We both goggled at her, confused. "Not you, her!" She rolled her eyes at me. "Are you making me into a right Norman No-mates, or are you willing to keep me company?"

"I suppose. Do you think you could entertain me?" I tried to sound flirtatious.

"There's a challenge, babe... Yes, love, you head off to work! See you in a couple hours? You'll probably be done by then."

"Take the challenge." Andy gave a rare smile.

I asked Andy what he meant, but Ali butted in before he could get his words out, explaining yes, they were planning on three years of living together, while Andy studied. But that was despite him knowing that Ali liked playing with other women, which he felt was fair enough, because he liked watching.

"Andy?" I wanted confirmation.

"Tell me all about it, after," he said to Al. "I recommend her!"

I figured that was Andy telling his new girlfriend to fuck me. As you do.

If that was what he wanted, I felt I ought to. I'd hardly suffer!

Ali kissed him goodbye. Yes, I could see the pair of them as a couple. Whatever. The outside world would see them as a couple, after all.

"So, babe. Just you and me, now."

"Innit," I replied, the Londonism slipping out. The kids must have influenced me more than I thought. "Are you taking your clothes off, then?"

"No. You come take them off."

So I did. It wasn't often you smelt a woman smelling womanly, rather than of soap and deodorant and all. Not dirty, just natural. And sexy.

Ali in her lace-edged boy shorts was a sight to behold in the bright daylight. It lit up her cute upturned breasts, and her pale skin but vivid bright eyes under her spiky bleached hair. The long rest had restored her -- she'd looked distinctly peaky, the night before. I inhaled her from cheek to waist, then knelt to remove those stretchy little pants.

I'd barely been able to see what I was doing, night before last, when everything between her legs had been in shadow. Now, sun streamed over her. Her sleek strip of public hair shone golden in the light, her inner thighs bright white, tan lines further down. Beautiful boyish yet feminine curves. A sultry, fruity, bready, womanly scent.

"I'll sit back on the bed." She leant back on the pillows, queen of the room. I crawled to supplicate myself between her legs, letting my hands and mouth roam all over her body.

My face belonged on her cunt. Juicy, succulent, tasty, and making her squeal. I never wanted to leave this heaven. Not until she told me to turn around and get my 'lush arse' near her head. And get my kit off in the process.

I kicked off my shoes, shoved my jeans to the floor, and leapt up to lie where she wanted me. Kissing side by side, it seemed, now. Mercurial woman.

"Have at, babe. Get your hands and mouth all over me. I'll just lie back and enjoy." So much for her doing what she wanted with me, now, too, but I hardly minded.

She winced a bit as she stretched. I did wonder which had come first: the bossiness and dominance in bed, or the chronic pain which I felt guilty for not noticing earlier. I didn't like to ask.

I perched by her side, kissing her cheek, lips, neck, and lay down to enjoy her breasts. Ali had large red nipples, with a fun texture, like wine gums. I tested pinching the nipple not in my mouth. She thwapped my hand away. "Oi. Gentle."

I took the hint. I continued to kiss and nuzzle down her smooth white chest, appreciating the aroma of warm feminine skin with a hint of her soap. Her belly was cool against my cheek, silky almost. I purred as she played with my hair.

"You're sweet, babe. Let me roll over a bit. I need to get my hands on you!"

She lay half on top of me, her firm breasts rolling over my larger, softer ones. We both played our hands gently over each other's skin. Hers was softer and smoother than mine, though she thought mine was nicer than hers.

I kissed her gently, enjoying her lips and tongue running lightly over my face, until she took control and became forceful. That was even better. For a minute I fought back, our tongues small swords, but then I surrendered to let her do what she wanted. If that was what she wanted to use her limited energy on, that was fine by me.

"Mm. You're tasty, babe."

"You, too. Coco-nutty."

"Add chocolate, and make your very own Bounty bar!"

"Nah. Waste of good chocolate. I'll eat both separate, if you don't mind." My practical side wiped the eroticism away, again.

"As long as you eat me." She grinned. I laughed too, in relief, and obliged. With my head on one of her delightful succulent thighs, she could lie on her side and rub me between my legs. Sure, I still had my briefs on, but one thin layer of cotton was no barrier, just protection where I might be too sensitive.

Some while later, both of us were aroused as hell. Suddenly I was naked too. I felt the sudden freedom of the air wafting round my wet pussy. Then I was warmed up again, Ali scissoring her legs between mine. She grabbed my cunt, desperate to get sticky fingers and my juice all over. I reached to her, likewise. I knew this was going to be better than either of the women I'd had fun sleeping with before.

We threw all our energy into it. I span round again to throw my feet up to the pillows, leaving both of us clutching and biting and munching round the other's groin, thrusting our breasts into the other, as much skin contact as possible needed to satisfy our lusts. I clutched her arse with her legs over my ears, trying to keep my face where I wanted. Her cunt was slippery as a riverbed, almost hard to keep a couple fingers in while I sucked on that sweet pearl of hers, her gasps and moans proving it really was all the same nerves as a penis, the grossly overgrown version.

Of course penises have their fun uses, but as Ali wailed into my thighs, I felt myself forced open wider than any cock had ever managed.

It was brilliant. One painful jab while she'd been out of control, but now her post-orgasmic body was deliberate, her furled hand slowly pushing all of her fingers into my desperate cunt.

She shuffled back up the bed, her shiny wet face leaving my unsatisfied clit. I made some noise she interpreted as complaint.

"Wait, you impatient thing!"

She watched her hand, all her focus on exactly what she was doing, trying to get the top of her palm into my vagina. She had small feminine hands for sure, but the very idea of feeling her wrist at my opening, being fucked by an arm...

I groaned, partly from the image of her slender pale forearm emerging from my dripping wet cunt. Partly because said cunt was straining, being stretched near unbearably by the knuckles on the back of her hand. But then I glanced up at her. I saw her fascinated satisfaction as her hand worked on fucking me. Her gorgeous face was mesmerised.

I groaned again. I threw my legs wide open, desperate to welcome her inside me. "God, yes, please?" I begged her.

She made a small wicked smile, very like Richie's. "Sure, babe. I'm going to give you as much as you can take. Just don't make me rush it, pet, and we'll be sweet."

A moment later, the strained flesh that had been burning on one side of my cunt felt blissful relief. The widest point of her hand had slipped past.

Which meant I was being fisted.

A woman had her hand inside me.

It was odd, what I could and couldn't feel. Inside, only a few nerve endings, I only got a vague impression of fullness, rather than feeling full. I could barely tell that her hand was wider than a cock head. But around her wrist -- my god, this was like cock on steroids! More than. The oval shape, the little hairs and rough skin, my vaginal opening feeling it all... It was exquisite, and thrilling, and extra amazing just because it was new.

Then she brought her hand round into a fist. I'd seen Ali's hands curled up in pain a few times now. I could tell, even without seeing the hand, that this wasn't painful for her. Just fun.

I exhaled, feeling not her hand so much, but all of my flesh around her hand, pushing outwards against more of my body. Like I was swelling up inside. Full of her arm.

Who needed cock?

She caught my eye. We both grinned, her in satisfaction, me inanely, happy, fulfilled. No, not fulfilled yet.

My voice broke. "Please. Fuck me. God, your hand... So good. Please...?"

I'd never seen Ali look happier.

"Gently!" I added hastily.

"I'll treat you great, babe. Here goes."

Her arm pushed perhaps another inch inside me.

My throat rang out a single sustained note. Beyond my control, but it seemed appropriate. A gong, marking a religious experience.

Her hand retreated, then thrusted, then built a rhythm of small, slow fucks. Her wrist slid in and out where I felt every blissful inch, fatter than any cock I'd known -- even Richie's. Ali's left hand drew idle circles on my belly as she pumped her right in my cunt.

Any woman getting fisted really has to cope with dirty words like cunt, right?

I was now a woman who loved being fisted. Loved a woman's hand in my cunt.

There was no way I was going to ever give this kind of thing up, to settle down with a nice normal chap for a nice weekly dicking. I needed good sex. Somehow, I'd have to have both men and women in my future. No way was I giving up either.

Like Ali, Andy and Richie. Somehow, what had seemed an impossibility when I'd first confirmed to myself I liked women as well, back in first year, had solved itself easily. "If tha don't ask, tha don't get," my dad had advised me, once. Now, I'd got.

I glanced up, admiring Ali's look of concentration as she worked on my body, her small pointy breast hanging down over me. Then my legs sagged further open. I could see what she was doing. My dark curly pubes, her light skin as her arm arose from the abyss, glistening from my cunt juice, Ali's mouth falling open in admiration.

She was gorgeous. She was making me feel more than I'd ever felt before. Physically, I mean, but emotionally I was in awe. I wouldn't call it love -- I didn't know her well enough yet -- but awe, reverence. Worship?

"Oh, god," I gasped.

The satisfying full feeling, accompanied by warmth and happiness, spread through my groin. My arse tingled, getting second-hand sensation. It realised it was empty while the hand in my cunt slid in and out, needing further to move every time, fucking me more than I'd ever been fucked, my body slack around her, letting her do it.

I screamed. My body pulsed all round her.

She grinned happily and kept going. The scream kept going, too.

"I think you liked that, babe."

"Yeah." My brain wanted to make a defensive comment, be snarky, but I couldn't be bothered. Sometimes you just have to accept when you've been well fucked.