After School

mf 1st

©Sister Innocenta

The asphalt was uncomfortably warm, and small loose stones stuck in Janet’s palm as she lifted her hand. She brushed it off against her thigh, scattering the stones into her lap, where her dress formed a shallow bowl between her crossed legs. Lifting her head and squinting up into the sun, she saw that Matthew was still standing there. Just standing, not speaking. Looking. With his sandy hair shorn short, his eyes appeared unusually large, as if he’d just survived some harrowing ordeal. Brown eyes, she noticed now, though mostly they were the colour of coal, glowering defiantly at the world. Now, his face in repose, Matthew was far from the unattractive, scowling pain who drove her English class closer to dementia each day with his pedantic interruptions. Janet shook her head with irritation, and asked in exaggeratedly patient tones if she could help him. “Sure,” he replied, and shambled off. Janet rolled her eyes dramatically for her invisible audience, then slowly rose to her feet and followed.

Maintaining a distance of just over a metre between them, Janet walked slowly behind Matthew to the groundskeeper’s cottage. Matthew pointed inside the fenced-in yard where a leather backpack stood against a tree. Janet recognised it as Matthew’s. Covered in graffiti it had the same “f*** you” attitude as he had. She shrugged, questioningly. Why was this any of her business, anyway? Matthew led her round to the far side of the enclosure, where he revealed a section of fencing that had been patiently unravelled. “You’ll fit,” he said simply, “I won’t.”

It was true. Matthew was bigger than most of the boys in the class—or the school, for that matter. Not so much tall as, well, big—he filled his clothes, unlike the other boys who were either tall and thin or short and heavy. Matthew looked like he could wrestle a crocodile into submission without breaking a sweat. But he wasn’t going to fit through the hole in the fence.

Janet slipped out of her blazer, and gripped the fence tightly. “You’ll need a hand,” Matthew remarked, offering making his hands into a stirrup. Janet hoisted herself up, struggling through the hole that Matthew held open. Once through, she dropped to the other side and headed off toward the bag. It was lighter than she thought, and she lifted it effortlessly onto her shoulder, returning to the hole to pass it to Matthew. Getting back was going to be more difficult, she realised. Matthew pointed to a sawn-off log, which she dragged nearer. It didn’t look too stable, but would probably serve the purpose. Almost. It was just a little too short. Janet propped it precariously against the fence, gaining a couple more critical inches, and managed to get her leg through the hole. As her body was following, the log fell back with a resounding crash. Janet, pale with fright, forced herself through the hole, in defiance of the ripping sound that followed her. Fixing her hem later was a more palatable prospect than being caught red-handed in out-of-bounds territory.

Janet was surprised to see Matthew still waiting when she came round the corner. He’d disappeared when the log fell, she’d thought for good. “You OK?” he asked hoarsely. Janet nodded hurriedly, desperate to get away from the scene of the crime. “It’s cool,” Matthew said, “No one’s around. I had a look when I heard the log fall.” Janet brushed her hand through her sleek brown hair, not yet long enough to stay tied back, and picked up her blazer. “Your leg’s bleeding,” Matthew noted, “you must have nicked it on the fence.” Janet looked down at the small trickle. She could feel her thigh smarting. Remembering, she looked for the torn hem, and found it all oddly intact. If not her hem, then…? “Your knickers weren’t so lucky!” She could hear the amusement in his voice, and felt outraged. After all, he’d got her into this mess!

Janet spun around to snap at Matthew, stopping herself to peer curiously at whatever it was Matthew was investigating in his bag. He noticed her interest, fastened the bag quickly, and said, “It’s all there. Come on, I’ll give you some if you want, but not here!” He set off toward the forest and Janet, intrigued, followed him. She glanced at her watch—Theresa would still be another half an hour at music, she’d be back way before then. Besides which, preparing an English oral at Theresa’s place would be much more fun if she could tell Theresa just what was in Matthew’s bag that had been confiscated. Porn magazines? Cigarettes? Janet couldn’t imagine, but didn’t try too hard, as she was sure she’d soon find out.

Arriving at the forest, Matthew headed for the back of the Scout Hall, rather than the Soccer Club where kids generally hung out after school. On Friday nights, discos were held there and Monday mornings the playground whispered with tales of who got off with whom, what everyone had worn, and who’d smuggled in beers and been seen throwing up around the corner. Although she always partook enthusiastically in the discussions, Janet never had anything to contribute, as her parents forbade her to go to the notorious discos.

The Scout Hall was deserted. The newly painted face-bricks gleamed cherry red in the sunshine, and birds gossiped in the pine trees around the perimeter. The day was perfectly windless, and the thick acacia bushes that shielded the hall from view rustled only with the occasional squirrel. Matthew sat down on a patch of grass trampled smooth by years of cubs and scouts, still tenaciously green and springy. Janet joined him, tucking her heels under her bottom, careful to sit without exposing her torn underwear. She hoped the damage was not too severe, as she wouldn’t be going home for a while yet, and Theresa would tease her relentlessly if she discovered that Janet’s panties were torn. Especially since Matthew had been around. Theresa was a year older, almost 16, and quick to pick up on sexual nuance—real or imagined. Roaming through Europe with her parents had set her back on her return to Janet’s class, but while she’d lost a year of schooling, she’d gained the education of a lifetime, and spoke with a sophistication that Janet coveted desperately.

Matthew opened his bag and extracted what looked like an old coffee pot, with a hose attached. He put some water in it from the tap, and then busied himself behind his bag. He looked up finally, and called Janet over. Taking the proffered hose, Janet sucked gently on the mouthpiece, not knowing what to expect, and was caught off guard by the sweet, tepid smoke that filled her mouth. “Good stuff, hey!” grinned Matthew. “Hash is difficult to get around here, especially good stuff. But this, this is the best!” He took the pipe from her, sucked it deep into his lungs, closed his eyes and slid down onto his back. Noting the enraptured expression on his face, Janet mimicked what he’d just done, and was pleasantly surprised by the light-headedness that followed.

“It feels like flowers opening up inside my head,” she laughed, “Like, you know, when they show you something that normally takes hours, in a few seconds?”

“You mean time-lapse photography,” Matthew smiled. “Yes, just for a while the Universe becomes quite profound. This your first time?”

Janet had meant to come across blasé and self-assured, but found herself admitting to Matthew that it was. He didn’t seem to mind, but warned her to wait a while before heading back, so that others didn’t notice—and question—the difference in her behaviour. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “How am I different?”

Exhaling slowly, Matthew cocked his head and smiled slowly. “Well, you’re a lot more… relaxed. More accessible, not so reserved. For a start, you’re talking to me—you’d never do that normally!” Janet realised with a shock that this was true. Following Matthew and retrieving his bag had been out of character, but she’d been startled by his approach and had simply gone along with it. Now, lying here next to him on the soft grass, she was talking freely, laughing, even—she had to admit—enjoying his company. Out of class, Matthew did not seem the same hostile, passive-aggressive pain who made an issue of everything. Relaxed, he was far more pleasant and even, sort of interesting.

Janet lifted herself onto her elbows and looked closely at him. He really wasn’t bad looking, once he stopped scowling. He had very nice hands, she noticed, small and neat, with short, clean fingernails. She found herself wondering what his body was like—though she’d seen it every day in school, she’d never looked, and besides, she rationalised, under a school blazer who could tell?

“Why don’t you take off your blazer?” Janet started, as if he’d read her thoughts. “You look uncomfortable like that. You’ll be a lot less restricted without it, it’s designed to inhibit movement. Like a straitjacket.” Janet knew he was right, and slipped out of her blazer, feeling at once self-conscious and exposed. But Matthew was looking elsewhere. “See those clouds? What’s the betting it’ll rain within an hour!”

“No way! The weather forecast said clear, moderate to high temperatures!” She protested, but felt the sticky humidity that usually preceded thundershowers. Matthew clearly felt the heat too. He shrugged off his blazer, and ripped off his tie, unbuttoning the top couple of buttons of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. Folding his arms behind his head, he lay back again, kicking off his shoes without untying the laces. “You’ll see,” he smiled wryly.

Janet glanced across at Matthew’s body, strong and rounded, thinly concealed beneath his shirt. Through the open collar of his shirt, she could see his skin, tanned and glowing, on his chest. This surprised her, as she’d expected him to be an indoors, bookish boy, swotting up on things to trip up the teachers in school. And… was that hair peeping out? Janet swallowed, bemused at the sudden transformation that had taken place in her impression of Matthew. “It must be the hash,” she thought. “If he’s that hot, why aren’t all the girls at school after him?”

Theresa and the rest of the in-crowd clustered around Gary, the first team flyhalf, whose sporting prowess clearly compensated in their eyes for his social awkwardness and high-pitched giggle. Or Stuart, the blonde blue-eyed surfer dude who masked his complete lack of brain cells by copying from his buddies, his laid-back joking nature ensuring that everyone was his buddy. But neither of them—nor any of the other boys, Janet realised with a start, had a body which was so well-defined, so attractive, so—mature. Her eyes moved up to his face, seeking signs of the former unattractiveness. They stopped at his mouth, slightly open in a half-smile, lips full and soft over strong white teeth. Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed again.

She lifted her gaze slightly, playing over his cheeks, nose, eyes—which were looking at her, amused. Janet blushed. Matthew shook his head slowly. “Who’d have thought,” he smiled, “that a puff or two of hash would turn the Ice Maiden into such a wicked wench?” Janet protested desperately, but could feel the sticky humidity of the afternoon permeating her skin, dissolving her resistance. She sat up resolutely and reached out for the hookah. “Can I have some more?”

“Sure,” Matthew shrugged, taking the hookah and busying himself. “But don’t blame me for your misbehaviour!” Janet stared at him with her frostiest look, and announced in her iciest tone, “I’m completely in control!” and stretched out her hand to take the pipe. The sweet taste filled her lungs, radiated up through her arms and down through her legs, like a wave of small electric shocks. She reached down slowly, and pulled off her shoes and socks. She wiggled her toes in the cool grass, stood up and stretched. Matthew grinned wickedly, and—remembering her torn knickers—Janet sat down hurriedly. With her hand behind her back, she lifted the edge of her dress discreetly, and tried to feel how badly they’d been ripped. Her fingers encountered wetness, and she pulled them back, guiltily. She looked across furtively at Matthew—had he noticed?

Matthew was sitting up, looking at her smilingly. “Can I play too?” he asked, teasingly. Janet couldn’t help noticing the swelling bulge in his pants. She no longer felt so calmly in control. She looked down, biting her lip. “It’s OK,” she heard Matthew saying, “If you want to play by yourself, I’ll just watch.” She looked up, protesting, and caught the glint in his eye. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said gently. “Just because I’m horny as hell, doesn’t mean I’m going to ravage you against your will.”

“It’s not… that,” she began hesitantly, not knowing how to proceed. Matthew smiled. “New to this too,” he stated rather than asked, and pulled his shirt over his head. His body, covered in a fine layer of sweat, glistened attractively. He undid his belt, button and zip, and stepped out of his pants. His underpants bulged interestingly. “Shall I go around the corner and finish this off, or do you want to watch?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” answered Janet, stupidly. Matthew lifted the elastic of his underpants and stretched it out, pulling his underpants down slowly over his engorged penis. The head glinted, and a bead of moisture showed at the top. Janet’s eyes travelled down with the underpants, down the glistening shaft, grazing the warm curved hairiness of his testicles, down his strong thighs, his firm rounded calves. He stepped out of his underpants and tossed them aside. The sun bore down oppressively, and Janet could feel small beads of sweat popping out along her hairline. Her faded blue school dress clung to her body, displaying her slim hips, slender waistline, her breasts, blossoming with anticipation.

“Can I… touch?” Janet heard herself say, and Matthew sat down beside her. With a timorous forefinger, she traced the outline around the head, down the shaft, and cupped the scrotum gently in her hand. She watched, amazed, as the penis lifted and dipped in response. Matthew took her other hand and placed it around the shaft, where he held it firmly. He started to move it slowly, up, down, up, down. More moisture appeared at the top, glinting alluringly. Janet, her heart racing, leaned over and licked it. The taste was both salty and sweet, and she licked again. Her tongue played over the smooth surface and she closed her eyes deliriously. Her cheek brushed the wiriness of pubic hair and she looked up, startled. What was she doing? “Carry on, it feels good,” Matthew whispered hoarsely, but Janet felt anxious, frightened of her uncontrolled behaviour. She sat up, and turned away. “I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, and Matthew pulled her down gently. “It’s OK, we’ll go at your pace,” he said soothingly, holding her tight.

Her cheek on his chest registered the transition from smoothness to hairiness, the muscle below the skin, the tautness of his nipple. She wondered fleetingly if her own nipples looked the same, beneath the barricade of her bra and school dress. The turgidity of her breasts hurt, and she longed to rub them. She could smell the thick overpowering scent of the acacia blossoms, the sweet lingering memory of the hash, the spiciness of Matthew’s cologne, and the fresh, sinfull smell of sex. Her heart raced. Matthew’s lips were brushing her temple, his fingers stroking her hair, and she relaxed slowly in his grasp. She looked up. “Feeling better?” he asked, looking concerned.

Janet smiled and sat up. She loosened the belt of her dress and began slowly undoing the buttons. She paused, and looked away. She felt Matthew gently easing her shoulders free, and the dress dropping down around her waist. Matthew fumbled briefly with the clasp, and she felt her breasts drop free. She allowed herself to be pulled back gently, and gasped slightly as she felt the warmth of his hand on her breast. Matthew kissed her cheek gently, before allowing his lips to find hers, and linger, teasingly. His tongue traced the outline, gently parting her lips, and ran across her teeth. He licked, nibbled, sucked and brushed his lips across hers. Janet had never imagined that this could be a kiss. She wanted to climb inside that kiss and cuddle up, enjoying it forever.

Matthew’s hand on her breast caressed gently, teasing the nipple that was now painfully erect. Janet felt as if she was dying. She could no longer breathe properly—her chest heaved with rough gasps and her back arched tightly. Matthew ran his tongue slowly down from her hungry mouth, over her chin, down the line of her neck, along her collarbones. Janet’s fingers in his hair gripped tight, pulling hard, as her body flailed around on the ground. She felt his tongue descending slowly, finding her nipple, touching, teasing, and then the warmth of his mouth surrounding it, sucking, chewing gently, before a blanket of darkness dropped over her. She became slowly conscious of stars before her eyes, hissing in her ears, tingling numbness in her limbs, and heat pouring from her body. She opened her eyes cautiously. Matthew was grinning broadly. “Wow,” he said, clearly impressed, “I didn’t know women could come just from that!” Janet stared uncomprehendingly. Was that what had just happened to her—an orgasm? The elusive prey of a generation of frustrated housewives, it had sneaked up on her undetected, and then attacked? She closed her eyes again, and felt her head spin. This hash certainly must be good!

She could feel Matthew at work again, gently lifting her hips and sliding her out of her dress, her panties. She felt a long sticky thread follow her panties, along her leg, and she shivered. Matthew gently opened her legs, and she felt him stroking her thigh. “I’ll have to kiss this better,” he mumbled, before his lips descended on her wound. As his mouth did its magic, she became aware of his hand stroking her other thigh, gently, each time running a little higher. In the crease of her groin, he traced the rivulets of moisture, running his fingers through the coarseness of her pubic hair, creeping slowly up her throbbing mound. Delicately dipping a forefinger into the gushing wetness, he ran it around her gaping lips, back along the perineum to her anus. Janet started. There couldn’t possibly be anything sexy there, she was sure—maybe Matthew was… kinky?

She didn’t have the opportunity to think long about that, as she felt his thumb slowly exploring her mound, moving in slow patient circles until —zap! A shock flashed through her body and she shivered violently. Just as she was getting her breath back, he did it again, and again, harder, faster, more urgently. Wriggling and writhing frantically to escape his grasp, Janet could feel herself blacking out again, too many sensations at once, this was all too much. She bit hard on her lips to stop herself calling out, and felt her back arching high off the ground, before the blackness overtook her.

Matthew smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said, “that was a bit quick. But I wasn’t expecting you to come quite so soon. There’s so much more I was hoping to do.” She felt his fingers playing around the entrance to her vagina. Janet looked at him defiantly. “So do it,” she said, “Do you need a gold-plated invitation?” Matthew paused. “You’re new to this,” he said slowly. I don’t want to put pressure on you.”

“You mean, like losing my cherry?” Janet asked with as much bravado as she could muster. The prospect both excited and terrified her. Matthew smiled. “Only if you want,” he said gently. “You’re probably not on the Pill, but I always use a condom anyway.” Janet blocked out the “always”, she wanted desperately to believe this was as special for him as it was for her. She swallowed. “Yes I want” she said urgently. “In that case,” Matthew smiled, “it’s time for you to do some work too.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a small silver square, and handed it to her. His penis had lost a little of its size and hardness, and he took her free hand and placed in on the shaft. Immediately she could feel it respond.

She ran her fingers up and down lightly, as if playing arpeggios. The instrument swelled and grew, dancing in time to her rhythm. Her pressure became firmer and more intense, eliciting a wilder, more frenzied response. She shivered ecstatically. “The magic touch,” Matthew smiled, and took the silver square from her uncertain fingers. He tore it open in his mouth, and pulled out the condom. He placed it in her hand, and sat back as she nervously unrolled it over the length of his hard, shiny penis.

Instead of getting straight down to business as she expected, Matthew began kissing her again, stroking her vulva gently, teasing her clitoris and exploring the mouth of her vagina with his fingers. Janet soon lost control and was kissing, stroking, scratching, biting, and writhing with an intensity she would not have foreseen. Slowly, Matthew raised himself and introduced the tip of his penis into the sodden mouth of her vagina. She could feel it stretching tautly as he pushed gently, then withdrew, then pushed again, a little harder. Janet lifted her legs and thrust them over his shoulders, spreading herself wide, feeling the damp coolness spread over her buttocks and the hot, sharp pressure on her vagina. “Please,” she panted, more to herself than to him, and felt her teeth sink into his shoulder as with a sharp rush, he slid deep into her. In and out, in and out, and the relentless activity of his fingers on her clitoris continued unabated. She heard him groan, arching back as he gritted his teeth, preparing for a final thrust, before she too was overcome by the blanket of darkness.

When she opened her eyes she was surprised to find her cheeks were damp, as if she’d been crying. And that she was now lying on top of Matthew, whose slow easy breathing lifted and dropped her head rhythmically. Her vagina felt sore, swollen and very wet, her body unbelievably tired and her head very foggy, as if she’d woken in the middle of a deep sleep. She sat up slowly, and noticed that her panties were covered in blood and wetness, the condom tied in a neat bundle and the hookah packed away. Matthew stirred beside her, sat up and stroked her cheek. “The first time can be a bit painful, but it gets better after that,” he said gently, pulling Janet toward him. His kiss was gentler, less urgent, but no less passionate. “You’d best get dressed,” he said, “They’ll be wondering where you are.” She looked again at her panties, wondering how she was supposed to wear them in that condition.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Matthew said, “but I cleaned you up with those, since they were already ruined. It wouldn’t do to go home, dripping blood and goo all down your leg in a trail.” He handed her his underpants. “They’ll last till you get home.”

Janet dressed, and glanced at her watch. She was late meeting Theresa—seriously late. But oddly enough, she didn’t care. She shrugged on her blazer. Matthew stood up and shouldered his bag. She noticed the slight flinch as the strap settled on the spot she’d bitten. She wasn’t the only one to sustain a war wound, she noted with satisfaction. “Shall I walk you home?” Matthew asked politely. Janet shook her head. She needed time out to think it all over, time out to focus her mind and discover how she felt. Kissing Matthew gently, she pulled out of his arms and walked slowly toward Theresa’s house. Within minutes, the air was filled with the hiss of warm, wet rain steaming off the streets.