Chapter 9

Sandra turned up a little after eleven Thursday morning. I had spent much of Wednesday just tidying and sorting things away and hiding my huge pile of knickers. Mrs Clarke had never gone into any of my cupboards or drawers, and while I didn’t think Sandra would, I still wanted them hidden just in case. In the end, a couple of bin bags in one of the cupboards in Mum’s room seemed just perfect. Over the next couple of weeks I would sort them all out onto various shelves and drawers in my parents’ room, which, for all intents and purposes, became my panty store.

Sandra seemed quite excited that we were alone in my house. To her it seemed exotic that I was living on my own. We sat on the settee in the living room, holding hands or cuddling up, and just talked. I put some music on and we compared our tastes. They weren’t the same, but there was a lot of overlap.

Cheese on toast and a mug of tea each suited us both for lunch, but then Sandra went and took my breath away.

“Let’s go and lie on your bed,” she said softly. Almost shyly.

“Er. Okay,” I said slowly, startled.

“Just lie,” she said. “Hug, maybe kiss, maybe just hold hands. That’s all.”

I smiled, very relieved and slightly disappointed.

We lay for a short while, just holding hands, but then Sandra turned over and laid her head on my shoulder, cuddling up close to me. I put one arm around her shoulder. It felt absolutely wonderful.

We lay there in a companionable silence for a little while. “Are you a virgin?” she whispered suddenly.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“So’m I.”

I didn’t move, wondering if this was a hint. I had just about convinced myself it was a hint, and was preparing to make a move, when she spoke again. “I’m not ready for that yet.” She raised her head slightly and kissed my chin. “Sorry,” she whispered.

I hugged her tighter for a moment. I couldn’t help thinking her reticence might be because of what was happening to Talulah. If it was, I couldn’t really blame her. Sandra had told me, in confidence, that she knew more about what was happening than either she or Talulah had let on.

“Have you had any sort of sexual um er, any sort of sex?” I asked softly.

She nodded slowly. “Sort of.”

“What?”

Sandra just shook her head.

“Was it good or bad?” I asked, suddenly wondering if she too had had problems like Talulah. Maybe just not quite as extreme.

“I’m not a dyke,” came the response, and she huddled even closer to me.

“Oh shit babe, what happened?” I held her tighter

“It was when we were in year eleven,” she whispered. “Do you remember Marcie Tremlow?”

“I think so, yes. Why?”

“She and Tee were vying for power if you remember. Even back then I was Tee’s closest friend. People like Becky Miller and Gina Reeves were only ever hangers on.” These were two of the four or five girls Talulah surrounded herself with when she wasn’t with our group. Sandra went silent.

“So what happened?” I prompted gently.

“Marcie and a couple of others trapped me in the changing rooms after games. Three of them held me down on the tiles in the showers while Marcie sat on my face and made me lick her ... made me lick her.”

“Oh babe,” I said, holding her firmly. “I’m so sorry.”

“They said,” said Sandra in a slightly tremulous voice, “that I was so good at it I must have done it before. I must be a dyke. But I hadn’t,” she added in a tearful voice.

I buried my head in her hair and kissed her.

“I feel so safe like this,” she whispered after a few more moments.

“I’m here for you as much as we are both there for Tee.”

She looked up at me. “Thank you.”

“So did anything happen afterwards?”

“Don’t you remember the whispers about me being a dyke?” she asked.

I paused. “I don’t think I do. No. I didn’t really hang around with any of the girls, or with the boys who were likely to hang around Marcie or Tee.”

“You must have been almost the only one then.” She took a deep breath. “But Tee got the last laugh. She got a few people to trail Marcie as much as possible, until eventually one of them managed to photograph her kissing another girl. Now you know, I hope, that Tee actually has no problem with gays or lesbians, but what Marcie did to me was beyond the pale as far as she was concerned, so with the help of this photo, Tee trashed her. Marcie claimed she was straight and was going out with another boy, but we found out one of Marcie’s side-kicks was bullying and bribing him to say it was true.”

She raised her head and looked at me in puzzlement. “Do you really not remember any of this? It would have been in the spring term of year eleven.”

“I really don’t. I only had my eyes on one girl, well two really, and sorry but it wasn’t you.”

Sandra smiled. “Anyone at school?”

I shook my head. Mrs Clarke wasn’t at school in the same way, and Jo wasn’t at school. I wasn’t lying. “No. So go on. What happened to Marcie?”

I could picture Marcie now. In pure terms, probably slightly prettier than Tee, but also shorter. In those same terms Tee was a lot prettier than Sandra, but I didn’t want Tee, I wanted Sandra. Marcie, from memory, had a rich dark brown hair that she wore loose as much as she could. She always wore pale pinks or yellows and managed to get away, most of the time, without wearing proper school uniform. Tee on the other hand had always worn school uniform, but had managed to make it look far more glamorous. In retrospect, what Tee had done had been far cleverer. As upper sixth, year thirteens, we no longer had to wear school uniform, though in fact most people did, but more for convenience than anything else.

Sandra had taken her time to reply. “Suddenly Marcie was seen as a liar and all her popularity and support just vanished into mist. Even the girls who hung out with her suddenly didn’t want to know her.

“She changed schools that Christmas, but her parents moved home a little while later, so I think she’d have changed schools anyway.”

“Oh dear. So how did that affect your reputation?”

“Tee managed to persuade people that Marcie had said it in revenge because I had turned her down, but even so there were one or two girls who still think, say, believe I’m gay.”

“Oh dear,” I chuckled. “Well,” I said after a long moment, “you know that I would be taking four people, including you, well, if you don’t want to you don’t need to have anything to do with them.”

Sandra chuckled and gave me another tight squeeze. “Thank you, but I don’t have a problem with it. I have kissed another erm, you know, and had mine kissed. That was afterwards, and it was nice.”

“Whose?” I asked, fascinated.

She shook her head. “Not fair on her or on anyone else.”

“No, okay.”

“Have you?”

For a moment I was puzzled. Had I what? Then I realised she was asking me the same question I had asked her.

“Just once.”

She chuckled and rolled on top of me, looking into my face. From this distance it would have been very easy to raise my head and kiss her. So I did. She just smiled, returned the kiss, then pushed me away again. “That time you came after I had told you I was naked?”

“Oh. No. I wasn’t including that time. I didn’t think that counted.”

“Any time we are both involved, even if we are not in the same room counts.” She gave a soft giggle. “If you’re just fantasising over me, then it doesn’t count and I don’t want to know about it.”

“Then twice,” I said.

“Which was first?”

“You were second.”

She gave a mock pout. “So what was the first time? What happened?”

I told her about the sexual orgy before the collection, and what I had seen. I told her that I had fondled and touched a number of the girls and women, that I’d had my cock sucked a few times, and that I’d licked a few pussies. I didn’t mention Mum or Joanne.

“Were your parents or your sister there?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see them naked? Or having sex?”

“Both. It was weird.”

“Weird nice or weird strange?”

“Nice,” I said after a slight pause. “A bit strange, but nice.”

She smiled. “What about your mum or your sister? Did you, you know, with them?”

I nodded. “Sort of. Mum sucked my dick for a few moments, then she just hung on to it while she was being fucked from behind by someone else.”

“That’s kinky. Did she do any more? Or let you do anything to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her, but I think she might have touched me again. I don’t think she sucked me again.”

“What about your sister?”

“She sucked me as well. Neither of them made me come though.”

“Oh dear. And you didn’t make them come either?”

I paused. “I made Jo come. But not Mum.”

“Oh?”

“I licked Jo’s pussy.”

“Mmm.” Sandra began to gently writhe her hips. “That sounds kinky.”

“It was nice. I liked doing it.”

“And she let you?”

“Yeah. She said it would be the only time we would ever get to do anything sexual.”

“Wow.”

Her writhing had caused me to erect, and all of a sudden she must have realised that there was a hard cock under her crotch, because her smile suddenly got broader.

“Ooooh,” she whispered softly. “That feels so nice. I’ve never seen a real one before. I bet yours looks really nice.”

She began to seriously rock her hips against mine, pressing our fabric covered crotches together. I began to rock in rhythm with her, slow and gently. “Mmmm,” she murmured. I pulled her face gently to mine and we kissed, hard.

Suddenly I was coming, “Oh god,” I gasped. “Oh fuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohhhhhhhh.” I went rigid as my orgasm washed over me. I began to ejaculate into my clothing.

Sandra just kept right on writhing against me. “Come for me babe,” she whispered hoarsely, “oh god, come for me. Don’t stop.” Her own movements became suddenly erratic and jerky as, I guessed, she began to climax as well. She collapsed on top of me, her face in my neck as she moaned loudly, her hips still rocking, but spasmodically now, against me. We both came to a shuddering halt.

We lay there for a few moments, panting, before I began to feel uncomfortable. “Let me up babe,” I whispered. “I need to go clean myself up.”

Sandra giggled, but rolled off me and lay, face down, not looking at me. I kissed the back of her head before heading off to the bathroom. I cleaned myself carefully, then got a clean pair of knickers out of the airing cupboard.

When I got back to my room, Sandra had moved to sit on the side of the bed. She had her hands on the edge, and was leaning slightly forwards, staring at the floor. “Hey beautiful babe,” I whispered.

There was no answer.

“Are you okay my lovely lady?”

Still no answer.

She didn’t react when I sat down, but when I tried to put an arm around her shoulders, she flinched slightly. I was very puzzled.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. “I feel so...” She trailed off.

“You were amazing,” I said softly. “Fabulous. Gorgeous. Wonderful. And you’re beautiful and sexy and,”

“I’m not beautiful,” she snapped.

“Yes you are.”

She finally looked at me, her face hard, glaring almost.

“You really are,” I said again, softly. “And I think I’m in love with you.”

Her face softened. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said again. “It was very wrong.”

“It was amazing. You were fabulous. How can anything that felt like that be wrong?”

“We can’t. We mustn’t do it again,” she whispered, once again looking at the floor.

“We won’t do anything unless we both want to.”

“I feel so embarrassed.”

“You were incredible. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about that. You did something to me that no one else has. You were my first. And my second.”

I saw her give a little smile. “Really?”

“Yes babe.”

She looked at me again, her face showing less misery and self doubt.

“Really?”

I tried to pull her towards me. She resisted for a moment, but then relented and allowed me to pull her into my arms. “Really.” I whispered. “You are an amazing, fabulous, wonderful person. And you are very beautiful.”

Her mouth tipped up into a tremulous smile and she rested her forehead on my shoulder. We sat like that for a long time. Not moving, not speaking. Eventually she stirred.

“I’m hungry. And thirsty,” she added a few moments later.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” I whispered. “Then we’ll see about getting you home.”

I’d suddenly realised it was quite dark. Glancing at my watch I saw it was a little before four-thirty. We had been in my room for a little over two and a half hours.

“I need to go to the bathroom first,” she whispered.

I showed her where the bathroom was, then left her to it. I went down and put the kettle on.

“Do you like marmite?” I asked when she sidled into the kitchen ten minutes later. “And would you like a cup of tea?”

“Do you have coffee?”

“Some, but I don’t normally drink it so I’m not sure whether it’s still drinkable.”

She just nodded, so I made me a mug of tea and her a mug of coffee.

“Food?” I asked.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got very much. What with living on your own,” she said.

I smiled. “Actually I’ve got loads, and most of it I actually know how to cook.”

She smiled gently. “What have you got?”

We went through the cupboards and the fridge and freezer and came up with a meal. There were some frozen baked potato skins with cheese and bacon in the freezer. We’d have those with some quality pork and leek sausages along with some frozen florets of cauliflower and broccoli and some frozen mixed peas and sweetcorn.

When it was all cooked, Sandra dolloped a knob of butter on her vegetables, then grated some extra cheese over the top. I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the cheese, but I copied her. It was lovely. She said little at first, but by the end of the meal she had finally relaxed and started to open up to me again.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what love? You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

She didn’t answer for a moment.

“For losing control,” she eventually whispered.

“Hey, I lost control first,” I chuckled.

She shook her head. “I lost control when I sat on top of you. I hadn’t planned on any of that. I just lost control.”

“What you did,” I said softly, “was not wrong. There was nothing wrong with it. We both wanted it and we didn’t go too far.”

“But we did go too far,” she said. “We shouldn’t have, you know, come.”

“That was the most important part,” I said softly. “You made me come. I’ve never come so hard in my life. And you were the one who allowed that to happen. It’s something I’ll remember for a long time.”

“And you made me come harder than I’ve ever come before,” she whispered, her face red with embarrassment. “It was amazing, but...”

“But nothing. What happened, happened. Apart from some sticky underwear, no one was hurt.”

She began to giggle uncontrollably. There was probably a hint of hysteria in her giggling, but it was infectious and after a few moments I joined in her laughter. Nothing more was mentioned about it.

“The last bus I can catch is just after seven,” she said after a while. “How long does it take to get there?”

“The bus stop? Four or five minutes maybe.”

She nodded. We didn’t leave the kitchen again until it was time leave and catch the bus. I walked with her to the bus stop, though she protested that she would be fine. We were a couple of minutes early and it was cold, so I wrapped my arms around her to keep her warm. She relaxed into my arms and smiled at me.

“Have you ever noticed,” she said with a chuckle, “that there always seem to be more people doing jogging and stuff just after Christmas and New Year.” She nodded at a jogger who was coming in our general direction.

I smiled. “Christmas presents? New year resolutions to lose weight? Or to get fit again?”

We both giggled for a moment.