My mind was somehow always filled with lines.

Angles and intersections. Properties. Distances. Distribution. Patterns. I was perfectly willing to pass the blame to my first teacher of mathematics. Mr Williams sowed a seed and I was unable to let it die. Numbers and arithmetic were of minimal interest to me, but show me a diagram, a plan or the skeleton of a building and I was entranced.

Father was not an imaginative man. His head was filled too, it seemed. But not with lines. His obsession was financial. I wasn't included in any of the discussions, but it was clear to me from the start that our move to a new town was driven by his perpetual ability to, as I heard Mother speak it once, 'back the wrong horse'.

It took some time for me to discover that she spoke of literal animals, and that Father, despite his demeanour, was an excellent example of the theory that children should not inherit wealth from their parents. It seemed I was in very little danger of inheriting that problem myself, whether or not I developed the tendency.

A new town brought with it the blessing of a new school, and was a short time only before I became accustomed to the informality of education outside the city. Mr Williams would have been shocked at the lack of academic knowledge shown by the teachers, and the similar lack of capacity demonstrated by the students.

The local teachers would have been unimpressed with mathematics specialists in turn, and would have found fault with such a theoretical focus. Here we balanced the abstract with the practical. Considering the beauty of an arched window might have its moment, but the effort would be put into undertaking the building of such an item. I found myself unwilling to decide as to the preferred route.

After a small number of weeks at the new school I was approached by James Lawrence. Jim was, he said, interested in obtaining a balance. He informed me that he was my neighbour, that we ought, if for no reason more than convenience, be friends. "Why," he asked me with what was to be a popular grin on his face, "would you not?"

I wasn't able to find myself opposed to the idea. I'd been shy of friends at my previous school, perhaps a little too focused on my lines and angles to find the time. I thought this was an opportunity to fit myself into the local community.

I was correct in the assumption. Jim introduced me to the other folk in the street where we both lived. Most were children significantly younger than ourselves, but some of the young ladies were both attractive and friendly. I was not at all reluctant when James told me that he wished to add me to what he termed his 'team'.

This group of youths congregated on summer evenings in a local churchyard to play various games, generally involving the throwing or hitting of a ball. I wasn't exactly a sterling asset in these games of physical skill, but I relaxed into the routine of it, and was soon wandering out after tea most nights, and clouting the ball in whichever way seemed most appropriate for the game in progress.

Boys and girls of various ages mixed indiscriminately in the games, joining whichever side needed assistance and working hard toward success for whichever team one was a member of at the time. It was mindless fun, and I soon became an enthusiastic participant.

It was a few months later that I first encountered another level to the games played near the church.

I had wandered down the street to join the activities as usual. When I arrived I found that only Elizabeth, the elder of two sisters who frequented the churchyard, was present. She looked around, walked to me, took my hand, and pulled me gently toward the large macrocarpa hedge that hid the lawn from the rest of the neighbourhood.

I'd crawled in this hedge a few times over the previous weeks, searching for errant balls and the like. They were intriguing in themselves, giving the impression of solidity despite actually having a sparsely filled interior, and giving easily sufficient space to disappear inside the growth.

I assumed that Elizabeth required some assistance with the location of something, but was confused at her complete silence. The girl was pretty though, and my ability to insist on conversation was hampered by the realisation that I rather liked to hold her hand. I followed as she led, and soon the two of us had slipped inside the huge hedge, and were both hidden, quite improperly I realised, from observation from the outside.

I turned to Elizabeth, who surprised me somewhat by promptly dropping to her knees while grinning at me. I should have stopped her then and insisted that she explain what was happening, but then I felt her small hands at the buttons of my flies, and I found myself unable to object.

Her fingers unbuttoned me without hesitation, while I stood stock still in shock. It was immediately apparent that she was familiar with the procedure, and in no time at all she had managed to slide her fingers through the unbuttoned space, slip her hand through the slit of my underpants, and taken me in hand, literally.

I might state at this point that never before had I been in the position of having a young lady touching me in that way. Nor would anyone else have done so. I had touched myself frequently, I admit.

I felt I should not, but I had been in receipt of conflicting advice from two of my uncles. Uncle Robert suggested that I should not 'abuse myself' for fear of blindness, infection and eternal damnation. You'll understand that I was reluctant to commit to these consequences. Uncle Garrison, a bachelor, and popular man with the womenfolk, refuted Robert's claims, insisting that the singular consequence of self-abuse was discovery. "Men of style," he said to me, as an aside at a gathering, "are not caught with their pants at half-mast, nor with their mast at full salute, Sir." He added, later in the evening and having partaken in considerable wine, that he was himself without style, and the lady he had his arm around was in full agreement with him.

In any case, neither the history nor the advice were relevant to this occasion, and I was not given a great deal of time to consider the moral requirements of my position before the stakes, as Father might have referred to them, were lifted. Not only the stakes though. My manhood was lifted as well, not that much assistance was required at this point, and then Elizabeth took the surprise to a new turn. She took me, her fingers still wrapped and stroking, into her sweet little mouth.

There are, it seems to me, times where further thought is neither helpful nor possible, and I think it fair to say that a pretty lady swallowing your privates might qualify as one of those times. Accordingly I ceased to think, and instead allowed myself to wallow in the feelings.

Elizabeth was obviously expert at this delightful form of torture, and she massaged me in ways that are beyond description. Her fingers, with her lips and tongue provided a veritable orchestra of excitement. I had planned to stop her at first when she knelt, then when her fingers were unthreading my buttons, and finally at the time she took my manhood in her hands, but I was well beyond that capability now, and not only would I not stop her, but I encouraged her further, my hands on the back of the girl's head, my body bending at the hips to thrust at her eager mouth.

All in all this delight was not going to last long, and indeed it was quickly finished. I grunted and shook, determined not to fall over, and was immediately conscious of what had just occurred. I looked down as Elizabeth licked the last from me, and then pushed herself to her feet. Without delay she was again standing before me, a mischievous smile on her face, her tongue cheerfully wiping a missed dollop of my spray from her dainty lips.

I was without a single thought as to how I might behave at this point, but Elizabeth knew exactly. She stood close, tipped her head back and kissed my cheek. I wasn't without a twinge as I recalled where those lips had most recently journeyed, but then my attention was distracted with the further realisation that her hand had found its way into my pants pocket.

Still without a word by way of explanation, Elizabeth fumbled in my pants. Prior to this secret assignation I would have been appalled at the intimacy of such an invasion, but now it was without impact of any sort. I simply stood and waited.

Elizabeth soon found that which she was in search of, and her hand reappeared, holding a sixpenny piece of mine. She showed it to me in the dim light inside the hedge and then extracted some coins of her own from a small purse she had secreted in a pocket. She handed me two coins, and allowed me to watch her deposit my sixpence in her purse. I needed not to look at the coins now in my hand. I was suddenly aware of what was happening. Elizabeth had returned a pair of pennies to me, assuring me of two things of the process. Firstly that she was, though in a presumably limited capacity, a tart of some description. Secondly that the going rate for the services provided was apparently an entirely reasonable fourpence.

It was the first time I was taken care of by Elizabeth. It was not to be the last. We withdrew discretely from the confines of the hedge, and returned to the games, other children having arrived in the interim. I felt justified in not having noticed any arrivals while I was occupied with Elizabeth.

Now that I was aware of the cottage business it became apparent to me that Elizabeth, and also it seemed another of the elder girls, was nothing less than industrious in her endeavours. She would disappear beneath the greenery a couple of times each evening. My friend James was the first I noticed departing and then returning with her, but there were numerous others, some younger than ourselves.

I have to confess to enjoying Elizabeth's silent company beneath the cover of the hedge on numerous other occasions. I kept coins on hand specifically for the purpose, and even insisted on paying in excess of the standard rate at times. As weeks passed the encounters began to last a little longer. I had learned to distract myself a little from the young woman's activities while on her knees before me. I would save up geometric puzzles to solve from time to time, and restrain myself where I could manage it. No matter the method of delay though, the conclusion was similarly spectacular.

I stopped, for a time at least, touching myself, preferring Elizabeth to do it for me.

Never was the activity discussed. Not a word was ever uttered. Nothing was said inside the hedge, and the discussion outside never contained any hint of a reference. I found myself unable, for some reason, to examine the matter with my good friend Jim, and he never brought up the subject for any sort of debate himself.

It was a number of months and a liberal stack of pocket change later that I found myself heading down to the churchyard to avail myself of the services again, and instead of raising my eyebrows in enquiry to Elizabeth I was stopped in the path by her younger sister.

Paula stood there for a moment, pretty in her thin summer dress, the yellow floral pattern setting off her almost blonde hair, and then she took my hand, with neither smile nor word, and pulled me towards the same hedge I had shared so many times with her elder sister. I was unaware that Paula had a single piece of knowledge of the activities that took part there. I had never seen her near the hedge, nor had any of the boys wandered off with her to my knowledge. I was not sure of her intentions, but I obviously was without the moral fortitude to refuse her point-blank. I followed, liking her hand in mine just as well as I did her sister's.

The two of us were soon within the green macrocarpa, standing on the dirt, close, and she looked up at me. Paula was a little shorter than her sister, but if anything better built. Looking down at her now I was thoroughly aware of her bosom. She was not dressed improperly, but there was a hint of visibility from where I stood, and I admit to enjoying it.

Paula was not her sister. Her look and height were different, as were her manner and her expression. Her serious face looked up and she took my hand in hers again. I thought for a moment that perhaps she had changed her mind, and planned to leave, but then she surprised me at least as much as her sister had.

Holding my hand in one of hers, she used the other to lift her dress at the front, all the while watching me. She hoisted the yellow cloth up until there was nothing lower than where I guessed her waist would be. I was unable to ascertain without doubt, as I could not see that part of her body. I was standing close, and her lovely bosom restricted my vision.

I became certain of the situation quickly though, as she pulled my hand to her, turned my palm toward her body as best she could, and pressed it against her stomach before pushing it downwards, and sliding the palm of my hand down her skin.

I moved a little to make the posture more comfortable, and then ceased to resist. Paula's intention became obvious, and I followed her lead to lower my hand against her skin, down the inside of the girl's closely positioned knickers. I felt the change in the skin texture and the feel of the sparse thatch of hair and then my hand was over the mound that I had learned was there but had no actual experience of.

Paula's hand accompanied mine still further down until I encountered the slit running vertically between her thighs. This skin was largely hairless to the feel, damp, and hot. Paula shivered with the touch of my fingertip, and then she took hold of my index finger and purposely bent it, pressing the tip of it between the puffy lips, and inside her.

She gasped then, and I looked at her face. She smiled at me. A mischievous grin of accomplishment. We stood there for a moment longer and then she took hold of my fingers again and adjusted them. She moved my whole hand inwards further, and out a little, sliding up at the same time. I soon became accustomed to the rhythm, and we both were able to find a set of movements which worked.

I stood in the semi-darkness, uncomfortable with the constriction of my own equipment within my trousers, and caressed Paula's most intimate parts with my fingers, unsure of the correctness of my technique, but encouraged by the girl's movement beneath my ministrations.

It became apparent quickly that the actions before me were not dissimilar to those I exhibited in Elizabeth's care, and I behaved much as I would wish that Elizabeth might with me in similar circumstances. I caressed the girl, delighting in the slipperiness and the heat. I was entranced now not by geometry or architecture but the look in Paula's eyes, and the rhythm of her excited breath.

The effort might have taken a little longer than Elizabeth's previous ministrations to me, but the outcome wasn't entirely unexpected. Paula was unable to contain herself, and a squeal of delight escaped from her prior to a clamping of her legs about my fingers and her own hand pressing hard against mine. Her body shook silently for a time, and her breath was short, and wonderfully sharp. I had no prior knowledge of how wonderful it was to feel that excitement against my touch.

When the shaking was complete Paula quickly pulled my hand from where it was, let my arm fall to my side, and allowed her yellow dress to fall demurely over her body before scrabbling in a purse not unlike that which Elizabeth carried. The little sister opened the purse and withdrew something from it. She lifted my hand which had been so intimate with her so recently, and in it she placed two coins. I lifted the hand to confirm what I already knew. Two tuppenny pieces. Paula had paid me fourpence for services rendered.

I was filled with two things. Wonderment that I'd been paid for the privilege I had just been given, and an almost desperate need to find some release of my own. I looked at the coins again, looked down at my partner beside me, and took both her hands in mine.

Wordlessly I pushed the coins as best I could into one hand, while I pressed the other against the painfully firm flesh behind my flies. Paula looked up at me again, and pocketed the coins.

The fumbling with my trousers was more than I could tolerate at that point and I gently pressed her hand away and removed my manhood myself, before wrapping her warm hand about it again. It became obvious that, unlike her elder sister, Paula was without knowledge of the procedure, and I needed to assist her to slide her hand up and down in a workable fashion.

The girl tried, for a moment, to fall to her knees, but I caught her with a hand on her arm and pulled her back to her full height, making it apparent that only her fingers were required for this release.

Standing with this girl was most unlike standing with her thoroughly experienced sister, and while the movements were decidedly less smooth, the enthusiasm was more than sufficient compensation. As might have been expected given the immediately prior activity, I was not in need of an unreasonable amount of assistance, and was soon ready to spill my seed.

I did not wish to cause any difficulties for the young woman, so I turned a little, so that the inevitable spillage would not stain the pretty dress, and then I allowed myself to finish, spraying carelessly over the branches inside the hedge.

Paula was filled with wonder as she watched, and giggled as the results of her efforts were displayed. Her hand was removed from my shaft as soon as I indicated the need, and the little sister showed some similarity to her elder sibling when she licked a little spillage from her finger and smiled at the result.

We straightened and checked our items of clothing, and turned to go. Paula's hand was still in mine, and we were both smiling. I bent a little to kiss the girl on the cheek when she gasped, stood still, and held my head, turning it to present a view that was at close as possible to the one she had.

I was expecting that perhaps we had been discovered in our intimate activity, but Paula's eyes were gazing up, at the church.

"Look, Thomas. Do you see?"

"See what, my dear?"

"The cross, Thomas. On the front of the church there. Do you see it?"

"I see the cross, yes."

"It is... the shape of the cross. It's exactly like the outline of the post further down the road. The gaslight. Is it not?"

"I cannot... oh! Indeed, I see it now. How very interesting. Look at the form of that."

"It's as I was saying. I am sorry, Thomas. It is just... patterns of lines intrigue me. Entrance me, even."