Wednesday, 28 December 2016

1979: An Expensive Day

I had always woken up quite early.  I had had a long journey to school and when I worked at the airport I needed to leave home early too, so at College I woke up every day at about 6.30 am.  I never liked sleeping in, even at weekends, as I felt that it was a waste of the day.  I woke up that Sunday morning at about the same time as usual.  The bedroom was chilly but not too cold.. I looked to my left and could just see the top of C's red hair above the sheet.  She was facing the wall.  I smiled to myself at my recollection of the night before, when we had done It.

I did wonder whether the act itself made C, somehow, a more important girlfriend (if she even was that) than A, even though I actually didn't know her so well.  Would C wake up, think the episode had been a mistake (I recalled she had drunk quite a lot of Port the night before) and we would never do It again?  Or did this mean I was inextricably tied to C in some emotional way?  Might she think we had to get married?  Was losing your virginity a bigger deal to women than men?  I supposed it was, despite the fact that I had been thinking about It since my time with A back at school.   After all there was a physical barrier to be broken for women, as I remembered from my school biology lessons.  But C didn't seem to have a barrier to break and there had been no blood.  Perhaps she wasn't a virgin after all and was just not telling me because she thought I might be upset.

All of this went through my head as I decided to see if I could slip out of bed without waking C, so I could put the gas fire on.  Very slowly, I moved in stages to climb out of bed.  It wasn't that easy with sheets and blankets and the bed was quite high off the ground.  After a process which actually took around a minute, I was squatting, naked, in front of the fire.  I was very conscious of my nakedness and I began to get erect as I recalled that final plunge into her hot,wetness last night. It!  It had felt wonderful!  C seemed to have enjoyed it too.  Perhaps there might be more, after all.  I got even stiffer at the prospect.

I struck a match and the fire made its usual 'whoomph' noise as the gas ignited. I hadn't realised quite how much noise it made until I was trying to be quiet. I crept back into the bedroom, meaning to get dressed, as I needed the loo.  As I went through the door I could see C's little face looking at me.  She was awake, blinking in that short sighted way she had when not wearing her (quite thick) glasses or contact lenses.

"Hullo!" she said.  "Lover."

"Hello,  lovely!" I replied.

I apologised for waking her but explained that I wanted to get the fire on. She said that was fine but ordered me back into bed to warm her up. I think that there is almost no sensory experience that I enjoy more than being in a warm bed with a warm lady the morning after a night of passion. As soon as I got back into bed her hand was on my cock.  She asked if I had been thinking about her and I admitted I had.  We kissed and cuddled for a bit and she massaged my erection continually, keeping me stiff, despite needing the loo.

"I want it again!" she said.  One doubt put to rest, anyway. I climbed between her thighs and this time she guided me in.  I started very slowly, again, but was able to speed up a little as I didn't feel I was about to come straight away this time, which I think was to do with the pressure in my bladder.  "Mmm, mmm!" she said, rather more loudly than last night and as she got more worked up she started to breath loudly in staccato puffs.  Then she started to moan quietly, gasp and make other noises to the extent that I worried about D, the second year lawyer next door, hearing us.  "Hnhh,hnhh,hnhh! Oh!  Hnhh, hnhh,hnhh! OH!" she went.  She raked her nails down my back and was rotating her hips, animatedly, as I continued to pump away, gently, enjoying her wetness.  The pressure in my bladder was increasing and my balls started to twinge too.  I remembered from my school biology lessons that peeing stopped erections, or something but I was still completely stiff despite the pressure.  I started to worry that if I came I would immediately start to pee. C grabbed the metal bars of the bedstead above her head. "Ooh!  Fuck!" she gasped, loudly enough for me to worry about D next door again,  She stopped moving and squeezed my bottom.   I stopped moving too.  We kissed again and I gently pulled out of her.  "You didn't come!" she said.

"I need the loo!"

"I came.  You made me come!" she kissed me again. "Sorry about swearing!"

"It was fine. Sexy!" I said. She resumed stroking my erection which was subsiding despite my not ejaculating.

"Shall I dick you?" she asked.

"I really need the loo!" I said, kissing her and climbing out of bed.

She said that we needed a chamber pot, as then we could piss (I was surprised at her use of the word) and get back to it without having to leave 'our garret'.  I thought that my scout wouldn't be too impressed at having to empty it. I got dressed to nip to the loo.

"Wait!  I'm coming too!" she pulled her cocktail dress on over her naked body.  I did up her buttons and wondered how she had put it on herself. We headed down to the loo on the floor below, in the staircase next door.  No-one else was about. 

"You go first!" I said.

"Lets go in together!" said C. It only had a loo and a washbasin but was quite a bit larger than the ones at the bottom of my staircase; easily big enough for two.  Still, this was an odd suggestion, I thought.  Sexual intimacy was one thing but this?  C was already opening the door.  I followed her in and bolted it.  She was already hiking her dress up and sitting on the loo.  She tinkled into it while I looked at the washbasin in embarrassment.  "Your turn!" she said, wiping herself. "We can combine our piss like blood brothers!" I stood in front of the loo and unzipped myself.  Halfway through, her little head popped around my side to watch.

"You go for ages!" she observed.  We washed our hands and, peeking out of the door first, rushed back upstairs. She got me to undo her dress and pulled it off.

"Get your clothes off!  We're going back to bed, it's not even seven!" She made me lie on my back in bed and slithered under the covers so she was between my legs.  She started to kiss my cock. It wasn't that easy for her to move under the blankets.  Her face appeared up on my chest. She said it was hopeless and I needed to get a duvet like she had.  She pushed the covers down but it was cold in the room.  She told me to get in front of the fire, which I did and she started to suck me off in the warm living room.  I was surprised at how quickly I got stiff again.  Eventually, she pulled off and said she wanted to see if she could finish me off by hand.  As I had with A, I had to tell her to grip tighter and move her hand faster than she was doing but she soon got the idea.  I spurted all over her hand and my belly.  She rubbed it into my skin but didn't lick it up like A used to do.

"I like wanking you.  How many times can you come in a day?" she asked, sitting on her haunches like The Little Mermaid and caressing my deflating cock. A pearlescent droplet dripped out my hole and she caught it with her index finger and popped it into her mouth, frowning, thoughtfully.

"I don't know!" I admitted.  She asked whether, if my balls couldn't make sperm fast enough, if they were completely drained, then would my cock not get stiff.  I told her I would still get stiff, however drained my balls were and that they wren't linked.  She said they patently were, gently squeezing my balls then tracing her finger along my cock to my tip. She leaned down and kissed it and said she intended to find out all about it today.

We cuddled in front of the fire for a bit and then she said that this starving in a garret was all very well but she needed breakfast.  College didn't do breakfast on Sunday and in those days there were no shops open, except newsagents, either. I made her some tea and gave her my last chocolate bourbon biscuit which she crunched, disconsolately. I asked her what she would like if she could have anything and she replied hot chocolate and croissant. I had a think and told her to get dressed as I would take her out for breakfast. I said I would go and have a quick shower but she decided not to join me as she didn't want to get her hair wet and her shower cap was back in her room.

When I returned from the fastest shower I could manage, given the cold, she was dressed in her blue cocktail dress, stockings and, I assumed, her blue lingerie again.  She wanted me to wear my suit and shirt, so she didn't look overdressed, which of course. she did. She scolded me for not having a normal tie and said I needed to sort my wardrobe out. Then, as now, I was completely uninterested in fashion.   I said I could try to put my white bow tie on again but she said then everyone would know we hadn't gone home after matriculation and had obviously been matriculating all night.  I laughed.  In the end I wore my suit without a tie.  She refused to go back to her room to get a coat, in case she ran into K, and just wore her dress as we sneaked out of college, without anyone seeing us, except the porter who looked at us as if we had been matriculating all night.

There was really no-one much about that early on a Sunday morning and the only sound was just the various bells ringing.  We walked down Brasenose Lane, which always smelled of rotten cabbage, past the Co-op and the market and along Cornmarket and Magdalen Street.  C was shivering in the cold so I gave her my jacket to wear which meant that I was then shivering in the cold.  The few people who saw us looked at us as if we had been matriculating all night.  Eventually, we reached the Randolph Hotel and I could sense C perking up like a crocus in the sun.   This was Oxford's biggest and poshest hotel and most students only got inside if their parents took them there.  Built in the nineteenth century of yellow brick, in a Gothic style, it sat opposite the Ashmolean Museum.  It says much for the cost and intimidating nature of the place that this was the only occasion I visited it during my three years in Oxford.

The people running the restaurant looked slightly askance at us but given it wasn't exactly packed, they grudgingly let us have a table.  C, who had given me my jacket backwas positively sparkling with delight and was even more so when I ordered her a glass of Buck's Fizz, something she had gone on about before.  I didn't join her, having had it before, as I felt that orange juice ruined a perfectly good glass of Champagne.

I treated myself to a proper, cooked breakfast and C made dubious comments about her wanting sausage later.  C had three cups of hot chocolate, a lot of croissants, toast and marmalade and looked happy and gorgeous.  She even gave me a kiss from across the table, in a rare demonstration of public affection.  I was grateful for the money I had earned at the airport but hoped C wouldn't start to expect this every week. Breakfast had cost about the same as an entire week's food at College.

"You've earned a lot more matriculation, today!" she said, wiping the chocolate from around her mouth.

We walked back to College by a different route: down Broad Street, where we could look in the Paperback Shop Window and Parker's bookshop, which had a good collection of art books.  C was always going on about something called the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, a medieval illustrated manuscript of some sort, about which I knew nothing.  She wondered if Parker's might have a copy.

We turned down Catte Street, the latter being on our normal route to the Law Library, to get back to Radcliffe Square.  By the time we got back to college there were a lot more people about.

"We just need to avoid K," said C, "or she'll attach herself to us all day!".  We raced across the small paved area next to C and K's staircase and started to climb up the stairs to my room. Half way up we met D, from the room next door to mine, coming down the stairs, who smirked at us. "That was unfortunate!" said C.

Back in my room I gratefully took off my suit and shirt and C then told me to take everything off.  I unbuttoned her dress and asked her how she got it on and off on her own.  She said it wasn't easy but she could.  She removed her French knickers and camisole but kept her stockings and suspenders on. I was completely stiff as soon as I saw her dressed in just her stockings.  She stood with her back to me, looking at my cassettes, to find a tune. She really did have a nice bottom, with cute dimples above it.  She put on the Carmen suites by Bizet and then turned around to kiss me. "You're going to be a bull and I am going to ride you!" she declared.

C made me turn my desk chair around and sit on it. She then straddled me and we kissed, wetly.  I leaned forward so I could kiss her breasts and suck at her nipples, which she liked.  She took me in hand, lifting her hips up slightly and then dropping down on me so I was inside her.  She started to bounce up and down quite vigorously (the music was pretty vigorous) smiling and looking at me all the time.  I caressed her bottom and she took hold of my hand and made me feel where I was entering her.  It was fascinating to feel where I was penetrating her, my wet shaft pushing and pulling her fleshy petals in and out.  I tickled her perineum and then her anus with my fingertip and she giggled.  As she got more worked up she leaned closer in to me until she had her head on my shoulder. She started to bite it as I stroked her bottom and back.  At one point she bounced so high she popped off  me but stuffed herself back inside and resumed.

I told her I was coming and she told me not to come yet as she was nearly there.  I had to pull out, though, and ejaculated onto the floor, although, I suspected, with rather less force than earlier in the morning.

"Bugger!" she said, climbing off me and looking grumpy.  "You need to last longer!"

"You need to be less exciting!" I said, pinging one of her suspender straps. She lay down on the floor, spread her legs and asked me to finish her off with my tongue, which I did in a very short time.  She was very creamy.

She left to go back to her room and get changed.  Later, I took her to lunch at the Turl Tavern where she scoffed sausage, chips (with lots of vinegar) and beans. I did think that she was going to eat me out of all my savings at this rate. After lunch we bought The Sunday Times and took it back to my room.  She stopped off at her room and collected a silk dressing gown.  I had never met a girl who wore so much silk. She made me strip and put my dressing gown on and she did the same and we lay on the floor in front of the gas fire reading the papers, stopping to kiss and caress every now and then.

C was lying on her front, reading and I started to kiss her heels; gradually working up her pale, naked calves.  When I reached the hem of her dressing gown I pushed it up and kissed what I knew, from my artist's anatomy, was called the popliteal; the oblong pad at the back of the leg between the calf and the thigh.  I was already stiff by the time I reached the back of her thighs.  She had very fine, orange hairs on her legs.  When I revealed her bottom she parted her thighs and revealed her glistening pussy to me.  I could smell her but she didn't say anything; just kept reading, as I kissed her perfect bottom.  I then ran my fingers up from her feet, tracing the path my lips and tongue had already taken.  Delicately, I slid my finger between her labia and she spread her legs even more.  I gently penetrated her with my index finger and soon had two fingers sliding in and out of her with my thumb brushing her anus.  She started to grind her hips into the rug and was breathing faster.  Her pussy was getting even wetter and I saw that my fingers were getting coated in thick, white cream which was flowing from her.  She came unexpectedly quickly, clamping her legs shut on my hand.  She relaxed after a few seconds and I gently withdrew my fingers. I smelled them and stuck my index finger into my mouth to taste her.  She had twisted around and was looking at me, I realised. She took hold of my hand and pulled it up to her mouth where she sucked both my slick fingers.

"Are you stiff?"

"What do you think?"

"Take your dressing gown off!" She made me sit on the rug, leaning back and supporting myself with my arms.  "Open your legs!" she ordered.  I did so, very conscious of my erection thrusting upwards from the apex of my open thighs.

"It's just gorgeous!" she said, looking at it intently.  "And I love your great big, dark balls!  Never really thought about balls being erotic before but they are!" She cupped them, stroked them and squeezed them. She knelt between my legs and started to kiss and lick them, taking my erection in hand at the same time.  I sat and watched her kiss, lick gobble and salivate over my genitals while I stroked her head and shoulders.  She was soaking me; dribbling and slurping, her hands on my hip bones.  "I want you to..." she began, pulling off me but I started to come almost immediately.  I fountained all over her face and hair. "Eurgh!" she said, making a face. She did not look happy. I asked her what was wrong.  She answered that now she would have to wash her hair and that took hours, given how long it was. She got some tissues out of her bag and wiped her face. She had spunk on her eyelashes.  She seemed annoyed. She sighed and said we should go to the showers. She refused to go down into my basement and so we crossed to hers. She said it wasn't really done to have men in them but as it was mid-afternoon she thought it might be alright as no-one else would be around.. She seemed in a better mood by this time and let me wash her hair and soap her body. She did the same to me and soon got me stiff again.  We tried to do it standing up but the one foot height difference made it virtually impossible.  I had to bend my knees a lot to get inside her but it wasn't comfortable for either of us and she squealed when her back touched the tiles on the wall.

I then learned the full ordeal of her hair washing ritual, with added conditioner stages, endless combing and the fact that she wouldn't use a hairdryer on her hair so it really did take hours to deal with it. I enjoyed brushing her hair, though, a surprisingly erotic and intimate experience as we sat in her room.

"Don't come in my hair again!" she said wagging her finger at me. She said it was best if I came in her mouth which I had been avoiding, as I knew that some girls didn't like it.

There was a knock on the door and it was K, asking us what we had been doing as she had been looking for us all day. C told K about breakfast and lunch out and K looked jealous.  She said her parents were coming up the following weekend and she would get them to take her to the Randolph for lunch.  Considering she was so skinny, K was very interested in what were the best places to eat and although her parents were wealthy she didn't seem to have much more day to day money to spend than the rest of us. K told us that the best three restaurants in Oxford were The Elisabeth (which I never did get to), Les Quats' Saisons, up in Summertown (which had been opened two years before by a then unknown chef called Raymond Blanc) and La Sorbonne, in  a little alley off the High, where Blanc had been the sous chef.

As K told us all this. she sat behind C and brushed her hair for her, which I found even more erotic than me doing it.  K was wearing her skintight jeans and a cashmere cardigan which C took every opportunity to stroke.  I said I was going to get my drawing things as the tableau would make a good picture.  While I was away C had contrived to put her naked leg outside her dressing gown for the purposes of the picture. I told the girls that I wasn't aiming for a likeness, just to be on the safe side, although it actually came out well and both girls were pleased.

Eventually C's hair was brushed to her satisfaction and was well on the way to being dry.  K kissed C on the lips as she handed her hair brush back. "You'll get him stiff!" joked C, pointing at me.

"C!" said K, looking shocked.  K had no idea that I was C's 'boyfriend character', as she referred to those of other girls.  On the next staircase was a Scottish girl, F, who had already hooked up with the bearded (which was unusual then) N much to K's disapproval. "He spends the night there!" she said, scandalised. I couldn't work out how they managed to sleep in the tiny 2' 6" wide bed in the girls' staircases, especially as F was quite a solid girl.

"I bet he'd like to watch us snog!" said C, stroking the back of K's cashmere cardigan.

"Well he's not going to!" said K, primly.  K was much more puritannical than C.  In fact, she was more like what I had expected girls to be like; protective of her virginity and not interested in physical 'goings on' as she called it.  This was a shame as she had long, slim legs, that taut, high bottom and a delicate, dark eyed beauty.  After college, though, C and K did have a brief affair, more as an experiment than anything else, I think.

I gave C my charcoal drawing but said I would have to fix it later in my room as she wouldn't want the smell of fixative in hers.  The three of us went to dinner, where C kept rubbing her thigh against mine while K nattered on, interminably, as ever.

After dinner C told me that next time I took her out I could take her to La Sorbonne. I said that would be nice, maybe next term.  She frowned.  As we had lectures the next morning she said she wouldn't sleep over as she hadn't slept that well.  She asked if I wanted to go back to her room for a "frolic" which I said would be lovely, provided I didn't have to drink her horrible fruit tea. C made herself another disgusting red tea called Fixfrutta Pompadour. She said I needed to get more interesting tea than Brooke Bond, which we had always had at home as it came with collectable picture cards in it, which I loved when I was younger. I was starting to realise that C was really quite bossy. I didn't mind, though, as we were soon naked in her narrow bed and I was entering her hot wet cunt once more.  I had to admit that the light covering of her duvet did enable for more athletic movements than under my tight blankets and she clamped her legs over my back.  I managed to get her to come first,  seconds before pulling out and spattering her tummy again.

There was only just room to lie next to each other afterwards.  I lay on my back and she lay on her side with one leg over my hips.  I asked her if perhaps we should get some Durex.  She supposed we could try it, as it would be nice if I could come inside her.  I knew they had them in the gents by the JCR but she didn't want me to be seen getting them there, as it was next to the law library.  She told me to get them in Boots, which I wasn't very happy about as it meant I had to buy them from a person and not anonymously from a machine.  She said she would get them, although it would cost me in Lion Bars.  I asked her if that was a hint and she put her curled hands up in front of her face, imploringly.

I got dressed and went down to the vending machine.  I had a pee in the gents and looked at the Durex machine.  There was no-one else in there but they were expensive and I didn't have enough change if I was to get chocolate too.  I tried to get two for the price of one Lion Bars from the machine but failed this time. Even one perked up C, however, who was wearing her black sweat top and leggings again, when I returned to her room.  She said her mother called it her 'slug suit'.  She said that she wished that I could sleep over but we had an early lecture the next day and she was going to bed.  I said that I would pick her up at quarter to eight the next morning. We had a chocolatey kiss and I went down the wooden stairs from her room trying to not make too much noise as it was quite late.

Just as I reached the bottom, there was K, having been to see a friend in another college. She wanted to see C but I told her that she was just going to bed. She said she would come up to my room, then, and warm herself in front of my gas fire before bed. K, it soon became apparent, was quite drunk.  She had been given Port by her friend at Worcester and asked if I had any which I didn't.  She said I should get some.  All these girls seemed to be telling me what I should get for their benefit.  She told me that next time she came around I should give her toasted crumpets.  I told her that I didn't have a toaster but she pointed out that the little wire spikes wound around the metal guard of my gas fire were for attaching things to toast on.  I hadn't even noticed them.  K was quite flirty and sat on my lap when I sat in my armchair.  I got an erection (probably because I was stroking her cashmere covered back) and she wriggled around on my crotch.  She never said anything or took it further and I supposed it was just her indulging in some daring, Port-fuelled flirting.  After several cups of tea she gave me a kiss (quite a long one) and left.  Just as she was leaving my room D came through the fire door from the stairs and raised one eyebrow at me as he passed in the corridor.

As I got ready to go down to the freezing bathroom I pondered as to whether I should tell C about K's visit or not.  Best be honest, I though, as K might tell C and then I would be in trouble if I hadn't said something.  I'd tell her on the walk to the law library after breakfast in the morning, I decided.

I got into bed and for the first time, on my own, didn't wear my pyjamas.  I haven't worn them since. I caressed myself and thought of C and K naked together.  I imagined C on her back, her legs spread wantonly as K ate her pussy and I pounded K from behind, thrusting between her taut cheeks and coming inside her.  We must get some Durex I thought, as I ejaculated a few drops into my hand.

Tuesday, 6 December 2016

1979: Matriculation Day

On the Saturday at the end of the first week at Oxford, all the new students had to take part in the matriculation ceremony at the Sheldonian Theatre. Matriculation was where you became an official member of the university and agreed to abide by its rules.  The University even had its own police (known as bulldogs), courts and even laws.  The death penalty, for example, remained in place under Oxford University laws for some time after it was abolished in the rest of the country.

For matriculation and during exams you had to wear full academic dress, or sub fusc.  For men this was a dark suit, a white shirt, white bow tie, gown and mortar board.  And dark socks.  They took these things seriously (especially the socks).  In my third year someone was not permitted to enter the Examination Schools to do his finals because his socks were red.  He had to rush back to College and change them. All of these clothes I had to buy, at great expense, in my first few days. 

I went up to C's room that Saturday morning to pick her up before breakfast before the ceremony.  Her new friend K, from upstairs in her staircase, was there too, both were dressed in the women's sub fusc of black skirt and tights, white shirt, black ribbon tie (rather like what people in westerns used to wear), gown and a soft cap instead of a mortar board.  Women today are allowed to wear black trousers instead of a skirt but I never saw that when I was there. The two girls both looked very smart.  K was a couple of inches taller than C and was built like A, slim and boyish.  She had short, thick, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. C was rather taciturn and enjoyed companionable silence.  K never stopped talking. Ever. There was a character called Kiki the Frog on a children's TV programme called Hector's House at the time and we both thought that K was very like Kiki, When C wasn't in my company she was in K's, that first year.  We all became very close friends. 

My biggest issue that day was tying my bow tie; something I had never done before. There were no YouTube videos to watch then, just a series of frankly baffling diagrams included in the grey plastic wallet from Shepherd & Woodward.  Given I had trouble tying my shoelaces then, a bow tie was well beyond my capabilities. C tried to help but we were getting nowhere. 

"For heaven's sake!" chipped in K.  She stood in front of me and tied it in about ten seconds.  She explained that she always did her father's for him.  He was a prominent barrister (although K was not doing Law) and went to many formal events in London. 

Breakfast was never very exciting.  Porridge, cereals, a roll and butter, orange juice and tea.  On Saturdays you could pay extra for a (very small) cooked breakfast. Not many people went to Saturday breakfast although that day it was busy  After breakfast we had to sign the register, to become a member of College and then we all trooped into the seventeenth century Sheldonian Theatre (fortunately only a hundred yards from College) for the ceremony. much of which was in Latin, of course.  Our college is the only one on Radcliffe Square and we just had to cross the corner of it, cut through the Bodleian Library square and into the theatre.  K said that Radcliffe Square had been called the most beautiful square in the world and it was certainly stunning, on what was a bright, sunny morning. The first half of the month was quite warm for the time of year with a lot of sun and temperatures in the high sixties (we had not moved to Centigrade at that point, in Britain) .  However, my recollection of Oxford was that it was mostly grey and damp and the limestone buildings seemed to soak up moisture like a sponge.  In the summer it could be truly lovely but we were not there from mid-June through to the second week of October so we missed most of the nice weather.  Oxford sits in a bowl and the rain used to hang above it in a permanent gloomy cloud as though afflicted by some curse of the rain Gods.

After the matriculation ceremony we had to return to College for a freshers photo of the whole year, taken in the main quad.  We balanced precariously on planks for the photo (not C and K as they were with the little people at the front) while the photographer messed about.  I was looking to see if there were any other nice looking girls in the year and noticed J, another petite redhead I had met earlier in the week, J a statuesque medic  and V, a physicist with a thick mop of blonde hair. Frankly, there were not a lot of other attractive women there, I decided.  C and J had a chat and discovered they were being mistaken for each other, given they both had long red hair and were the same height.

C and I had wanted a quiet rest of the day to get on with some jobs and shopping but we hadn't counted on the party atmosphere of matriculation day, where many students were already drinking Champagne at 10.30 in the morning.  We were invited into one of our fellow fresher's rooms for drinks before lunch although C and I slipped away just before lunch to get our washing on the go in the subterranean laundry.  Between us we managed to work out how the coin operated washing machine worked and, fortunately, C had washing powder. I tried to kiss C in the laundry (so to speak) but she was worried her lipstick would smudge so told me I had to wait until later.   I kissed her neck instead (she had put her hair up), which she always enjoyed and gently caressed her bust while she ground her bottom against my groin.

We left our clothes getting 'frisky with each other', according to C (although a lot of her clothes were silk and needed hand washing) and went to lunch.  Most people, including C, had kept their sub fusc on but I had rid myself of my suit when I went up to get my laundry.  I was not used to wearing a suit and tie and didn't feel comfortable in it at all.

At lunch, everyone was in high spirits (some people's spirits were rather higher than others) and we were invited to drinks after dinner in Hall by one of the second year law students..   C decided this student was very 'dreamy' but she had, I discovered, a thing about posh boys from public schools.  This was a common female affliction at Oxford, I discovered.  The public school boys took great advantage of panting young Grammar school girls but discarded them like crumpled (and dare we say, stained) tissues.  I eventually worked out a system of identifying and consoling these rebound ladies to both of our mutual satisfaction. The biggest hunting ground was the Oxford Union Bar where eager young fresher girls would display themselves quite unashamedly, as we will see in a future episode.

We went shopping after lunch, having recovered our washing and were joined by K, somewhat to our annoyance, as her presence stopped any tactile moments in the hidden recesses of places like The Paperback Shop. This, an offshoot of the venerable Blackwells, was one of my favourite shopping destinations and had an excellent selection of Dragon's Dream SF and fantasy art books by the likes of Roger Dean and other artists I had enjoyed on the pages of Science Fiction Monthly.  I also bought the first couple of novels by a (now notorious) author called John Norman whose novels about the planet Gor, started as a pastiche of Edgar Rice Burroughs-style SF adventure and gradually transformed, over multiple novels, to be about the sexual submission of women.  The first ones, before they became incredibly repetitive, were good mindless reading, after a day of struggling with Roman or Criminal Law.

While I looked at the science fiction section C appeared brandishing a book with a familiar white cover.  "Look!  Emmanuelle!  You can buy it for me and read it to me!" said C. Typically, she did not offer to buy it herself but I thought it was probably worth 60p to get her worked up.  "Read this!" she had her finger stuck in a passage.  I read it and discovered it was a graphic description of fellatio. "Tonight!  If you buy it for me!"  She gave me a naughty smile.  Who could resist? "Don't let K see it, though!"  K was browsing the Penguin Classics upstairs.  C squeezed my groin and went upstairs to distract her while I paid for the books.

I found all of my art materials, paper and charcoal, in WH Smiths, bought some Blue-tack and more arty postcards for the wall of my room in Athena (there were no rules about not sticking pictures to the wall in those days). We went to a little place in St Michael's Street, opposite the Oxford Union, for early afternoon tea and a scone.  Both the girls were still in sub fusc (or 'sub fucs' as K, rather naughtily, called it) but then so were many of the other freshers around town that day. 

"What are you going to draw?" asked K, looking at my large drawing pad, sticking out the top of my Smiths bag.

"I don't know," I said, deliberately not looking at C who was kicking me under the table.

"You could draw me!" said K.

"I think not!" said C, firmly.

"You could draw us both!" persisted K. "C could be a pre-Raphaelite maiden and I could be her ardent Spanish (she was part Spanish) lover.  A boy lover of course. Not a girl.  Although that might be fun too!" C looked interested, at this point.

"Did you see how she was flirting with you?" said C, later, as I had another tea back in C's room at about three in the afternoon. K had come back with us but had nipped off to the loo. C was drinking one of her German rosehip teas.  This looked lovely, with its clear red appearance but tasted like iron filings.  All of her fruit teas were disgusting but, again, she preferred the look to the taste.  She also had a thing about lebkuchen, a sort of soft, spicy German biscuit.  Frankly, I would rather have a ginger nut.  Lebkuchen were difficult to get and expensive and therefore, for C, desirable.  I said I didn't think K was flirting with me at all.

"Yes she was!" insisted C.   I said it was more like that K was flirting with C.  C agreed that there was an element of that.  "She has a lovely bottom, Don't you think she has a lovely bottom?" asked C.  I thought carefully before answering.

"It's OK.  Not as nice a yours!"  C smiled and gave me a kiss. In fact, K had a sensational arse, high and taut, which she emphasised by wearing skin tight denims which C and I wondered how she actually got into, they were so tight. C gave me another kiss and soon we were snogging away as C had removed her lipstick and make-up after lunch. K didn't knock when she returned but we just had time to break apart before she came into the room.

"What are you two talking about?" asked K, looking suspicious.

"Your bottom!" said C.

"What about it?" asked K trying to look over her shoulder at it. C told her how nice it was and proceeded to stroke and squeeze it while looking at me as if to say she won't let you do this.

K asked C if she had any biscuits which she didn't.  I said I had some and so we relocated to my room, which K hadn't seen before.  She was very jealous of my gas fire which we soon had going as the temperature was starting to drop. K also liked my big hospital bed , which was a foot wider than the beds in the girls' rooms.  She lay down on it and rolled about, much to C's annoyance, I could tell.  C had never been in my bed as we had all our sensual episodes on the rug in front of the gas fire.

The two girls helped stick my arty postcards to the wall. Most were of female nudes and the two would often buy me another card if they saw one in the shops. Both girls lay in front of my fire, drinking tea, with a plate of chocolate digestives between them, while I sat in my armchair and contemplated getting my drawing things out.  C was stroking K's thigh, which I found very exciting, particularly as K seemed to like having her thigh stroked. K liked my rooms but I moaned about the fact that I had to go downstairs to fill the kettle and that the bathroom was in the basement. She said she couldn't get by without her washbasin and I said how cold and horrible the bathroom was on my staircase. K, who always knew everything that was going on, said that there was one nice bathroom in college, on the staircase next to the law library but it was nearly always occupied.  I decided to have a look at it, although I didn't mention it to K.

Then there was a knock on my door and it was E, from my school, coming to say hello. I was delighted to invite him into a room strewn with lovely girls. You could see from his face he was envious as he was at one of the remaining all boys colleges. He was doing History, like K, so they had a good chat. He didn't say anything but we could tell he wasn't settling in that well with the workload, even one week in. The Historians had to do a key exam at the end of the first term which they had to pass in order for them to remain at Oxford. Someone had said that Oxford first year historians had the highest suicide rate of any academic course in the world except for the Japanese Civil Service entrance exams. K saw my school friend out of College so they could chat about some History thing and said she would see us at dinner.

I asked C if she had told K about us.  She said she hadn't and wasn't intending to.  I told her she couldn't moan if K was flirting, then.  She then said that I had insisted K wasn't flirting and now I was changing my testimony. C was one of those people who liked picking arguments for the sake of it.  No doubt this was why she became a lawyer.  I told her that if she didn't stop it I'd spank her.

"You can't say things like that unless you back up your statements with action!" she said.  I reached out, from where I was sitting in my armchair, and made a grab for her.  Laughing, she leaped out of the way and I chased her around the room before grabbing her around the waist, dropping back on to my chair and pulling her over my knees.  I spanked her a couple of times through her thick wool skirt. "That's no punishment.  That's pathetic!" she said.  I started to undo the buttons of her skirt and she wriggled encouragingly.  "That's better!" she said as I pulled her skirt down her thighs.  I wasn't actually finding the situation sexual, just a joke, until that point, when I saw that she was wearing black silk knickers and black stockings.  I stroked her silk clad posterior and she squirmed, invitingly, across my lap.  I spanked her a couple of times but not very hard.  "Harder than that!" she goaded me.  "I need to tingle!" I started to pull her knickers down and she helpfully lifted her hips for me.  This time I gave a her a couple of sharp wacks.  "Oh! Better!" she cried.  Her soft bottom quivered and a pink patch appeared.

I had never, ever even dreamed of hitting a girl and found it quite difficult to do so but she seemed to genuinely enjoy it and I could see (and smell) that she was getting moist. I was also entranced by her neat anus; the first time I had really seen one close up.  I spanked her a couple more times. "That's enough!" I said, tickling her parts with my finger.  "You weren't that naughty!"  I pulled her knickers back up.

"You can't leave me like this!  You need to finish me off!" she wailed.

"Later!" I said. "Anyway, it's time for Dr Who!"

"Cruel person!" she said, pulling her skirt up and buttoning it up, again. We went to watch Dr Who in the JCR TV room.  It was packed but we were glad we would be able to keep up with it while we were at College, as it was so popular.  It was the classic story, City of Death and parts of it had been expensively shot in Paris. I was glad that C liked Dr Who as well.  We sat next to a fresher Mathematician,who may be known to readers of my other blogs as Agent DVD.

After dinner we went around to the second year lawyer's room with some of the other freshers.  He had a really large room decorated with pictures of women cut out from the pages of Vogue, which C thought was very stylish.  C flirted outrageously with all the male lawyers there and drank enough Port to get her giggly.  Every social event at Oxford seemed to be accompanied by alcohol and C was  small and not as used to it as I was.

As soon as we returned to my room and I had started the gas fire, C jumped me and wrestled me to the rug in front of the fire. We started snogging and she pulled at my clothes, frantically stripping me completely. I got her down to her black underwear. Although I removed her bra and knickers, I hesitated over her suspender belt and stockings.

"Don't know what to do, eh? Off or on?" she teased. It was true, I loved the way her black suspender belt and stockings framed her bright orange pussy. I placed the palm of my hand over her soft, hot mound and rubbed, grinding the heel of my palm on her stiff little clitoris. She had very prominent parts, which I loved. She straddled my thigh and rubbed against my leg with her hot pussy. She knelt between my legs, massaging my cock.  She started to suck my knob. "Are you going to come for me!" she asked, popping off me. "Is it building?  Are you going to spurt?"

"Any second!" I sighed, as she continued to gently massage me with her hand.  Suddenly, she stood up. "Get dressed!" she ordered.

 "What? Now?" I said, having been just seconds from coming.

 "Yes! I want chocolate! Go and get it for me!" She stood there with her hands on her hips trying to look assertive. I frowned. "You spank me, wind me up and then don't finish me off! Now you can see what it is like!"

"You're evil!" I said, resignedly picking up my shirt. When I was dressed she rubbed herself up against me, seductively, still just dressed in her black stockings. "I'm not evil, just a femme fatale!" she said. I had to go across New Quad to the vending machine next to the law library. I knew that C liked Lion Bars, which at that time had only been available a year or so.  I put in the money and pushed the button and watched the spiral rotate until it fell into the metal hopper. The first time we had used it C had said how the 'screwing built anticipation and then the drop into the hopper was like an orgasm'. She did seem to think about sex quite a lot.  And chocolate.

 J, C's tutorial partner (who she fancied but thought was gay) came out of the law library and asked me where C was, as he wanted to talk to her about the next essay. He said that she wasn't in her room and had run into K who had said to try my room but he didn't know which room I was in. I said I didn't know where she was. He then said that D had said that C was always in my room. I explained that I had a gas fire and she didn't. He looked at me suspiciously but left, fortunately.

I took the opportunity to go upstairs and look at the semi-mythical 'nice bathroom' K had told us about. It was, indeed, large as was the bath and was warm. It even had plants in it, in pots. It looked very promising. As I came down the stairs H, from Scotland, was also in front of the vending machine. "Hah!" he exclaimed in delight. He told me that if you put the money in and pushed two buttons simultaneously you could sometimes get two things for the price of one. We tried it on Lion Bars and sure enough I got two. Given the amount of chocolate C needed this could be very useful. I was on my way back to my room and then ran into A. another fellow lawyer from the staircase next door. He wanted to chat too and so by the time I got back to my rooms I had been away about twenty minutes. C was gone but had written me a note. 'Too slow!  Back soon.  Noel can look after you!"

Noel was her hideous dead (obviously) pine marten stole. She had draped it over the arm of my chair. It was a nineteen twenties narrow fur wrap, which still had the head, feet and tail of the creature on it, with a sort of peg effect where the jaws used to be, so she could wrap it around her shoulders and clip it onto itself. She  treated it more like a pet than an article of clothing. It was vile but she loved it and wore it a lot.  She would stroke it and talk to it.  She also had an old, brown fur coat which made her look like a small bear. People didn't worry about wearing fur in those days.

I noticed that she had put her little plastic contact lens pots on my mantelpiece.  I looked at my watch.  It was gone ten o'clock.  She came back to my room about ten minutes later.  She smelled of a floral perfume.  I hadn't noticed her wearing perfume before and I complimented her on it  She said it was Chanel No 19 eau de parfum.  She explained that this was more expensive than eau de toilette.  I had not appreciated all the different grades of scent.  She had changed out of her sub fusc and was now wearing a dark blue cocktail dress with sequins on it. A bit odd to start changing outfits at gone ten, I thought.

"Are you going out?" I asked.  She had a cloth bag with her.

"Where is my chocolate?" she said, ignoring my question.  I opened my biscuit tim and showed her the three Lion Bars.  I told her about the trick of getting two bars out.  She looked pleased.  She looked even more pleased when I told her about the bathroom I had looked at.

"What's in the bag?" I asked her.

"Things!" she said, enigmatically. She opened the door to my bedroom and went inside.  She came back out again fairly quickly.  "Cold!"  She wanted me to leave the door open so it could pick up some heat from the gas fire but I explained that you ended up with two not very warm rooms rather than one warm one and one cold one. She unwrapped a Lion Bar and had me hold it for her so she could bite pieces off it; feeding her like an animal. She gobbled it down remarkably quickly. Two for one would definitely be an advantage.

"I've decided to give you a present!" she said.  I looked for her bag but she must have taken it into my bedroom, oddly. I told her that I didn't really need a present but it was lovely thought. "You have to unwrap it!" she said, turning her back on me and showing me the buttons down the back of her dress.

"This does look like a lovely present!" I said, undoing the first button and kissing her neck, after scooping her long red hair over one shoulder.  Another button.  Another kiss.  She said I was very good at unwrapping. Soon she was able to step out of her dress and turned around.  She hadn't just changed her outerwear but her underwear too.  She was now wearing blue silk and lace French knickers and a matching camisole.  The latter was very sheer and her rosy nipples were visible through it.  She had pale blue stockings and a suspender belt on too.  She looked sensational, as I told her.  She grinned.

"Now I'm going to unwrap you too!" She did so but stripped me off completely, so I was standing in front of her naked, my cock at full elevation. She stepped towards me and took hold of it.  "What do you call it?"


"What do you call it?  Don't all men give their's names?"  she asked, massaging it gently. I said I hadn't got  a name for it.  She squatted down in front of me and kissed it. I stroked her hair. I bent down and pulled her camisole over her head. She stood up and it was my turn to squat down as I pulled her French knickers down over her thighs.  I kissed her orange bush and smelled her musky scent.  She was very aroused.  I flicked my tongue across her clitoris. She was undoing her suspenders and I gently rolled her stockings down. She held out her hand.  "Come!"  She led me into the chilly bedroom and pulled back my sheet and blankets.  There was a hot water bottle in the middle of the bed, which she must have put in there earlier.  She pushed it further down the bed and climbed in.  I got in after her.  Despite the warm patch, it was quite cold and we cuddled up underneath the covers.  Soon we were kissing and rubbing against each other.  I slipped my knee between her thighs and felt her hotness on my skin.  She writhed as I pressed against her pussy.  I was on top of her now and she guided me with her hand so I was completely between her thighs.  I was a bit worried that I might squash her but I supported myself on my forearms as we kissed, liquidly.  My cock was rubbing against her bush and she was gently moving her pelvis. Her hand slid between our bodies, gripping me.  "I want it inside me!" she said.

"Really?  Are you sure!" I asked, my heart pounding.  Everything seemed to go into slow motion. We had warmed up the bed and although the lights were off in my bedroom the desk light and fire were still on in my living room.  There was enough light to see her lovely face.

"Yes!  Now!" she said. Was this going to be it?  It, It, It?  I prodded at her pussy gently with my cock but realised it wasn't as easy as that. She had let go of me so I took myself in hand and extended my index finger.  I located her wet entrance and guided my erection down my finger until my knob entered her entrance.  I paused and looked at her, giving her an opportunity to change her mind.  She looked at me, smiled and put her hands on my bottom, pulling me closer.  I wriggled up the bed an inch or too and gently pushed in.  I expected some resistance; a barrier, even, but there was just hot, liquid softness that felt like it was sucking me in.  I pushed in up to the hilt and paused.  "Oh!" she sighed.

"Are you alright? Does it hurt? I asked, anxiously.

"No! It's lovely.  Strange but lovely!" she said and we kissed. I just lay there looking at her smiling face, the head of my cock lodged deep inside her hot cunt. "I think you're supposed to move!" she said, after a while.  I was so excited that I thought that if I did move I might come instantly.  I should have got a Durex.  They had a machine in the gents next to the JCR.  Right by the vending machine, in fact.  But she hadn't suggested one and I didn't want to shatter the moment.  I pulled gently out and then pushed back in. "Oh God!" she said, biting her lip.  It, It, It! I thought.  We were doing It!  "Keep doing that!" I did but very slowly and gently. We kissed as I continued to slide in and out of her, very, very slowly. I couldn't hold it any longer. the sensation, physically and emotionally was too overwhelming  I pulled out of her and came all over her tummy.  She covered my face in kisses. I knew she hadn't come so I slid off her and put my fingers inside her and started to flick her clitoris with my thumb. She can't have been very far behind me because it took about two minutes.  We lay together quietly, kissing each other occasionally.  "We've made love!  We're lovers!" she said, at last.  I couldn't think of anything to say.  I was dumbstruck.  We had been together just over a week. "I need the loo!" she said, after a while.

"I do too!" I said. We got out of bed.  She pulled out some slippers, a black sweat top and trousers from her bag, then a toothbrush and toothpaste.

"I'm staying the night!" she explained.  "In our lovers' garret!"

"How lovely!" I said. She opened the door carefully, looked around and then dashed out.  I put my pyjamas and dressing gown on and moved the hot water bottle in the bed.  I was looking for any signs of blood on my sheets but there was nothing, just a damp patch.  The bed smelled of sex, though.  Sex.  It!  I sniffed my fingers,  C had a very strong smell. Stronger than any other girls I had been with.  Not unpleasant but very musky, although there were overtones of Chanel No. 19 on my body too.  She returned shortly, smelling of peppermint and I went downstairs to the small bathroom in the next staircase.  My cock smelled of C and I wondered if I should try and wash it in the washbasin but thought better of it.  Anyway, I liked the smell.

When I got back to my room C was naked in my bed, shivering.  I stripped off too, switched off the lights and the gas fire and we cuddled up.  I lay on my side and she clamped onto my back. She put her hand over my hip and gently clasped my genitals.

"I love matriculating!" said C with a laugh.  "Tomorrow we can matriculate all day!" Despite the rather cramped bed we soon drifted off.  It, It, It! I thought, as I started to doze off, C's perky breasts pressed against my back and I could feel her soft bush brushing my bottom. Matriculation day! I had entered more than the university,  Marvellous!