Friday, 10 February 2017

1979: Bricks, Tea and Other Girls

Dramatis personæ

In this episode:

Women at College
C my petite redheaded girlfriend
K C's best friend at College
L another female law student at College
J a female student having an affair with a male College

Women from elsewhere

R a schoolfriend of C's at another college
S a girl from another college

Men at College

D a law student with the room next to mine
N a male fresher
R a first year lawyer

Men from elsewhere

E a former schoolmate of mine at another college
T a former schoolmate of mine at another college
M a student at another college

As soon as we turned from St Cross Road, where the Bodleian Law Library was located, into South Parks Road, C put her arm through mine. I warned her to look out for lawyers, conscious of her not wanting to show any public signs of affection in College, at least.  She replied that students from our College wouldn't go this way. "Anyway, everyone knows now!" she said.  She explained that one of the other female first year lawyers, L, had quizzed her about it.  L was becoming attracted to a beardy Chemistry (weren't they all - even the girls) fresher but was wondering if the college environment would be too hothouse-like for a fragile, budding first relationship.  At least, C assumed it was a first relationship on the basis that L was fat and ugly and no one would have gone near her previously unless the other person was equally ugly. 'I couldn't just jump straight in and start sleeping with him straight away, like you did,' L had said to an appalled C.  C had asked her what made her think she was sleeping with me and was told that everyone knew.  'Noises!' she had said, enigmatically.  Cursed D, the smirking second year lawyer in the room next door to mine, we agreed  "Do you think he puts a glass up against the wall to listen to us?" asked C as we stopped to cross South Parks Road.  "He probably has a glass in one hand and his dick in the other!" she said.  I told her off for being crude.  "Wanking and thinking about my juicy cunt!" I shook my head.  She was becoming more and more foul mouthed.  I knew she did it because I didn't swear and she liked to taunt me.  Generally, at that time, girls didn't use four letter words.  Not ones at Oxford, anyway, and not as nearly much as they do today.

"Here we are!" I said, as we crossed the road to Keble College.  "The ugliest college in Oxford!" I said, trying not to think about D listening to our sex sessions. 

"St Catz is worse!" said C, referring to the modernist St Catherine's college which had been built in the early nineteen sixties and was hidden away, like an embarrassing relative, behind the law library. Neither were considered 'proper' colleges by people from the historic ones in the centre of the city. There was a definite perceived hierarchy of colleges at Oxford with Christ Church at the top, due to it being enormous and full of Old Etonians, many of whom, it was said, hadn't exactly achieved the rigorous academic qualifications of other students due to an automatic quota.  Next were colleges like New College (for people from Winchester School), University, Balliol (lots of socialist politicians went there), St John's (the richest college), Merton and Magadalen (because they were allowed to eat roast swan in hall and had a big tower).  Colleges like mine were all lumped with other old ones in the centre like Lincoln, Jesus, Exeter and Hertford. Oriel was known for rowing.  Slightly below were smaller historic colleges like Corpus Christi or those which were founded in the seventeenth or eighteenth century like Wadham, Worcester and Pembroke.  Then, near the bottoim, were all the nineteenth to twentieth century founded ones like Mansfield, St Peter's (tragically poor and small) and the women's colleges (Somerville, St Hugh's St Hilda's, Lady Margaret Hall).  At the very bottom were St Catherine's (why go to Oxford to be in a concrete and glass box?  You might as well be at the University of  East Anglia or Kent or somewhere else ghastly) and, lowest of the low, Keble. 

Keble College, which loomed over the road like a malignant stack of Lego, was built of red bricks with white and blue-grey decorative elements.  Built in the 1870s (unlike our College which was early sixteenth century) it was controversial at the time and was generally deemed to be a blot on the largely limestone centre of Oxford.  Art historian Sir Kenneth Clark reported that when he was at Oxford it was regarded as the ugliest building in the world.  St John's College, on whose land it was built, were reputed to have a secret society, admission to which was only possible by chipping out one of the bricks from Keble's structure and presenting it to the committee. To advance within the society you had to then cut out a rare white and finally an even rarer a blue-grey brick. When I was there, my College''s rugby team was involved in a feud with Keble's rugby team and an expedition was launched from my College one night to chisel out a corner brick from Keble. The bricks are so ingrained into the culture of Keble that all students are given a red brick when they graduate. 'We're proud of our ugliness', it says.  Actually, looked at today, it is very attractive set of buildings, although the college was never completed to the final design, as the college ran out of money.

We were here to meet C's girl friend from school, R. Their school was a top grammar school and, like mine, had a reputation for doing really well at Oxford and Cambridge entrance.  Keble didn't have staircases; the rooms were arranged along corridors, like an hotel  This, we were later told by R, was reputedly so the College scouts could control who went into the students'  rooms. Keble had been founded very much as a religious institution. There was still something faintly prissy about it. 

R was, indeed a busty blonde, just as C had said. She was tall for a start, about five foot eight and her fluffy cream jumper was obviously under some strain from her bust.  She was not fat but wasn't skinny either.  Her jeans displayed a good, solid bottom and large thighs.  I was not surprised to discover that she was a good rower.  She and C had greeted each other with a kiss on the lips and a pat on the bottom.

"Is this the boyfriend?" she asked, looking at me keenly. Some women accuse some men of looking them up and down and sizing up what they might look like naked.  I got just this impression from R, disconcertingly.

"We are lovers," said C, theatrically, while no doubt imagining she was a character in a slightly racy, French, nineteenth century novel. 

"Nice!" said R.  She came up to me, put her arms around my waist and kissed me on the lips as well, much to my surprise. C looked a bit surprised too. We sat down and R put the kettle on.  The two of them nattered on about their school friends, where they were and what they were doing.  I was very aware that my purpose was to be decorative and amusing but not at C's expense.  I had been well briefed on how to behave and what to wear.

"Denims are alright.  Not cords.  Not your purple shirt and definitely not your purple sweater!" I had been told. They weren't really purple, more dusky crimson but C had a thing about them and had said she would choose all my clothes from then on.  I liked to wear bright colours but she didn't like anyone detracting from her own rather curious and colorful dress sense.

"So how did you two hook up?" R asked as she poured the tea. I noticed she used leaf tea in a teapot, as C was always banging on about.

"We met at interview," I replied. "Happily shared misery!"  R laughed and I could see C awarding me a mental point.

"So how long before you got it on?  We're only in fifth week now!"  A rather personal question I thought.  I wondered what C had said to her in the note she had sent through the college mail.

"He has a gas fire, in his room!" said C, as if that explained everything, which it sort of did.

"I see!" said R, offering me a chocolate digestive (which I thought was a bit flash) and thrusting her bust at me quite deliberately.  I tried to ignore it, failed and could sense C's amusement.

C told R, pointedly, that I liked petite women.   I wanted to say that I liked very many different shapes of women but dared not or I would get one of those looks from C that could kill small rodents at twenty feet.  R grinned at her and kissed her on the lips again.  C kissed her back and looked at me while she did it.  I tried to avoid looking at R's bust and failed, again.

"We were nearly lovers once!" said R dropping into a large beanbag chair.  C sat down on top of her, nestled between R's long legs.  I didn't know how to react; pretend I had not heard the comment, nod understandingly or look really interested. "We shared a tent on a Duke of Edinburgh expedition.  It got quite heated!!" 

"I told you!" said C, obviously referring to the fact that she had told me R would get me stiff.  I wasn't but I wasn't far off.  C was stroking R's denim clad thighs and R was stroking C''s jumper just below her bust. R kissed the top of C's head and one hand brushed C's breast, just for a second.. "I'll tell you all about it later!" said C.  "If you are good!" That meant I would have to buy her chocolate, I knew.  

"It will be quite a sexy story!" said R.  "Get you going!" she looked at my crotch.  

Fortunately, the rest of the visit was less torrid.  R took us to look at the famous painting The Light of the World by Holman Hunt, which was in the college chapel.  The only good thing about Keble, C and I agreed.later.  

"So, what did you think of R?" asked C as we walked back to College, up Parks Road, next to the stone wall of St John's College gardens. 

"She was very..." I hesitated, "outgoing!"

"You mean her bust was outgoing!  Outstanding, even!" laughed C.  

"Shape is more important than size!" I replied.  She grinned at me and squeezed my bottom. I asked her what on earth she had written about me to R.  C answered that there was quite a long paragraph on the beauty of male erections.  I shook my head.  C told me that our physical familiarity had to stop as we were approaching College again and just because people were talking about us didn't mean that we should behave in an 'inappropriate manner'.  This did grate, somewhat.  C was a lovely girl and I was proud to have her as my girlfriend, even if she could be a little...well, odd.  I wanted to show her off to some of my school friends too, particularly my old school friend Dobs who was at a former women's college that had gone mixed that year.

After another dreadful dinner in hall (which included the dreaded Portuguese potatoes - underdone boiled potatoes cooked in tinned tomatoes) I went back to my room and the gas fire, after nipping along to the vending machine and getting a couple of Lion Bars. Would C and I really not have 'hooked up' if I hadn't had my fire?  I had been a bit disappointed when I saw some of the larger and more characterful rooms some of the other students had in the first year but then I discovered that many of them were quite cold, with a small electric heater or an ancient radiator, struggling to warm the space.  My living room, at least, did get nice and warm, even if the bedroom could be a bit chilly, especially in the morning.  appeared after about fifteen minutes, leaving enough time for me to get the room warm for her.   She had her overnight bag which meant she was going to sleep over again, something I really enjoyed, despite the occasional elbow in my stomach and the fact that her feet always seemed cold.

I really wanted to hear about C's experience with R in the tent but wasn't quite sure how to bring it up.  I was sat on my armchair and she was on my lap resting her head on my chest.  One of the things I liked about C was that she didn't feel compelled to talk all the time.  We would be happy just sitting in companionable silence, kissing and cuddling.

"Was it nice seeing R again?" I said, after a while.

"You want to hear about us in the tent, don't you?" she said, smiling. "Let's go to bed!"  We went to the loo, stripped off and hopped under my duvet, clinging together so as to get warm.

"We were camping on our Duke of Edinburgh expedition and we were sharing a tent.  We had taken our outer clothes off..." she began, caressing my cock at the same time.  I said I thought that camping was always freezing and therefore you had to wear as many clothes as possible.  She told me to not interrupt but listen.  I later asked to write the episode down for me which she did, 'so you can wank over it' she had said. It was a warm night, she continued, and she and R had discovered that they had the same sleeping bag which would zip together to form a double one.  They had stripped to their underwear and slipped inside the joined sleeping bag together.  C had kissed R on the lips by way of a goodnight kiss and was surprised to find R responding rather enthusiastically.  C, not wanting to appear timid, had returned R's kisses and they had had quite a passionate snogging session.

"Crikey!" I said. imagining it.  C had let go of my cock and we were now lying next to each other on our backs.

"Then she undid the clasp on my bra.  I didn't even notice until I felt her pulling it off!" continued C.

"You just let her?" I asked, desperate to touch myself at the thought.

"Yes, I was very excited. I was going to take hers off but she was already doing it herself.  She asked me if it was alright and I said yes and kissed her again!" C said she could feel R's hard nipples rubbing against her own bust.  They wriggled about until R was underneath and C was on top.  C insisted that it was she who had straddled R's thigh and started to gently rub the crotch of her knickers against her friend's leg, while pressing her knee against R's groin.  C described the feel of R's skin, the softness of her kisses and the heat emanating from both of their pussies.  I realised that C was rubbing her own pussy as she told me all this. I placed my hand on the back of her hand and felt her middle finger moving.  "I want you to wank and come all over me!" she said.  I was rather embarrassed but started off, after lying on my left side.  C started to kiss me and I increased my speed and could feel her doing the same to herself.  I came hard, all over her forearm and tummy.  She stopped what she had been doing, which was disappointing as I hoped she would bring herself off, too.  Or perhaps she had.  After we had rested in silence for a few minutes, I asked if she had had any other experience with R like that and she said that was the only one.  She said that I was obviously hoping that R had 'eaten her pussy' but. laughing, said that was my job.  I wriggled down to the foot of the bed and set to, the cold soles of her feet pressing against my sides.

I had hoped that all this might encourage C to go and take me to see R again but she didn't.  In the first term you tended to go and seek out people from your old schools but, after that, your life tended to shrink back to those in your own college.  I mentioned my encounter with R to our friend K one day, when she popped around for tea and biscuits when C was shopping.

"Do you think C is a lesbian?" asked K.  "She is always stroking me!" I thought that K was nearly as tactile back. "She doesn't seem interested in getting a boyfriend!" I was amazed that K hadn't sensed anything between C and I when nearly everyone else in college seemed to know about it.

"She does like girls, visually..." I offered, thinking about the book of Renoir nudes we had looked at in Parker's together.

"Lots of other girls are hitching themselves to men in College.  It's disgusting!"  She went on to list a number of couples who had formed among the freshers, some of whom I hadn't heard about.  Some of them later even got married, often going back to the college chapel for their wedding. K was particularly critical of most of their looks; the implication being that it was only the ugly people who were 'at it'.  There was special opprobrium poured on poor J, who was linked up with a male first  year student, N, who had already seduced one of the other first year girls, that relationship having lasted three weeks. "Apparently J is good in bed, whatever that means!"  said K, pursing her lips in disapproval.  "At least they are both equally ugly!" This seemed to reflect C's view as well, so I suspected they had been talking to each other about it.  They had, I later found out, while C tried to find out if K suspected anything about us, other than us just being friends.  C discovered that K had no idea we were 'at it' and considered that sort of thing rather vulgar.  C had rather cruelly referred to K as a 'professional virgin' and, in fact, it would be many years until she lost her virginity.  C felt very superior as a result and regarded herself as a woman and K as a girl.

In many ways, however, I felt more comfortable with K as a companion, as she was supportive and friendly, not constantly critical like C was. Trying to deal with one of C's criticisms; my tea, K and I went out to get some leaf tea and a teapot in Selfridges. I chose the Jacksons of Piccadilly tea as it came in nice cylindrical tea caddies in different colours, depending on the tea inside.  Eventually, I ended up with about four of these and most of my friends at College had some too.  I thought the Selfridge's tea pots were far to expensive and delicate looking so we got a traditional blue pottery one and a tea strainer in Debenhams, instead.  We went back to my room and had tea and crumpets toasted on the gas fire.  C came around later and was delighted with my proper tea but later told me she was annoyed I had given it to K first. I was a bit baffled by her attitude as it wasn't as if K and she were in any sort of competition but she got jealous if I spent any time with K.  This would come to a head the following term.

During that time we were informed that the College law students had to attend a formal dinner of the College law society.  Former members of college came back for it and we were told it was, essentially, compulsory for current students.  This was tedious enough in itself but then we were  later informed that it was black tie.  C was delighted as she could dress up but it meant I had to hire a dinner suit (at £8) and pay for the dinner.  More expense.

Shortly after this, we attended the Principal's reception for freshers which was very dull and the Principal left half way through it.  I didn't know it at the time but there is a famous picture of the Beatles taken in the same room back in the sixties. I had applied to my College because it had more law places than any other, on the basis that it would be easier to get in.  The Bursar told me at the reception that this was because it was the most well known legal college and Law was the only subject in College that had three tutors.  More High Court judges had attended my College than  any other institution.  The following week C and I went to see my schoolmate E at University College.  He was doing History but didn't seem to have anything like as much works as we did, even though he had an exam at the end of term. A week or so later I was walking past the Paperback Shop and there was a big queue outside as some of the Monty Python actors were there signing a book.  Michael Palin (who went to the same college as I did) told me that lawyers from my College had more work to do than anyone else in Oxford!

After this point, though, things eased off a bit and our lectures went from six to four a week.  C and I had more time for sex and took full advantage of it.  The more we did it the more we wanted to do it. We were doing our washing together, again, in the subterranean laundry room when C whipped off her knickers, unzipped me and sat astride me on the chair. I was terrified that someone might come in (although we had put another chair against the door to act as an early warning) but C was obviously completely carried away by the excitement; moaning and writhing and emitting copious amounts of creamy girl juice (some of which got on the front of my trousers, annoyingly).

We then had a week of me being dragged around clothes shops while C looked for a suitable (or unsuitable, more like) dress for the Law dinner.  In the end K helped out and took the pressure off me. as dress shopping was stressing me out.  Some of the women's clothes shops (like Annabelinda) were fabulously expensive with dresses costing up to £500!).  C liked the second hand shops, particularly those which had vintage clothes and eventually settled on a nineteen thirties dress covered in black sequins from Pom Pom in Little Clarendon Street (known as Little Trendy Street on account of all the  boutiques). I arranged to hire my dress suit but had to buy a dress shirt and black bow tie.  I ran in to another person from my school, T, while at the cashpoint and he said that it was worth investing in a dinner suit, dress shirt and tie as there would be a lot of black tie events and balls. I hoped not.

Out and about one day, we ran into from a gaming society C and I had joined (role playing games not roulette!) at the beginning of term.  M was at New College and said that they were having a staircase party that Friday night and we should go.  I had been to a couple of parties in freshers week (always without C) and very dismal they were, with shy people (like me) skulking at the edge of the room while exuberant extroverts showed off as usual. I wasn't keen but C always wanted to meet new people (men, at least).  A staircase party was where everyone on a staircase (usually about eight rooms) opened their doors to host visitors.  As we walked to New College C told me that we weren't to consider ourselves a couple but could explore other options.  I knew that this meant that C would be flirting with posh men again.

Much to my surprise the staircase party was quite fun.  There were people we recognised from the law library (one of whom I met again last year at a big City law firm reception and she remembered me 'always being with a redhead' more than thirty five years later).  Although there was a noisy room for people who wanted to dance (ugh), there were several quiet rooms too.  C met another girl from her school from St Catherine's College and they went off to dance while I sat in one of the quiet rooms and drank horrible, warm, Yugoslavian Laski Riesling. At some point I was joined by a dark and sultry looking girl called S.  She had an exotic Greek name but had a typical middle class southern English accent.

"You're from Twickenham!" she said after we had chatted for a while. I was amazed.  Twickenham was only five miles from where my school had been.  I hadn't told anyone else there where I was from.  She claimed to be just good at placing  London accents. "Or I'm psychic!" she laughed, patting me on the thigh, before disappearing to another room.

C reappeared, arm in arm with some man who, it turned out, was a minor aristocrat.  Ideal for her. She was flaunting him at me and smirking, although he seemed more interested in C's friend from St Catz.  Having taunted me enough she disappeared again, leaving me with the horrible wine and sitting in a bean bag chair.  I increasingly felt loathe to stay.  I thought about R at Keble and her bean bag chair and her big bust.  Maybe I should just go back to College and leave C to it, I thought. I was just about to go when S returned, looking flushed and perspiring, having been dancing  She had that hot girl flesh smell mixed with a lemon scent.  She was wearing a little red cocktail dress, unusually short for the time and black tights which set off her long black hair.  The room was now quite full but even so I was surprised when she asked to share my bean bag and dropped onto my lap. I went into an instant panic about what C would think if she returned. We talked about Pre-Raphaelite painting. because of the posters the room's owner had up on the walls and I said that I had seen The Light of the World at Keble, which she hadn't yet.

"Everyone's snogging!" said S, suddenly, half way through talking about the Post-Impressionists exhibition at the Royal Academy. I was not aware that, at staircase parties, individual rooms developed their own functions: dancing room, bar room, listening to music room etc.  As I looked around I saw that S was right and this was, or had become, the snogging room.  It reminded me of J's garden during his party when I had hooked up with Mandy the hairdresser.  Couples were entwined all over the floor and one pair were even lying full length on the bed in a very copulatory position.  I looked back at S and she looked at me and winked.  Her pupils were huge, her lips parted slightly and we just fell into it.  Not a shy kiss but straight into a full on French kiss. Oddly, I held my hands out away from her body as if touching her might cause her to explode or bring C into the room instantly like a vengeful harpy.  S was not so concerned; one of her hands went behind my neck and one was stroking my chest,  I could feel one full breast pressed against my chest as she sat sideways on my lap.

"Do you think that we better get out of here?" I suggested as we broke apart to get some air.  The couple on the bed were really going for it now and one of the men there had his hand up his girl's skirt.  I was worried it might turn into a full blown orgy.  Someone turned the one remaining light off. S didn't seem that keen to get up and trying to stand up yourself when you are sunk into a beanbag chair and had a girl sitting on you wasn't really possible,  I pushed her haunch gently and after a moment's resistance she got up.  I was out the room like a scared rabbit and she was two steps behind me.  I suggested we get some more wine and we headed down to the bar room. I looked at the wine on the desk, trying to find something drinkable and failing.  Most of the drinks were beer and I didn't drink beer.

"Hullo!" came a familiar voice.  C had returned, on her own, thankfully.  I immediately felt a flood of guilt.  "Hullo, S" said C to S and gave her a kiss on the lips.  S kissed back and the two were immediately snogging in front of me,  I looked at them both in shock.  Did they know each other?

"We've been dancing!" said C.

"With each other!" said S.  Maybe K was right; maybe C was a lesbian.  I don't know if it was something about the sort of girls who went to Oxford but there were a lot of girls into girls, I later discovered.  This was not something I had come across in my limited interaction with women to that point.  I supposed that it was just them exploring their sexuality and as one of them later told me, you could have "sexy fun and not get pregnant".  Anyway, after my initial shock I found it very arousing, of course.  C and S were now standing facing me with their arms around each other;s waists. "Shall we go somewhere quieter?" asked S.  C was stroking S's arm and looking at me.  She nodded at me.  I hesitated, worried that something might happen which might break C and my fragile relationship. "I know where we can get nice wine!" added S.  I nodded, despite my reservations.  C kissed me.  Then S kissed me and then they kissed each other again. I followed them from the staircase into the freezing quad and we headed to another staircase.  It was past midnight,  We followed S up onto the second floor of another staircase.  I was mesmerised by her undulating bottom as she climbed the stairs. C squeezed my hand as if to say 'let's just have an experience'.  S  unlocked the door to  a quite large room   We asked her if it was her room but she said it was a friend's room.  S was at another college, she explained and her friend was away for the weekend. We didn't ask why her friend had given her the key.  

It was obviously a girl's room, from the posters and soft toys. S obviously knew her way around as she got a bottle of Côtes du Rhône out of the girl's wardrobe and found a corkscrew and three glasses.  S  made us sit on the bed, poured the wine, turned off the lights except the desk lamp and put some music on.  It was obviously Rachmaninov but wasn't a piece I knew (it was the Isle of the Dead).  C, didn't say anything and neither did S, slightly worryingly.  I wondered if I should but the other two were just gazing at each other, raptly.  C swigged a big mouthful of wine and turned and gave me a grapey kiss.  I was a bit immobilised as I was worried about spilling the wine on the girl's bed. We sat and drank in silence for a minute or two.  I started to think that this whole thing was a very bad idea.  Who was this girl?  What did she want?  Maybe it was just wine.  She had already finished her glass.  She came over and took our glasses from us.  I had had a few sips and C had drunk half of hers.

"Take your shoes off!" she said.  C kicked off hers right away and I pulled mine off too, after some hesitation and difficulty with my laces, as usual.  S launched herself at us, pushing us both onto our backs across the bed.  She was astride my thighs but kissing C.  What followed was a session of kissing, caressing and writhing about on the bed and then on the floor, when we fell off the bed.  S was kissing me and then C. Sand C were kissing each other.  Any nervousness disappeared almost instantly.  C was clasping S's breasts and S had her hand up C's skirt.  S rubbed the palm of her hand on my erection which was straining against my jeans. I caught C's eye early on as S nibbled her ear.  C's expression just said: 'Isn't this fun?' Fun and almost breath-robbingly erotic.  No parts of our bodies were off limits for caressing, although I was a bit concerned about touching S to start with but at one point I was sat with her on my lap, facing away from me while I squeezed and caressed her breasts while C kissed her and stroked my thighs.  The amazing thing was that at no point did any of us try to undress ourselves or each other; we remained completely clothed throughout but I was close to coming on several occasions.

Almost as if at some mutually agreed point we broke apart and sat on the floor, looking at each other and grinning.  It was as if we had been in the grip of some collective madness which had suddenly passed and reality had returned.  One summer, many years later, I was in Helsinki on university graduation evening where all the students get completely drunk, skinny dip, have sex in public and urinate on the streets.  There is litter, broken glass and empty bottles everywhere.  The next morning there is not a sign of anything having happened and the Finns go back to their normal respectable ways.

"That was fun!"said C as we finished our wine.

"You're both very hood kissers!" said S, pouring herself the rest of the bottle.  "Kissing is my favourite thing!" We both agreed that S was an excellent kisser as well. S said that she needed to get to sleep as it was now very late.  I asked her if she needed walking back to her college but she said she was staying in this room that night.  We never did find out whose room it was and why S was in it.  C was convinced that it belonged to her lesbian lover. "Are you going to have sex when you get back to your college?" S asked as we left the room.

"Definitely!" said C, squeezing my bottom.  Actually, I was feeling tired and the effects of the wine and I would have been happy just to cuddle up.

"I'll think about you and diddle myself!" said S.

"Would you like to watch us do it?" asked C.  "Maybe join in?"

S actually looked tempted for a second but fortunately said, "another time, perhaps."  I was relieved as I didn't feel up to performing. We both gave S long goodbye kisses, especially C and they snogged for about fifteen seconds while C grasped S's bottom.  We went back to the main party staircase and retrieved our coats.  C and I both needed the loo but there was a long queue.  C said she couldn't wait so we set off for College.  We hadn't gone more that a few dozen yards down Holywell Street when C stopped dead.  I asked her what was wrong.

"I really need to piss!" she said,  I told her to hang on as we were only 400 yards from College. "Can't wait!" she said, squatting down behind a tree at the corner of the facade of New College.  She had her knickers down at her knees and coat and dress pulled up to her hips, revealing her stocking tops.

"What if someone comes?" I asked looking up and down the narrow street but there was no sign of life at all.

"Too late now!" she said.  I could here her spraying the paving stones in long bursts.  She went for longer than usual, so maybe she really was desperate.   She wiped herself with a pocket tissue and stood up.

"Your turn!" she said.  I told her I could hold on. "Don't be so timid!  Let one go here!" She started to unzip me.  I looked up and down the street again.

"Alright!" I said. I stepped behind the tree and hoped I had avoided stepping in her puddle which I couldn't see.  I realised that I really needed to pee too and hoped no-one would appear, in what seemed like the  minute I stood there, while C watched me.

"Good!" she said, when I had finished, as if I had passed another test, which I probably had. We let ourselves back into College with the night key and crossed to the far corner where our staircases were.  C didn't stop off at her room but followed me up the stairs to my room.  I realised, as I let her into my room, that she was quite drunk.  She wasn't unsteady or anything but her eyes looked a bit unfocussed.  I suspected I was no better.. As I shut the door behind us she grabbed me.  I kissed her hard.  She tasted of wine.. The harder I kissed her the more she responded, rubbing herself up against me.  I pushed her onto the rug in front of the fire which was off, of course. I pushed her dress up and yanked her knickers down to her ankles and started to unzip myself.

"Yes!" she gasped.  The sight of her orange pussy and stockings did their usual job, boosted by my memories of S's hot groin as she had straddled my thigh at one point.  I shoved myself up C with none of our usual foreplay whatsoever.  "Jesus!" she said as I started to hammer into her, both of us fully clothed, on the floor of my cold room. We were even still wearing our coats.  I confess I thought about S and what she might feel like.  C was kicking her leg trying to get one foot out of her knickers.  She clamped her legs around me.  "Fucking hell!  Fucking hell!" she was gasping, quite loudly, I realised.  She was grinding her hips so hard I popped out of her and had to shove myself back in. I started to come inside her but kept plunging away, managing to keep a partial erection, at least.  I felt her internal muscles grip me and that flow of liquid she let go when she was really excited. I stopped moving and we kissed.  She grinned broadly.  "Terrific!" she said.

We disentangled ourselves and she kicked her knickers off at last. She told me to get the fire on while she went back to her room for her contact lens solution.  I nipped down to the loo again while she was away and she returned after about ten minutes. We sat in front of the fire for a bit.

"That was our best screw ever!" she said. "Were you thinking about S?"

"Maybe a bit!" I admitted.

"What a sexy girl!" said C.  "I would have loved her to watch us just then!"

Once we had got undressed we fell asleep quickly, as it was now past 2.00 am.  We didn't wake up until nine so we realised we had missed breakfast.  After a more gentle one than the night before (mainly because our heads were a nit sore) we went out to one of the cafes in the Covered Market and had a bacon sandwich each.  C couldn't stop talking about S, which I didn't mind.  It was better than her going on about the drippy aristocrat, who had gone off with some tall, posh blonde girl, to C's annoyance.

"Next time you want me.  Just grab me and take me.  No need to ask.  We don't have to get naked and do foreplay!" she said as we walked towards Cornmarket and WH Smiths for the paper. I looked around nervously.  She would come out with these comments at the most inappropriate of times; like a busy Saturday morning in the centre of town.  Oxford was always packed on Saturday. We went into Smiths to get the paper. "Let's get a girly magazine!" she said, looking at the top shelf.

"Why?" I asked.

"So we can look at naked girls, of course!"  I told her I wasn't going to get one as it was too crowded. She tutted at me and after some thought while looking at the covers chose Penthouse on the basis it had the trendiest looking girl on the cover, who had frizzy blonde hair.  I stood to one side, in embarrassment, while C brazenly handed the magazine to the woman at the check out who showed no surprise whatsoever.  C wanted to carry it openly back to College but I made her tuck it onto the newspaper

Back in my room C lay on the floor and looked at Penthouse with interest while I made some tea.  I had bought some chocolate digestives in the Co-op on the way back to College, which C approved off. C looked at the pictures and gave her opinion on the women.  I hadn't bought a Penthouse for ages and it seemed very modest compared with Men Only from a couple of years before. There were only a couple of shots, of the centrefold, Tammy showing her bits but C liked them and was surprised by them.  It turned out that she had only seen Playboy before and hadn't expected to see genitals.  She observed that she would like to lick Tammy's pussy.  She then went on about S from the previous night again and how I had missed out by not seeing them dance,  She said that if I had been there she would have got me to have a slow dance with S and her together,  I said I didn't dance, slow or not.

C said she was going to write to S and tell her about our 'animalistic screw' the previous night, as she called it. . I hoped we might link up with S again but C never sent a note and I didn't see her again. The following year C said she had seen her in the covered market with another girl and she had been friendly but gave no hint of anything more.

C was lying on her tummy and had her hand underneath her, pressed against her groin.  She wriggled on it and looked at pictures of two girls dressed in motorcycle helmets and skin tight vinyl.

"Do you have any magazines like this?" she asked.

"A few," I replied.

"Any here?"  I said no and that they were at home.  She looked disappointed and told me to bring some back after Christmas.  She said I should buy one every month for us to look at.

The following week it was the College Law society dinner.  C looked completely over the top in her black sequinned thirties dress. K had come up to my room to tie my bow tie at 7.00 pm and then we both went over to C's room so I could collect her.   Fortunately, any worries I had about her trying to be the centre of attention were avoided by another first year lawyer, R, having a purple dinner suit and matching bow tie.  This was the cause of much quiet hilarity. I was told by one of the other lawyers , while we were having sherry beforehand, that it was because he was Jewish and had it for his Bar Mitzvah.  I had no idea what a Bar Mitzvah was as we only had two Jewish people in my school and the only thing unusual about them was the fact that they didn't have to go to assembly every morning where we had prayers and had to sing a hymn. In fact K was Jewish but her family were Spanish Moroccans and she was rude about 'crinkly haired Jews' from Eastern Europe.  Not much solidarity there, I thought.

C and I didn't get to sit together at the Law dinner, as the students were spread amongst the former College members, who were all solicitors or barristers and mostly men.  We had Vichyssoise, Bouef Bourguignon and Black Forest Gateau for dinner which we thought was OK but not £8.50 worth, especially as the Black Forest gateau was obviously frozen. There was a lot of wine and port and sherry beforehand.  It was my first experience of a formal dinner at Oxford and the amount of port drunk was staggering. I looked down the table to the far end of the hall to where C was sitting and was shocked to see her smoking a cigarette with some of the men who were smoking cigars.  My father had died at the age of fifty, largely due to smoking 80 cigarettes a day and I was very, very anti smoking as a result. To this day I have never had a single cigarette.

Once the dinner had finished, I met up with C again and told her off for smoking.  She told me not to be so dull and that she only had a couple a year.  I could smell it on her and didn't like it. We didn't go down to the College bar afterwards (in fact I think I only went there once during my whole three years) but went up to see K and tell her about the evening.  I shopped C for smoking to K who surprised me by saying that she quite liked some sort of pastel shade cocktail cigarettes for women.  I was doubly shocked and the two teased me for being square.

We stayed until two in the morning and C kept trying to stroke K who kept looking at me and raising her eyebrows. After we left K, we went down to C's room.  C kissed me but the smoky breath was horrible and it was on her clothes too.  I said that I was tired and we should sleep separately in our own rooms. C looked cross and accused me of punishing her for smoking.  I said I wasn't but I was.

The next day was Saturday and I picked up C from her room as usual at breakfast time  We both felt a bit delicate from the port at dinner the night before and had a quiet day; having a walk in the Botanical gardens and along the river as the sun was out, even if it was cold.  We had sausage chips and beans in the Turl Bar, which was in a little courtyard off Turl Street not far from College.  After lunch we got into my bed to make things up between us for the smoking incident

"How many girlfriends have you had before me?" asked C, out of the blue after I had just licked her to orgasm again, having come inside her rather too quickly.  My heart leapt.  She had never asked this before.  I had told her that I was a virgin when we had first had sex, which was true.  I had never asked her about previous boyfriends as, frankly, I wasn't interested and didn't want to know.

"You're my first!" I said, hoping she would drop the subject.

"You're really good at cunnilingus," she said. Nobody used that word in conversation, I thought.   "You must have had lots of practice!"

"I've been doing it to you for six weeks.  I know what you like!" I said, trying to sound as offhand as possible, while visions of my first time performing upon A's musky pussy swam into my mind.

"You can tell me.  I won't mind!" she said.  I had heard from K that the reason N's first girlfriend at College had chucked him was because he told her about his previous girlfriends.

"No-one.  Just you!" I said, smiling and tying to look angelic.

"Good!" she said, thereby confirming my tactic as correct.

The end of term rushed upon us quickly.  We went to the College Carol Service in Chapel (which was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, like St Paul's in London) which actually took place only a few days into December.  It was all candlelit but as the service went on the candles started going out and by the end we couldn't see to read the service sheet or the words of the carols.  Christmas dinner was also quite fun. K asked me if I wanted to go to the Post-Impressionist exhibition at the Royal Academy over the Christmas break, which annoyed C as she was going back to Birmingham and couldn't go.  She and her mother were due to move house closer to me in January but this would be after we went back to Oxford on 17th January.

My mother was coming to collect me on Saturday but fortunately I had got all my Criminal and Roman Law work done so I could have Friday off. C and I had our final one in front of the gas fire 'where it had all started'.  C was in gentle mode, sat astride me and gently undulating her hips.  She felt really warm and wet and I was stroking the sides of her breasts, which she really enjoyed.  She pulled up quite high and I looked down as I enjoyed watching my cock penetrate her.

"Your're bleeding!" I said, alarmed.  My erection was covered in blood.

"It's my period.  A bit early.  Are you disgusted? Shall we stop?"

"No, it feels really nice!" I replied.  She leant forward and kissed me and we finished off with her lying on top of me.  She told me that she got really 'horny' when she had her period and it was rotten luck that we would both be at home.  As we lay together in front of the fire, with me still lodged inside her sticky cunt, we discussed if we could see each other over the Christmas holiday. We decided that the cost of a return ticket between Birmingham and Surrey was going to be prohibitive and she had to help her mother get ready for their house move, so we just agreed to write to each other.

She wrote to me on 18th December. a week after we had got home. "I thought I should write to charm your thoughts away from the lascivious and promiscuous K who has doubtless been telephoning you at every waking moment" (she hadn't) She noted that her mother had bought her some very tactile velvet trousers and wished I "was here to be tactile with".  She informed me that she had been back to school for prize day to pick up her prizes and stroke R and her mother, who was wearing a fur coat.

I wrote back (not quickly enough, as she sharply informed me) and said "so, as far as my thoughts being preoccupied with K, your suspicions have been quite unfounded".  I know this as she wrote back on 31st December, quoting this at me and then saying I has spent a page and a half of my letter writing about K and our plans to go to the Post-Impressionist exhibition.  K had invited me to stay at her house in Ealing, much to C's fury.  I had also told her that I had had a nasty bottle of South African wine which had made me feel ill and she wrote back saying I wasn't to have any more as she didn't want me "going back to College all weak and impotent."

I had had the most wonderfully sexually exciting eight weeks at College but the Christmas break was largely spoiled by the fact that we had a collection (an exam) immediately we got back on 17th January. Still, I was looking forward to seeing K again in London in not just the New Year but the New Decade.  The eighties were coming and so, I hoped, would I.