Lucy Ch. 21-25

Anyway, to cut a long story short. Mum came out and stopped him, sent me to my room, to get me out of the way I think, then Dad calmed down, got practical, started ringing around for a spare car, getting repairs done to his, explaining to someone why he would be late, all that sort of stuff. For the next few weeks I was put under all sorts of restrictions, got the sharp end of his tongue for the smallest thing I did, and lost my pocket money for several months.

But later that night, when I had gone to bed of course I lay there thinking about what had happened, and then remembered that funny feeling I'd had.

I know it sounds odd, I mean coming from the country obviously I knew all about sex, or at least if I thought about it at all I thought I knew all about it. I mean I'd seen all sorts of animals doing it since I was a toddler, the male animal put his 'thing', as I called it, in the female and some time later a baby animal came out. What could me more simple. It took a while to associate humans with what animals did and I think when I first tried I thought it was a bit disgusting. But by the time I'm talking about that was long passed, I was quite relaxed about men putting their 'thing' in their wives and making babies.

But of course I had never thought about any of that having anything to do with pleasure, it was just something mechanical, just the way babies were made. So although I knew that one day I would have a baby come out from 'down there', until then it was just for going to the toilet. So the idea that it might also give me nice feelings was, well totally weird.

Anyway, having felt what I thought I had, I experimented, tried to imitate the bonyness of my Dad's knee by using the knuckles of my clenched fist. At first just pressing them hard up between my legs, and when that didn't work, grinding them about. But of course still nothing happened and I gave up.

But the memory kept coming back and the more I thought about it the more I wondered if it was the combination of his knee and the smacking he was giving me that had done it.

We had an old, fold-up table tennis table out on the back veranda that Dad used to set up for parties, barbecues, that sort of thing. And in a nearby cupboard was all the equipment, including a pile of bats, some of which were so old they should have already been chucked out. I have no idea what made me think of them, but I did, sneaking one of the old ones that I knew wouldn't be missed, and taking it to my room.

It was a few days before I could try out my idea and when I did, getting down on my knees and bending forward so I could whack my bottom while I pressed my other fist up between my legs, I found myself whispering what I suddenly remembered my father had been yelling while he was hitting me. 'Naughty girl! Bad, bad girl!'

It worked, I got that nice warm feeling, and it got stronger and stronger, eventually making me go all dizzy. It was really scary, but nice, and I soon found that the more often I did it the easier it was to bring on those feelings. Of course I eventually found out that I didn't need to whack myself at the same time, and then that if I used my fingers rather than my knuckles, I could give myself even nicer feelings.

I had forgotten all about those times, until you smacked my bottom. Then the memory of that day came flooding back and although I wasn't conscious of actually doing it, I heard myself repeating the words I used to use. I thought you would ask me about it immediately afterwards, and when you didn't I figured you hadn't been able to hear what I was saying.' she said, reaching across and taking my hand.

'I suppose it didn't seem like either the right place or time Lucy.' I replied.

'So, now you know something about my wicked past.'

'Is there more?'

She remained silent for a few moments, then said. 'Nothing too terrible, but as you said, I don't think this is either the right time or place Jack. Now it's time for you to share something. When and how did you learn to masturbate?' she added in a much brighter tone.

'Oh there's no interesting story there. I was older than you were, probably about twelve, and I think I just heard other boys talking about it. At first it sounded a rather dirty thing to do, but then I gave it a go, and found it wasn't at all dirty, it was really, really nice. Then I guess like most boys at that age I must have wanked myself silly for a few years.'

'You were at an all boys school?'

'Yes I was.'

'Was there any other stuff going on?'

'You mean homosexual?'

'Mmm.'

'Not that I'm aware of, it wasn't a boarding school, and I imagine that makes quite a difference. And of course homosexuality was still pretty much under cover in those days. I suppose there must have been, at least amongst the older boys, but as I said, I wasn't consciously aware of anything like that in my group of friends.'

'And when did you lose your virginity? Who was she?'

'In my last year at school. Her name was Margaret, she was from a girls' school in the area. I was in the Drama Society and we had an association with this school, the girls were from the same sort of background as ourselves, in fact a lot of the boys had sisters there. We used to put on co-productions, both the Drama and Musical Societies.

I was never a performer but I was good at organising, so I always looked after getting the sets made, organising costumes, props, that sort of thing. I suppose you'd call my job stage management. Margaret was my counterpart at her school, so we spent a fair bit of time working together when we were putting on the end of year show.

It's funny, because of the various shows we had worked on we had known each other for two or three years, but we had never gone out with each other. I suppose if we had been adults we would have described our relationship as being, purely professional.

But of course the production in that final year was different for us, our last, and I suppose we were both conscious of that. But I also remember looking at her at the start of the production and thinking how different she suddenly seemed, much prettier than I remembered, with a much, much better figure. I found myself frequently stealing glances at her, and sometimes much more than glances, watching the way she moved, feeling those familiar stirrings when I stared at the shape of her body. Anyway, some time during the last few days of rehearsals I plucked up courage and asked her who she was bringing to the after-show party.

It was for performers and others who had worked on the show, plus their girl and boy friends, and was traditionally held the evening after the final performance. It was always a terrific night and I felt my heart start racing when she said she wasn't bringing anyone, that she'd just found out that her boy-friend had been seeing another girl and that she had dumped him.

I don't know what made me say it, I had a girl-friend, well a girl I was going out with, and knew she would be expecting to come to the party with me. But anyway I did say it, I asked Margaret if she would like to go with me.

Margaret knew about the other girl of course, Penny was her name, it was such a close community that everyone always knew who was going around with who. She asked me about Penny and I think I just mumbled something about rather being with her, Margaret.

I don't think I had the guts to say anything to Penny, just let her find out through the grape-vine, which was pretty cowardly, but I suppose not unusual at that age.

Anyway, Margaret and I went together, and when I went to pick her up from her home she looked absolutely stunning and I remember just standing there, gawping at her like some sort of idiot. From then on the evening just got better and better, it was a fantastic party, we had a marvellous time and I felt on top of the world. I couldn't keep my eyes off Margaret, or, whenever I got the opportunity, my hands, and although I say it myself, she seemed to love every minute of it.

As we were nearly all under-age the night was supposed to be alcohol free, but of course nearly all the boys had smuggled in something, which we freely added to whatever drinks were being provided, so most people were a bit squiffy and a few were positively drunk.

Margaret and I had both had several drinks and when I eventually suggested we go outside for some fresh air she seemed just as eager as I was. I found out just how eager when we hopped in the back of the car that my father had let me use, and before we had done anything at all she asked if I had a condom with me.

I suppose I was no different to other boys of that age, I'd had one stuffed in the back of my wallet for ages, just in case, or I suppose, in perpetual hope that one day I'd get a chance to actually use it. So I said yes I had, and she completely blew me away when she said. 'Good, but if we need another, I have one too.'

We used them both, mine about ten minutes later, and hers later that night, when I took her home.'

'What happened to her?' Lucy asked.

'Oh we went out with each other for several months, but we were both going to university, doing completely different courses, meeting new people, and in time it just fizzled out I suppose.'

'No regrets?'

'Oh no, fond memories of course, but I guess you always have those about the person you have sex with for the first time, don't you.'

'Well unfortunately I don't, there was nothing romantic about my first time I'm afraid. Like you it was at a party, but I was more drunk than you obviously were, and so was the guy, much, much drunker. And although I know it happened I've never been really sure which boy it was. I feel a bit ashamed to say it but, it could have been either one of the two boys I was with.' she added.

I could tell from the look on her face that recalling that particular memory worried her more than what had happened with her father's car, and in an attempt to break her mood I said light-heartedly. 'Perhaps it was both.'

My flippant reaction worked, she brightened noticeably and managed a small laugh. 'I suppose it could have been.' she replied, then added. 'But it would be nice to have a good memory to look back on.'

'We'll make plenty of those Lucy. When you're a really old lady you'll have so many good memories to bring back you'll never miss not having that one, I promise.'

'That's a lovely thing to say Jack, and I believe you. But I couldn't help feeling a little bit sad, just for a moment. But now, what's next?' she added much more cheerfully.

In fact the rest of that evening passed relatively quietly and it wasn't that long before we fell asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter 23

Making A Life Together

Given the differences between the way we had each been living previously it was quite remarkable how quickly we settled into our new life together. The fact that I still had my business to run and Lucy became ever more deeply immersed in her studies probably helped, but I think it was mainly the deep love that we felt for each other that completely subsumed any difficulties we may have anticipated. And of course the absolutely fabulous sex-life we shared undoubtedly played its part too.

And most of the credit for the continuing freshness and excitement of that goes to Lucy's ever-growing creative ability to turn mundane, day-to-day happenings into sex-charged opportunities for us. As I imagine most couples do we developed a whole series of things that we liked to do to and with each other from time to time. And although by comparison with most of those this may sound absolutely ludicrous, one of my personal favourites originated from a very ordinary bar stool.

It all started one suddenly wet and windy Summer Sunday afternoon. For some reason we had slept in later than usual that morning, then after breakfast had gone for a long walk on the beach. The weather was fine until we got home and started preparing lunch, when a change came through and the resulting wind and sheeting rain put paid to any ideas we might have had about going out again.

After eating we had gone through to the lounge-room and while I sat on the sofa to read the papers, Lucy decided to proof read the part of her study project she had been working on. For some reason she had chosen to spread those papers out on the bar at the end of the room and so was sitting on one of the stools to check through them.

I'd been so completely absorbed in a couple of articles that I'm quite sure that for once, neither Lucy nor sex had even entered my mind, but then as I dropped the paper to turn to another page I happened to glance up.

Instead of sitting facing the bar Lucy was sideways on to it, and it was the purely fortuitous combination of her being perched high on the stool, and the fact that she was wearing a rather short skirt and pair of pure white panties, that triggered it all.

Just getting up on the stool had made her skirt ride up, leaving a delightful length of thigh on display, which would have been quite enough to catch my eye, but as luck would have it just then she shifted around a bit, and I found I could see virtually all the way up between them.

I knew I was staring, but simply couldn't stop myself from continuing to do so. It seemed ridiculous, we had made love to each other the previous night, would undoubtedly do so again sometime later, but I still couldn't help myself reacting to what was no more than a flash of her panties.

Just then something must have made her glance in my direction and the strange look she saw on my face grabbed and then held her attention. She continued to watch me and it took her quite some time to realise that I was staring at something, and then to understand what that was. Then when it clicked, unlike many other women in that situation, who would have merely moved, turned themselves away from an obviously prying gaze, Lucy didn't. Oh she moved, but not away, towards me, and shifted her legs just a little further apart as she did so.

I think we were both reminded of the previous time we'd done something similar, the day she'd worn the black, crotchless pantyhose. But unlike that time, when she had artfully and patiently awoken my arousal, this time had been purely accidental, and for me at least, much more instantaneous. And that time I'd been stirred by the surrealistic thoughts I'd had about some imaginary negress, this time it was my own Lucy that had done it.

Even though at that stage I could see nowhere near what I had the other time, just the always tempting curve of her thighs and the edge of her obviously pure white panties, were enough to bring on a sudden rush of erotic desire. And although the angle I was seeing her from was nowhere near as favourable what I saw was more than enough to set my imagination to work.

I could picture how tightly the fabric was being stretched by the plump, furry mound beneath it, see the clear outline of the cleft between her poutingly full pussy-lips. And as I continued staring I felt my cock stirring, then quickly lengthening and thickening, just the mere thought of what lay beneath that flash of white nylon was giving me an almost instantaneous erection.

I don't know how long Lucy remained sitting there for me, nor what, if anything, I expected to happen next, but in my wildest dreams I certainly couldn't have anticipated what she actually did.

Without saying a word she slipped down off the bar stool, and for a few moments I thought that was to be the end of my strange reverie. But then she came across the room towards me, and still remaining quite silent, sat on the arm-rest on the other end of the sofa, then swivelled around to plant her feet up on the seat.

I glanced up to see a tight smile on her face, then a movement dragged them down again, and I watched as she slowly moved her feet, then spread her knees much further apart.

The view I had was exactly as I had imagined it would be, the nylon stretched tight by her mound, the cleft of her pussy clearly defined. But what I hadn't pictured was the tell-tale dark patch. Like me, she was getting sexually aroused.

Again I have no idea how long she continued doing no more than that, just sitting there letting me look at her. But then she finally spoke. 'Let me see you Jack, slip your trousers off for me.'

And while I did that she did the same, tugging her panties down and then somehow managing to both extricate her feet and hike her skirt up to her waist without getting down off the arm-rest.

As I knew it was, by then my cock was fully erect, quivering slightly from the tension that had already built inside me. And as Lucy settled herself again I briefly glanced up from the irresistibly enticing view of her totally naked pussy, and saw she was staring down at it just as intently as I had been staring at her. 'Now move closer, so I can reach you.' she said in a low, almost hesitant whisper.

Without taking my eyes off what she was displaying for me I did as she asked, then shuddered when she reached down and I felt her long cool fingers closing around the heat of my throbbing shaft.

She toyed with me for a while, not to tease me, but because she knew how much I liked delaying the inevitable outcome, and also to give herself time to catch up to my already heightened state of arousal. But that was driven higher and higher because as she slowly stroked one hand up and down my rearing cock, she used the other on herself, giving me the double pleasure of what she was doing to me, and being able to watch her doing the equivalent thing to herself.

Some time later, once I'd cleaned off the mess made by the massive spray of semen she pumped out of me and she had done the same with the juices that had flowed from her pussy when she climaxed, we talked through some of the feelings we'd both experienced. And, because she had such a wonderfully open attitude to everything to do with sex, and seemed determined to experiment with anything that made it better for either of us, Lucy immediately added the 'peep-show', as she called it, to all the other things we tried.

It was amazing how many ways she found to give me a show, ranging from a quick, apparently stolen glimpse, to the even more erotically charged, purposefully deliberate display. And she must have bought herself a few pairs of panties that she kept especially for those occasions, a couple of which were so sheer that when she had them on she might just as well have not been wearing any at all.

In addition to those she also had the special gusset-less panty-hose I'd bought her, and she used those to stir me up in two different ways. Sometimes she'd wear them for one of her 'peep-shows' and at other times to have a less immediately physical effect, relying on my imagination to do the trick.

We might be visiting an art gallery, or the theatre, or dining out somewhere, but every so often, and usually quite early on, she'd whisper that she was wearing them. Just knowing that never failed to have as powerful an effect as when she actually showed herself off to me, and there were many evenings when I spent half of it with a painfully strong erection.

On a couple of those occasions, when she sensed my reaction had for some reason been even stronger than usual, she took pity on me and gave me at least temporary relief, finding some dark, quiet corner where she could use either her hand or her mouth to reduce the volume and pressure of the churning semen.

Although I found any of the various panty-hose more than sufficient to get me going, the black ones for some reason had the edge on the white and flesh-coloured pairs. Normally she would keep them for evening wear, but every now and then she would make it clear she had something really special in mind by wearing those during the day.

Less frequently, but producing even more dramatically intense results were our experiments with bondage.