2 comments/  8276 views/  0 favorites

Wasted Years

By: oldlover40



I am transfixed by that one droplet of sea-water making its way down your arm. God, do you smell the fragrance of the ocean? Like a return to the basic stuff of life. Feeling primitive. Sun's going down and the sand is cooling off. Nature is backing away from the tropical heat of the day, but the warmth of your smile dispels the chill and your eyes smolder in the twilight.

My fishing boat bobs on the tide. Earlier, I had just smiled sadly when you asked me about her name. Maybe now you get it. Trim and clean she lies there "The Wasted Years"

"Put down your drink and come with me", you say, "there's more to life than the perfect Daiquiri".

Smiling you walk up the beach, the soft footing causing your perfect hips to sway in a way far more obvious than you would have liked. I watched in rapt appreciation, and tossed off the ambrosiac dregs of the Bacardi Daiquiri.

Turning to follow you, I cast a final glance at my cabin cruiser anchored off-shore. "The Wasted Years" I called her, but we both know the years have been far from wasted. Yes, we had both been committed to others and had loved only from afar, but the love we had shared had kept us both sane, or somewhat so. And, I thought, now here we are together, without any other between us. Oh but difficulties still remain, I remind myself. Soulmates through time, are we sentenced to never share our love – as lovers- in this lifetime? A cruel – but very possible fate.

But this was not a time for philosophical hypotheses. You were up ahead of me, your lovely form at one with the wild sub-tropical night. I felt unfamiliar stirrings deep inside, as I watched you swaying and shimmering in the failing light. Then- on a vagrant breeze, we both heard a snatch of deep throbbing rhythm and plaintive soaring wails – the unmistakable, irresistible soul of the islands, a steel drum band in the little bistro a few hundred yards away. 

Suddenly the sultry woman disappeared and you became the eternal girl-child that is never far from your surface. I smiled and nodded and we turned toward the source of the music. Going through the door we found ourselves in a palm frond-bedecked room.

Larger than we had expected, the room had a low stage along the back wall and a rustic bar along one side. Lighting was by Tiki torches, and air conditioning was from the inside out, from the frozen drinks issuing from the bar. Tables were tree stumps of a size not grown on this island this century. Chairs were woven palm thatch on bamboo frames. Drinks were served by dark-skinned girls who would have turned every head in any room not also containing you.. And the band! 

Well, this band was a collection of the most exuberant, talented, and gorgeous young men in all of South Florida. Every chest chiseled out of flawless mahogany and bare but for the beads, sharks teeth or flowered leis each one wore. Their white linen pants were skintight and ended at mid-calf. They wore no shoes, but each had an unusual shell anklet on his right leg. 

The members of the band seemed to consider themselves guests as well as staff, as they were freely mixing with the clientele. As we entered, it seemed that every person, staff or guest, in the room greeted us. To another couple, it may have been disconcerting, but, with our gregariousness, it seemed quite natural. Indeed, it was as though these strangers knew us, and we were never allowed to feel strange or left out in any way. 

A chestnut-skinned beauty led us to a table near the stage and left a basket of conch fritters and a bottle of Tabasco Sauce. As I looked at her admiringly, I felt your eyes appraising her also. Then our eyes met and we smiled, both finding pleasure in the girl's beauty. We had no time to discuss or think about the lovely hostess, because a booming voice filled the room like a clap of thunder. 

"New friends! Hey everybody, we got new friends". She was bouncing toward us, a slightly overweight, but still handsome woman of indeterminate age, with long white hair flowing past her strong shoulders. Her smile was contagious and its brilliance illuminated the whole room. "New friends, come say hello to Mama!" 

I rose to greet her, but she was sailing headlong to where you sat, smiling your dazzling welcome. You got to your feet just in time to be swept up into her arms and swirled around in an enthusiastic bear hug. 

As you were being welcomed in this fashion, I took the moment to scrutinize our new acquaintance. Perhaps 50, I thought... or older... or younger, I had to admit. Dark skin, a Central American accent, beautiful bone structure, and, on the back of her neck, a startling tattoo of a monarch butterfly, in bright orange and shimmering silver. We would learn later that her name was Marcella; also that only "bill collectors and preachers" called her that. If you were her friend, she was "Mama". If you were not her friend, she was unavailable. We would learn that the tattoo on her left bicep, the backyard tat of a motorcycle was a tribute to a man who had presumed to consider himself the love of her life – a presumption like believing yourself to deserve all the rays of the sun. Perhaps he would still be around, had he not tattooed his own name, "Victor", beneath the motorcycle tattoo...and had he not occasionally taken the liberty of using the despised name, Marcella,. And now nothing remained of Victor in Mama's life – except the tattoo. 

But, this knowledge came later, for we had already been designated as new friends, and deserving of all the perks that came with the title. 

You would ask me later why she took to us as she did, but, had you been able to see your own beautiful smile as she approached us, you would understand. No power on heaven or earth could have failed to melt under that smile. 

And. when she had thoroughly hugged and otherwise pummeled you, she made her imperial way to my side of the table. She stopped, gazed deeply into my eyes and said, "Oh, senor, do you not know the pain you invite upon yourself?" But, instantly, her smile returned and she answered her own question. "But of course you do, and it's worth every minute. You will both be Mama's special friends".

The rest of the evening was a blur of sensations. Some were visual- the gorgeous drummers, who were also accomplished singers of Panamanian and other Latin American songs, and dancers of amazing sensuality and grace, combined with the athleticism of world-class gymnasts. 

The beautiful hostess/waitresses, who would also dance for us, and who were as arousing as they were innocent. 

The colors of the banners and flowers and candles and...well, just the entire panoply of color and movement that mesmerized us, as we enjoyed a night like no other. Mama would not hear of us ordering from the menu. Imperiously, she vetoed my Bacardi Cocktail and your frozen strawberry and Passion Fruit Daiquiri. In their place, she decreed that we would have "Straitjackets". We exchanged a glance that said, "WTF?" as clearly as if we had spoken. Then I leaned toward you and said, "Of course, we need strait jackets. Why else would we be here, and even more, why would we think we should be together?" 

Your hearty laugh reassured Mama and the drinks were on their way. She would not hear that we didn't want to eat. She chided us, that we had not finished the fritters, which, admittedly were the best I had ever eaten. As we enjoyed the crispy treats, with the chewy succulent conch meat, the bite of garlic and the sweetness of red onion, and washed it down with the tall, icy amber drinks, she chased everyone else away from our table and leaned in close. In conspiratorial tones she announced that there could only be one entree for such an important night, and she would see to it herself. She answered all our questions with her smiles and her gentle caresses, bestowed on us both, and then moved away toward the kitchen. You shook your head as she left us. 

"What was all that?" I laughed, and admitted I really did not know. 

"Somehow she felt that my love for you is hopeless, Her first reaction when she looked at me was overwhelming ...I don't want to say pity, because I can't admit that. Let's call it sympathy." 

Of course, you started to protest, but I shushed you with a smile. "Drink up", I suggested. 

Indicating the tall drink you asked, "What the hell is it?" 

"Can't say for sure, but I've placed a couple of the obvious ingredients. That licorice taste is absinthe, the juices are Passion Fruit, mango and guava, along with the usual pineapple. Based on everything else around here, I have to guess there is rum." 

Tinkling laughter greeted this, and out beautiful waitress said approvingly, "Good job, Mister. You came real close". 

You took another sip and said, "I taste coconut, very faintly. Is there coconut rum?" 

Her eyes lit up and her teeth shone in a most breathtaking-and oddly familiar- smile. "Just right, Miss. Everything Mister said, except the rum is coconut Bacardi." She smiled again and this time I saw it. 

"Marissa, are you related to Mama?" I asked. 

"Sure , Mister, she's my Mama", and swishing her lovely hips, she was gone, leaving two more of the tall concoctions. Perhaps Victor had left another trace of himself in Mama's life after all..

I suggested to you that we kind of take it easy on the drinks, causing you to snicker, because God knows you knew how to handle your alcohol. 

"No", I cautioned. It's not about the alcohol, it's about the absinthe and the thujone. That's the ingredient that made absinthe the first and probably best date rape drug in history". 

"But I thought they banned that stuff years ago". 

"Yes, they did, in the US," I said, but this doesn't taste like the American stuff. Just be careful is all I'm saying." 

Dinner came and, as I suspected, Mama had little regard for ordinary laws or limits. Nestled in the middle of the platters, surrounded by black beans and rice, fried plantains, and a delicate shrimp salad, was a sizzling steak, cut thin –no more than four ounces. And I suddenly knew that I was about to eat a turtle steak for the first time in half a century, since the taking of the ocean giants had become illegal.

Thirty minutes later, plates empty and stomachs full, we were finishing the last drops of our third round of drinks. I knew that I was feeling a bit otherworldly, and your eyes told me the absinthe was affecting you also. Memories and impressions of the next few hours are indistinct, to say the very least. I recall the lovely Marissa snuggling close to my chest, while sitting on my lap, and I recall some long suppressed feelings as she did.

I saw you dancing with one, then several of the gorgeous boy-men; noticing that a light sheen of perspiration caused you to shine in the torchlight as you danced. The dancing musicians had rubbed their bodies with oil, so that they also shone and their dark skin sparkled as they moved sinuously with you I also remember your clear alto, harmonizing with them on some Panamanian song they were teaching you. 

I remember one thing most clearly though, and that was you smilingly easing Marissa out of her perch and kissing me gently, as you pulled on my arm, guiding me to my feet. I remember that dance, holding you so closely and kissing that perfect curve of your neck, and I will always remember the bittersweet taste of that dance, that embrace, those kisses. 

We left the bistro together amidst hugs, kisses and raucous jokes from all the happy staff concerning the absinthe-fueled gymnastics they imagined lay in our immediate future. 

I do not remember a lot about our brief walk back to the rented cabin, but I do remember lying with you in the enormous hammock and toying absently with your hair, as we both fell asleep under the incomparable Key West moon.

Wasted Years



It's so easy to allow misunderstandings to destroy your life.

So understand

Don't waste your time

Always searching for those wasted years

Face up...make your stand

And realize you're living in the golden years

Iron Maiden

___________________________________

 The football soared high into the air only to be followed by a group of screaming kids sprinting across the school playing field to be the first to reach it.

"Bloody first years," Simon muttered as we walked across the field towards school. Another day of toil at St Agnes' school faced us. Simon and I were in the upper sixth form, making us both 18 years old. As members of the elite in the school we found the noise and misbehaviour of the youngest kids irritating in extreme.

Maybe I should tell you about ourselves. I'm Henry Stevens, six foot tall, rugby loving and reasonably academic, I like to think that I mix rugged good looks with a hard, strong body and a great mind. Mind you, the other guys I know wouldn't agree but there's no harm in selling yourself hard. In truth most of the stuff I said is true. I played rugby for the first team and enjoyed a good ruck. I was head boy of the school, a post I liked to think was due to all my fine characteristics but the guys reckoned it was just because they wanted a hard man to keep the other kids in line. I didn't care either way, I enjoyed the responsibility it gave me.

I was studying law, economics, French and politics. I chose these subjects because they offer several lucrative career moves whether as a lawyer, a politician or an accountant. I couldn't lose either way. Why French? You ask. Couple of good reasons. First my mother's family are French and I was brought up to be bilingual. Secondly, it seemed to me that anyone entering the world of law or finance should have a second language.

Apart from my interest in sport, I enjoyed music and reading. I was also a devoted diarist. Don't ask me why but I religiously set down in my diary everything that happened to me and how I felt about things. Maybe it would help me write my autobiography when I became famous,

Simon Harris was my best mate. A total nutter who would sooner get pissed than play a game of football but who had the finest intellect I had ever encountered. Although he was an irrepressible jokester I had no doubt whatsoever that he would take a first class degree at Oxbridge without any problem. He was studying the same subjects as me but was clear in his objectives. Simon had every intention of become a barrister and again I had no doubt that he would do well.

The bell was just ringing as we reached the sixth form building. The first lecture of day was "The origins of English law" - a subject guaranteed to send the most enthusiastic student to sleep. The room was fairly full when we arrived. 

Sat in its usual place at the front was the "St Agnes mafia". This was a group of five girls comprising of Shirley Foster and her four brown-nosing sycophants. Shirley's father was a high court judge and her family lived in a huge mansion in the most expensive part of town.

Shirley had an attitude problem. In essence she considered herself to be of god-like stature - the rest of us being no better than unwashed peasants. Apart from being an unspeakably spoiled girl who thought her shit didn't stink, she also was the foxiest bird in the school. She had the usual attributes - blonde, slim, fine large tits, a cute rear and long, slim legs. Every guy I knew would willingly give her a good shafting but she never let any of us get a look in. None of us was worthy even to go on a date with her. Simon had once suggested that god had been so busy giving her the perfect body that he forgot to give her a cunt. Purely speculation but I would have loved to have had the chance to check it out.

Mr Syme, our teacher had arrived and launched into the days lecture. Now Mr Syme was a perfect example of someone who should never be a teacher. I had no doubt that he had a first class mind but he had the social skills of tiger with a tooth ache. To him every student was a pain in the arse and we were all treated with the same level of caustic contempt. He was a weasel faced man with thin grey hair who wore the same tweed suit every day and spoke with a whining voice. 

No sooner had he started than the door opened and a late-comer crept in. The "mafia" gave a groan of derision as the figure tried to remain inconspicuous as she walked up the aisle. It was Jane Roberts.

Every class has a victim. That misfit or pariah that the nasty bullying faction love to abuse. Jane's problem was simply that she was overweight and she dressed scruffily. She had long brunette hair which always looked unkept and greasy and her standard clothing was a long, loose skirt, a baggy black sweater and doc Martens boots. She was actually quite a pretty girl but that didn't seem to matter to the mafia.

I personally had nothing against Jane. I had only spoken to her once or twice so I hadn't had a chance to get to know her. She seemed pretty shy and very defensive. I suppose what was most unfortunate is that none of us did anything to help Jane out - something I'm not proud of.

"I'm so glad you decided to honour us with your presence today, Miss Roberts," Mr Syme greeted her. "When you're ready I would like to resume the lecture."

Jane blushed with embarrassment and shuffled into her seat. I felt really sorry for her and quietly resolved to watch out for Jane.

It was raining heavily when we left after the last lecture that day. I saw Jane approaching as I was getting into my Golf Gti. Recalling my earlier promise I called out to her.

"Can I give you a lift?" I asked.

She looked surprised, mumbled "no thanks" and walked off in the rain. Very strange.

When I got home I found mum and dad browsing holiday brochures in the lounge. I grabbed a can of coke and joined them.

Unlike most kids, I had an excellent relationship with my parents. Somehow they had managed to tread a fine line as parents of allowing me freedom to do my own thing without either spoiling me or allowing me to run riot. We had a strong relationship based on respect and trust. Dad was a chemical engineer and mum a lawyer. After a few years of following their own careers they had formed a consultancy providing advice to chemical companies on safety, legal and compliance issues. They had found an excellent niche and were doing very well.

We were in fact pretty well off. We lived in a huge house - much too large for just the three of us. Two B'mers on the drive along with my little Gti.

"Hi, what gives?" I asked as I cracked my can.

"We're pretty well finished the Acme chemicals safety report and we think we deserve a long skiing holiday over Christmas. Interested?" Dad replied.

I knew that they had worked non-stop for the last three months on the Acme job and that it had earned them a mint. They deserved some serious chill time. I didn't really fancy skiing and thought it would be nice to be on my own.

"Sounds good. If you don't mind, I would rather stay here. You deserve time together without me being gooseberry," I replied with a knowing grin.

Mum gave me a sharp look and blushed as she realised the hidden meaning in my remark. She gave Dad a quick look of concern and I guessed what she was thinking.

"I suppose you are old enough but we will be away at least a month." Mum finally spoke.

"But no wrecking the house with parties." Dad added.

"As if!" I put on my most angelic face. They both laughed. They knew how much I liked to party but they also knew that my group of friends were OK and unlikely to go on a rampage.

"Enough of this," Dad interrupted, we have planning to do and you should get a couple of hours study in before dinner.

"Sure," I replied and rose to leave.

"And keep your stereo turned down," mum added.

--------------------------

A couple of days later I was on lunch time patrol duty. This involved walking the school area checking for kids misbehaving. I was stood chatting up a very attractive girl in fifth form when I saw Jane approaching. She stopped and after a long moment of hesitation asked if she could speak to me. Being head boy has a number of perks including a study where I can retire to work. Not only does this room have a desk but I also have a leather couch, radio and kettle. A real home from home.

"Let's go to my study, we can talk in private there," I suggested.

After making coffee, I sat down on the couch next to Jane.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, smiling.

Again she hesitated as if trying to work out what to say.

"Y...you know how Shirley Foster and her friends are so nasty to me all the time?" I nodded encouragingly. "Well they've started sending me hate mail. I don't know what to do." I could see her eyes filling with tears and she began to sob. I put my arm around her shoulders and tried to reassure her.

Once her sobs had subsided I asked to see the letters. There were five of them, all with a similar theme:

"Piss off you fat slag. We don't need your type here, go back to where you belong, in the gutter."

One of them threatened her with a good kicking.

"How do you know it's Shirley?" I asked.

"I saw one of the gang slip a letter into my locker when she thought I wasn't around."

I sat back and thought for a couple of minutes. Shirley wasn't the type to back off just because I told her. If I could fix her then I knew that her buddies would run off like frightened rabbits. The only option was to play dirty. I needed to gain some leverage over the judge's daughter.

"I think I know how to fix her but it will involve you getting some more aggro. Can you hack it?"

Jane nodded.

"Anything to get them off my back."

I explained my plan and suggested that we execute it after school.

It was pouring with rain after school when I hid myself in bushes at the side of the school field. I knew that Shirley and her crew passed this way on the way home and I had armed myself with a camera and telephoto lens. In a while I saw the mafia leave school and start across the field. Jane had also been watching and left on a parallel course to them.

One of the mafia spotted Jane and gave a shout. I heard Shirley shout out, "Get her!!"

I began taking pictures as they ran after her. Jane began to run but deliberately let them catch her. With a push she was knocked to the ground and the mafia circled her. First they contented themselves with smearing her with mud but Shirley soon grew bored and began kicking her. I ran off half a dozen shots, including two of Shirley putting in the boot and ran on the field to stop matters.

I shouted out and the girls stopped.

"What hell is going on?" I shouted. The girls looked at me with blank insolence. Jane lay on floor, wet, muddy and sobbing.

"She called us names and we taught her a lesson." Shirley was unrepentant. "She started it."

"I want to talk to you, the rest of you clear off before I put you on report." I wanted to sort Shirley out on her own. The others walked off reluctantly and stood by the road waiting. I turned my attention to Shirley.

"I know you are lying, I saw everything. Jane didn't call you any names, your attack was unprovoked."

"Prove it if you can," Shirley wasn't about to roll over.

"Oh I can prove it. You see I have the whole event on film. Lucky for Jane I was taking some photos of the school building when it started."

Shirley's face was now pale and her look of aggression had gone.

"It seems to me that you wouldn't like your father and the headmaster see these photos. I can just imagine the judge's reaction to seeing his daughter commit assault." I paused to let the thought sink in.

"You wouldn't dare! " she snapped with a little less bravado than before.

"Just try me. You've behaved like a spoilt little shit for far too long and it's time to put a stop to it."

"Let me tell you what is going to happen. You are going to be nice to Jane from now on. So are your friends. I don't expect you to be her friend but I do expect you to treat her respect and decency. If either you or your friends say or do anything out of line, I will send copies to the photographs to your father, the headmaster, the police and the local paper. I am being crystal clear?"

Shirley gulped and nodded.

"Pardon? I can't hear you."

"Yes, I understand."

"Now apologise to Jane."

Shirley paused and finally spoke.

"I'm sorry Jane."

I could see she hated having to do it, her expression was like someone who had just had a prickly cactus shoved up their arse.

"Good girl now clear off."

Shirley walked off to join her friends.

Jane was still sobbing.

"Sorry I was slow in stopping them but I needed to get the evidence. Did they hurt you?"

"I'm OK. I'll have a few bruises but it was worth it. Jane grinned, her face almost comical with its mud and tear streaks.

I insisted that I gave her a lift home. For some reason Jane was reluctant but she finally acquiesced.

Apart from telling me where she lived Jane sat quietly during the drive. Her home was in a block of flats on a notoriously rough estate on the outskirts of town. I parked up and in spite of her protests insisted on walking with her to her door. I was a little concerned that in spite of her claims of being OK that she might be in shock. I thought it best to explain what had happened to her parents.

The block of flats was run down and well sprayed with graffiti. Almost inevitably the lifts were broken and we had to walk to the sixth floor. The door to Jane's flat was painted white with "Slag" written across it in black spray paint. Jane opened the door and to turned to me.

"Thanks for the lift, I'm OK now?" she began.

She was interrupted from a female voice calling out from inside.

"Brought a guest eh? Bring him in. I like to meet your friends."

I saw Jane cringe at the sound of the voice but she nevertheless showed me in. The hall was uncarpeted and the flat smelled of cigarette smoke, booze and the unmistakeable smell of cannabis smoke. Jane took me into the lounge. The room had a minimum of furniture - just a worn couch, a coffee table, a TV with video and a rug. Her mother lay on the couch. A fat woman wearing a dressing gown which hung open showing her sagging tit and a pair of worn red panties. She looked unkept, her hair hanging uncombed to her shoulders. She was smoking a joint and had a glass of clear white liquor in her hand.

"I won't get up, I'm a little tired today," she rasped drunkenly. "I was up all night entertaining."

As she spoke she was looking me up and down as if inspecting me.

"Well... well... Janie, you've got a pretty one there. You'll have to lend me him sometime." She laughed nastily and burst into a fit of coughing.

Jane looked at her mother with undisguised hatred. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. As we went down the hallway I passed an open door to what I assumed was her mother's room. The bed was unmade and covered in a stained sheet. I could see an empty bottle on the floor along with several used condoms. At the end of the hall was another door, fastened with a padlock. Jane unlocked it and took me inside. Her bedroom was a stark contrast to the rest of the house. It was neatly and brightly decorated with decent furniture and a carpet.

"Please sit down," she asked, "pointing at a chair in the corner. "Let me get out of these wet clothes and get cleaned up."

Jane turned away from me and began to undress. I looked away but caught sight of her reflection in her dressing table mirror. I rather liked what I saw. Her bulky clothes actually hid a very nice body. Sure she wasn't slim but she certainly wasn't obese. She wore plain white cotton panties which stretched nicely over her broad rear. I could never understand the preoccupation that women had with whether their bums looked big in certain clothes. Jane's looked just right. She wore a white bra which struggled to cope with her significant tits. I'm no expert but my guess was that she was a good DD size. I could see several red marks on her back and stomach where she had been kicked. Jane would have some nasty bruises in a day or two.

Jane slipped on another pair of jeans and a sweater and made some coffee. She lay on her bed and after a moment began to speak.

"I suppose I owe you some explanation but please understand that no-one else knows what I'm going to tell you."

I had some doubts about whether I wanted to hear this but I also guessed that she needed to talk."

"It's OK, you can trust me."

For the next ten minutes Jane told me things which I wouldn't have believed possible. Her father had left home when she was three. He had been a brutal man who drank heavily and had been generous with his fists. He had had some bother with a local gang and had moved to safer territories up north. Her mother was also been a heavy drinker and chose to earn her living by turning tricks and doing a little drug dealing. She spent most of her time drunk, stoned or in bed with various "friends" she had.

Jane had a part time job which she used to furnish her room, buy her clothes and food. She expected and got nothing from her mother. The lock on the outside of her door and the bolts on the inside served two purposes. They prevented her mother from pawning her possessions and it kept out her mother's "friends".

This was necessary because one night one of her mother's male "friends" had fancied a little extra pussy and come into her room. He forced her to give him a blow job. What had hurt most was that her mother had helped the guy by holding her down. She found the ordeal disgusting, the man's cock was greasy and had stank of what she assumed to be her mother's cunt. As Jane lay in her bed sobbing afterward her mother showed little sympathy.

"Swallowing a little cum won't hurt you. Anyway, we need to keep the customers happy."

From that time onward her room was kept secure at all times and she kept a kitchen knife under her pillow. The next man who tried anything would get a nasty surprise.

Jane was now waiting to complete her final exams so that she could get away from home. This in itself had been made more difficult by the stress that had been caused by Shirley.

I didn't interrupt at all as she spoke, simply allowing her to talk herself to a standstill. Eventually when she finished I could see how drained she was. She also seemed relieved to have told someone about her life.

When I considered my own parents and my life, I realised how lucky I was. 

I had no idea what to say in response to her tale of woe. Compared to Jane, my life was on a different plane.

"Come here," I told her.

Joan looked bemused but nevertheless left the bed and walked over. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a long, firm hug. At first she seemed surprised but the hugged me back. I tried to ignore the feel of her heavenly tits pressing against my body but it wasn't easy. We stood hugging without speaking for a couple of minutes before Joan pulled away.

With a small smile she simply said "Thanks for listening and the help."

"No problem. Look I'm here for you if you need any help, OK?"

Jane nodded. It was getting late so I made my farewells and headed home.

-----------------

The period leading up to Christmas was extremely busy. I had a couple of exams to get through, mum and dad had finished the Acme job and were getting ready for their holiday and I was busy planning parties.

Finally the day came for their departure. Mum had stocked up the house with food but nevertheless fussed over whether I had enough to survive - don't you just hate it when your mum forgets that you are now capable of looking after yourself?

Dad had got an extra Amex card for me so that I had sufficient cash.




Wasted Years



"A credit card is for those unexpected extras," he explained. "It isn't a licence to go on a shopping spree. Spend too much and you're dead."

"Gotcha Dad," I replied with a smile. He knew I wouldn't abuse his trust.

--------------------------

It was Simon who noticed that Jane hadn't been at school for a couple of weeks. The weather had turned nasty with heavy snowfalls and frosts and we were definitely in for a white Christmas. I checked with the school office but no-one had been in touch to say where Jane was. Worried, I drove around to the flat after school.

The door was answered by her mother. She was in her usual housecoat.

"Well, well, its lover boy. Anything I can do for you?" she asked pulling her housecoat open to reveal her fat naked body.

"Can I speak to Jane please, Mrs Roberts?"

"She's not here."

"Oh, when are you expecting her home??"

"I don't know and don't care. She's left". Mrs Roberts snarled. "Come and look if you don't believe me."

We went to Jane's room. It had been gutted. All the furniture, her hi-fi and all her other bits and pieces were gone.

"Surely she's told you where she's gone?" I asked.

"Look sonny, she can be in hell for all I care. She's old enough to look after herself now and I don't need any grief from you. Now piss off, I'm expecting company."

I have to admit I was worried. Where the hell could Jane go? Was she on the streets? It was getting dark and the weather forecasts warned that temperatures were going to drop well below zero. I decided to look for her.

First I tried the hostels for the homeless. I knew that they were always full at Christmas. A year earlier I had done some voluntary work and I knew the manager of one hostel. I always found the places depressing. Although the staff did their best to create a cheery atmosphere, there was always that undercurrent of depression and despair. Everyone knew that the shelter was temporary and that they would be back on the streets after Christmas.

No-one had heard of Jane or anyone who looked like her. The next place to look were the areas of town used by those on the streets. There were a couple near the canal. Armed with some cans of strong larger, cigarettes and some meat pies I set out to meet whoever was there. I found a group sitting around a large bonfire - there was always plenty of wooden pallets to provide fuel.

I knew one or two of the guys and I sat down for a chat and to hand out the goodies I had brought with me. The food, booze and smokes went a long way to mellow the guys and I asked them about Jane.

"There has been a girl around for a couple of weeks. Very shy and definitely new to the streets. She had nothing with her. One of the guys had a spare sleeping bag which he gave her." Life on the streets is tough if you don't have something like a sleeping bag or blanket to help keep you warm.

She had stayed around for a couple of days and then had disappeared.

There was an alley near the cathedral which was sometimes used but it wasn't a safe place. They suggested I check it out.

The alley was dark but from my torchlight I could see it was cluttered with rubbish of all sorts. I walked the full length but saw nothing. As I turned to leave I heard a single cough. I turned back but could see nothing but rubbish. I started to search sifting through the pile of trash. Buried below I found a filthy sleeping bag. My heart thudded as I pulled it open. Inside was Jane.

She looked deadly pale in the torchlight. She smelled strongly of booze and she lay in a pool of puke. Her face was cold and I pushed my hand inside her sweater. The skin of her chest was cool but she was shivering. This was a good sign -- it was when a person stopped shivering that the possibility of hypothermia rears its head. I pulled her out of the sleeping bag, not an easy task even with my strength and carried her across my shoulders to the car. I had to get her home and warmed up in a hurry. Her jeans were soaked with piss and I detected a strong smell of shit. She was in a mess.

She lay comatose throughout the journey. I had done first aid courses and I knew that it was crucial that the temperature of the core of her body did not fall too low. It was important to treat the person gently so that no further internal cooling occurred. When we reached the house I carried Jane up to the bathroom. I propped her on the toilet and began filling the bath with warm water.

I began peeling Jane's clothes off her. At some stage she had messed her panties and I had the nasty task of cleaning her up. All her clothes would have to be thrown out. I eased Jane into the bath and began washing her. The warm water plus my vigorous soaping of her body began to get her temperature up.

I won't lie and tell you that I didn't look at her while I washed her. Her plump body, huge breasts capped with large pink nipples, the thick bush over her cunt and the thick stubble under her arm pits. Any other time I would have thoroughly enjoyed such an erotic experience. Instead I felt like I was preparing a corpse for burial.

After over an hour, I sensed that she was beginning to come around. Getting her out of the bath was trickier than getting her in. She was still pretty unresponsive so it was a case of trying to lift a slippery dead weight. After much struggling and grunting I got her onto the edge of the bed where I could towel her down. Once dry she was a little easier to lift. I carried Jane into the guest room and after a major struggle got her into a pair of my pyjamas. I had put an electric blanket in the bed so I was able to slip her into a nicely warmed bed. Once I tucked her into bed, I phoned our neighbour who was a doctor. Fortunately he was home and came over immediately. He checked her out.

"She is a very lucky girl. Her pulse rate isn't too bad and her chest is clear. Her rectal temperature indicates that her core temperature isn't too depressed. Fortunately she doesn't have hypothermia. You got to her just in time. I don't think she would have survived the night. Now tell what is she doing here, you should have taken her to the hospital?" Doctor Hughes fixed me with a serious look.

I explained who she was and what had happened.

"Well, you're a good friend indeed, she's double blessed. What you need to do is get something warm into her stomach. No tea or coffee, I suggest some warm clear broth. Then let her sleep. If she starts coughing, call me, I don't want her developing pneumonia. I'll call round in the morning."

With that he left.

I found a can of clear soup in the kitchen and filled a large bowl. Slowly I fed Jane with the soup. Fortunately she was sufficiently conscious to swallow without choking but she really didn't wake enough to speak. There was a comfortable arm chair in the corner of the bedroom so I turned off the main light and settled in chair to keep vigil.

Jane slept the night through. I was awoken by a slight noise from the bed - Jane was awake. She looked about her confused. She saw me but it was a moment before she realised who I was.

"Henry, where am I?"

I sat on the edge of the bed and explained that she was at my home.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Er, OK I think, a little tired and really hungry."

"How does tea and toast sound?" I was delighted she seemed OK.

I explained the events of the previous night as she ate. Jane ate with a healthy appetite and I was pleased to see some colour in her face instead of the deathly pallor of the previous evening.

Jane suddenly looked concerned.

"Who got me into these pyjamas? Who put me to bed?" She asked.

"I'm afraid I did. I also gave you a bath. I needed to get you warm and, er, you had a little accident in your panties." I admitted.

Jane blushed deep red. "You mean...?"

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I want to die with embarrassment." Jane began to sob.

"Hey relax," I tried to lighten things up, "It's not every day that I have the privilege of wiping a beautiful woman's bum. Anyway, I told you before that I was here for you. 

A sudden thought crossed my mind. A friend of mum's was a nurse in an old people's home. She had explained that her customers were often incontinent and that she often got a nasty surprise when sliding her hands under them to move them in bed.

"There's nothing worse than getting poo under your finger-nails. That's why nurses don't chew their fingernails," she added with a grin.

"Eww! Thats nasty," Jane grinned after I told her my little story. It had the desired effect though of lifting her spirits a little.

Now tell me why you were on the streets."

"It happened after you left our flat. Mum was unusually obnoxious wanting to know all about you and asking whether we had had sex. Then she told me that she had some special guests that evening and that it was time that I helped her with the entertainment."

"I knew what she meant - she wanted me to let them have sex with me. I told her that I was still a virgin and that I would decide when and with who I would lose it. She then grabbed me and pushed me out the door. She told me that if I wouldn't earn my keep then I could find somewhere else to live."

"I had nowhere to go and nothing with me so I went into town. Basically I lived rough using what I could scrounge from others. I suppose she's sold all my stuff."

I nodded. "Sorry, she showed me your room. She's gutted it."

"So I have nothing in the world." Jane began sobbing.

Things looked impossible although a seed of an idea formed in my mind.

"Just a moment Jane, all may not be lost."

I grabbed the bed-side phone and dialled dad's mobile.

"Hey kid, what's new?" Dad's voice boomed through.

"Mostly cool dad but I have a bit of a problem."

I gave him a run through of what had happened. Dad and I always thought along the same lines and he identified the same solution as I did.

"Let me have a word with your mum and I'll ring back."

True to his word dad rang back after 10 minutes.

"We're both agreed on this son. Jane stays at our place as long as she wants. No conditions, she is our guest. Use the Amex to get her what she needs. And whatever you do, you don't tell her mother where she is. OK?"

"Understood dad," I grinned

"Let me talk to Jane." Dad continued.

I handed the phone to Jane and left her to talk while I took her cup and plate to the kitchen. When I returned she was still speaking.

"Th... thankyou' Mr Stevens are you sure it's not too much trouble."

"Don't be daft girl, we have more space than we need and I need someone to make sure Henry behaves himself. Could you put Henry back on?" I heard dad's voice boom from the phone.

"He wants another word," Jane handed me the phone.

"Hi again."

"She seems a nice kid, Henry. She's in need of serious reassurance and comfort. Do what you can."

"Will do dad. Speak to you soon."

-----------------

"I don't know what to say." Jane looked nonplussed.

"There is nothing to say. You are our long term guest. This house is a place where you are safe. In any case we have a bigger problem to deal with."

Jane looked up, questioning.

"Young lady, you have no clothes. You cannot walk around in pyjamas and you can't borrow any of my clothes, my pants won't fit your bum."

Jane blushed again.

"You really must get out of that habit of blushing when I tease you. Now what do you need?"

I fetched a note pad to make a shopping list.

"Knickers?" I began. "What type?"

"I like the full sort that cover my bum. I can't wear those thongs ' they are uncomfortable and make me sore." Again Jane blushed.

"OK, what a about bras. How big' What type? 38FF?"

"I'm not that big!!! Nice comfy ones, underwired 36DD."

"OK jeans, shirts, sweaters?"

"I'm a size 18. I prefer darker colours. I'll also need some stuff from the chemist - hairbrush, toothbrush and some pads."

"Pads?"

"My period is due." Jane managed this time without blushing.

"Fine. I'll go shopping. Is there anything you need?"

"I would like to grab a shower and then another sleep."

I phoned school with an excuse that I had flu and wouldn't be in. As I reached the door I saw Dr Hughes walking up the drive.

"How is Jane?" He asked.

"Well she slept the night through and has had breakfast so I think she's on the mend."

"Good, I'll just check her over," he replied and went upstairs.

I waited in the hall for the ten minutes he was with Jane.

"I think we have nothing to worry about," he said when he came back down. "Her temperature is fine and there is no sign of chest problems. Just keep an eye on her."

I told him that I had spoken to dad and explained what we were doing.

"Sounds good," he replied. "call me if you need anything."

I thanked him and we both left the house.

-----------------

The thought of going shopping for a woman was pretty daunting if not embarrassing. How on earth do I go shopping for underwear? I then remembered a small shop which catered for larger women. Perhaps they would be able to help.

My heart was thumping just a little as I walked into the shop. Luckily there were no other customers in the lingerie department. The assistant, a highly voluptuous lady in her thirties came up to me.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"This is a little difficult for me," I began, "I need to buy some underwear for a friend. She is unwell and cannot come in for herself."

"What underwear do you need and what size is the lady?"

"Bras and knickers. She is size 18 and 36DD. She is 18 years old and likes full fit panties." I added that I was looking something which was quite sexy. I decided that Jane needed something to boost her self-esteem.

"It is best if the lady in question can come into the shop for a fitting but we can probably manage. Many young ladies like a type of bra which lies snug with the skin. It allows them to wear close fitting tops without visible "bra lines". Do you think this might interest the young lady?"

"That might be an idea, what do they look like?" I had no idea but it was a good place to start.

The attendant asked a colleague to mind the shop for ten minutes.

"Please wait a moment." She asked. She went into a store room and returned a moment later with half a dozen boxes. "Please come with me.

She led me into a small room.

"I don't usually do this but it might help you decide."

She took off her blouse. She had fabulous tits, roughly the same size as Jane. She had on a white, unpatterned bra which gripped her tits snugly. The material was translucent allowing her dark nipples to be visible.

"This is the type I was talking about. They are extremely comfortable and give excellent support. This is vital for the lady with a fuller bosom." I guessed that "fuller bosom" meant big tits.

I nodded. The sight was so sexy that my throat had dried.

Quickly she turned her back to me and slipped off her bra. She put on one from a box. This was the same design but in a flesh colour. The straps were made from a transparent plastic

"This one is almost invisible under any blouse or shirt. They can also be worn with strapless tops."

Over the next 20 minutes the assistant showed me several different designs, all very sexy. One in particular was slightly low cut so that it could be worn with a low cut top giving a sexy cleavage.

I really couldn't decide so I bought one of each. The assistant looked a little surprised so I explained that the lady in question had lost her luggage during a recent flight from abroad and was having to restock.

Most of the bras came with matching panties of a suitable design so I bought a selection of these plus a few packs of plain white cotton panties.

Once I had paid I went into the clothes section of the shop. This was an easier task. I bought a couple of pairs of designer jeans, some simple blouses, some sweaters and socks. I found some seriously sexy low cut tops which would show Jane's figure off. I also found some skirts.

After a couple of hours and £500 poorer, I left the shop. I slipped into a shoe shop and bought suitably fashionable shoes - no Doc Marten's, I wanted Jane to have a new, more feminine image. A quick visit to the chemist to get her toiletries. While I was there I drew on the advice of the girl at the cosmetics counter to buy some nail varnish, lipstick and perfume.

-----------------

When I got home I went to the guest room to leave my shopping. The room was empty and the bed made. I found Jane in the lounge watching TV. I could see from her damp hair that she had showered.

"How're you feeling?" I asked.

"Human again." She replied with a smile.

I told her that her shopping was in her room and she scampered off to check it out. I heard one or two squeals of surprise and then all was silence. After twenty minutes I heard her walk downstairs and into the lounge.

Holy shit, what a sight. Jane was wearing a white low cut top and jeans. Both clung to her body. She must have been wearing the pink bra because her tits looked soft and natural with no signs of her bra. She wore no shoes or socks. She had painted her fingernails and toenails scarlet. She had brushed her hair, put on some lipstick and she looked radiant.

She came over to me, bent forward, giving me a fabulous view of her cleavage and gave me a huge kiss.

"Oh Henry," she spoke with a huskiness in her voice," thank you for the wonderful things. I feel so sexy. How did you choose such naughty bras?"

She looked at me in disbelief as I explained how the shop assistant had modelled them for me.

Jane was in need of some serious advice and now was the time.

"Jane, I hope you now realise that you really are a sexy lady. Why on earth did you wear such unflattering clothes before?"

"Because I'm fat." Jane replied bluntly. "I have huge tits and a belly which wobbles when I walk. Shirley and her friends used to say I was fat."

There was a full height mirror in the hall and I told Jane to go and look at herself in it. As she looked at the reflection I asked her;

"Do you look fat?"

Sure she was no skinny bird but her new clothes emphasised the curves of her body giving her a voluptuous sexiness.

"Jump up and down. Do you tits wobble?"

Jane jumped a couple of times. Her new bra worked perfectly, limiting her tits to a soft, natural movement.

"Do you accept that you are not fat but are in fact an attractive and sexy lady?"

Jane looked at herself in a number of positions before replying.

"Hmmm, if you say so. I must say I feel pretty damn good." And burst into laughter. Then she turned to me.

"Once you gave me a hug when I needed one. I now want to give you one."

Oh my, what a hug it was. Her gorgeous tits pressed against my chest with a soft warmth. My cock stood to attention in record time and in spite of my best efforts my bulging crotch brushed against her lower belly. Jane must have noticed and seemed to press her body against me harder. Her face nuzzled the crook of my neck and I smelled the perfume of her hair. Jane gave a sigh.

"Can we go up to my room?" she asked.

I could no more fly than refuse, I was besotted with Jane. In fact, I realised I had been since the time she asked for my help. We were kissing as soon as we got into her room. Full, deep kisses so that I could taste the sweet moisture in her mouth. My hand roamed over her body feeling her softness.

Jane pulled away and I felt a pang of dismay. Had she changed her mind? I then realised that she was taking off her clothes.

"Henry, have you had sex before?" Jane asked as she pulled down her jeans.

"Yes, once." I replied. It had been a fumbled and very messy affair in the back of my car after a school dance.

"Oh," Jane seemed a little disappointed.

"It was messy and over in 30 seconds," I grinned.

I suddenly realised that I wasn't prepared.




Wasted Years



"Just a moment," I gasped and rushed into my parent's room. Lurking in the drawer of dad's bedside locker I found a packet of condoms. I rushed back to Jane's room with it in my hand.

Jane was sat naked on the bed. I dropped the condoms on the bedside locker and stripped. My "old feller" was standing to attention and Jane wasted no time in grabbing it in her hand. Her touch sent shocks of pleasure through me.

"Henry, are they all this big?"

My cock was a decent six or so inches, not huge but good enough. What was more important was that it was pretty wide. I remember a few years earlier a group of us had compared cocks in the showers. Mine was a good inch and a half across.

"Slow down," I gasped, "or I'll come."

Once I was nude I slid onto the bed and we resumed kissing. This time it was her naked tits which pressed against me. The hot feeling of skin on skin was fantastic. My hands resumed their travels over her body, this time unrestrained by clothing. Jane shuddered and whimpered as my hands brushed the sides of her belly over her waist. She broke away.

"Oh, that sends tingles through my body."

I ran my hand across her plump belly to the thick bush between the thighs. Jane parted her legs inviting my hand down onto her cunt. The hair covering her slit was soaking wet from the juices flooding from her. She shuddered as my finger brushed over her clit on its way into her cunt. My finger slid in some way and then met the thin skin of her hymen. I hesitated. Jane grabbed my hand and pulled it hard against her. My finger burst through her hymen and deep into her body.

"Good, that's done." She sighed. "Now fuck me Henry"

No finesse here, Jane had stronger needs. There would be time for more lingering sex another time. I rolled on a condom and moved between Jane's thighs. I felt her grasp my cock and ease it into her. A firm thrust and my cock was deeply into her tight, hot passage. Jane gasped, her eyes wide with surprised pleasure as I filled her. I was impressed how easily she stretched to take me.

Jane moved slightly allowing my pubic bone to press against her clit.

"Oh, I like that!!!" she gasped.

Slowly she began rotating her lower body so that I constantly crushed against her clit. This meant that I was able to control myself while Jane became more and more excited.

Jane began to gasp and squeal and grind against me more quickly. I guessed she was getting close and began pushing in and out hard, bottoming out each time. By as much luck than skill we were approaching orgasm together. With a series of squeals and digging her nails into my back, Jane hit hers first.

Seconds later, I felt that glorious pressure build behind my cock. My cock swelled, causing Jane's eyes to widen, and I felt my juice burst from me with pulses of pleasure. Jane smiled broadly as she felt my cock pulsing inside her.

"I wish I could feel you filling me up instead of that horrible rubber thing."

Afterwards we lay naked on the bed. Jane lay half on me with her head on my chest. We didn't speak, being content to bask in satisfied afterglow. I remembered what Jane had said about her choosing of who and when her virginity would be taken. I felt privileged to have been that person. Our reverie was disrupted by the sound of the phone. Cursing the caller with a thousand agonies I picked up the phone.

"Yes?" I spoke in a cold unwelcoming voice.

"Hey H, you old sheep shagger! Wazzzzzupppp?" - It was Simon. "I heard you

was sick."

"I was fine until I heard your voice, "I retorted.

"That's what everyone says. Did I interrupt you strangling the monkey?"

I had to chuckle, Simon was irrepressible.

"Listen, man. Can I come around' I have some serious parteeeeeeee business to discuss." Simon was a pretty good mimic and used a variety of 'voices' to spice up conversations. The word 'party' was pronounced in his best 1970's DJ voice.

Any prospect of further cuddling with Jane that afternoon was scuppered so I agreed.

"Sure, give me 30." I replied and hung up.

"Simon is coming around. We have enough time for a quick shower."

"OK, race you to the bathroom," Jane laughed and leapt off the bed.

I have to tell you, sharing a shower is seriously good fun. It was a shame that we couldn't spend the rest of the afternoon doing it

When I answered the door I saw Simon and Gina. Gina, Simon's girlfriend, was a seriously cute girl. Tiny, petit, almost flat-chested but very sexy she was one of the nicest girls in our class. I could never understand what she saw in Simon (although Simon did have the biggest schlong I had ever seen) but the simple fact was that they were besotted with each other. I led them into the lounge.

Simon spotted Jane and slipped into Errol Flynn mode. He gave hugely exaggerated bow.

"Good day fair lady." He hadn't recognised Jane, but Gina did.

"Simon its Jane Roberts"

"Bloody hell, Jane! You look amazing." It was a delight to see Simon lost for words. It didn't last long. Jane had enough time to smile with pleasure before Simon adopted his Groucho Marx persona.

"Good-day madam, what fine breasts, are they yours? If I were a woman I would like breasts like those. In fact, come to think of it, if I were a man I would like breasts like those." He sat down beside Jane and putting his arm around her he added. "It would be awfully decent of you if you could see your way to lending them to Gina for a day or two."

It was a measure of Simon's natural comic abilities that rather than being insulted both girls were giggling at his remarks. Knowing how Simon could turn any occasion into a riot, I needed to stop the silliness.

"Enough already, who wants a drink?" The girls asked for coffee and I grabbed Simon. "Come and help wise guy."

Once in the kitchen Simon became serious.

"OK man, give, what's happened to Jane?"

"Some pretty nasty personal shit but she's making out fine." I wasn't about to spill the beans, even to Simon.

"So are you fucking?" to Simon sex was king.

"That's for me to know and you find out," was all I would say.

I carried through the coffees and Simon carried a couple of bottles of Budd for us.

"This year's party theme is the 1960's. You know, miniskirts, nakedness, free sex and general rampant misbehaviour." Simon announced.

Simon was famous for his parties. There was always a theme and they always ended up in mayhem. The last one had been a vicars and tarts party. Three girls had been so convincing that they had been accused of soliciting as they made their way to the party. I could never work out why his parents let him hold these parties, but they were great fun.

"What on earth can I wear to the party?" Jane asked later.

"Well as Simon said, the '60s was all about miniskirts and see through blouses. You would look great." I suggested helpfully. Jane was unimpressed.

"You may like my rear but my bum is too big for a miniskirt. I'm not showing off my boobs and bum to everyone at the party."

After a lot of thought Jane spent some time looking at dad's collection of vinyl. Inside she found a copy of Jimi Hendrix's "Rainbow Bridge" On the back was a shot of a long haired brunette in a long flower patterned dress and a head-band.

"That's it," Jane announced pointing at the picture. A hippy I shall be."

With a little searching we tracked down a suitable dress. To my delight it had a low cut top which revealed Jane's cleavage perfectly. I found a kaftan and a wig in a charity shop. We made a perfect, if not slightly ridiculous, hippie couple.

-----------------

The party was already in full swing when we arrived at Simon's house. Simon appeared wearing a Beatle jacket, Beatle wig and John Lennon glasses. Gina wore a lacy blouse and a tiny mini-skirt.

"Don't you get a nasty cold draught in that skirt?" I asked her.

"No, I've put on thick cotton panties." Gina replied with a grin. "Anyway, the only thing which I need to worry about getting up my skirt is Simon's hand."

I grabbed a bottle of Budd and a glass of wine for Jane and began to mingle. Most of the guests were guys from our class and I was getting into the party spirit when Shirley arrived. I was surprised that Simon had invited her and even more surprised that she decided to come.

Shirley took off the fur coat she was wearing to reveal that all she wore was a skin tight white cat suit. With her flowing blonde hair she looked like someone out of a James Bond film. I felt Jane nudge me.

"She's nude under that catsuit," She whispered. "I hope she doesn't have to pee in a hurry."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because there are no buttons or zips in the crotch. She will have to take it off to go to the toilet."

"Really' How interesting." Simon had been listening. "Excuse me, there is something I need to attend to."

Simon went upstairs. Knowing Simon, I suspected that mischief was in the air. Of course I was right.

After an hour or so, during which Shirley had been drinking steadily, I saw her go over to Simon. She spoke briefly and I saw Simon lead her upstairs. As he walked past he whispered, "follow us at a safe distance." Jane and I waited until they disappeared into Simon's parent's room and followed. Simon was sat on his parent's bed with a grin on his face. Shirley was nowhere to be seen.

"What?" I began, only to be stopped by a shriek from the en suite toilet.

"HELP' I'M STUCK!!!"

Simon pulled open the toilet door to reveal Shirley, naked, struggling on the toilet. The catsuit was on the floor and Shirley was struggling frantically, revealing her gorgeous body. Her firm tits wobbled as she struggled. From the small blonde tuft above her slit it was clear she was a natural blonde.

"My bum is stuck to the seat!" she screamed, tears running down her face. "It hurts!!"

Several revellers had come upstairs had come into the room and Shirley's pink form was under close scrutiny by twenty of so sets of eyes.

"Have you bastards seen enough?" she screeched, "for fucks sake get me out."

I could see things were getting out of hand.

"Simon, what have you used? Superglue?"

"Yeah, I've got some solvent which will dissolve it."

"Give it to me and clear these people out," Jane snapped, snatching the small plastic bottle."

Simon realised that things weren't as funny as he expected and he cleared the room without another word. Gina and Jane went into the bathroom and shut the door.

After about twenty minutes the door opened and the three of them came out. Shirley was crying and the girls had their arms around her.

"Is she OK?" I asked.

"Her bum is red and sore but otherwise no physical harm." Gina replied.

"I want to go home," Shirley sobbed.

I had a blinding idea.

"That wouldn't be a good idea," I told her.

The three girls looked at me in surprise.

"If you go now then Simon will have won. You need to show him that he is really the loser."

"What?" Shirley sobbed.

"The only thing which Simon will understand is if you get some revenge on him."

"I don't see why I should. My father will take care of him when I tell him what has happened." Shirley went in haughty mode.

"Yeah that's what we expect of you." I decided to be blunt. "You like to think that you're a cut above us all because of your father. The fact is your father's status is down to his own efforts. You can't hijack them to add to your own reputation. We judge you from your own achievements which, to be blunt, are pretty insignificant. You have to learn to fight your own battles, be judged for what you are."

The three girls looked at me in astonishment.

"Henry, she's already upset without you being nasty." Jane snapped.

"Jane, Shirley needs a reality check. I want her to see what she is and what we think of her. Does she want some genuine friends or just those brown-nosers who follow her around? Maybe then she can become a more decent person. Shirley, wouldn't you like to get some payback on Simon? Show him and the others that not only can you take his lousy joke but you also know how to dish it out?"

To my mild surprise Shirley sat quietly, thinking.

"What do you have in mind?" She finally asked.

"There are lots of possibilities. What would you girls like to do to him?"

"Well, seeing how he exposed Shirley for all to see, we could do the same to him. Gina suggested.

I could see that the girls were getting some ideas so I decided to beat a retreat to the bar.

"I'll leave you ladies to your plotting," I told them and left.

-----------------

You can accuse me of not being a good mate but I had two reasons for wanting the girls to give Simon some grief. The reality was that Simon needed a sharp lesson in behaving sensibly and I thought the girls would do the job well. I sat on a couch sipping a cold Budd and watched the world go by. I noticed Gina and Jane moving around the room speaking to the other girls. In every case the girls gave a giggle, nodded and followed them out of the room. This went on for some time.

I knew the game was afoot when Gina came into the lounge. She walked up to Simon, grabbed his arse and whispered in his ear. I guessed that she was making a seriously smutty suggestion because Simon followed her out of the room and up the stairs. Soon it was Simon's turn to scream for help. There were only guys in the lounge and we looked at each other in surprise.

"What the fuck! Is that Simon?" Pete asked.

"Sounds like it," I replied.

As one we ran upstairs. The door to Simon's parent's room was locked. We could hear muffled screams coming from inside the room along with female laughter. Pete banged on the door.

"What's going on?" he shouted.

The door opened a crack.

"You'll see in a moment." Came the reply.

In a moment the door burst open and a large group of girls came out carrying Simon. They went downstairs into the garden, where they tied him to a tree. We followed down. What a sight! Simon was naked apart from a pair of girl's panties which had been pulled tight giving him a wedgie but failing to hide his humungous cock, which lay on his leg. (I wondered who had donated the panties) His face was covered in makeup and his lips smeared with red lipstick. They had written "Soft Bastard" on his chest also in lipstick. The area around his cock was red and hairless.

"The sods have given me a bikini line waxing, and they've stuck a huge vibrator up my arsehole." he groaned.

I realised that if you listened carefully, you could just make out the buzzing of its motor.

"Hell, that is some dong." Some guy shouted. "Hey Gina, is it a fun ride?"

I saw Gina blush but she nevertheless replied.

"Why? do you want to try it?" she grinned.

"Well Simon, how do you like a little pain and exposure?" Shirley asked.

"The worst bit is that I don't have a drink," he moaned. Even now Simon had to crack a joke. I realised that he was beyond help and that he would probably be cracking jokes on his deathbed.

If Shirley was disappointed in his reaction she wasn't going to let it show.

"Alright girls, let's leave him to chill for a while. Time for a drink."

I hoped they wouldn't leave him for too long, it was after all a cold December evening.

The girls let Simon stew for half an hour or so and then relented before he got frostbitten, although he did catch a nasty cold. To his credit Simon took his treatment well but sadly it didn't diminish his appetite for extreme jokes.

-----------------

By the time we got back home we were nicely tired and more than a little pissed. We simply stripped and fell into bed.

Sometime during the night, I woke up. Jane was lying on her side facing away from me and I was pressed against her back so that her heavenly rump pushed against my cock. My 'old man' was seriously stiff and I eased it between her legs so that it rubbed against her cunt. Jane must has sensed my movement because she sighed and pushed her rear more firmly against me. Her crotch was slippery with her juices and I easily slide my cock inside her. The position was perfect - I could rub her tits or clit while slowly fucking her. Her crotch and inner thighs were flooding with juices - Jane was seriously aroused.

We were in no hurry, choosing to fuck gently. Jane's rear was moving more firmly and I guess my cock must have slipped out at some stage but because her slippery inner thighs were gripping me so tightly I didn't notice for some time.

"You're in the wrong hole," Jane whispered.

Her butthole must have been so well lubricated that I had slid into it without realising. I apologised and began to pull back.

"No don't, it feels nice." Jane asked as she pushed against me. I felt my cock completely buried in tight, hot place. Jane opened her legs and began rubbing her clit. I began gently squeezing and massaging her tits. Jane's nipples were pretty big anyway but with my attention they had stiffened until they stood out like organ stops. 

So we lay, me slowly and deeply fucking her arse while she masturbated and I worked on her tits. It's fair to say I was pretty worked up but Jane must have been even more so. Slowly her moans became louder and her movements became faster. Just listening to her getting more and more aroused was as exciting as the feeling of her tight ring rubbing up and down my cock.

Naturally I couldn't hang on for ever and I felt the tension build behind my balls and my cock swell even more. When I came it felt as though my guts were being pulled through my cock - I had never felt anything so intense. The pulsing and jetting of my cock was enough to trigger Jane and with a squeal she came.

Warm and satiated, we didn't bother moving, choosing to fall asleep as we were.

--------------------------

Christmas was cold but pleasant. Simon and Gina came around for dinner and we had a warm and slightly drunk time in front of the fire.

Early in the new year mum and dad came home. They were deeply tanned and were obviously well rested. Jane was a little nervous about meeting them but she got on with them really well. We had a habit of dealing with important issues by holding a "family meeting". What was cool about it was that I had just as much a say as they did.

Once they had unpacked their bags and eaten, mum and dad called a family meeting. Jane started to go to her room when mum stopped her.

"Please stay, Jane, the meeting involves you too."

Slightly surprised Jane sat down.

"OK," Dad began. "I think it would be helpful if we discussed Jane's plans. Jane, you need to understand that you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. No pressure, no hassles. Have you thought about what you want to do?"

I knew the answer. We had talked about what we wanted out of life. Jane wanted to study medicine although she had no idea how she would be able to pay her way through university - her mother was no use for any cash.

"Thankyou for letting me stay, I have nowhere else. I hope to go to university one day to study medicine but I don't see how I can." She replied.

"Jane, do you feel able to tell mum and dad about your mum and your life with her?" I thought it might help if they had the full picture. "You chat while I make some coffee.

I figured that it would easier for her to talk without me hanging about. I killed some time making some phone calls and took the coffee in after about twenty minutes. I could see from their expressions that they had the full story.

"Pretty rough huh?"

They just nodded.

--------------------------

Jane settled in happily. Her behaviour at the party towards Shirley worked miracles. They became friends and a rejuvenated Jane soon established herself at school as a good scholar. We fucked as often as circumstances would allow and I think it's fair to say we were in love. Leastways, I was in love with Jane. We had heard nothing from Jane's mother and Jane hadn't spoken about her.




Wasted Years Ch. 02



At the end of "Wasted Years" the older gentleman and the much younger woman had finally fallen asleep in a huge hammock outside their cottage, following a night of festive dining and drinking. The author strongly suggests that you read the first segment before this one.

Decades of habit caused my eyes to open with the first rays of the sun. You were lying next to me, one arm casually draped across my chest. The dawn was just beginning, radiating a red-orange glow, which highlighted your incredible beauty. You had managed to slip out of your swimsuit and into a tee shirt and bikini panties before collapsing into the hammock beside me, and I felt enormously blessed to have this moment of quiet time to simply watch your breath move within you. The graceful curve of your neck, even more beautiful in sleep, caused me to catch my breath. Through the sheerness of your nylon panties, the warm dark brown nest was discernible, and I felt my manhood leap with the desire you had engendered in me for so many years. So damn many years... 

It was a warm July evening in Central Florida, and I was somewhat excited to be pursuing my hobby, amateur theater. Tonight was audition night for a Western-themed musical comedy and my friends and I were looking forward to seeing the cast come together. 

I was one of the first to arrive, and was chatting with the director and musical director as others trailed in. Most were men and women I had worked with in the past, and we exchanged pleasantries and discussed the upcoming show. 

A few minutes before the scheduled start of auditions, a young woman walked into the theater and into my life. Neither our small-town theater nor my life would ever be the same. I will rely on cliché, as there is no other way to accurately describe the moment -- her presence simply electrified the crowd. She was the unknown in the crowd, but had no hesitation as she greeted one and all with her huge dazzling smile and a firm handshake. She came up to me and said her name, reaching for my hand. I responded with my name and she stopped- almost froze- and stared into my eyes. 

"Oh my God, do you feel that?" Her mouth opened slightly as in amazement, as she put the strange question to me.

And then, as on cue, I did indeed feel a charge of energy go through me. While it wasn't really physical, it was like a low-level electric shock. It was in her eyes, in her smile and in the fingers of the hand that finally took mine and held it. We said nothing, but the handshake became a hug and the embrace lasted either a second or a lifetime- I'm not sure which.

At that moment, the musical director, who was watching the strange encounter, called for singing auditions to begin and asked me to start. Handing my sheet music to the pianist, I took center stage and sang a rousing song from Oklahoma. I finished and was descending from the stage when my new friend intercepted me and held me so tightly. "Thank you" she said. "How did you know that was my favorite song from childhood? Please wait right here for me." With that, she pushed me into a seat, and, with an amazing million kilowatt smile, took the stage for her audition.

I am a fan of Bette Midler, but the rendition of "The Rose" I heard that night would have put Ms. Midler to shame. An alto that soared in the heights and growled on the low notes, emotion that no amount of acting could fake, this was what music was supposed to be like. 

I was not the only one in the theater with tears in his eyes as she finished her performance to heart-felt applause. As she re-joined me, she saw the moisture in my eyes and hugged me again, saying, " You're crying for my song. You have to be the most perfect man in the world."

"Others are crying too", I pointed out logically, gesturing around the room.

"Yes, but you never cry. I'm right, aren't I? I feel you so deep in my heart and soul. It's like I've known you for centuries." Her eyes, which I will try to describe later, were burning into mine with intensity I had never seen from anyone. And I too, felt the bonds of many lifetimes and many shared adventures.

I can't, and won't try to, explain the rest of that night. We got the lead roles, of course. We sat outside the theater for hours after everyone else had gone home. We hugged almost constantly, and ...nothing else of a physical nature took place. I did not even kiss her. Strange? Bear with me and hear the rest.

As we talked, we discovered that, while I was in what I generously called "advanced middle age", she had just turned twenty. There were almost exactly forty years between us -- forty years that she pooh-poohed as meaning nothing. My wedding band, on the other hand (no pun intended), meant a great deal to her. While she was unmarried, she was in a monogamous relationship, and this too was of paramount importance. And so we launched on a warm July night in Florida, a friendship/love amalgam that would sustain and bedevil us both for a decade.

And now, as I promised, I will try to let you see this amazing woman as I saw her in the Florida moonlight. Her hair was long and a dark chestnut in color. When loose, it fell just below her slim, but athletic shoulders. Her lips were full, but not overly so, and she would bite her lower lip as her eyes sparkled, giving an impression of a child about to say or do something exquisitely naughty. Her neck and her hips, the twin altars at which I longed to worship. The curves...where the neck joined the shoulders in a graceful sweep; that exciting point on her torso where the back and sides begin to flare out into the womanly hips -- oh, Jesus, would I pray my sins away at those altars! She was exquisitely tall, just three inches shy of my own six feet, and her legs were long and tan and carried her height with the poise and grace of a world-class athlete -- except when she ran into something, or tripped, or otherwise returned to human stature. All this made her a beautiful woman, the kind you see occasionally and wish you could touch. But we have not discussed the eyes. The eyes of this goddess at once impaled me and reassured me. Her eyes were laughing while still holding immeasurable empathy and love. They were brown, but "brown" does them no justice. They were black, but "black" has no light or life and her eyes are all light and life. They were at the same time radiant as diamonds and soft as velvet.

This was the woman I met and would never forget for the rest of my life.

And now, I lay beside this remarkable person. I feasted my eyes on her beauty, and her arm rested on my chest in a proprietary way. Anyone seeing us would feel that this was a couple -- an item - a pair of lovers inextricably linked. And perhaps we were. For, from that first night in a theater, we had grown closer and more deeply involved in one another's lives. She knew my grown children, all of whom were older than she. She knew my grandsons and adored them, although she couldn't be too obvious in her attention. When she finally met a man and settled into a quasi-marriage, I was the loving uncle, accepted as such by her "make believe husband". When her friends had problems, she called me in tears, this giving, sharing soul. And when my own situation finally changed, freeing me to travel and enjoy the world in new ways, she made arrangements to join me in Key West for our special celebration. And now, I lay beside her, on a ridiculously huge hammock, and felt my heart bursting from my chest with my love for her.

I slipped quietly from the hammock and covered her near-nudity with a light sheet, leaving her sleeping quietly. I spent an hour in a nearby coffeehouse, enjoying traditional yellow-corn and condensed milk with impenetrable Café Cubano and Cuban bread. Walking by the hammock, I saw that she still slept and, leaving her a note, I headed for my boat, "The Wasted Years".

And now I sat as the boat bobbed gently on the morning waves, fishing off the port stern, almost hoping nothing would bite. I already had a sizeable Yellow Grunt in the well, and, though lacking the panache of the Snapper or Grouper, the Grunt, fried and served with grits, made a mighty fine meal. I just hoped I would have a guest to serve with this Key West specialty. My cell phone rode quiet in its case, and I had almost resigned myself to returning to my solitary life after just the one wonderful day we had shared. 

And then...what is that? The slightest sound, a splashing on the starboard side amidships. And there she was, seawater cascading from her long brown hair over that marvelous neck and perfect shoulders. Her small but tantalizing breasts were scantily encased in a scandalously tiny bikini top and she held onto the rope ladder and looked around the boat. Smiling her mock-angry smile, she pulled herself up to the deck, displaying a bikini bottom matching the bra for skimpiness, and glared at me, mischievously.

"Permission to come aboard, your Excellency. Where the hell's my coffee?" And with that, she threw herself into my arms, (ruining any chance of further stocking our larders), and dragged me out of my deck chair and down into the cabin. 

It is said that a gentleman doesn't tell, but I must report that the many years we had loved from afar had created a hunger in us both. Last night's absinthe-filled adventure- the flirting with the gorgeous staff of the magical bistro- the dancing in each other's arms- the kisses and caresses -- had ignited a fire that demanded quenching. My little boat was not a cruise ship by any means, but today she was the love boat. The filmy bikini came off and landed on the deck on top of my cut-off jeans and denim shirt. At last, I had the body I had yearned for all these years and she was as warm, loving and sharing as I had dreamed. The pert breasts, still young and still delightful, constituted a comfortable mouthful, which I pleasured with lips and tongue until she fairly writhed with pleasure. For years, I had verbally teased her about all the places my mouth and hands wanted to visit on her body, and today's travelogue included all those ports of call. By the time that she loudly demanded that I enter her and finally accomplish what we had talked about ten years ago, but never done before, she was aflame with desire and passion. For myself, I had not felt it was possible to perform in this way at my age. But my age became an inconsequential number as our bodies moved together in the aeons-old rhythms of sensuous fulfillment, and I heard her give voice to her blazing emotion as her body's spasms of delight pushed me over the pinnacle and I erupted within her in a way I had not experienced -- it seemed -- in a lifetime. The rest of the day passed in languor. The Yellow Grunt fulfilled his destiny as lunch for the most unlikely lovers imaginable, as we ate, drank, swam and frolicked until the sun began to drop toward the horizon.

Then, once more we headed below decks to the cabin, where in a more demure and loving way, we again explored each other and made slow sweet love, culminating in an explosion of satisfaction for us both. I knew two things in that moment of wonder. I knew that we had been lovers together countless times before this in past lifetimes and that there would be equally countless repeats of this scene in future incarnations. But I also knew that, for this lifetime, we had now had our quota of physical love. In the morning a silver sixteen-seater would take her from the Municipal Airport and return her to her everyday life, with her make believe husband, while I would head my little cruiser south, perhaps to the Yucatan, where I would find a painter and forevermore change the name of my pretty little boat. Then again I will cruise away, a satisfied lover, a happy man, and the captain of the cabin cruiser "Fulfillment".