Jane, Living and Loving Ch. 01

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Double Penetration

My good friend, Rod suggested that I should sit down and write my life stories. He says that they are very erotic and that others would enjoy reading them. I love to read other peoples erotic stories so I readily agreed to write them.

First a little about myself and my early life.

My name is Jane and I was born in a little country town in Queensland, Australia in 1960. I was the youngest of my parents three children, I have two older brothers. Because we lived on a farm and there was no school in our town, when I was six years of age I was sent to a girls boarding school in a large town about 150 kilometres away.

My Mum would drive me to school on each Monday morning and My Dad would pick me up on a Friday afternoon. They would take my brothers to and from a boys school in the same town at the same time.

I started to become really aware of my body when I turned fourteen. Some of the other girls had reached their puberty when they were much younger but I was a late bloomer. When I was young I was sort of just skinny, then I started to grow tall until I was nearly 5’6″ when I was thirteen. But shortly after my fourteenth birthday I suddenly stopped growing up and started growing out. By the time I left school at nearly eighteen I was only 5’7′ tall but I had developed curves. I was then a size 12 with a figure of about 34 25 36.

All the other girls at school envied my legs, they grew to be long and, if I say so myself, quite shapely. I had done a lot of sport in school including being the Captain of the hockey team which won a state girls inter-school championship and winning the school tennis in Years 11 and 12. Keeping fit through sport had given me a body of which I was proud. My biggest disappointment then was that I felt my breasts were too small, only being a small ‘B’ cup.

I liked to keep myself looking nice though. At home on the farm I was a bit of a tom-boy, you have to be when all the company of your own age is your brothers. During the day I would wear jeans or shorts with cotton button-up blouses and work boots as I helped around the farm. At night though I would always spend the hour before dinner making myself look good. I would have a nice long hot shower and would wash my hair every night. Then I would spend at least 20 minutes brushing my hair.

I have always liked my hair. It is very black and it gets so shiny when it is clean and dry. I would wear it in a shortish page-boy during the summer and would tie it back during the day. During winter I would let it grow out to a bit longer than shoulder length. Of course at school I had to keep it tied back all the time but at night I would let it out and brush it through. Sometimes my friends at school would brush it for me and I always thrilled to feel them touching my hair.

I would then choose a dress or a skirt and blouse, something girly to keep me aware of my femininity. My Mum was always so pleased that I liked to dress up a little and my Dad was also always very gallant, telling me that I was the prettiest girl in the district and that I was by far his most attractive daughter. I would always giggle at that, it’s hard not to be his most attractive daughter when you are the only daughter. Jokes aside, I loved the flattery that my Dad showed me. As for my brothers, well, as soon as I turned fourteen they spent most of their time trying to look down the front of my blouse.

I didn’t get much of a chance to meet boys when I was in school. My only sex education was what the other girls in school told me and what I learned from surreptitiously listening to my older brothers talking about what they had been up too with their various girlfriends. They had both left school when they were sixteen to work on the farm with my Dad and both were very handsome and popular with the girls in the district. If only half their conquests I overheard them talking about were true, they were still having a lot of fun.

On my eighteenth birthday I started at a teachers training college in Brisbane doing a commercial teachers course. I was very innocent and, of course, still a virgin. Our class at college was about three parts girls to one part guys. To my great surprise I found myself to be somewhat of a centre of attention as far as the guys were concerned. I was very flattered and even more so when one of the other girls in my class told me that most of the other girls were a little jealous of me.

Since I was still young and very naive, my parents arranged for me to live in an off-campus residential college, Barnaby House. It was run by a large protestant church although it was non-denominational in the selection of the girls who lived there. It was run on very strict rules and we were expected to behave like ladies at all times. Signs on the walls of the dormitory wings would urge us to be always chaste and demure. There were very strict dress codes which we had to adhere to both in and out of the college.

I quickly made Onwin friends there but my best friend was a girl called Mariette who shared a room with another girl next door to me. Mariette was 22 and in her third year of medicine at University. She had lived at Barnaby House for three years when I first met her. She was a short bubbly girl, also from the bush; she was very pretty with shoulder length honey blonde hair. Mariette had very large breasts, she was a 44D, on a fairly small frame, a size 14. Even so she was still quite athletic and managed to carry her breasts well although there were limits to what sports she could play. She was still a reasonable tennis player though and we had many fun games of tennis at the courts near Barnaby House.

My own roommate was girl named Sandra. She went to the same teachers college as me but was in her second year. She was very shy and reserved and spent all her free time studying. Sandra was a large girl and very self conscious about her weight; she would always wear very loose baggy clothes. I got on very well with Sandra but really saw only first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

Mariette was my soulmate. Mariette was a lot of fun though with a great sense of humour like me. We were always making each other laugh and would spend hours in her room or the common room talking and playing card games or listening to music. This was the late 1970s and we played Abba, Skyhooks and Elton John on the record player over and over again. Mariette and I loved Elton John, we didn’t know then that he was gay.

Sometimes we would sit in her room if her roommate was out and Mariette liked to brush my hair out for me. Our talk would nearly always turn to sex. Mariette liked to talk about sex although she was very coy about telling me anything about her own experiences. Of course, she knew that I was a virgin. She did tell me that she had had sex with at least one boy and of course, being a medical student, she knew a great deal about the anatomical details of sex. As a virgin with a very limited exposure to boys, I was all ears and eager to learn all I could. At that time in my life, I could not see when in the future I would ever be able to use my new found sexual knowledge but I wanted to find out as much as I could. I was determined at that time to keep my virginity until I was married. My mother had instilled in me that my virginity would be the greatest gift that I could give to the man I loved. “A gift without price,” she called it.

Mariette would often ask me to describe my favourite fantasies. Being inexperienced these were quite simple fantasies about boys I had seen or knew from teachers college. The sex discussions that we had were in some ways disturbing though. Often I would become aware that I was becoming aroused. I could feel my nipples harden and could feel the wetness start between my thighs. Sometimes Mariette would stare at me suspiciously and then make some joke about my state which usually left my greatly embarrassed.

Often after these sessions and back in my own bed, I would wait until after ‘lights out’ and I could hear Sandra’s sleeping rhythm, then I would masturbate, biting my own bottom lip so that I would not cry out when my orgasm rose from within me.

During one of our sex chats, as we called them, I confessed to Mariette about my playing with myself when I went to bed. Mariette giggled and told me that she also did that too. She then asked me what I was thinking of when I masturbated. I told her that I thought of all sorts of things but nothing in particular. She then surprised me by asking if I ever thought of girls when I masturbated or her in particular. I was a little shocked at the question and said no but asked her why she had asked. She just gave me a funny sort of smile and said she didn’t know why. We didn’t speak of that particular subject again. But that night when I went to bed, I did think of Mariette while I brought myself off with my fingers. I was stunned when my orgasm was the most powerful I had ever experienced, I couldn’t restrain myself from crying out as yet another climax hit me. I only stopped when I heard Sandra begin to stir on the other side of the room.

Barnaby House was run by the Matron, Mrs Honeycomb. She was in her late forties, a tall willowy woman who dyed her hair blue in that horrible way that some older women did back then. Mrs Honeycomb was very strict about our behaviour in the college and we had to stick to our curfew of 8.30 PM every evening and be in bed with the lights out by 10.30 PM. We had to act like ladies at all times and always be appropriately dressed, we were not allowed to wear a skirt that showed our knees and jeans were only allowed in our own rooms, never in the dining room or common room. Mrs Honeycomb was always taking Mariette and I to task over our behaviour, we were just having fun though.

Barnaby House also had a number of ‘chaperones’ who lived there too. These Onwin giriş were usually women over 25 and were unmarried. They were really a bit like prefects in high school, there job was to keep an eye on us younger girls. Some were real bitches but most were very nice. Our chaperone in our wing was a lady called Pamela. She had lived at the college since she was 17. At this time she had just turned 30. During the day she worked as a secretary for a solicitor.

I thought that Pamela was one of the most attractive women I had ever seen. She had long wavy brown hair that she usually wore plaited. She had a beautiful smile that made dimples in both cheeks and grey eyes that seemed to see right through us. She was about the same height as me, maybe a little taller and had a lovely curvy body but kept her figure very trim with a good diet and taking long walks every morning before breakfast. When she dressed for work she always looked very elegant, she wore little make up although she liked to wear jewellery, usually only a simple string of pearls around her neck and a gold bracelets. She dressed modestly as befitted her status in the college but her clothing was always just perfect and stylish.

Pamela would often sit and talk to us younger girls in the common room or sometimes she would come to our rooms and chat. She was quite sophisticated although very easy to get on with. She would often comment on our dress and would give us very good advice about the latest fashions. Whenever anyone in the wing bought new clothes, Pamela would ask us put it on and parade before her. Her comments were always intuitive and she would often help us with any small alterations needed. She would often make small adjustments to our clothes as we paraded before her and she had a way of gently touching and leaving her fingers to linger on us that would give me goose-bumps.

Chaperones were permitted to come and go as they pleased but Pamela usually did not go out. Except on Saturday nights when she would go out, looking very lovely although still modestly dressed. What was different then was that she wore more makeup, very beautifully and artfully applied, not a lot, but enough to turn the heads of all the girls in the wing. Where she went on Saturday night was the subject of much discussion among the girls and, when asked, Pamela would smile her lovely smile and just say that she went out to see friends. She would mostly return very late, 3.00 or 4.00 AM and we could hear her let herself in. She would never rise on Sunday morning until lunchtime when she would appear as lovely and serene as ever.

We girls would often talk about Pamela’s Saturday night out. Some said that she had a boyfriend somewhere, some said that she was working as a barmaid in a pub while, more outrageously, some even suggested that she was a stripper in a nightclub. We would all giggle delightedly with our musings but we were never sure what she did on Saturday nights. Mariette and I often talked about it together. Mariette would always say that the other girls were cruel to suggest the things that they did. She said that Pamela was most likely going out to meet a rich and handsome lover, a romantic notion that I completely agreed with.

Although the Barnaby House curfew was strictly enforced there were ways to get out. I had continued to play hockey and tennis in Brisbane and, with my parents permission, I was allowed to go out to training and games and come back late if needed. When I did return after curfew I would have to ring the night bell and report to Matron that I was back. She knew all my hockey and tennis itineraries and would question me closely if I was ever the slightest bit late.

The other way to get out of Barnaby House legally was to have an ‘approved visiting family’ meaning someone that your parents would allow you to visit and stay away overnight. I had one of my Aunts, Cathy, Mum’s sister who I visited often. Mariette was also approved to visit Aunty Cathy with me and I was also allowed to go with Mariette to visit her grandmother. We often visited them on the weekends although Mariette also had other people, friends of her parents, with whom she visited without taking me along. When we returned to the college we had to show a letter to Matron to show that we had really been where we were supposed to be.

My tennis club was about a 15 minute train ride from the college. On most Saturdays during summer, I would go there and play tennis all afternoon and then stay at the clubhouse for dinner. After that, at about 8.00 PM I would often go straight to Aunty Cathy’s house which was another 30 minute train ride away if I was to stay there or would go back to the college. If Mariette was staying too, she would meet me at the tennis club first.

On one Saturday night, I stayed a little later and helped some of the ladies auxiliary clean up the kitchen after dinner before going on the Aunty Cathy’s. Mariette had told me that she had to go to her grandmother’s house for a private dinner with family so I was to go to Aunty Cathy’s on my own. The cleaning up meant that I didn’t leave the tennis club until about 9.30 PM. Before I left I used the club phone to ring Aunty Cathy and tell her I would be a bit late.

Aunty Cathy was my Mum’s younger sister. She had been a late in life baby, born 15 years after her next oldest sister, my Mum. Aunty Cathy had been a hippy during the 1960s, a real flower child in that time of peace marches, free love and free drugs. Most of her family were suspicious of Aunty Cathy but she got on well with my Mum and my Dad thought she was great. Every family needs a rebel to keep them sane, my Dad would say. At this time, Aunty Cathy was about 35 years old, recently split from her partner and bringing up two small children on a barmaid’s wage and a small pension.

On this night, Aunty Cathy had been drinking, I could tell from her voice when I rang, and she told me that I could come in anytime with my own key as she was going to bed.

I caught a train to the city and sat back in the seat. I had played some very good games of tennis that day, winning the ladies singles and coming second in the doubles with another lady. I was pleasantly tired after my exertions and very relaxed. I had showered at the club before dinner and changed into a skirt and blouse with my club blazer on to ward of the night chill.

I arrived at Roma Street where I had to change trains. I crossed to the new train, got in and sat down at a window seat. Glancing out of the window I was surprised to see Pamela, our chaperone from college, walk through the station and get onto my train one compartment ahead.

She was dressed beautifully as usual in a well cut beige dress suit which stopped half way down her calves. Under her jacket she had on a soft pink silk blouse which she had showed us when she had bought it only two days before. She had black stockings on with medium high heels. Her hair was not in its usual plaits but was pinned up except for a bang which she left hanging over her left eye.

Pamela looked stunning and many heads turned as she boarded. She didn’t look near me at all and took a seat in the compartment ahead looking away from me. I started to rise to go and greet her but something stopped me and I sat back in my seat again. Besides I should have been at my Aunt’s house over an hour before and she might tell the Matron on me. The train moved off and I just sat back watching the back of Pamela’s head.

One station before mine, Pamela stood up to get off. When she left, on impulse, I waited a moment to put some distance between us and then followed her. As I got off the train, I saw her walking briskly down a suburban street. I followed at a distance, my dark skirt and blazer making me hard to see in the dark should she look back. After a little while, she stopped at a small cottage and I slipped quickly behind a street tree. She looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching then walked up the path to the front door and, taking a key from her handbag, opened it and went in.

I walked slowly up to the front of the cottage; I wasn’t really sure what I should do now. I felt a bit foolish standing there, spying on my college chaperone. I turned to walk away when a thought came to me! All the girls in our wing were curious about where Pamela went on a Saturday night! Well, tonight was Saturday, Pamela was in the cottage that I stood in front of and I had the opportunity to find out for real what she was doing here. Always a quick decision maker, I slipped through the gate and followed the path around the back of the house.

It was very dark there. I gently placed my tennis bag on the ground under a bush where I could easily find it and then crept closer to the house. I walked slowly, letting my eyes become accustomed to the dark. I am not afraid of the dark, not many country girls are, and I soon could see enough to get close to the house.

The entire house was in darkness except for a room at the front but I could not see in as the drapes were drawn tight there. I could hear the soft murmur of voices inside as well as sounds from a radio or television. Occasionally sounds of laughter, ladies laughter, would escape and at least twice I heard the clink of a bottle on glass.

I waited for over an hour leaning ever so still against the wall. Eventually I decided that I would not be able to see who Pamela was with in there and so I prepared to leave. I thought to myself that I would bring Mariette here next Saturday night to see if we could catch Pamela again. I giggled silently to myself, thinking that Mariette would think it was a huge adventure.

As I reached my tennis bag and bent to pick it up, I heard a door close in the house. Looking back I saw that the light had gone off and the background noise had stopped. Then I saw a chink of light appear in a window near the back of the house. I froze there for a little while, not sure if someone would come out and catch me or not, but then I relaxed as I heard a tinkle of laughter from the house again.

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