Joy

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Babes

The story has recently been re-written and I haven’t been as thorough with the editing as I would like in order to meet the Valentines Day dead line, please forgive any minor errors.

Joy decided to walk to Rupert’s, it wasn’t far, half an hour maximum. She certainly could do with the exercise; after she started work a few months ago, she’d given up playing hockey, and the training that kept her fit. The walk helped her to straighten her mind, tomorrow was Valentines Day, she’d booked a hotel room, they would spend the night together. Rupert will make love to her, properly, fully. No more playing, she wanted to feel him move inside her.

She’d spoken with him by telephone just before she left home. He wanted to come and collect her, he didn’t want to waste a moment now that his parents had left to visit his grandmother. They’d have all day, needed time for themselves; she’d made a mess of the last four months, the period since Christmas had been almost more than she could bear.

She walked briskly, much cooler than she’d anticipated, stupid to have worn her knee length shorts but Rupert liked her legs, that’s how their relationship started, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist touching her legs.

‘This is going to be ok.’ Joy told herself. ‘Christ, I’ve been stupid.’

– – # – –

Joy and Madeline cycled to the local college where they both took a foundation course before moving on to Art School. Their route took them up a long hill, most days they cycled up. There were both active in sports, Madeline specialised in gymnastics; Joy was into athletics, and a hockey player. When Rupert first ran into her, figuratively speaking, she had a lean boyish figure, hard muscled calves and thighs, and a chest sporting a couple of nipples, masquerading as breasts. Madeline was altogether rounder, more feminine, with ample breasts threatening to terminate her gymnastic prowess. That particular morning Maddy was suffering, her period had started, she had ‘the cramps’ and couldn’t muster the energy to cycle up the hill. So they walked, pushing their bikes laden with college gear and sports bags. This was way, way back in the days before young adults had their own car.

Rupert was the exception. Rupert owned a car. He’d finished school and was working in a small engineering company. Both girls knew Rupert by sight; they’d all attended a sixth form college career forum last year prior to starting University or employment. Joy also knew him from a club where she was an irregular attendee, her evenings usually taken up with training and studying.

Some girls, Maddy for one, would say the best thing Rupert had going for him was his car. They didn’t really know him, he wasn’t easy to know, quite shy and lacking in confidence around girls. Rupert’s car was his prized possession. As Joy would soon be able to testify, Rupert’s dexterity was most definitely expressed through his hands. Before he left sixth form college he applied his hands to the restoration of a vintage Austin Seven car, a sort of black upright box, after he left, he applied his hands to Joy’s body. At this moment, Rupert is reversing his vintage car out of his driveway. The problem with the Austin Seven is its limited rear visibility, it has a tiny rear window; it makes reversing very difficult. The girls assumed, when they saw him reversing out of his drive, he’d seen them and would stop. He hadn’t and didn’t. He knocked Joy’s bike to the floor then reversed across the front wheel buckling it beyond immediate repair.

“You stupid prat!” Joy screamed, thumping her hand on the roof of the car.

He stopped the car and opened the door, exiting and peering over the top at her, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Look what you’ve done you idiot. How am I going to get to college on time?”

“What?”

He reached inside the car and turned the engine off, then slowly walked around the front of the car his face screwing up when he saw my bike under his car.

“Bugger!” He said bending down and examining the paintwork, looking for scratches.

“Hey you. Sod your paintwork. What about my bike?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. I think it’s ok.”

He reached for the bike pulling it from under the car seeing the buckled wheel for the first time.

“Oh.”

“You’ll have to take me to college.”

“What? I can’t.”

“Oh yes you can buster.”

Maddy stood giggling, she knew the expression on Joy’s face; there would be only one winner in this argument.

That’s how they started, Rupert and Joy, simple really, run over a pretty girls bike then you have to drive her everywhere. He took her to college, leaving her mangled bike at his parent’s house for him to repair and return; Maddy cycled to college by herself. At seven o’clock, after hockey practice, Rupert was waiting as instructed at the college gates to take Joy home. For the next two weeks they repeated the morning and evening routine, it was astonishing how quickly everybody assumed they were ‘going out’, Escort Bayan Gaziantep even Maddy refused to believe nothing was going on between them. There wasn’t anything going on – not yet. Joy took sneaky looks at him during the drive, decided Rupert was nice, not dramatically good looking, but clean, huge plus as far as Joy was concerned, smells nice, dresses conservatively but sharp, and, considerate. At this time, she had no idea he was such a great kisser or he could do things with his fingers and tongue that would send her spinning out of control.

A couple weeks after he’d repaired her bike, Joy was careening down the hill outside Rupert’s parents house on her way home from college when the strap holding her work bag to the rear pannier slipped. The bag fell off scattering notes and files everywhere, and Joy fell off her bike when she hit the kerb after turning her head to see what the hell was going on.

She didn’t really hurt herself, grazed a knee, wounded her pride, and became pathetically girlish when Rupert pulled up in his car on the opposite side of the road. He didn’t say anything, just set about collecting her papers and stuff before the wind blew them to the corners of the earth. Joy sat on the grass verge nursing her embarrassment.

“You ok?” He finally asked.

“Yes. Did you manage to collect everything?”

“Think so. You’ll have to check. I’ll help you to the car.”

Rupert assumed she sat because she’d injured herself, the trickle of blood on her knee aiding his observation, Joy felt foolish enough without admitting she was so pissed off she’d stayed sitting whilst he collected her papers and managed to fake a pretty good limp as he helped her into his car. He reached for her, putting an arm around her to support her.

Some things you remember all your life, like the first real kiss, your first period, the first time you taste a man; Joy would always remember Rupert putting his arm around her. She remember his hand spreading itself across her ribcage, firm, supportive, his thumb and first finger framing what should have been a breast – it was the first time he touched her, she could never explain why his touch took her breath away. His hand pressing against her dominated her senses, she felt faint, it was as if all the blood in her body had rushed to the site of his hand to repel invaders; her nipples tingled as she willed her breasts bigger.

“You sure you’re ok?” He asked, misinterpreting her sharp intake of breath. “Rest here,” he said seating her in his car, “I’ll take your bike back to my house, then come back for you.”

He smiled in a reassuring way and set off up the road pushing her bike the hundred metres or so to his house. She watched him go, her back still burning from where his arm had been, she could feel his hand as if it were still spread across her rib cage and shifted in the car seat resisting the urge to rub her nipples.

Against her mild protestation, he drove her to his house.

“Where’s your family?” Joy asked attempting distraction from the sensations Rupert effortlessly stimulated.

They were in the sitting room, typically English, china ornaments on the mantelshelf. She perched on a sofa covered in a floral patterned material, Rupert cleaning the blood staining her knee where she grazed it. She was mesmerised by his touching her skin, one hand cupped behind her calf, the other wiping at the graze on her knee with cotton wool dampened in warm water.

She could feel his breath on her leg as he bent to the task. She wanted to scream, wrap her legs around his head. Pull him onto her. She wondered, if she pretended to faint would do whatever he wanted with her.

“Out. Mum visiting my Aunt, Janet and Dad are both at work. There. I think that’s ok; it probably looks worst than it is. My God, you’ve really bruised your legs.”

“War wounds, hockey.” She tried to keep her voice calm; all she wanted was for him to continue touching her, anywhere, everywhere.

Rupert examined her legs with innocent interest, trailing fingertips over bruises as if comparing sizes; she imagined he could easily see up her skirt from where he crouched on the floor, an image filled her mind of his head buried between her thighs; she shivered – not from the cold.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea,” he said, “you’re probably in shock.”

Joy listened to him in the kitchen rattling around, making tea, partly relieved he’d moved from his vantage point, and partly wishing he’d stayed. She wondered if he’d snuck a peak and tugged at the hem of her short skirt. In the early 1970’s short skirts were the fashion, Joy couldn’t have been more pleased, she considered her legs and her small well rounded bottom her best features, certainly wasn’t her non-existent breasts! She wore usually wore short skirts or tracksuit bottoms. She preferred skirts, didn’t mind men looking at her legs, and only wore a tracksuit occasionally, when the continual whistles irritated.

“Look, I’ve found this antiseptic cream,” he said coming back into the room and placing a tea tray on the low table in front of them, “you ought to spread some on that graze, make sure it doesn’t become infected.”

Joy had sat with her feet up on the sofa leaning back against the arm rest, he knelt again by her side offering the ointment. She moved her knee toward him, the action parting her thighs enough for him to see her panties. He looked, a slightly bewildered expression on his face, he looked up at her face. Locking her eyes with his, she reached for his hand, removed the tube of ointment and, heart beating so loud she thought she could hear it, pulled his hand toward her placing it on the soft skin of her inner thigh closer to her panties than her knee so there would be no misunderstanding. Joy closed her eyes and rested her head back on the arm of the sofa gently pushing his hand in the direction she wanted him to move, releasing him to explore, wincing at the touch of his fingers on her skin. Her breath turned to short sharp gasps as his fingertips brushed the surface of her panties moving onto the other thigh, gently stroking her skin up toward the other knee. Then down again, palm against skin, she willed her legs not to shake waiting for his return, moaning, gurgling pleasure as his hand moved onto her panties, hesitating as if seeking approval, feeling her very slight push against him and he began the gentlest of massages hand cupped over the dampness of her panties. She pushed back at his hand wanting more, felt a finger probing the elasticised waist, hooking them open. She could smell herself and stopped breathing as his hand slipped into her panties, fingers feeling through her pubic hair, fumbling, not sure what to do, settling for gently squeezing her cunt cupped in his hand and she came just from the shock of him being there, wetting his fingers, clamping his hand between her thighs, rocking and moaning, taking her pleasure.

She lay mostly still for a few moments, her thighs continuing to squeeze at his hand wondering what had possessed her to do that, immensely pleased that she had, then raising her head and opening her eyes she found Rupert watching her, his eyes sparkling, not with triumph, excited, full of desire. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her aware of his hand still clamped between her thighs and grateful that he’d had the good sense stay still, not to probe, just absorb the heat and wetness. Those first few kisses, tender, exploratory, about taste and texture more than emotion, decided for Joy he could kiss and it was something they would be doing again.

“Wow!” She said, breaking away from him, now mildly embarrassed thinking his hand had been on her cunt for longer than she’d ever touched herself.

“Wow is right.” Rupert quietly replied.

Joy shifted in the sofa releasing the clamp she held on his hand, glancing down to where it lay, blushing, watching as he delicately extracted himself. Rupert didn’t quite know what to do with it, his hand, sticky, fingers glistening, and held it in front of him, his other hand holding it by the wrist as if afraid it might fall off, nose twitching at the aroma drifting upward. Joy reached down and adjusted her panties, slightly uncomfortable by their wetness, not knowing what to do next.

“Can I use your bathroom?” She asked.

“Sure. It’s upstairs.”

He led the way, still holding his hand out in front of him and showed her into the bathroom moving across the hall to his bedroom. He heard the toilet flush and water running and called out to her when she opened the door.

“I’m in here.”

She poked her head sheepishly round the door.

“Is this your room?”

“Yeh. Come in. if you want.” He hastily added.

Joy entered the room hands behind her back holding the panties she’d just rinsed through, finding Rupert sat upon his bed looking slightly pensive.

“How’s your knee?” he asked to break the silence.

“Who cares?” She said and moved to the bed stooping down and kissing him again, more urgently, wanting to touch him.

The force of her kiss pushed him back, she continued pushing dropping her panties behind her to the floor bringing her arms around to ease him back onto the bed falling on top of him, mouths locked together.

“Touch me again.” She mumbled between kisses pulling his arm off the bed round behind her.

She gasped as his hand moved under her skirt touching her naked bottom grinding herself at the all to obvious swelling beneath her.

Before matters could progress, there was the unmistakable sound of a car on the driveway.

“Oh shit. Dad’s home.” Rupert said, pushing Joy off him.

“Oh Christ.”

“It’s ok. He’ll put the car in the garage. We have time to get back downstairs.”

When his father came in, he found the pair sat on the sofa drinking tea. After introductions and explanations that seemed to pass without any undue concern, Rupert told Joy he’d drive her home.

“What are you thinking?” Joy asked him to break the silence of the drive.

“I’m thinking how beautiful you face looked as… you know. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.

What are you thinking?”

“You mean apart from how I’m going to explain my wet panties if my Mother finds them. I’m thinking am I going to get the chance to do that again.”

“Emm. That would be nice.” Rupert answered.

“Really?”

“Are you joking?”

They let the silence envelope them again. They’d arrived at Joy’s house, she showed no intention of leaving the car.

“Did you mean that? What you said, about the look on my face.”

Rupert turned toward her.

“Yes. Every word. I want to see that look again, and I want to touch you again.”

Joy glanced around to make sure there was no one in the street and shifted herself to face Rupert reaching for his hand and placing it on her knee.

“You can’t do the whole thing, I’d get too wet, just stroke me.” She said, slightly parting her legs.

They kissed for a while and Rupert played with the soft hair covering her pubis just occasionally moistening a finger between the lips of her sex.

“You’re so incredibly hot.”

“You’re making me hotter. You’d better stop. I need to go in.”

She took his hand, removing it slowly from under her skirt.

“It’s wet. Your finger.” She said.

“It’s your honey.”

He raised his finger to his nose, smelling her scent, touching it to his tongue. She watched his movements, foolishly anxious, hoping he’d not find her repulsive.

“You taste like salty honey.” He said. “I’m not washing this finger, I want to smell you all night.”

Joy slumped back in the seat, elated, relieved, horny as hell.

“I have to go in. Can you meet me after college? I’ve hockey training tomorrow, I’ll finish about seven.”

For both, the following day dragged interminably. Joy received a severe dressing down from the hockey coach for failing to concentrate during the practise hockey game missing several chances to score from short corners. She couldn’t wait to be off the pitch, showered and into Rupert’s car.

In the car, she lent across and kissed Rupert hungrily, pulling his mouth onto hers, wanting to feel him against her.

“Turn the car,” she said, “I don’t want to go home yet. I told my Mum I’d be late.”

“Where are we going?” Rupert asked, hoping it would be somewhere private.

“Just down the lane. It’s quieter.”

Past the college grounds the lane became tree lined, no houses. It skirted the railway line, on a high embankment to one side, and terminated at the entrance to a large wood. Quiet and private, few people passed that way. Almost before he’d stopped the car, Joy knelt on her seat, better to get at what she wanted, pulling Rupert toward her anxious again to taste his lips.

The kissing occupied them fully. Yesterday had been for tasters, now they kissed with a hunger, wanting to imprint the taste and texture of lips and tongue, their hands occupied with faces and arms, for the moment, until finally, reaching some kind of saturation, Joy pulled away, leaning back against the car door, a silly grin on her face.

“Right. Enough of that, I want details. Who have you been kissing and who have you been playing with?” Joy asked.

“I’m not sure I should say.” Rupert replied, not wanting to disclose his inexperience.

“Rupert! Come on tell. Ok lets start with ‘do you have a girlfriend’.”

They carried on this banter whilst the day descended into evening, Joy genuinely anxious to discover if she was competing for his affections, and equally curious as to his experience and, who the hell had taught him to touch like that. All the boys she’d dated seemed not to know the difference between a grope and a caress. In the course of their questioning and answering, Joy extended her legs across Rupert’s lap, wanting to reassure herself that yesterday hadn’t been a dream.

Rupert answered her questions asking none of his own, his interests lay in the present, not her past. He couldn’t really believe his luck and intended to make the most of it, while it lasted. He’d seen Joy around, to his mind she seemed unapproachable, to have her here, in his car, her legs in his lap, innocently pressing against his erection as if she didn’t know what she was doing while he enjoyed the luxury of touching her smooth skin, was unspeakable heaven. He’d tell her whatever she wanted to hear.

Sometime after dark descended and the windows became misted with condensation and her curiosity to touch his prick outweighed the fear of what they might do with it, she shifted position, glanced at him, her eyes shining brightly in the feeble interior light.

“Don’t move.” She said and slowly began to undo the clasp of his trouser belt unzipping his fly, spreading back the top of his trousers and peered at the swelling pressing against his underpants.

“Can I touch it?” She asked, not waiting for an answer and pulling the waist band of his underpants down to reveal his prick, skin furled back, head shining as if recently polished, deep pink, engorged.

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