This is a true story, in two parts. This first part is the intro. Assuming I get a good reception, I’ll continue.
I was at boarding school in the North of England in my final year (my Dad was an engineer and my parents lived all over the world). I had my final A’Level exams starting in a few weeks. My 18th birthday was this week, 38 years ago.
I was a relatively ordinary teenager, nothing particularly athletic or powerful, but I was (very) occasionally selected for the 2nd XV rugby team, and was a keen cross country runner. I also did a lot of orienteering and hiking and stuff through the cadet force at school.
Academically I was a bit of a mess. Never really did any work, and spent most of my time at school trying to find ways to sneak out to the pub, or to the local town to buy cigarettes that I would then sell at hugely inflated prices back at school. One of my favourite ways to get out of school was through “voluntary service”, and I was a master at it. Almost from the point I arrived at school, I wanted to find ways to spend my weekends away. The school had a very well developed voluntary service group, and boys from the college would go all over the place on weekends to help at local hospitals, homes for the elderly, the local hospice, or cleaning up the town centre, doing all types of stuff. I was actively involved, primarily as it was a way to get out! By the time I was in my final year, I was the “Head of Voluntary”, and was basically in charge, recruiting people for various jobs throughout the year. That meant that I could also pick the best jobs for myself! One of the best was working in a huge old people’s home in the local town. It was run by the Little Sisters of the Poor and must have had 200-300 residents.
We would go there on Saturday lunchtime and stay through till Sunday evening. We’d spend the night up in what was effectively the attic of the home in a 5 bedroomed staff accommodation apartment. My “work” involved basically cleaning. Pretty much anything, in the kitchens, mopping out the cafeteria, cleaning up outside, carrying lots of stuff for visiting relatives, or luggage for residents going away for the weekend etc. etc. Anything that involved manual labour, as the usual staff & porters were mostly away for the weekend. Obviously we didn’t actually look after anyone!
The reason I liked it so much was firstly that it was just outside the town centre, so you could easily get out to the pub or the cinema, or whatever after you’d finished work, and secondly, there was always at least one or two young women students from the local higher education college studying stuff like nursing, physiotherapy, and social work who used to work / volunteer there on weekends as well. That was always fun, as we’d always go out for a drink after work on Saturday. Yes, I was under 18, and in the U.K. the legal drinking age is 18, but in those days, unless you looked like a 12 year old, any pub would serve you.
May 1982, I spend a weekend at the home, and met for the first time a young Irish girl. Lets call her Patricia. She was from Cork, 21 years old, cheerful, funny, slim, blue eyed, light skin, and shoulder length sandy blond hair that was in a high pony tail. Every time she moved, turned her head, walked, that little pony tail just bobbed up and down and around. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her all weekend. That first weekend, I was at the home with another boy from my school and we had made plans to go into town and pub crawl around, so I couldn’t really plan anything. However for the whole weekend, I just couldn’t keep my eyes off Patricia. I did whatever I could to bump into her, have a little chat and a flirt. I should note that up till this point, I’d never had a “girlfriend” as such, yes, I’d kissed girls, fumbled at parties, and I had lots of friends that were girls.
However, Patricia was different. She was older than me, more savvy and experienced, but she knew that I was watching her. At that age, I felt that she was way out of my league. There’s a huge difference between a 17/18 year old schoolboy and an independent 22 year old, away from home, studying for professional exams.
But I just played along, and she played along with me, teasing the young man! By the Sunday evening when I was going to go back to school, I made sure I found out if Patricia would be working again. She told me that she had signed up to work for the next five weekends. Well I couldn’t let that go without saying “Well, I’ll be here next weekend, and it’s my 18th birthday. Do you want to go out for a drink?”
It sounds like I was forward, but I can tell you that it took all my courage and nerves to ask that. I couldn’t believe that I was saying it as the words came out of my mouth. It was off the cuff, and I expected her to “Yes of course! That’ll be fun, at least you’ll be legal! Ha Ha!”
I really couldn’t believe it! I blushed, was completely flustered, and then tried to man up “OK great, see you next weekend then!”
For the next week at school I was in heaven. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I dreamt of her, I jerked off to her, I did everything to her! Of course, at this stage, I still was planning to go for a drink and flirt and have fun, nothing more! It was beyond my wildest dreams that anything else would come of it.
So Saturday comes. It’s my 18th birthday. I have classes in the morning (that’s normal for many boarding schools). Lunch time, I head out of school to get the bus into town. It’s a half hour ride through the countryside. I’m nervous, I’m happy. Arrive at the home, walk in, check-in at the staff office where they tell me I’ll be gardening all afternoon and then head up to the staff rooms to drop my bag. Change into my old jeans and head off to work.
Anyway, by about 5 in the evening, I’d only caught a glimpse of Patricia as she walked through the main cafeteria of the home, and I was digging up flowerbeds in the front garden! I could see that ponytail bobbing up and down as she strided confidently through the room, straight back, head up. I waved, she smiled and waved back. Came to one of the large French doors and called out “What time? 8.00?” I shouted back “Yes, that’s perfect!” I’m practically fainting with anticipation!
At six, I sign off work and head back up to my room. On the table in the common room, there’s a 1.5 litre bottle of wine wrapped up with a bow, and a birthday card. “Happy Birthday! Here’s your first drink! Patricia XX” Lutomer Riesling, which back in those days wine was one of the best selling wines in the U.K. It was a semi sweet white wine, loved by students as it was cheap and you could buy 1.5 litre bottles!
Had a shower and shave, (and a quick wank!) put on my best jeans and shirt, slapped on some Old Spice aftershave and was ready to go!
Patricia’s no where to be seen, no noise in the apartment, but I do notice that no one else appears to be staying in the staff accommodation, apart from the one closed room, which I assume was hers. Wow, my day was getting better!
When I get down to the front reception of the home, no one is there. I waste time trying not to look out of place, and chat to one of the caretakers and the night receptionist who has just come on duty. About 15 minutes later, Patricia appears along the corridor. She’s wearing what I would describe as a denim like material ra ra dress. Frilly type mini skirt with a bodice with buttons all the way down the front and some frills here and there, black tights and pixie boots. Think early 1980’s Madonna without the attitude!
The two things I remember most about her was that she was so confident in herself, and that she smelt beautiful. (I found out later that it was Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps. Still around today, and if I smell it, the memories come flooding back!!)
“Where were you?” she asked. “I was expecting to see you upstairs for a first drink! I see you got my present! I was in my room getting ready, you should have knocked”
There I am thinking “what a moron I am”.
“So, shall we go back up and try it?”
“Yes, but aren’t we going out?”
“Of course we are, but we have to at least open the present first.”
We head back along the long corridor, towards the service lifts at the end. Patricia is walking slightly in front of me, and all I can see is that confident walk, and the ponytail waving around. I’m now actually getting nervous, and start just thinking that today may end up as a truly great day. We chat about nothing, what we’ve both been doing all afternoon. We get up to the apartment. At that point I realize we don’t have glasses. “Grab the two from the bathroom” Patricia says (remember, this was the 1980’s and we were young, wine glasses weren’t really a high priority). I get them and watch as Patricia unscrews the bottle (yes, it was cheap wine!). She leans over the table just long and slow enough for me to glimpse a bit of cleavage, and pours the two glasses. Takes both and hands one to me. “Cheers, here’s to your 18th birthday!” As she’s saying this, I can see for the first time that she’s also looking at me right in the eyes. Up till this point, I’ve thought it was just a teenage crush on my part, but now it’s clear that she is also in this game.
“OK knock it back and then I’ll give you your birthday kiss”
At that, I nearly choke to death, but I manage to knock back the wine in one go.
Patricia then immediately steps up to me, puts her arms round my neck and plants a kiss on my lips. Both our lips are still wet with wine, and the kiss lingers just long enough for it to be meaningful without being sloppy! At this point my teen hormones take over, and I put my hands on her waist, and pull her towards me again, for another kiss. She accepts and we kiss, this time not yet quite a French kiss, but still more than a friendly greeting. I pull her towards me a little harder, but she resists “No, No! we need to have something to look forward to later!!
She pulls away from me “O.K., O.K. that’s the fun over, right, let’s go”.
I am floating, literally walking on air. I’ve just kissed the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, and she’s promised me more. We’re basically alone in a large apartment, no one else around to bother us, and both away from home. She’s four years older than me, and clearly has something on her mind.
As we head out to the pub down the road, we’re flirting, joking, having fun, our hands even brush together as we’re walking side by side. Its early evening and springtime, the weather is beautiful. It couldn’t get better.
Down in the pub, about 5 minutes walk from the home, I order a lager, and she orders a white wine spritzer. We sit and chat. “where are you from”, “what do you do”, “what courses are you doing for A’Level”, “what does training in social work involve”, “how did you end up volunteering at this particular place”. It turns out that we have a couple of distant connections through her younger sister, and my cousin who are both at University together in Scotland studying the same course.
We just clicked. All the time, there wasn’t really anything sexual in any way, just a growing knowledge that soon we’d both be back in that staff apartment, on our own, with one large bottle of wine. Those two hours or so went in a flash. We only had a couple of drinks, and spent the rest of the time talking, talking and talking.
11.00 pm, pub closing time, we head back, and as we walk back through the warm evening, we are very close. I’m thinking continually, “should I hold her hand?” I really didn’t know what to do. It had already been a fabulous evening, and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin it now.
We arrive back, “I’ll go and get some proper wine glasses from the kitchens”, she said. “You go in first, and I’ll follow, that way the receptionist won’t think that we’re totally together!”
It added another small sense of the forbidden to what was going on.
I head into the building, say goodnight to the receptionist, and head up to my room. By the time I arrive, I’m going half crazy. “What the fuck am I going to do now!!?” How do I act, casual, dominant and macho, take it or leave it, who knows? I go for a pee. I’m shaking.
I’m back in the common room. Do I sit down, stand up, and lean against the window ledge. God I’m so nervous I don’t know what to do. But at that moment, I hear her in the corridor and then she’s there. Two wine glasses in her hand.
“Here we are birthday boy! Let’s celebrate”
Two more glasses are poured; she takes both, sits on the couch and offers me the other glass. There’s not really all that much I can do except sit down alongside her. We clink glasses, and down them in one go again. “After every glass, I’m going to kiss you” she said. I just couldn’t believe it. But she leaned forward, and kissed me. This time, our lips were open, and I could taste her. It lasted maybe a minute. I’m holding a wine glass, really awkwardly turned half towards her, and trying to get a hand on her waist somehow. The combination of the odd posture, and the total excitement meant that I was visibly trembling as we got to the end of that kiss.
She sat up straight, looked me in the eye, and said, “you haven’t done this before have you?” I’m hurt by this, Christ, is this end? Have I messed up? This is the best moment of my life so far, and it’s going to end now?
“Er what do you mean, of course I’ve had girlfriends”, I reply, very defensively.
“No I mean, you haven’t gone all the way before”
She leans over, takes the bottle and fills up both glasses again.
“Well what do you mean by all the way?”
She looks at me and says, “Drink up, and I’ll show you. Remember a kiss after every glass”
We silently drink our glasses, looking at each other. I finish first, and giggle “O.K. what next?”
She takes mine and places both on the table. Then leans into me, arms around my neck again, and we kiss. This time, I get my arm around her waist, as we’re kissing; I run my hand up her side. She is rummaging her hands through my hair. I feel her tongue in my mouth, and in return I probe into her mouth. At this point, I’m as hard as a tree, and as many guy’s will know, desperate to straighten it out. My dick was somehow at right angles; I can hardly reach in and straighten it now! My God! I’m almost cumming!!
We break off (thank God!) “Right, this isn’t the right place for this” she says matter-of-factly. “Your room or mine?”
Christ, I can hardly breathe at this point. “Yours?” I splutter.
She takes the bottle and the two glasses, turns and walks the 4-5 meters to her bedroom door. I follow meekly behind. I’m tipsy, but not drunk, but I am totally high on what’s happening, and can’t believe it.
She stops, takes out the key, turns the lock, looks at me and says gently “Are you O.K. with this?” It’s a genuine question, because I know that she knows I’m totally out of it at this point. I’m having trouble!
“O.K. Let’s go!”
We walk into the room; it smells of a combination of L’Air du Temps and Green Apple shampoo! I’ll never forget that smell. The room is functional and small. About 3m by 4m, a bed, bedside table, chair and a hanging rack. A dim light hangs in the ceiling. Designed for temporary staff for overnight stays. There’s nothing personal in the room. I hear the door close behind me and the lock click.
Patricia squeezes past me, sits down on the bed, holding the two glasses in one hand she pours another set of drinks. She pats the bed next to her. I sit down, she hands me the glass, and we drink again.
I’m finished first. I hold my glass, controlling my breathing as much as I can. The anticipation is killing me.
“Let’s do buttons this time” she says.
She takes the glass from my hand, and places both of them on the bedside table. We’re sitting on the bed facing each other. She reaches for my hand and lifts it up to her dress. “Six buttons each” she says.
I just can’t believe this.
“Is this for real?” I ask.
“Yes” she replies coyly.
Should I be doing this? Should I be here? I’m spinning. Six buttons, I’m trying to count how many she has on her dress. Six takes it to her waist!
She reaches for my shirt and starts. After three she slips her hand into my shirt, I feel her fingers tingle over my chest, then the fourth. The all. My shirt is completely undone. She sits up and looks at me.
I reach over, my fingers are actually trembling at this point, but I manage the first four. I can see right into her cleavage. The white bra is visible, and I can see the tops of her breasts over the cups. I fumble for the fifth, at which point I stumble. I’m trying, but it’s not coming off. My fingers brush against her breasts as I awkwardly try and unbutton the damn thing. It’s done. It falls half open; I can see her bra, and her firm stomach? In the dim light, her white bra is half visible to me. I can see chest moving as she breathes.
I’m practically hyperventilating at this point. Trying to keep control.
“Another drink?” she asks casually.
“Can we skip one?”
“Come here”, and she leans forward, grabs me and we both flop sideways onto the bed. We’re kissing. I manage to get one hand into her dress, and can feel her skin. It’s electric. It’s like static running up my arm. She puts one hand up to my shoulder inside my shirt, and peels back the material, I lift and turn and my shirt if off, hanging around my belt. Her hands run over my back and chest. The kissing is stronger. Our tongues entwined. I can taste the wine in her mouth.
I reach around behind her back and can feel the bra. I’m stroking up and down and across, trying to find the clip. Where the hell is it?
She pulls away from the kiss, but then nuzzles up to my ear. “It opens at the front you silly boy!” Sits up and slowly and provocatively unclips it. Her dress has fallen off her shoulders, and the bra just falls away, revealing two of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. Small B cup, milky white, perky, with small but really well defined nipples, hard.
I reach forward, and we fall back into each others arms. I can feel her body against mine. The skin is warm and soft. Her breasts are against my chest. I can feel the hardness of her nipples against my bare skin. I’m in heaven. My hand runs up her body, and up the base of her breast. It’s so soft. A little further and my fingers reach her nipple. I can feel her straighten up and tense slightly as I run my fingers over it. We clasp each other tighter.
I know what’s going to be happening soon. It’s blowing my mind. I try and keep control, but my dick is throbbing, my hands are all over her. My mouth is on her mouth.
To be continued…