The evening we spent at the home of Greta, was fantastic, she laid on an excellent meal, her chicken casserole with some very acceptable white wine and the chocolate feast of a desert was as they say 'to die for'. The Bailey's loosened a few tongues nicely and we heard two different stories on a subject not previously raised directly, virginity, or, more precisely male virgins!
"Don't talk to me about fuckin' Virgins." Polly had consumed several Bailey's, "I had one once, I actually really wished I could get one, I was looking forward to it but when I did, well, believe me, one was more than enough, never again! Let me tell you about it."
My friend Eunice was a bit older than me, and we worked together on one of the counters in Woolworth's, I won't tell you which branch, not that it matters now that they have gone.
Well Eunice had this young bloke who, before I started working with her, had been a regular customer, they had become more than friends, after he joined the forces they had kept in touch.
Eunice's husband was aware of the friendship, and the guy was only a little younger than their own son. I have to say, there was nothing of a sort of sexual thing between them, well as far as I knew, but they did sort of...flirt...a bit.
The guy, let's call him...um...George. George wrote to Eunice and they agreed to meet up for a meal. I was asked to join Eunice and her husband for the evening.
Well, I have always been a sucker, if you will excuse the expression, for a man in uniform. So, I accepted.
It was a very pleasant evening, a lovely Italian restaurant, an excellent meal. Eunice and her husband were generous hosts. It was a bit of a surprise when 'the boys' excused themselves and went off to the little boy's room and Eunice 'had a word' with me.
"Look Polly, don't really like to say this really, but, you will, you know, be careful won't you?"
"What do you mean Eunice; he seems so...so...nice."
"Oh he is, he really is...but."
"But ...come on, but what?"
"Well, not...not to put to fine a point on it..."
"Come on Eunice, out with it, is he a mass murderer or something."
"No, no, it's just that..."
She lowered her voice to a whisper.
"...he is a bit on the horny side."
How the hell she knew that I would have liked to know! Anyway, I suppose, I had been warned!
'The boys' returned. The meal and very entertaining conversation continued. Coffee and liqueurs rounded off the evening nicely. George was the perfect gentleman, eased me from my chair, helped me on with my coat, and held the door for Eunice, her husband and me.
I felt very, sort of proud, walking down the street, arm in arm with this erect military man in uniform.
Now, you will think me odd, I know, but walking down the street with a man in uniform, and Eunice's warning ringing in my ears, was making me damp down below, you know what I mean girls. Never mind George, I was a bit on the horny side myself.
I'll tell you now, I was no virgin, I'd had one or two cocks in the few years since leaving school, but that is not this story. But you do don't you girls, you get a taste for a nice hard cock, well I certainly did, and I quite fancied trying George's horny side.
Anyway, Eunice and hubby saw us onto the night bus, I made my way to the upper deck, as was not unusual in those days, the conductor declined the fare from the man in uniform. Had George and the conductor looked up as I mounted the stairs, my French knickers and stocking tops would have been clearly in view.
Well girls, we knew didn't we that if we used the upper deck, the conductor and anyone else standing on the platform had a good chance of seeing next weeks laundry if they were interested in looking.
Didn't stop us though did it? I am sure some of the rest of you, just like me used to go on the top deck just for the chance of showing off legs and knickers. I even, on the odd occasion was known to 'forget' the knickers! If we were lucky, the conductor would show appreciation by 'forgetting' to collect the fare.
George joined me on the deserted upper deck, and we settled our selves into our seat. The choice of seat was quite important if one had amorous intent, well, it did depend on whether the attention of the conductor was welcome or otherwise, those convex mirrors at the top of the stairs and at the front of the upper deck could be curse, and on this occasion, I didn't particularly want to be observed.
We settled into our bench seat, part way down the bus, and it wasn't many minutes into the half hour journey that we sorted out what went where to provide a comfortable cuddle and the opportunity for the exchange of kisses, after the first few, excersize for tongues was to the fore. Then obviously the sneaky hand into my coat to squeeze my not overly big charlies.
I wasn't complaining, and I dropped my hand to George's lap, I didn't just feel his muscular thigh, oh no girls, there was something else and it certainly wasn't a bread roll!
Massive, wasn't a word that leapt instantly to mind girls, which was just a little disappointing, I think adequate was a more appropriate description, and my squeeze was disappointingly rewarding, as there was no great enlargement at my touch.
There were several substantial throbs under my hand, only to be abruptly interrupted by the conductor calling our destination. It was quite an annoyance, a pair of erect nipples, suddenly deserted, a bloody, if you'll excuse the expression, disappointment.
Dismounting from the bus, George enquired about the return bus and timings, then took my hand for the walk to my door. It was around ten o'clock; I had a curfew of midnight. I slipped my arm around George's waist and sort of steered him away from my home, and down toward the canal side.
There were plenty of dark corners down there, where a girl, or a fella, could lead a companion into a suitably compromising situation. I kept my fingers crossed that George would attempt to compromise me.
