Anne was in a turmoil. For weeks afterwards, she had wondered what might have happened if they had had a little more time. Alone in her bed, she had imagined Philip's hand slipping under her dress and caressing her upper thighs until it reached her panties. She still did not know whether she would have - could have - stopped him, but, alone with her imagination, she did her best to convince herself it was Philip's fingers, not her own, sliding inside the leg of her panties and expertly seeking out her moist, parted lips through the damp undergrowth of her pubic hair, and gently teasing her sensitive clitoris to erection and, ultimately, a mind-shattering climax.
And, sometimes, in her mind, it was not his fingers which slid between her thighs, but the hard erection she had felt against her belly when Philip had kissed her for the second time. Her face burned as she recalled the mental image she had played with.
Her panties, somehow, removed, Philip's strong brown hands gripped the backs of her thighs as he lifted her up. Then, her back supported against the wall on the landing, he lowered her, legs held apart, unerringly on to his straining penis and slid it up inside her until it could go no further. And she wrapped her legs round his waist and trapped his pulsating member inside her, feeling it grow and grow until, suddenly, he groaned and threw his head back as his seed spurted into her in long, strong jets.
The image was overpowering her, now, and the urge to slip her fingers down between her thighs to massage her twitching clitoris was almost irresistible. Deep down, Anne now knew that she would not have been able to resist Philip had his hands slid under her skirt to her panties. Surreptitiously, she moved her buttocks on the hard wooden bench, to ease the damp warm sensation between her thighs. Kate observed her movement and knew, as she had suspected from Anne's distracted attempts at conversation, that the girl's thoughts were elsewhere.
Gently, she reached across and covered Anne's hand with hers.
"I'll be able to tell him what you look like, down there, now," she whispered, a wicked smile tugging the corners of her mouth. A surge of heat assailed Anne and her face flamed, but, catching Kate's eye, she couldn't stifle an embarrassed giggle. The events of the day, and the three glasses of dry, white wine she had drunk, quickly, were having a strange effect on her, and she now felt bolder, more curious - more like a woman than ever before.
"It'll drive him mad!" Kate asserted, confidently.
"I can't imagine him preferring anyone - after you," protested Anne.
"Oh, it's not a question of better, but different - strange - new. And young, and firm, like your bottom. He loves a cheeky bottom, and I could balance a cup and saucer on yours!"
Despite herself, Anne giggled again. Clive had always raved about her bottom, but, privately, Anne was a trifle embarrassed about the way it jutted out, and always tried to avoid rolling her hips when she walked.
Again, inevitably, her mind again conjured up the image of Kate holding Philip's erect penis in her hand as Philip told her how he had unclipped Anne's bra and caressed her naked breasts in his hands.
She wanted, more than anything else, for Kate to tell her about it again - but, this time, to describe, in detail, how it felt to have her fingers around Philip's penis as it stretched and lengthened . . .
But Kate's mind was on other things. Draining her glass, she leaned back, looking up to the sun, and sighed reminiscently, her eyes fluttering shut, her mouth turning upwards in a lascivious smile.
"Didn't Marco have a lovely cock?" she said, dreamily, running her hands down over the front of her T-shirt and squeezing her breasts on the way down.
"I thought it was quite . . . frightening," replied Anne, truthfully, when she realised Kate was waiting for a comment. Kate opened her eyes and leaned forward onto the table, her eyes on Anne's.
"Yes, it was, wasn't it? So dark, and thick. God, it was thick! When it started to slide inside me . . . " Her hands pressed down on her groin, outside her jeans, and her voice trailed off in an ecstatic moan.
"How would you like to be lifted up and lowered onto that monster, Anne? Can you imagine it? That's what Philip said he wished he'd done with you. He was describing it when he came all over my hand - how your tight cunt would grip his hard prick, and how warm and wet it would be. .. . "
Anne swallowed, as her throat tightened. To think that Philip's fantasy had been exactly the same as hers . . . Again, she squirmed uncomfortably on the rough bench, as the moist dampness assailed her once more.
Hesitantly, she stammered - "Is it ... I mean, was Marco anything like Philip?"
Kate looked hard at her, an amused smile playing round the corner of her mouth. "You want me to describe Philip's cock, don't you?"
"No!" denied Anne, her face flaming. "No! I just wondered . . . "
Kate laughed, softly.
"When we get home, I'll invite you round for an evening - I know he'll be only too happy to let you have a look for yourself. More than a look!"
Anne shook her head, miserably.
"I'm sorry, Kate," she said. "This morning - it's left me all very confused. I can't look on it like you. I was terrified when . . . he started touching you and then, when your top came undone and his hands touched your breasts . . . I've never seen anything like that before."
Kate nodded, understandingly.
"I was frightened, too," she confessed, "and I suppose I didn't really think it would go as far as it did, but . . . well, the truth is, it was his hands - the roughness of them. I suppose it's the work he does, but all the surfaces of his hands were really hard and when they rasped against my skin . . . Well, they were so different from Philip's - and anyone else who's touched me there - well, I just melted inside. And then, when he took hold of my nipples and rolled them against these roughened fingers . . . ."
Her voice trailed away and one of her hands slid off the table and, again, pushed hard against her groin. "It must be true what they say about a 'bit of rough'," she laughed, shakily.
"Well," said Anne, "I've only ever done it with Clive, so . . . "
"You're not talking about having your tits felt now, though, are you?" interrupted Kate, quickly. "Surely Philip's not the only other one who's done that?"
"Well, no," confessed Anne, reluctantly, *but ..."
"Who else?" Kate interrupted, again. "When was the first time?"
"Oh, I'm not sure," Anne lied, flustered, her cheeks flaming at the memory, but Kate was relentless.
"Rubbish!" she asserted. "Every girl remembers the first time she had her tits felt. I certainly do!"
"When was it?" Anne asked, eagerly, keen to switch the spotlight from herself.
"Oh, no!" laughed Kate. "You first! How old were you? Was it in the back row of the cinema?"
"No," muttered Anne. "I was staying with my aunt and uncle in Hastings and, one night, when they were out, my cousin Helen invited her boyfriend round and he brought a friend of his. They were all two years older than me, and we played some records and drank some wine, then we danced a little. I liked Helen's boyfriend, Russell - in fact, I suppose I had a bit of a crush on him. I quite liked his friend, Simon, as well, but something happened between Helen and Russell - they had a bit of an argument and I suppose I started flirting with Russell a little."
"At first, Helen tried to get her own back on Russell by flirting with Simon, but that didn't work because Simon was a bit frightened of Russell, I think, and Helen started getting a bit nasty with me for chatting up Russell. By that time, I had had too much to drink and I started backchatting Helen, although we were really very good friends and she was really like a big sister to me."
"Then suddenly she said to Russell - 'Well, you can have her if you're so keen, but don't expect her to let you do what I do!' Then she turned to Simon, who was sitting beside her on the settee, and kissed him and put his hand on her breast. Russell was absolutely livid and he grabbed me and kissed me."
"We had been dancing, so we were standing up, and he backed me against the wall, then pulled my blouse away from my skirt, at the back, and put his hand underneath it, onto the bare skin of my back. I didn't know what to do. His lips were hard against mine and his tongue was in my mouth - then I felt his erection pressing against me. I knew I should stop him, but - well, I think it was embarrassment as much as anything. I had told Helen I'd never let a boy touch me there, but I didn't think she'd tell anyone else, and . . . I didn't want to look like a silly young girl in front of them."
"So, I . . . I didn't do anything. I let Russell keep kissing me, but I didn't put my arms round him - but I didn't stop him, either, even when he undid the clips on my brassiere. I felt the last one go then, suddenly, his hands slid round my sides onto my front and he pushed up my cups and took hold of my bare breasts. He put his hands right on them, and squeezed, and his tongue pushed right to the back of my mouth."
Anne stopped, shaking at the recollection, then continued, her voice low and trembling.
"Then . . .then, he pulled me away from the wall and turned me round, to face Helen and Simon, with him behind me. He put my arms in a sort of half-nelson, then swept his hands up my chest, pulling my blouse and bra up to my neck, and . . . showed my bare breasts to the others. Then he put his hands on them, again, and said something like - 'well, she's had her little tits felt now'"
"And what happened then?" asked Kate.
"Well, Russell squeezed my breasts again, then he let me go, and I ran out of the room, crying, and ran upstairs to the bedroom I was sharing with Helen. I could hear them laughing, downstairs. I got my clothes off and got into my bed, but I couldn't sleep. I kept remembering standing there, with my clothes round my neck and the two of them looking at my bare breasts . . . " Her voice trailed off. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"And it still upsets you, doesn't it?" murmured Kate, whose eyes were also glittering brightly. Anne nodded, wordlessly, and gulped, then continued.
"You see, I wasn't . . . very big, then. I was a fairly late developer. But Helen had lovely big breasts, with dark round nipples. She was always walking round our bedroom, stripped to the waist, but I would never let her see . . . mine. She used to talk about how Russell loved to fondle her 'boobs', as she called them, and how he only liked girls with big ones. She was so proud of them!"
