(The reader is advised to read Part 1 first.)
Jennifer Wyndham-Brent had decided that she should educate herself more about sex. Secretly watching Henry pleasuring himself had been a shocking experience, but also an intensely arousing one, and it had opened Jennifer's eyes to a whole new world. Prior to that occasion, Jennifer had been totally unaware that women could experience sexual pleasure, but after watching Henry, she had touched herself and experienced her first orgasm -- almost by accident, and she was desperate for more.
Almost every night when she went to bed, Jennifer would rub her clitoris, and finger herself, but for some reason, she could not reach that pinnacle of ecstasy that had, on the first occasion, reduced her to a quivering jelly. The touching felt very nice, there was no denying that, and many times she felt that she was almost at the crest of the wave, but it always eluded her. Her hand would get weary, and her clitoris tender and bruised, and Jennifer would cease trying.
After much thought, Jennifer wondered if a man might be the required catalyst? That first time after spying on Henry she had 'come' within a mere ten minutes of starting to touch herself -- it had been so easy.
Jennifer set herself a time scale. The summer holidays had commenced, and in two months she would be going up to Lady Margaret Hall, at Oxford, to study French and Italian. Lady Margaret Hall was a women's college, and her father had secured her a place by donating a large sum of money for renovations to the college library. Provided that she could spell her name correctly on the exam papers, she was guaranteed a place.
Jennifer would be living in residence, which would be the first time that she spent time away from home. She was an intelligent girl and realised that the students would be getting up to all sorts of licentious behaviour, and she did not want to be known as a prissy 'blue stocking'.
On the first Saturday of the holiday, the Wyndham-Brents had visitors. The Willard-Browns came from London to visit. They brought their son, Toby. Jennifer had known Toby for many years. She and her brother Barnaby had played together with Toby when they were children. Toby was of medium height, and medium build. In fact, he was medium in almost every respect. Jennifer had last seen him the previous year and had found him to have become rather boring. However, he was male, and might just be able to further her education.
There was a boat house by the lake, that was very well equipped. The Wyndham-Brents liked to entertain, and when there were many guests invited to events, the overflow was often accommodated in the boat house. Two rooms had beds in them, and there was a small kitchen area and a room that served as a lounge. Most ordinary people would have thought it to be of better quality than their house, but not the Wyndham-Brents. They often spoke of demolishing it and building something finer.
The family had recently bought a new boat. It was a snazzy little speed boat and could get up to terrifying speeds on the lake. It was designed for much larger bodies of water, but as the cost was not a factor, they had bought it. Jennifer hatched a plan.
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Jennifer and Toby took an after-lunch stroll around the gardens.
"Would you like to see the new speedboat?" she asked.
"Oh, rather!" gushed Toby.
Yes, dear reader, he would not have been out of place in a P. G. Wodehouse novel. Jennifer led him down to the boathouse to see the boat. It was locked away in a type of 'boat garage', attached to the side of the boathouse. Jennifer was quite adept at sailing the boat, but pretended on this occasion to be a bit feeble. She unlocked the garage doors and guided Toby into the boat. She started it up with the ignition key and pootled it out into clear water.
"Toby, you drive it," she said and coaxed Toby to take over.
Toby quite enjoyed it, and slowly built up confidence and went faster and faster, even managing to perform some quite tight, high-speed turns, that threw up a lot of spray. Jennifer shrieked in feigned hysteria.
"Oh, Toby, you are so brave!" she exclaimed.
After a few minutes, Jennifer called it a day.
"Toby, that's enough, I feel quite dizzy," she said, mopping her brow with a lace handkerchief. Toby slowed, and steered back to the jetty, but he did not have a good grasp of Newton's Laws of Motion, and came in a bit too fast. He bumped the prow of the boat into the jetty -- Jennifer flung herself dramatically from her seat, and emitted a very convincing shriek of terror.
"Oh, I say, gosh, I am terribly sorry! Are you alright?" effused Toby.
"I think so," replied Jennifer, "but I may have twisted my ankle. Help me inside."
She clung to Toby's arm and limped into the boathouse, and led him to one of the rooms with a bed. She kicked her shoes off and sat on the bed and then lay back - the handkerchief came out again to mop her brow. If smelling salts had been handy, she would surely have used them.
Jennifer patted the bed beside her.
"Sit here Toby," she directed, "I'll be alright in a minute."
He did as he was told.
"Goodness," she said, "I am so hot. Are you hot, Toby?"
It was a warm day, but not excessively so.
"I am fine," Toby replied.
"Maybe it's the shock," Jennifer said, fanning her face with her hand.
She then unbuttoned the top buttons on her silk blouse. Jennifer had petite breasts, and there was no real danger of her bosom falling out, so to expose herself she had to undo several buttons, to achieve her purpose. She put on an attitude of being lost in a dream, to make it look as if she was quite unaware that she was actually undoing nearly all the buttons. She wore a skimpy, slightly see-through bra, and out of the corner of her eye Jennifer kept watch on Toby, to make sure that he could see quite a bit of her chest.
Jennifer lifted her right leg in the air.
"Toby, be a dear and see if there is anything wrong with my ankle -- it feels so sore," she cooed.
Toby leaned closer but did not take the bait. Jennifer shook her leg in front of him, which made her skirt slip back, exposing a good bit of her slim and shapely leg.
"Can you feel the ankle?" she implored.
Toby was hesitant but took hold of her leg. He was no paramedic, but felt the ankle gingerly -- and proclaimed it to be in fine condition.
"Your hands feel so good, Toby, maybe it just needs a massage."
Toby rubbed Jennifer's ankle. It did feel good feeling his hands on her - his grip was firmer than she had anticipated.
"Oh, yes," she sighed, "that feels much better. My calf is also a bit sore, can you massage that?"
