Jilly Jilly Gang Bang

This story is set in 1981 in England. There was no internet, no mobile phones, and very different attitudes.

Everyone in this story is over eighteen.

Some of the opinions expressed by some of the characters would have been more mainstream at the time. I am not saying that they are correct, nor am I saying that the current balance is perfect. The past is simply a foreign country- they do things differently there.

It interlinks with many of my other stories, but I have tried to make it self-contained and include sex with the exposition.

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It was Thursday evening, and school had finished for the day. Jill Summers was waiting in the staffroom to speak with her fiancé, Alan Hampton, and finalise the arrangements for tomorrow's trip to Coketown.

They had been going out for three years and engaged for two years. Alan was a fellow teacher at St. Thomas's Grammar School in Birmingham and came from a well-off family. He had a first-class degree from Oxford. In his mid-twenties, he was already head of History at St Thomas's and was likely to become a headmaster of a distinguished school or an MP in due course.

Alan's kindness, ambition, intellect and patience appealed to the woman she wanted to think she was. Her friends and family approved of him and told her that Alan was a good man. She was almost sure that she wanted to marry him.

She told herself that once the trip to Coketown was over, provided he wasn't selected to stand for the seat, she would finally name the day. She didn't mind him becoming a politician or standing for parliament. She accepted that for him to be selected as a candidate, having a wife or girlfriend to help campaign and smile for the cameras was important, and if she married him, that was part of the deal. The problem was Coketown and that night in November 1980.

She told herself that there was no real risk of meeting the Dapper Man or the young men. She would be in the best hotel in town in the evenings and at the hustings at the Conservative Club on Saturday afternoon. She would be able to persuade Alan that it was best that she spent Saturday morning relaxing in the bath and making herself presentable for the local Conservatives to look over. He didn't expect to be selected as there was a local candidate who was well-liked, but the experience would be good for him. After this weekend, she need never go to Coketown again and she could forget about that night.

Then Alan said, "Apparently, I did well at the initial interviews, and I have an excellent chance of making the final two and a real chance of being selected."

"That's excellent news." Well, what else could she say?

"I really need your help this weekend. Tomorrow night, it's possible that some of the selection committee members will drop in for a word before the hustings. I should warn you about the constituency chairman. He's a well-dressed man in his late fifties who served in the RAF during World War Two. I think he is one of my supporters. The trouble is that he behaves as though he is still a dashing man in his twenties. He has a sense of humour about it. He says that he will keep younger longer, if he behaves as though he is a thing of beauty and a boy forever. He will flirt with you as though you were a WAAF, but don't worry about being asked to do more than laugh and play along."

She asked, "What's his name?"

She knew the answer before he said the name. It was going to be the man in Coketown she most feared meeting and the one most likely to recognise her. It was indeed Rupert Grimsdyke, AKA the Dapper Man. The one thing Alan had got wrong was how much Rupert would dare ask, but that had been because she had made it clear that the answer would be yes.

How she got through the rest of the conversation without vomiting was a mystery to her. At last, Alan kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight.

She couldn't risk meeting Rupert on Friday evening. Alan had made it clear that she would be expected to be pleasant to the man, and he would surely recognise her. She also knew that the hotel had a dance floor, and he would insist on dancing with her. She needed an excuse not to arrive in Coketown before Saturday lunchtime, if at all.

She could only think of one person who could provide her with a plausible excuse. Amber was heading for a break-up with her boyfriend Alastair and owed Jill a favour. Jill had put Amber up for a week last year after Amber had split up with her previous boyfriend, Donald after he had beaten her up in a jealous rage.

Amber insisted that she hadn't cheated on Donald. It was probably true. The man who had triggered Donald's anger was as macho as Larry Grayson. If a man was going to be jealous, then he shouldn't go out with Amber. She was the most sexually experienced woman Jill knew and never had any problem picking up men.

She telephoned Amber from home, who agreed to the visit. It even turned out that the excuse would be the truth. Amber had just broken up with Alastair but understood when Jill mentioned her fear of meeting the Dapper Man. She did ask Jill to bring some wine with her. She said, "I need to wash that man right out of my hair, and it may as well be with vino."

A good thing about seeing Amber was that she was the one person who knew about both Gavin and Coketown. Well, she only knew about the Dapper Man from Coketown, but she knew all about Gavin. Hell, she'd remembered an important fact better than Jill when they had met in January and Jill had told the very expurgated version of her night in Coketown.

Amber agreed to Jill's request to help give some verisimilitude to the cover story by leaving an urgent message tomorrow morning at St Thomas's for Jill to call her.

That left Jill to her thoughts. Jill was frightened of sex and what it brought out in her. Her mind did not believe in pre-marital sex, but her body did.

Her first relationship had both excited and scarred her emotionally. She had met Gavin in her second year at university. He had wooed her enthusiastically, professed his love, and talked about them being soulmates.

She'd been warned by Amber that Gavin was a total shit. Despite this warning, which, in retrospect, she should have realised was coming from an expert, she had persuaded herself that she could redeem him and that he really loved her.

Finally, he had overcome her scruples. The first time they had had sex, he had been gentle and had made sure that she was comfortable. He had held her afterwards and reassured her. After that first evening, he had made love to her increasingly roughly and then publicly dumped her.

It hadn't helped that Jill had been tactless in her views on her friends' failed romances and their unsuitability in the past. Amber was the one friend who had not reacted to Jill's humiliation by Gavin with what the Germans called schadenfreude.

Amber was probably right to say that he hadn't made love to her but fucked her. The problem was that she had enjoyed the experience until it became clear that he wasn't joking about dumping her and despising her. She'd enjoyed being called a whore and used at the time.

She had avoided any more relationships at university, partly because she was scared that they were only after her because, after being used by Gavin, she was seen as a sure thing and partly because her reaction to sex had frightened her. She'd even rewritten the past so that she had convinced herself that she had not enjoyed sex with Gavin until Jill reminded her of the truth. Undoubtedly, that had helped her degree, but it also meant that she was inexperienced and fearful.

She wanted to be married and had told herself that she would look for a husband when she started work. Being the youngest female teacher at St. Thomas's, which was then an all-boys school, meant that there were plenty of eligible youngish men of her social class or higher who were interested.

Two men in particular pursued her whom she found of interest. One was Stephen Williamson, who taught PE and geography and coached the First XV and the First XI. He was 6 foot 2 and built in the same way as Gavin--large and muscular. She was physically attracted to him but suspected that he enjoyed playing the field. The other was Alan Hampton. He was an old boy of the school and, while 5 foot 10 and physically fit, was a cricketer rather than a Rugby player.

She had chosen Alan because she could trust him and because he didn't remind her of Gavin. He also came from a wealthy family. He was instinctively gentle and considerate, as well as being a gentleman. That had, in retrospect, been the problem for most of the relationship. Jill respected Alan, but she wasn't excited by him in the same way as she had been by Gavin.

She had not had sex with him and panicked whenever they got close to it. Part of her thought that she should not have sex before marriage, part of her feared being rejected again once he had had his way with her, and part worried that she didn't really love him in a sexual way. It did not help that she had chosen him over Stephen because she thought Alan was the safer option.

Alan had offered to marry her before they had sex, but she wouldn't fix a date for the wedding. She was afraid of marrying him and finding out she didn't enjoy sex with him. If he'd only insisted on having sex with her or tried harder to persuade her when she had lost her nerve, then she may have been able to commit to a wedding date.

Good girls like her were meant to put up some resistance, but if the man insisted would lie back and think of England. If a girl really didn't want to have sex with a man, she didn't put herself in a position where she was unable to stop the man from insisting. That was another problem with the night in Coketown. Had she wanted it to happen? She hadn't even put up a token resistance to the rugby team.

She had slept badly that Thursday night and had been unable to face breakfast. Although she had a plan, she dreaded telling Alan that she would not be travelling up with him. The other problem was thinking about Gavin and that night in Coketown had dominated her dreams.

She needed to leave it until the last minute before telling Alan she wasn't coming tonight. She must not give him a chance to talk her around as there was no rational reason for her to back out she could give him.

She dressed as though she would be travelling to Coketown with Alan. Smart, but designed to show off her figure. A pencil skirt which covered her knees but was tight around her bottom. A cashmere sweater which accentuated her breasts. She was wearing a garter belt, stockings and heels. Still, everything would be covered. It wasn't that different from how she normally dressed at school.

On Friday, after she finished her morning classes, the school Secretary presented her with a message that Amber had called. She couldn't face lunch because of her nerves. There was no real need to return the call, but she did walk down to the nearest phone box at the end of the lunch hour and pretended to make a call, making certain that she remembered who she had passed if it was necessary to provide proof to Alan that she had only arranged this trip today.

On her way back from the pretend call, Stephen Williamson intercepted her. He had taken her choice of Alan better than she had expected. She had not burnt her bridges with him and, whenever she could, came out to support the first XV, usually with Alan. She enjoyed watching rugby, and the headmaster approved of her attendance as showing a proper school spirit.

She had made the right choice as Stephen's girlfriends lasted, on average, three months. She had remonstrated with him about this, but he had deflected the comment by saying, "They all feel jealous of you. They all realise that I'm more attracted to you than them and that the entire First XV think so as well." He had then said that she knew that she was devoted to Alan but said that if she was ever on the market again, "Barkis is willing."

Today, he saluted her and declared, "Jill, the team is devastated that you will not be there on Saturday to support them. I swear you are worth ten points a game to us."

She laughed, "You're joking, but carry on flattering me."

"It's true. They look on themselves as knights, and you are the fair lady they wish to impress in the lists."

"Next, you'll be asking me for favours for them to wear."

Stephen pretended to take the joke seriously, "I'm tempted, but I don't think that the headmaster would fund me buying fifteen silk ... handkerchiefs with your initials. He certainly wouldn't agree to buy expensive perfume for you to dip each handkerchief in to further motivate them."

She laughed at him, "I don't suppose he would. Anyway, their girlfriends would complain."

"Seriously, I think it will make all the difference if you can attend the semi-final on Wednesday evening. If we win, then after that, you must be at the cup final at Scriveners in two weekends' time."

"I promise."

It was true that the only games the First XV had lost since she had started watching them were when she wasn't there. She really was their mascot. She was 5 foot 7 tall, brunette with long legs. She had been told that she had a pert bottom and good breasts.

"If you could change into your tightest jeans beforehand."

"What a wag you are, Stephen."

Still, she would do as he requested. Even before that night in Coketown, she had found the First XV's reaction to her cheering them on exhilarating. After that evening, there had been an extra frisson and feeling of guilt. That night in Coketown had destroyed everything she had ever believed about herself, especially after Amber reminded her in January how much of that was self-deception. The fact that she had rewritten what had happened with Gavin so thoroughly had shocked her.

Stephen often flirted with her, even in front of Alan, but Alan found it amusing rather than becoming jealous. Jill initially had been glad of his trust, especially when she saw how Donald behaved with Amber, but she was now more ambivalent. Perhaps Alan wanted to be rid of her but was too much of a gentleman to jilt her. Possibly, as Stephen had hinted, he was gay or not interested in sex. No, she could dismiss that thought. He clearly wanted her.

Her last lesson that day was a single-period General Studies lesson with a class that included seven of the First XV. She knew that they preferred staring at her to listening to her discuss Sean O'Casey's plays.

Her dreams last night and her memories of Coketown tempted her to motivate them for tomorrow's game. Halfway through the lesson, she took off her red jacket, allowing them to stare at her breasts, accentuated by her cashmere sweater.

Towards the end of the lesson, she came to the front of the desk and wished them the best for tomorrow's game. She then pretended to look around for the book of plays and bent over the desk to recover it. She knew that her bending over was like catnip to the boys. To her shock, she found herself imagining James, the captain, standing behind her, holding her hips and thrusting into her. She widened her legs to allow him easier access. No, snap out of it. Once this weekend was over, she would stop thinking about Coketown and having 18-year-old rugby players between her legs. She could forget about the party.

When the bell went a minute later, she could see that half of the class was carrying their bags and briefcases in a way designed to hide their groins from her. She felt a little guilty. It wasn't fair on the boys, and even Amber would say that it was unprofessional.

Okay, time to do the deed and run away. She had a free period, which would give her the opportunity to make her escape. Alan was doing double history with one of the two upper sixth classes. He had got four of them into Oxford or Cambridge, including a scholarship at Christ Church and an exhibition at Lady Margaret Hall. His coaching on the general entrance paper helped another six candidates get in, so he was the headmaster's favourite teacher, especially as the most successful candidate had been one of the girls shipped in last year.

She knocked at the door of the class and entered. Bother, this was the class with the three witches. The First Witch, the Tart, was sitting in the front row by herself, dressed in a way which hid the fact that she was a whore and the daughter of a whore. The baggy jumper, the standard school uniform jacket and long skirt she wasn't required to wear, and the NHS glasses were all a pose saying I'm a poor girl who needs looking after. She looked at Jill with a look of surprise.

The Second Witch, Bess, the nymphomaniac, was in the back row with a man on either side. When Jill distracted Alan, Bess's hands moved under the desk and to each side. Jill could only imagine what she was doing to the boys. She shuddered as that action triggered another memory she wanted to erase.

The Third Witch, Claire, was behind the first witch and next to her boyfriend, Julian. They were rumoured to be engaged. They were a sweet couple, but the level of their happiness and horniness irritated her. She was sufficiently honest with herself to admit that she was slightly jealous of the Lovers.

Alan's initial welcoming smile quickly faded when she told him that Amber needed her support that night but that she would travel up on Saturday to join him in time for the hustings.

He reminded her of the name of the hotel he was staying at, the time she would need to arrive to go with him to the hustings, and that a room for herself was already booked and paid for.

He then asked for Amber's number so that he could confirm arrangements tonight or tomorrow morning. She panicked and gave him a plausibly incorrect number--she gave him two numbers in the wrong order. Fortunately, Amber was ex-directory because of Donald.

The conversation was all done in whispers, which she had counted on. She could tell Alan was disappointed. Still, it meant that he couldn't remind her that she had said last week Amber had plenty of practice in breaking up with men and would soon be back in the saddle. Well, he wouldn't use that phrase, but that would be what he meant.

The First Witch must have caught parts of the conversation, as when Jill turned to go, her look of surprise had turned to one of contempt mixed with calculation. If she hated any woman in the world, she hated Rebecca, AKA the Tart, AKA Handy Mandy, AKA Becky Becky Bang Bang.

Anyway, the deed was done. She raced out of the school and, after a short bus journey, was soon on the train from Snow Hill to Hagley, where Amber was waiting for her in the car.

She had been to the cottage a few times before, usually with Alan. Amber had moved there last autumn after staying with various friends after Donald had put her in hospital overnight. Bianca, an old friend from university who had married a wealthy man, had got her husband to call in a favour from his accountant, who owned a cottage in Clent next door to his main house.

They went for a walk while the casserole was cooking and before the rice needed to be cooked. It was only polite to listen to Amber tell her about her split up, and she did her best to be sympathetic about the money Alastair had "borrowed". Still, what Jill really needed was to talk about her urgent problems. Fortunately, once she had let off steam about Alastair, Amber was happy to change the subject.

As they returned to the cottage, an MGB GT sports car raced past them with its top down, and the driver honked his horn and waved at them. Jill wondered who the man was, whether he'd already bonked Amber after the break-up and what gifts Amber would receive from him. She had few illusions about her friend, although she did say that she had never been paid cash for sex. Payments in kind were another thing, although Amber insisted that they were all gifts.