In The Knickers Of Time Ch 02

IN THE KNICKERS OF TIME 2

By Norma Jane

1

The narrative seeming long enough, I concluded 'In The Knickers of Time' with Edith's account of how she and her lifelong lover, Ailsa, had first met and consummated their liaison. Now I'll round that off and move on into another knickerly episode.

2

Edith said, 'Those weren't our real names. We adopted them when we resolved to stay together forever. She was Harriet, but her surname was Craig, and there's an island in the Firth of Forth called Ailsa Craig, a breeding haunt for gannets. My surname is Weston, and there's village called Edith Weston, otherwise I'm Dorothy.'

'What did you do after the War, then, Miss Weston?' I asked.

'We got a year's free tuition at the same teacher-training college, and we managed to share a room, so we could go on sleeping together, though we didn't do a lot of sleeping. The regime was much less arduous than the farm, and we were young and full of energy. Of course, we always concealed our relationship. It wasn't anyone's business, and we were anxious that being known as lizardians would hinder our prospects.'

'I can guess what "lizardians," are.'

'There are lizards which can reproduce asexually. Of course, we couldn't reproduce, but we liked the idea of those lizards making love, being virgins together, like we were. In public we called each other "Craig" and "Weston" and behaved like jolly gamesy gals, who were more interested in hockey and English. for her, and biology, for me, than men and all that silly sex rot. Thoroughly asexual.'

'And all the time you were making love at every chapter and dissection end.'

'We certainly were. We were happy, and we passed the exams, we were good in the classroom. But then the year was over, and we needed jobs.'

'You had to split up?'

'Yes, and the posts we got were a hundred miles apart, and the fares to visit at weekends were hard to find on top of the rent of pretty awful bed-sits. We couldn't afford to be together more than once a month in termtime.'

'You had sex-fever?'

'We certainly did, for three years. Then we had some luck. A girls' boarding school in the Midlands needed teachers for English and biology who could also coach games.'

'Craig and Weston were hired.'

'It wasn't a prestigious place, its fees were modest, and it had no great academic record, but it was a sensible and pleasant institution, and we were asked if we'd mind sharing a room. And after a moment's hesitation and questioning each other we agreed, you won't be surprised to know! The salary was modest, but we were getting free bed and board, so the situation was ideal. It was ideal for thirty-five years. They even kept us on after retirement age. We could still scamper round the hockey-pitch.'

'And you were making lizardly love as much as ever.'

'But then Ailsa got cancer and died so quickly there was no time to operate.'

'Then you had to retire and live somewhere else.'

`I'd inherited my parents' house, and it being in Surrey I could sell it and bank a lot, which I live on, with my pension. I have a little flat nearby.'

'Where you're lonely and frustrated.'

'I shouldn't complain. Few people get forty years of happiness with a perfect partner.'

'There is a possible solution...but I'll need to check that. Meanwhile, Edith Weston, what would you like now?'

'I'd like you to tell me about ...being with a man.'

3

'The first thing to say is that it's a pretty special man who gets into my bed, my knickers or my cunt - not a word you've ever used, I suspect. Most men either think they're doing me a favour, or they think they're entitled to enter me by virtue of being a man. Even the nicest ones are often just using a woman. I want to be seen as an equal, respected partner, whose wishes and needs are as important as his, possibly more so.'

'Ailsa and I had so little to do with men they're pretty shadowy figures to me, except that they always seem to take up so much space, and to keep talking away as if what they have to say is vitally important.'

'Shrewd observations, Edith. But I'm going to tell you about a man not at all like that, a sweet, generous man that I knew for a short while. A man who wore my knickers, not because he was a transvestite, or transknickerite, but for fun and out of affection. His name was Rodney, never Rod. And he came from some very posh family, about which he hardly ever spoke. I even think he was The Honourable Rodney. He spoke posh, but his attitude to and consideration for everyone was without any snobbery. In appearance he was small, not much taller than me, and slim, and though he was nearing forty he was smooth and youthful in face and body. He was pale blonde and almost hairless on his body.'

Edith said, 'Did you love him?'

'You could tell. Yes, I think I did, but he was so elusive, totally present when he was with you, but then off he would go in a mist of days, and you didn't know when he'd turn up again, and say nothing about where he'd been.'

'You're older and wiser now. And you made love with him?'

'He was present for that, but elusive as well. I'll try to explain, and I'll have to use words and descriptions new to you and possibly shocking. First of all, he looked to be small in his sex organs. His penis nestled into his balls rather like the way sculptors show male genitals, but men vary in how much their cocks expand when they erect, rather like how our breasts vary in how much they swell when we come. Some men's cocks are quite large when relaxed and don't get much bigger when they harden. Others start smallish and grow much larger. Rodney was like that. His was about seven inches when fully aroused. It functioned fine, too, and he loved everything we did with it, going inside me, being sucked off, having it masturbated, and he could come several times without much rest between. And he loved most of all to make me come. He liked that more than coming himself, I think. We talked of marriage and consummation, didn't we? Well, he adapted the sentence from the marriage service, 'With my body I thee worship,' into, 'With thy body I thee worship,' because my orgasms filled him with awe and satisfaction.'

'That's how Ailsa and I felt about our consummating, too. Is that unusual for a man?'

'In my experience. When he came himself it was a kind of homage to me, a way of showing his admiration. He said he was a mortal man reverencing a goddess. The first time we made love was unusual. It surprised me, so it will you, maybe shock you.'

'I'm not all that shockable, you know, Norma. Ailsa and I had seen a lot of sex on the farm. Bulls mounting cows, boars with sows, and most impressive when we took our carthorse mare to the stallion. Ailsa loved guiding his great shaft into her, and seeing a gush of his semen when he pulled out. We always made love the nights after we'd seen that.'

'Well, gushing semen happened with Rodney that first time, too. It was in the early days of my erotic-art works agency.'

'Getting pictures like that one on the wall, the one we're copying?'

'Yes. I'd recruited this artist called Corinne. She was a respected painter, producing portraits mostly, but she's a highly-sexed woman who likes to run this little side-line in sexy pictures, partly because that brings her interesting adventures. She'd got into those through doing boudoir art.'

Edith asked, 'What's that?'

'People, mostly men, commission paintings of their wives and mistress in sexy underwear or half-undressed, though not all that erotic because there's not usually any pussy showing, just a bit of bottom and a touch of tit. Some women have themselves painted like that to give their husbands or lovers to keep them interested. Corinne can make some middle-aged, overweight matron look so alluring you want to dive into the picture.'

'Something else I didn't know about. What about Rodney, though?'

'He was making a few pounds as a life-model, and Corinne soon found out he had no inhibitions about posing for erotic scenes, and we met the day I went to her place to see what she'd done lately. She had two studios. One for her mainstream work, where she was always dressed in smock and slacks and there were pictures on the wall and furniture and props for portraiture. The other had erotic works on display, and big art-books on a table, because she liked to pose her models like the figures in well-known paintings, and just change a few details, like that Courbet. In that studio she often worked half naked, partly to help the atmosphere and stimulate the models, and partly so she could participate afterwards, or get herself off as she worked.'

'What a sheltered life I've led, apart from being with Ailsa.'

'I'd made the arrangement to call on Corinne in her "bawdoir," as she called it, so I just walked in, and there was this small naked man, leaning slightly forward and looking upward, as if gazing raptly at something. Corinne said, "Pygmalion. I'm using Anne-Louis Girodet. Norma, this is Rodney. Rodney, this is Norma Jane, who'll handle this when it's done." She kissed me, and, without losing the pose, Rodney offered a hand, and we shook, and it was at that moment that I noticed his erection, making this the first time I'd shaken hands with an erect naked man. I said, "I don't need to ask how you're doing, Rodney. I presume you're responding to the view of the artist." Because Corinne was wearing, or not quite wearing, a housecoat unbuttoned down the front, so that her breasts hung forth like globes, pointing long nipples downwards, as if lighting the way to her riotous tangle of curls. "But," I went on, "Doesn't the Pygmalion in that one have a red toga round him?" I can be pedantic, you see.'

'Corinne said, "Well, yes, but look at his botty. You just can't cover that up. I'm planning to leave out the toga." She laughed.'

'I said, "It certainly is delightful, and I can see you're appreciating it." A trickle of vaginal secretion glistened on her right thigh.'

'She said, "Oh yes, it's a very cummy bummy." She habitually spoke a kind of baby-talk, full of coinages and diminutives. "And look at his cockatool. That's going to be the point of the picture." She actually took hold of it for a moment.'

Edith said, 'Is this really true? You're not just making it up to tell me more about men and sex? And what about that painting by Anne someone?'

'He was a real artist, and liked to get erotic in his art. You know the story. Pygmalion's a sculptor and his statue of Galatea is so lifelike he asks Venus to make it a real woman. Artists loved it, because they could paint this nude. In this one she's holding her left breast and Pygmalion's apparently reaching for the other one.'

'And you're telling me this artist was leaking her aspic, and this Rodney was up like the stallion?'

'That's only the first part.'

'He went into the artist while you watched?'

'Nor yet. She was professional, always finished the session first.'

'You know, Norma, I have to confess this is all rather exciting.'

'Are you leaking your aspic, Edith, because I am, remembering? We could pause and do something about it...'

4

'I'll be ready later. Go on with the story.'

'Like any artist Corinne had her palette in one hand, also holding a fan of brushes, but one of these wasn't for painting. She called it her "touch-up brush," because she used it for stroking the models, and herself. For instance, she could see that Rodney's cockatool was losing its hardness for lack of attention, and she let go of it and stroked its bulb with the brush, and it stiffened up again. "Keeping it up," Corinne said, "It's got work to do." And she parted her legs and reached under herself to draw the brush forward between her labia and up to her clitoris. "Always work better randy," she said, "And you've come at a good moment, Norma. Well, you haven't come yet, but you probably will, and you could help us, because Cynthia's just phoned to say she can't get here. She was the Galatea. And you can stand in."

'I don't normally model for the paintings I'm going to sell, but I wanted to find out what Corinne's version of the picture would be, and I liked the idea of posing with this Rodney. So, I stripped my four garments and shoes and was ready.'

'And this Rodney was still posing, just waiting?'

'That's what a model does, holds the pose until further orders. Corinne pushed a little table in front of Rodney for me to stand on. It was the plinth for the statue. Then she moved me into position, close to my Pygmalion, me holding my left breast. He was now gazing up into my face, awed and adoring. Corinne said, "In the Girodet there's a cupid down by Gally's right thigh, and I'll put that in later. But what I want is for it to make Pyg-boy come on Gally's thigh, just by her thicket. I want to catch the moment when he spunkies, so that's your job now, Norma." Apparently, then, I was to make a man I had so far only shaken hands with come near my little grove.'

Edith said, 'This gets stranger every minute. But it is strangely exciting, too.'

'Corinne got behind her easel and poised a brush over her palette. I said, "With your permission, Sir Rodney," and took his penis loosely in my right hand. He said, "Please proceed, Lady Norma." Corinne said, "Warn me when it's coming, one of you." And I began to draw the loose skin below the shield up and over it gently and repeatedly.

'He said, "Gal...Gal...Gal...Gala...Gala...Galatee...Galatee....Galatea..." I felt his cock stiffen yet more, and I said, "He's coming." Corinne said, "Lovely!' as his warm sperm splashed into my groin in five or six spurts and oozed down my thigh.

'He let out a long sigh and said, "Thank you, Lady Norma, thank you. I wish that could have gone inside, but that wasn't the brief." I said, "I have a feeling that before long I shall have the pleasure of welcoming your libation within my temple."

'Corinne said, "Not before he's comed my cuntie. Meantime, a little brushwork..." And she approached Rodney and me, still positioned as she'd required and said, "Well done, my dearies, you can relax now, but I'll just have some of that nice sperm-sperm." She dipped the brush in the semen slowly flowing down my leg and applied the brush to her vulva again, and after a few passes said, "That's the way, Corry darling, give me the gasmo. Oh, yes, yes, suck my titties, both of you, Corry wants come-come."

'Of course, we did, and there is a kind of comradeship between those who share a bosom like that. "Botty, someone, botty," Corinne commanded, and we lifted away the housecoat and took a large cheek apiece, another comradely sharing. "Hold tight," she said, "It's starting. Titty and clitty sing for Corry." She stood completely still as the climax claimed her. "Ooooh. All over..." So, Rodney and I had shared the launching of a woman's orgasm. We stood and grinned at each other, and he said, "What better introduction can there be than that?" I said, "Shaking hands through someone's bottom." Corinne laughed.'

Edith said, 'There you were then, two naked women, one with semen on her leg, one having just had the feeling, and a man who's just been made to lose his semen...what next?'

'There was a long couch in there, with a table beside it, holding an electric kettle and the makings of tea and coffee. Corinne threw me a towel to wipe off the sperm and we sat in a row, cheek to cheek, Rodney in the middle, and drank very good coffee.'

'What did you talk about?' Edith asked.

'We discussed the story, how it was about the relationship between artist and model, the one striving to give life to the representation of the other. Though in this case there was apparently no model, so the image was entirely from the artist's imagination, and Corinne's idea of the artist ejaculation onto the statue expressed the ultimate male sexual experience - the man conjuring up the ideal woman to fulfil his fantasy. Rodney said, "But the best depiction of that would be the artist going into and coming inside his perfect creation?' I said, "Maybe, but he'd need to take her off the plinth to do that, and that would at once stop her being a work of art, the perfect woman, and turn her into just an ordinary woman."

'Corinne said, "And as soon as he opened her up to go in he'd have to imagine his ideal bushy and lippies and clitty and cuntie, and that would be hard work, wouldn't it? What do you think, Rodney?"

'And Rodney said, "Well, for me all clits and labia and cunts are ideal, and, anyway, going back a stage, I don't have that sort of fantasy, and if I were an artist I'd always want to paint a real woman, either from a model or from memory." And I remember this conversation, because that was what Rodney really was like.'

Edith said, 'I'm amused that you three naked people were sitting there, behinds all touching, getting all intellectual.'

'We moved from the intellectual to the physiological quite soon, because Corinne said, "All right, Roddy-boy, let's see if you really think all pussies are equally beautiful. Lie back, Norma, and so will I and he can compare and contrast, like the exam questions."

'So, we did, legs apart, and he leaned in close and gazed, moving his head to look first at one of us and then the other. His expression was rapt, enraptured, reverent. "Norma's left inner lip is a little longer than the right, and both are shorter than Corinne's. Her clit is a little further out of its hood. Norma's undergrowth is thicker and darker, but Corinne's is more fluffier. And both are so beautiful I can hardly speak." And indeed he was clearly choked with emotion.

'Corinne said, "You're cunt-struck, aren't you, dear Rodney? One or other of us, or both, have inspired you, I see Good, I need that nice cockatoo. It's perkies time for the artist. You can test the inside now, sir. I'm going to firk you and suck out your fizz," and she stood up, guided Rodney onto the couch on his back and climbed on to straddle him. "Slot him in, Norma," she commanded as she lowered herself, facing him, feeling for his glans with her bottom and vulva, and I reached for his penis and steadied it into her vestibule.

'They both gasped as he slid in. She said, "Corry good and slippy. Keep still while she comes her and him. Hold botty, Norma,' and I took those plump round cheeks in my hands and held them while she raised and lowered herself, sliding back and forth a little to savour the cock from all angles and drive it all the way in. "Hold titties," she instructed Rodney and he reached up and took one in each hand, rubbing the thumbs across the nipples. "Corry's going to come-come," she said, almost matter-of-factly. "Give Corry spunky now. Corry wants cock-come. Help him, Norma."

'She wanted me to reach under and manipulate him as she lifted her bottom, and as soon as I took hold he stiffened. I said, 'Coming, Corinne, come now,' and she slammed her labia down and he gave a little cry as she clenched her bottom and gripped him. They came together. She uttered little mewing sounds and he gave out some inarticulate call which turned onto a sob of ecstatic joy.

'Norma, you describe it so vividly, and it sounds as if it was beautiful to see.'

'Edith, it was. Two people finding harmony as they coupled and climaxed with and for each other.'

'Didn't you want to have that, too?' Edith asked.

'Yes, I did, but that seemed to be enough for that time. Anything more would have been too much, probably disappointing. I was pretty sure I would be taking Rodney into me quite soon, and I was happy to wait.'

'And you did take him into you, didn't you?'

'Yes, and I'll tell you about it, after I've comed you, as Corinne would say, because I can feel you trembling and you're slippy, as she'd say, against my leg.'