Nandita To Nandini
- 3 years ago
- 237
- 0
The Second Year - And After...Chapter 103 free porn video
I phoned home as soon as I got to Middlesbrough station to let Mum know I was safely back, and of course to wish the love of my life a good night and tell her that I was already missing her. Then I walked across town to my lodgings. Mr & Mrs Loftus welcomed me back, and wished me a happy and prosperous 1976.
I slept okay that night, although it took me a while to get off. The knowledge that Julie was in my bed at home, and I wasn’t, didn’t help.
I settled back down to work. As I’d completed the first four months of my probationary year, I started off with a progress meeting with Adam Ransome, and he came up with some proposals to let me broaden my experience. One of them was to spend a week at Runcorn, getting up to date with the Chlorine and Sodium Hydroxide operations of ICI, and we arranged that for nearer Easter.
I got a very nice letter from Mrs Carter in reply to my ‘thank-you’ letter for Christmas; she said that they had enjoyed having us to stay and that it had made it a real ‘family’ Christmas, which I took as a genuine compliment. It was clear that the Carters were thawing from their initial reluctance for the twins to get involved in relationships quite so young, but I had no idea what their reaction would be when they heard that Julie and I were getting married. We’d have to talk about how to handle that; at least we had another eighteen months before Julie would finish her probationary year as a teacher and we’d be able to officially get engaged.
Julie was currently undergoing the ‘classroom experience’ part of her training, where she shadowed qualified teachers in real schools. She ended up going over to Portsmouth every day, which meant leaving her room in college well before dawn and not returning until after dark. We managed to talk on the telephone that Sunday, but neither of us had much to talk about; we were both too busy catching up with being at work to have done anything interesting. She did say that the twins were planning to go up Reading the next weekend. Although she had been invited, she knew that she’d be off games, so declined. She had considered going down to Exeter to see her parents, but reckoned it would only have added even more misery to be moaned at for not being there to help out over Christmas and New Year!
The next weekend I was Duty Officer from Friday evening to Saturday afternoon; Julie phoned me on the dot of eight o’clock from Winchester. She sounded very down; a fortnight of commuting and having to stay up late to prepare for the next day’s classes had been very wearing, she’d missed the evening meal a couple of times because of delayed trains, and to cap it all, she had her period and the accompanying tummy ache. We talked until she ran out of 10p coins, and she sounded much happier once we’d chatted. I suggested that she could go over to Reading the next day just for some company, but she replied that she’d had more than enough of British Rail for the moment!
I did get caught up on reading some work scientific journals, but after another canteen cooked breakfast, I decided that I needed to go swimming on the Sunday morning to give myself a decent workout. I got back to the Loftus’s in time for Episode 3 of ‘The Brain of Morbius’, had my tea, and sat in front of the telly all evening, just passing the time until bed. I tossed and turned during the night; I just wished there was something I could do for Julie, who seemed to be having a rotten time.
Sunday was a miserable cold day with a light sleety drizzle; the bus to Billingham was at least warm even if the windows were so steamed up it was difficult to see out. I had a good swim, followed by a cup of tea and a sticky bun in the café. On my way out, I spotted a couple of telephone booths, the type with a sound-absorbing hood, off to one side. That seemed to be a far better idea than standing in a cold telephone box out on the street, so I dialled Jen’s number and got to speak to her and Adrian for a few minutes before Sheila came on.
“Sorry to take you away from your fun, but...”
I was rudely interrupted.
“Fun? FUN? I got dragged all the way up here on a Friday night so that bloody Twin of mine could soak himself in a hot bath at the taxpayers expense until he looked like a prune, and then repeatedly shag some nymphomaniac trollop – the one that you introduced him to, by the way – at all hours of the day and night, and all I get is to be repeatedly used as a sex object by some raving transvestite with a skirt hanging up in his wardrobe! You wouldn’t believe how little sleep I got last night, AND he’s wanting more! I’d have been much better off back in the flat doing some crochet work or maybe a little watercolour painting.”
She did try very hard not to laugh; from the background sounds coming through the earpiece, the other three in the room with her had no such compunctions. I struggled to keep a straight face, but I did manage to fake a sympathetic voice.
“Sheila, darling, I’m so very sorry for you. If only I wasn’t so far away, I’d come straight down and kiss you better. It must be truly awful for you!”
There was a short pause while she relayed what I’d said.
“Jen agrees that it’s a real shame you’re up there – you couldn’t get here until after lunch, I suppose, and we could do with some fresh meat well before that, these two are really flagging. Oh well, it can’t be helped. We’ll let the boys have a short nap before lunch, and see what else they can manage before I have to carry Twin up onto the train. He’s probably going to need a taxi to make it to the station, poor lamb!”
We chatted about Valentines Day for another 10p worth of time, then the pips went and we said our goodbyes.
I went out to the bus stop, to find not only that it had started raining properly, but I had just missed one bus and would have to wait another 50 minutes for the next one. I headed back into the café and treated myself to another cuppa; I tried not to let my mind wander to think about the sexual frolics that Julie and I were both missing out on.
It was still raining cats and dogs when I went out again to wait for the bus back to my lodgings. And when I looked out of my bedroom window on Monday morning for the start of the new working week. No wonder ICI had issued me with a donkey jacket!
It was a rough winter all round.
All three of my grandparents spent time in the local cottage hospital; mainly with bronchitis, although Granddad Baker also had a fall at home and was taken in for observation for a couple of nights. Luckily, he hadn’t broken anything, but from what I heard via Dad, he was a little more confused and seemed more frail. He was a good age after all; he’d more than exceeded his three score years and ten. There weren’t all that many left who had served in the Great War...
I had a couple of colds; travelling on the crowded bus exposed me to coughs and sneezes that spread diseases, but nothing too bad. Julie reported that nearly everybody at college had brought back a dose of the sniffles from their Christmas holidays. She also said that after two weeks of classroom experience, everybody had suffered from colds. She also told me that, while she wouldn’t have minded me rubbing Vick onto her chest, she would have preferred just to have me as a hot body to cuddle up to, so that she wouldn’t have caught a chill in the first place. I could see where she was coming from, but they haven’t found the cure for the common cold yet, and I’m pretty sure it’s not me.
News wise, the year had started off badly with the Kingsmill massacre in Northern Ireland, and didn’t get much better. The Cod War with Iceland was hotting up and it looked like they were winning, and although it was good to finally see the first commercial flight by Concorde on the TV news, there wasn’t much else that was cheerful.
I did get an unexpected chance to see Julie at the end of January; I got sent down to Paint Division in Slough for a couple of days, and luckily it was at the end of the week. I went down by train first thing Thursday, and managed to avoid getting booked into a hotel by telling my host that I had family nearby, and I was going to stay with my sister in Reading. He very kindly lent me one of the firms vans for the night, which helped a great deal.
After having a couple of quick beers with Jen and Hamish in the Hall bar, I spent the night in my sister’s bed with her, neither of us getting a huge amount of sleep. We made up for our necessarily hurried couplings over previous weekends by quickly slaking our lust twice, and then making slow and gentle love two more times, with maximum stimulation of the whole of our bodies. Jen’s swimming was keeping her in great trim, and although by this time of year our skin was white and pasty, we still fancied each other rotten so our final joint climax was once again something special (if you discount the relatively small amount of semen produced; Jen’s cervix had already received most of Gustav’s stored reserve). There was no fifth time in the morning – much to our dismay, by the time we woke up, I was too short of time to get to work. I told Jen that she would just have to make do with her boyfriend washing her back in the shower – she just smirked back at me. I suspected that Hamish, being rested after a whole night’s sleep on his own (a very rare occurrence, I was sure), was about to get woken up in a very pleasant way.
Sadly, even with the borrowed van and not having to worry about train times, neither could I have breakfast, the Hall meal times too not meeting my requirement to be back in Slough by half past eight, though Jen did supply me with a cuppa and a couple of slices of toast before I left her.
I discovered when I got to the plant that the Provisional IRA had set off twelve small bombs in the West End of London during the night, and the papers were full of it. If I remember correctly, one unlucky taxi driver was slightly injured, but otherwise it was just damage to shops. Then it was straight into intense discussions as to how to reduce any variations in colour between different batches to the absolute minimum. In my innocence, I’d assumed that the synthetic pigments would be more consistent than the natural materials; that wasn’t entirely true. To give an example, yes, Pthalocyanine Blue always has the same chemical composition, but depending on the precise molecular structure, you can also end up with a greenish or reddish hue, which you or I wouldn’t normally detect, but which are quite obvious when painted side by side on the same wall. There’s always enough minor variation between batches to cause concern – you may have noticed that professional decorators always check the batch number on the cans – and when the pigment plays up as well, the manufacturer starts getting complaints.
As the morning wore on, I rather regretted missing my breakfast; I’d used quite a lot of energy during the night and worked up an appetite. Fortunately Paint again gave me lunch in their canteen, a large helping of fish and chips as it was Friday, which kept me going until my colleague kindly dropped me at the station to get back to Reading. Security was very tight because of the previous day’s bombs (an unexploded one had been found in Oxford Street and it was thought there might be more), and it was lucky that I was going towards London – the ticket inspector was telling everybody that there were even worse delays than usual on trains leaving the capital.
Jen hugged me when I got to her room, and told me that Mum had phoned her early that morning, soon after I had left, fussing about the bombings and worrying about us; my sister had duly promised that none of us would go anywhere.
Julie joined us just in time for tea, and then, after a glass or two of beer with our hosts, the two of us then had a passionate reunion in Jen’s bed. Gustav had recuperated during my second day with Paint, so we were able to do justice to each other, and, after a very welcome hot shower, to the Hall of Residence breakfast when nine o’clock in the morning rolled round. Then it was time for a change of partner. My sister assured my girlfriend that Hamish had pretty much recovered from being eaten alive by Sheila two weekends ago, which caused grins all round.
Jen and I were back in her bedroom looking forward to a couple of hours of leisurely lovemaking when the phone went, fortunately before we’d done much more than start by taking our clothes off in between duelling tongues. She muttered and picked up the receiver.
“Hello? Oh, hi, Mum. Yes, we’re all fine. No change since yesterday, they’re both safely here.”
“Do you want to talk to them? I’ll put Jon on first, then Julie.”
She passed me the phone, so that Mum could tell me again how worried she was, and that I was not to travel back to Middlesbrough via London.
“No, it’s okay, Mum, there’s a direct train. Yes, I will check that there is no unattended luggage in my carriage. Yeah, I promise.”
While I had been receiving my instructions, Jen had quickly covered herself with a towel and nipped next door to collect the other two. They were both wrapped in blankets and trying hard not to laugh at being disturbed. I passed the phone to Julie, and made way for Hamish. I did notice that his face was damp and shiny, and it wasn’t a remnant of his breakfast. I grinned. Knowing that we’d all had a good shower before breakfast, I’d been intending to eat out my sister as the first instalment. The others were clearly ahead of us.
Both Julie and Hamish having also promised to take every possible measure to avoid being blown to smithereens, Mum had a final word with Jen and then rang off.
“Now, where were we? Brother, dearest, I think you had something interesting in mind? Julie, darling, remember that I gave Hamish a decent night’s sleep, so don’t accept any excuses from him.”
They grinned and went off to do whatever they were going to do; Jen checked that the door was locked again and laid herself on her back in the middle of the bed. I didn’t waste any more time, and moved over her. She giggled as I kissed her forehead, nose, lips, chin and neck, and then purred as I took my time over her nipples. The giggling started again as I kissed her tummy and she writhed a little as I licked her belly button and it tickled. She went very quiet when I got to the heart of the matter – well, quiet for a minute or two, then she started moaning softly as the delight hit her, and after a few minutes her heavy breathing was even louder than my slurping noises as I feasted once again on fresh Jen Juice.
Once she’d come – and I was pretty impressed with the way I got her off – I moved up and slipped Gustav into the folds where my mouth had just been. She spasmed a bit with the aftershocks, but I held her tight and got used to being back inside her. Then we started moving slowly together, making love, and it was as wonderful as ever. When we had finished, I rolled over onto my back so that she could snuggle against my chest, and we lay there for a few minutes, just savouring the closeness.
She lifted her head off my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.
“I still can’t believe all those wasted wet winter afternoons when we read or did jigsaws or played cards! If only we’d known how much fun we could have had instead!”
I chuckled.
“I know, Sis. I still maintain that we weren’t ready for this, but you’re quite right, we missed an awful lot of opportunities. All that time spent watching Blue Peter or Crackerjack!”
“Sheila feels the same as you do. She said that although it just felt so right with Adrian when they did do it, they probably weren’t emotionally ready until they’d made that decision to lose their virginities to you and Julie.”
“They’ve certainly made up for lost time since!”
She giggled, then looked more serious.
“Have you ever dreamed about the two of us going off somewhere where we aren’t known?”
“You mean living together as husband and wife?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, I have. I’ve spent too many lonely evenings in my bedroom, and so I’ve gone over it in mind quite a bit. I’d initially been thinking about the twins, and how they might do it. I think once they are qualified they could probably move to one of the big cities like Manchester or Leeds and work there. They could explain having the same name on their certificates as having got married while they were studying, but I’m not sure how they’d get past any bits where you need to show your marriage certificate, like getting a mortgage. Then I thought about what I would do if we were in their places, and how I’d move you up to Middlesbrough. I think it could be done, but we’d always be living on tenterhooks in case someone found out, and I don’t think that would be a recipe for living happily ever after.”
“Mmmm. That’s what I thought. We’d have to go so far away that no-one could trace us, and even then it would be tricky – for example we’d have to let our new doctor get hold of our medical records, and they’d show that we’ve always had the same address. Mum and Dad wouldn’t be too happy if we dropped off the face of the earth, and Hamish and Julie would be a tad miffed.”
“That’s an understatement! They’d probably end up getting married themselves, but I think we’d miss them even more than they’d miss us. Admit it, you love Hamish more than you love me!”
“Yes, well, it’s a completely different kettle of fish, isn’t it? You’re safe and comfortable, like an old pair of socks, and Hamish is my bit of rough!”
She couldn’t keep her mouth straight; neither could I at such a bare-faced fib, and we both roared with laughter.
Jo
- 19.09.2020
- 8
- 0
Gunther The Reindeer Handler Does Candy Claus
- 2 years ago
- 130
- 0
Andersonville 12 The Day Linda Anderson Came To Town
- 2 years ago
- 185
- 0
