Bad Penny Ch. 12

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I hope readers who have not followed this series will find this entertaining – but of course I recommend reading the backstory. Comments are much appreciated.


Our lives had been strange over the last year. Penny and I had gone from a very conservative and straightforward (although pleasant and satisfying) sex life through a period of swinging and swapping, discovering lesbianism, anal sex, multiple partners, a bit of bondage and a lot of submissive stuff from Penny, back to something more ‘normal.’

Looking back on it I thought that it was perhaps some sort of madness. We had spiralled out of control, Penny falling faster and deeper than me, and we had been lucky to claw our way back to reality.

Now we were sharing a house with a post grad student called Tilly, who was the sometime girlfriend of my old schoolmate Harry, although he was at Cambridge. She had no idea about what had gone on in the year before, and having put it behind us Penny and I had a great, very normal, very equal, sex life.

We even had a normal social life. Since we had moved in with another person it was obvious that we didn’t have the freedom to do what we used to in our own flat. And after Penny’s weird experience at the party at Mike and Tara’s, those who knew about it (more or less correctly) assumed that our withdrawal from the swinging scene was because of some trauma that she had to work through.

It was difficult to turn down Veronica and Tim though. We hadn’t seen them all summer, and they had greeted us so enthusiastically when we met at lunch in the Great Hall at Queen’s that I was embarrassed. Ronnie kissed me on the lips, rather than the cheek, and I am sure that Liz and Carla both noticed.

Ronnie (as Veronica’s friends often called her) informed me that they now had a flat. We could go there, for an evening, and stay over…

It was tempting. Veronica was a lovely girl as well as being quite beautiful, and enthusiastic and adventurous in bed. And Tim was a nice guy. He had been good to Penny, she had a good time with him, and while there had been a bit of the submissive sex game stuff, she had never called him ‘Master’. In fact Tim had been the submissive along with her, serving Ronnie and me.

But they had seen her in that role, and in any case, tempting as it was to spend a night exploring Veronica’s blonde curls and perfect pink points again, I felt that Penny’s grasp on a normal relationship was not strong enough yet. I knew how easy it would be for her to fall back into slavish dependency.

For now at least I was trying hard to remove all reminders of that game that had gone too far. I had put away all the cuffs and collars, the sex toys and the butt plugs, packing them up when we moved out of Peter’s flat, and not opening the box when we got to the new house. I had also avoided any anal play, not touching her there, and not encouraging her to touch me. I still found that she liked me to hold her hands above her head when I was on top, and she liked being taken from behind, especially as a spontaneous thing, but I had to be careful. The danger seeking, public place, exhibitionist streak in her was exciting, but allied to the submissive persona that I feared to bring out again.

So when I met her in the stacks on the eleventh floor of the university library and she pulled me into a clinch, reminding me of a previous time, I was torn about what to do. If I rejected her advances (she was leading, taking the initiative and not being submissive) what message would it send? If I went with the flow (a very appealing idea) would it remind her of her of the last time we had sex in the library when she knelt at my feet and sucked me off and called me “Master”? Once I was hard she had presented her ass to me so I could pull out the butt plug I had placed there and had begged me to bugger her. I didn’t want her to dwell on that.

Of course I went with the flow, but those considerations intruded, and I made sure the flow went the right way. After all, how could I resist? Penny was just about to turn twenty two, was physically fitter than ever before (she now had me going to the gym with her three times a week, and I could tell the difference in my own stamina) and was passionate and willing. And even after years of being with her I still found her body fascinating and exotic. Her Mediterranean heritage showed in her dark hair and her honey tanned skin, her dark eyes and the purple brown of her nipples and the folds of her pussy, and I loved the contrast of her colour against my pale northern tones.

The top floor of the library was empty apart from us. In the back corner was an alcove lined with ancient journals that had its own light switch. We didn’t bother to pull it on.

It was nearly five o’clock in the evening, and we had not had sex for two days. Penny was starting to get twitchy that morning, but things had been too rushed. So I had told her to meet me at five outside the library and we would get casino oyna home quickly, and have the place to ourselves all evening because Tilly was at an evening class.

She had got out of her lecture early, and found me in the quiet of the top floor, my favourite haunt. I could look out over Belfast and think in the peace. I heard her coming in the door, but could not see her from where I was. I thought it was just another student. I had heard her walk around the far side of the floor, and then she came around the back of the last row of shelves, behind me. She was smiling when I looked up, and undoing her coat.

“Hi. Prof Mullet had to go to a meeting, so I thought I might find you here.” She stepped towards me and was undoing her blouse “And there is no one else here…”

There was a kick-step stool in the alcove. I sat down on it and ran my hands up her legs, lifting her skirt and looking at the wonderful sight revealed. Stockings, suspenders, bare thighs, fluffy bush, the hint of the top of the fold in her pubis that led to her soft scented core. I glanced up and saw her smiling down at me, her breasts now popped out of the cups of her bra, and she took hold of the front of her skirt to hold it up.

“Surprise!” she said gently.

I leaned in to kiss the hair covered mound, and caught the sweet scent of her arousal. She lifted her leg and leaned forward, hooking her knee over my shoulder and pressing her crotch into my face. I loved the sound of her whimper as I ran my tongue along the furrow she presented, opening her, tasting her, drinking her in.

Penny was very turned on. She had been thinking about this ahead of time, and prepared by removing her knickers in the ladies loo on the ground floor of the library. The walk through the reading room and the trip up eleven floors in the lift, pussy bare, anticipating my touch, had obviously been thrilling.

I was quickly turned on too, my cock hard and tangled in my trousers. I licked her slowly a few times, and was happy in the knowledge that I could have her instantly.

It was difficult to undo my belt and fly, and get my cock out of the folds of my underpants while concentrating on Penny’s delicious slit, but I managed somehow. Then I leaned back and with a hand on each thigh above the stocking tops, I guided her down into me.

That moment of first penetration, the sudden warmth and pressure, the feeling of her body opening and accepting mine, the wave of exquisite knowledge, triumph, power and acceptance, the feeling of privilege and disbelief, the bonding and binding, the relief and the joy; that moment can never be forgotten.

It wasn’t always like that. It is the way you think it ought to be the very first time (but sadly isn’t for so many young couples). That time, there in the half dark, as her hair brushed my face and I heard her sigh, was the first time I had felt that way in months.

She simply rested on me, legs raised and arms around me, her nose by my ear, her bare bosom at my chin. I breathed in the smell of her, the lily of the valley soap and the milky muskiness of her nipples, mixing with the salty tang of her sex.

Her voice was quiet and slightly hoarse, thick with arousal and tension, as she whispered “I remember the first time you told me that you loved me.”

“It was in the cloakroom in Owen’s house, at that party, just after you came back from your holiday in France with your parents.” I said

She laughed a little and kissed me on the cheek, and said “You remember. I was sitting on you. A bit like this.”

It was my turn to laugh, although I had little breath, “A bit.” I agreed. We had both been fully clothed then. We were snogging, and I might have put my hand on her breast, outside her sweatshirt, but at that time, and for a long time afterwards, that was as far as we went. However that night she was wearing jeans, which was unusual for her, as her dad did not approve of them, and she had sat on me with her legs on each side, and pressed close to me. It was the first time she had done that. It was very exciting for a seventeen year old.

She pressed down on me again and whispered “I wanted it to be more like this. Really. I did.”

And she kissed me on the lips. Her hips rolled a little, and I was breathless again. “I didn’t understand it then, but when I sat on you with my legs open I felt empty. I wanted to be filled. I felt that I needed something there, in me. That is why I pushed up against you. And I felt the bump in your jeans. I knew what it was. And I wondered what it looked like and what it would feel like if it was in me, filling me, making me not empty.”

She kissed me again, a long kiss, her tongue lingering on my lips. “I never imagined it would be this good though. To have you, there.”

She kissed me again, and I felt her rocking softly, and squeezing me. I gasped and held her tight. She sighed.

“I wish I had done it then,” she said. “I wish I had known to take off my slot oyna clothes and sit on you and let you fill me. We could have done it so many times more, years of wasted time. If I knew it was like this. I love you, Sean. I love you being inside me. I love you, being in me, there.”

I heard the way she emphasised her words in that last sentence, and felt it as she pushed against me. When she said “you” she meant my penis. When she said “me” she meant her vagina. When she said “there” she meant inside her body. It was the way she used to talk about sex before we fell into Tara’s more graphic vocabulary. Delicate, euphemisms, no crude cocks and cunts and pricks and pussys, no fucking or shagging or screwing, no arses or tits, or balls. Maybe it was a symptom of repression, but it was innocent and sweet and soft and delicate. It was coy, but romantic. We didn’t need rude words, crude words, explicit words. We just made love.

We made love then, surrounded by the smell of old books, the wisdom of the ages witnessing the meaning of life. We both came, her a fraction of a second before me, softly and gently, her body shuddering and her head thrown back, my arms locked behind her, looking up at her when I heard her single, short, high pitched cry, and felt her grip me tight inside. I filled her then, as her body relaxed and her weight centred on me, there, at the centre of everything.

We sat and rocked and I looked up and kissed her throat, her chin, her soft lips, her nose and forehead, and whispered “I love you,” again.

When we got up to go I found that I had a dozen arcs of concentric circles pressed into my bottom, and Penny informed me that the letters ‘Kik’ and ‘tep’ could be read quite clearly in mirror writing on my buttocks.

We got pizza on the way home, and took it to bed, with a bottle of Hungarian wine. It was a beautiful autumn evening, the sunset flooded our room with red and gold, and we lounged naked on the bed, talking about the future. It was our final year at University. I wanted to do an MSc in computing, she wanted to do teacher training, so we would both be back as post graduate students, but the enormity of Finals and graduation was ahead of us, and there was always the chance of failure, or not getting a place on the courses we wanted, which were very popular and hard to get on.

So we talked about what else we might do. Where we might go. Fantasy stuff. A year backpacking together around the world. Go to London and makes fortune on the markets, retire at thirty five, open a beach bar in St Jean de Luz.

And we made love again. Twice. She kissed me there. I kissed her. There. I wanted to be inside her, she invited me in. It was a bit wild, the second time, pounding and grasping and sweating and moaning, nails and legs and arms digging and clutching and clenching. Her eyes were wide and she cried out and grunted and made strange gargling sounds, and I roared and gasped for air and groaned, all in a fashion that was purely animal and lustful, but the important part was that it was pure. It was clean and natural and simple and joyous. It was beautiful, and good. It was perfect.

Of course it wasn’t always so idyllic. Sometimes I was horny and she was tired, or busy, or not in the mood. We had a row one night about laundry, and it was two days before she would kiss me, never mind anything else. I occasionally thought fondly of the times when all I had to do was say “Strip girl, and suck my cock.” But as time went on and Penny seemed to settle back into her old self, more outgoing, more fun, it was easy to suppress such thoughts.

The one fly in the ointment was Tilly. She was charming, and pretty and kind and funny, and not in the least flirtatious with me. But she was also present so often, and I began to get inhibited about her hearing us having sex. We were also limited to where we might spontaneously clinch, caress or kiss, never mind go further, because we felt it was impolite to show too much physical affection in front of her.

She would make comments to Penny about it, especially if we had been noisy, which Penny sometimes reported to me. Not objections, or any expression of disgust. They were usually amused and slightly lewd, almost flirtatious. Tilly, we reckoned, was jealous. Not that she fancied me, it was just that she wasn’t getting any.

I hadn’t realised just how crabbid Tilly had become until Harry came over for the weekend. We hardly saw them for two days, although we heard them frequently. I didn’t mind. As always, the sound of another couple made Penny’s libido go off the scale, and while they were busy in the bedroom, bathroom or living room (Tilly didn’t seem to think that the chance of us walking in, or wanting to watch the television, mattered) Penny was happy to play with me.

Tilly was in much better mood for a couple of weeks after that.

Yet it did put our sex life on a more regular and restrained basis. It forced our relationship to be normal, and for that canlı casino siteleri I was grateful.

It wasn’t boring though. After the wild times of the previous year it was surprising just how satisfying and thrilling it was. Penny still dressed up in revealing outfits and pretty lingerie, and even a bit of role playing.

The latter was started a couple of days after Harry had visited. She came an sat beside me in the Great Hall and said “Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. You are Jim, the medical student aren’t you?”

We had been at an Improv workshop the afternoon before, with the Drama society, so I just picked up with it and ran with the idea. Despite my lack of stethoscope I ended up giving her a very thorough examination in the little bathroom at the top of the South Wing, of the Lanyon Building, and she went off to her two o’clock lecture with a smile and a cheery “Thanks, Jim, you have put my mind at ease. You’ll make a great doctor some day.”

About a week later I walked into The Speakeasy (a bar in the student’s union building) and saw her sitting with Liz, Carla and another girl, who I vaguely knew, Denise. I wandered over to them and said “Hi there, would you mind if I joined you?”

Penny looked up and gave me an appraising look, and said “Well, I don’t normally let strange men chat me up in bars, but if you buy me a vodka and coke I might make space beside me on this couch.”

“Your wish is my command,” I said and clicked my heels.

She kept up the game when I got back. Since Liz and Carla had been at the Improv thing, they didn’t find this too strange, although Denise thought it was hilarious. Two vodka and cokes later and Penny was squiffy. It just suddenly hit her, and I said “Oh dear, I think it is time you were taken home.”

Denise laughed and said “Maybe I should take her, I’m not sure I should trust you. I’ve heard of strange men getting girls drunk in bars and taking advantage of them.”

“Good point,” I said “And since I am a very strange man, would you like to come with us and help me return her safely to her home, and make sure nothing untoward happens?”

Denise laughed, but Liz piped up, “Actually, you may need a hand. I’ll take her to the loo here, and give you a hand on the way home. It’s on the way to our place anyway.”

Penny was quite disorientated and I was grateful for Liz’s suggestion. I had to half carry Penny to the door of the Ladies, and it was only with Carla’s help that they got her into a cubicle. Denise stood talking to me outside. We agreed that it was surprising that Penny had so suddenly been hit by the drink. Then I found out that Liz and Carla had been there with her since lunchtime. She had probably had three or four before I arrived. Penny didn’t usually drink that much, so it made sense.

She looked pale and unhappy when she emerged, but was at least able to walk, although a steadying hand on her elbow was needed. Liz took the other side and we lead her away, ignoring her apologies and trying to keep her from crying.

It was only five minutes walk to our house, usually, but it took nearly fifteen. In the last ten yards Penny seemed to collapse. Liz helped me upstairs with Jenny, and on the landing I looked from the bedroom door to the shower room. “I wonder if I should get her in there first? Would a shower help her?”

Liz shook her head “She threw up in the Union, so she has got rid of most of it, she will be okay if she sleeps. We can put her in the recovery position.”

We put her on the edge of the bed, and I threw the covers back. I looked round to see Liz undoing Penny’s shoes, and then pulling off her socks. “Have you got a night shirt?” she asked

“Yeah.” I said and fetched it.

“Have you got a basin or bowl to put beside the bed in case she is sick?” Liz added, batting away Penny’s feeble attempts to stop her pulling off Penny’s jacket.

“Yeah, I’ll get it.”

When I go back up from the kitchen I found that Liz was pulling Penny’s jeans off. Penny was now wearing her nightshirt, and I could see her bra on top of the blouse and jumper folded on the seat beside the bed. She was lying flat on her back across the bed, and was only vaguely aware of what was happening.

Two thoughts clashed in my head. The first was that any man with evil intent could indeed have taken her home and taken advantage of her. The second was that Liz must have stripped her, must have undone her bra and seen her bare breasts.

Of course that isn’t the same for girls, but the idea somehow thrilled me.

I helped Liz with the other leg, and we manoeuvred Penny round and pulled the cover over her. Liz stroked Penny’s hair back from her face and looked at her with sad affection.

She looked up at me and saw that I had been looking at her. She smiled and said “You know I never thought that if I ended up in your bedroom, helping Penny get undressed, that it would be like this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How did you think it would be?”

She laughed. “I didn’t say I had ever thought of it before.”

“No, but you said that as if you had. Had you? Thought about being in our bedroom, helping Penny get undressed?”

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