The rest of that week was a blur – Dad, as usual, was barely in evidence and on the couple of evenings he came home before bedtime, he spent in Stacy's company, for she had Maths Homework she was struggling with and he was able to help her. I was left to deal with both my own Homework, at that point The Rise of Rome, and my need to be with George. I almost wrote greed there! And I suppose that I was obsessed by this Man who had got right under my skin, who'd awakened something in me that I was too young to understand or deal with. Something I should never have had to deal with. But I realized none of that at the time. I just wanted to get through the week as quickly as possible so that I would be with George again.
We had our weekly get-together in his Back Room. And after our kisses a few days earlier, it seemed natural that we should continue with them. But I sensed that George was holding back, and I asked him if he was disappointed in me.
“In you, Teri? Never! I'm the happiest of men to have you in my life. You are precious to me and I never want to lose you!”
“You won't lose me Master, I am yours so long as you want me.” I truly believed that what I said was a simple and sure statement of fact, that it was immutable and would never change.
“I love you with all my heart, Teri. If I were able to, I would marry you and show the world that we belong together.”
“Is it because I'm too young?” I was actually quite frightened about mentioning my age, for though George obviously knew it, if it wasn't discussed, it wasn't a problem. I wasn't thinking about the Law, just that if I was too young for him to marry me, he would have to let go of me.
“You are perfect, Teri. You are who I want and have. Everything about you is perfect. This country is behind the times, Darling. There are other countries and even States in America which recognise 13 as the best age for girls to marry – I only wish it was possible here.”
“What about Sandra?” This was getting delicate. I had never mentioned her or the boys before, though George had, from time to time. I didn't want him to think about them, maybe in case it made him feel guilty, or give him a reason to dump me!
“Sandra was a mistake, Teri. A terrible mistake.” Did he mean he had been supposed to marry someone else and they got mixed up at the Church and now he was stuck with the wrong bride? I knew that a lot of brides wear veils – it must be something like that. I felt sick. “I thought I loved her, I believed I did, and when she got pregnant with Little George, I had no choice.” Now I understood. George wasn't even the father. Little George was someone else and George had married her to protect her. This was better than I had dared hope.
“You are the kindest man I've ever met,” I said, quite honestly – though, in truth, I knew very few. “She is very lucky you took her on, and her baby.” He was like Joseph, taking Mary and Jesus as his wife and son. My heart felt fit to burst, I was so proud of him.
“In Utah, in America, Salt Lake City, I could marry you today, Teri, they recognise that many men need to have more that one wife. But I honestly don't want to have to share myself between you and Sandra.” This was getting a bit over my head. Did he mean to put Sandra out? And George? But what about the other two boys? If he was their father, that is. Maybe they aren't his sons, it's just been his kindness and responsibility that has made him give shelter to Sandra and her three children. Actually, that sounded right. It would fit with the kindest, sweetest, most generous and loving man in the Whole, Wide, World. “I can't divorce her,” he continued. She's a Catholic and won't agree to a divorce anyway, but I don't have any grounds – and I don't want to give her any grounds, because of you, Teri. I couldn't let you get dragged in, that would be the worst possible thing, so I need to keep you safe.”
“Is that why you bought the Caravan?” Now I was feeling more confident, now I was beginning to get it.
“”That's right, Teri. If we go there, we will be absolutely safe. Only my friends and I go there, with our own friends, and no-one is going to talk about it. There isn't even a Farm or Farmers fields nearby. It's very private – we can do whatever we want. You can do whatever you want, Teri. I just want you to feel safe and comfortable and happy. And if you ever want to go there while I'm at work, well – it's your Caravan, so you can go whenever you want. But you must promise never to tell anyone about it, or where it is. You will promise, won't you, Teri?”
And, he knew, of course. I promised and we sealed our bargain with more kissing, And he started to explore my with his fingers and hands. I wasn't at all sure what he intended to do, but again, he held back, and told me that he wanted to save himself for Sunday at the Caravan. And I was dying to see if it was like the photos. So we just cuddled on the big squashy sofa, he gave me Pepsi – though I prefer Irn Bru – and we smoked a few ciggies, and then it was time to go home. He walked me back as usual, but turned into a shaded lane just before my street. He lifted my face and kissed me deeply, his hands cupped my bum cheeks and he pushed me against him. It must have looked strange, him being much bigger than me, and I could feel his 'thing' pressing against me in his trousers.
I only had another two days before Sunday so I went to bead early each night and managed to get to sleep quite quickly, and that helped the time pass faster. And I chatted to some of the older girls, to find out what he might be going to do to me. I wanted to be prepared so that I didn't put him off.
The basic idea – he puts his thing inside me and then kind of moves up and down until he cums – seemed straight enough, though I wasn't very sure about cum and spunk, or what to call his 'thing'.
One girl, Sydney, who was supposed to be a Tart, said I should say whatever the boy says (they thought I was interested in one of the rubbish in my Form) Willy, Cock or Dick are quite usual, but some call it a name, like Tom or Roger, so ask him what he wants. And the other girl said, to just be straight and ask him what he wants me to call it and what he wants to do to me, “just so there's no misunderstanding, like, he might want to do you Doggy, or you to Blow him. It's only fair if he tells you first so you know what's going on.”neither of them seemed to think there was any likelihood I might not want him to “do what he wants to me.” The both agreed that I should let him be in charge and follow his lead. They said even if it was his first time too, he probably thinks about it when he wanks so he should know where to put it. They wished me good luck and asked me to find them on Monday and tell them how it went.
So when I woke up on Sunday Morning, I was so happy I was fit to burst. Even Dad noticed me singing in the bathroom and asked where I was going. I told him a couple of us were going to the Museum to get some stuff for our Class Project, He didn't even ask me what the Project was. At that moment, I hated him, and I hated Stacy for being his favourite. And I hated Mum for having Stacy.
None of it was being fair to me.
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