And that was why, all through the week, my step was light, my cheeks glowed, my eyes sparkled and my heart was a-flutter! This was different from all my three relationships to date – a real live actual Date! Not just creep around discreet meetings with George in the Back Shop, before he went home to his wife and boys, not just kneeling under Graham's desk in his Surgery sucking him off, not just mooning around the Hotel Room waiting for Ronnie to come back from wherever he went and then be his Fuck-Toy till he next went off to do business: No! This was an actual date with an actual Man, younger than the others, single, a professional man, with his own place in The New Town, whose demands were a lot simpler and more 'normal' than any of the others. Oh I floated on a cloud of dreams in sunlit glades and resting on mossy banks by tinkling streams. No-one spoke sharply to me, Home was quiet and peaceful and I spent most of my time in my own room, playing Radio 1 and reading love stories.
I think meeting Martin had forced me to reconsider the direction my life had taken ever since George Gill first winked at me. I felt that none of them ever really wanted to know what I wanted, or were all that interested in me, me as a person. I was just an object to them, something for them to use, and the more I thought about it the main thing they were interested in was my age. Like I'd heard of guys that were only interested in blondes, or tall girls, or wee girls or particularly young ones. They weren't interested in what was in her head or her heart, just her age. Pre-pubescent girls seemed to be the most popular and I was on the cusp – soft downy golden curls below my tummy and slight swellings on my chest. I can't say I was womanly yet – Laura was quite far advanced in development compared to me. And I think that was why Marting was so inquisitive about my age – he must be comparing my body with other girls he'd known and perhaps I was a bit behind the average 13 year old.
Maybe that was why George, Graham and Ronnie were so keen on me – I could easily pass for eleven and I had a feeling that was their preference. But, hey – they'd certainly had no complaints about me: I had quickly mastered the art of sucking cocks and my See You Next Tuesday easily accommodated them, now. It had been a bit painful at first, with George. But he was very gentle and found ways of applying KY Jelly that made the whole process much better for both of us.
And Martin was so different from them in many ways – he was younger, only about 20 years older than me – if that! I had no idea what age an Advocate is, or a Solicitor – he was one or the other. But Ronnie had said his dad, Marting Senior was one of the top Advocates in Edinburgh, maybe even Scotland. They were fabulously rich, yet martin didn't flaunt that at all. His Flat was spacious and nicely decorated and furnished but no way OTT!
And when Friday came I knew when Yuri collected Laura, Sandy, Jasmine and Soo (our three new girls) and me at the School gates that I was being delivered to Martin's rather than going to The Gents! Oh, I was so excited. I would miss the three new girls first night – but they'd all had an evening at Ronnie's with him, Boris and Yuri during the week. “To Break Them In,” Yuri said, which sounded a bit OTT to me, it made them sound like wild horses who have to be tamed. But then, maybe that's how they see Girls?
Martin was waiting at the door for me – he took my bag and stood back to give me a good look – I was still in my School Uniform and he was obviously delighted with what he saw. I'd dyed my hair Red on Wednesday night, while the others were being fucked, I had to cheer myself up, it felt so lonely being on my own when the others were having a Party.
Martin helped me out of my coat and took me through to the living room, offering me a drink – “absolutely anything, I've got it.” So I had a Voddie and Orange and sat on his big sofa while he made the drinks and brought them over. As I sipped, very conscious of him sitting close to me, he said “I've thought of nothing but you all week, Teri,” and I felt kinda shy as I glanced at him. “Me too,” was all I said. He put his drink on the coffee table, took mine and put it there, took me in his arms and started kissing me. Now, it wasn't the same as the way the other men all kissed, with the tongue straight in filling your mouth – this was much gentler, slower, shyly, as though he was testing me to make sure he wasn't rebuffed.
Of course his tongue did come in after a bit, and I slipped mine into his mouth – this was actually the first time in my life I'd ever done this. He sucked it and nibbled it, but not sharply. We took it in turns to explore each other's mouths and teeth and gums and inner lips and then he was kissing me all over my face – my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, my nose! Mt chin, my neck and WOW! He gave me some Love Bites that were so intense and erotic I was afraid I'd Cum in my pants!
And then his hands started to explore my body – still with my Uniform on! And it was slow and lazy and gentle, as they slid up my back and over my shoulders and down my arms and he kissed my hands, backs and palms, and sucked all my fingers, and then back to my face and another love bite on the other side of my neck, while his hands moved under my blazer and up under my arms to my oxters where he held me tight and close as though he was afraid I'd go somewhere. Although I'd had fun with the other Men, this felt different, much more personal. I had wondered why Martin had come to The Gents with his Father. I'd read stuff in books about Fathers who introduced their Sons to sex through Courtesans and Mistresses – if I sound a bit coy here, it's probably because I didn't think of myself or my friends as Prostitutes (there! I've said it) or Call-Girls, or Hookers or Whores (not that I knew much, if anything, about them. But most of my reading had been Victorian novels – we read Jane Austin at School and that didn't exactly prepare me for the outside world, and nor did my Dad's Library at home, which was mostly Politics and History. It sounds very simplistic writing this, but really, good girls at expensive all-girl Schools in Edinburgh had a pretty restricted view of the world – especially when we only had the four terrestrial TV channels at home. Not mush sexual education there!
And while I was thinking about Martin, he was clearly thinking about me. His hands had moved round to me 'Breasts. And I put them in quotes because they were still only very early promises of what was yet to come. He didn't seem to mind that. He gently squeezed and massaged them with his hands. While giving me another Love Bite – I though he was maybe intending to put them right round my neck!
And then one hand – he was on my left side, with his right arm around my body, so it was his left hand – landed on my left knee. This every so slightly upped the ante and I knew where I was now. This was a move on from kissing and cuddling towards where the other Men always went first. And it didn't decrease my loving regard for him – it told me that he was serious about me: as serious about me as I was about him.
Slowly it inched up under my skirt, I don't know how long it took, because our kissing had taken on an urgency that was mutual. Deep French Kisses on both sides.
. Ooooh it was lovely to feel myself wrapped up in the arms of this sweet and loving Man after the mechanics of sex with the others, which was all about their pleasure, not mine. And my body responded without my having to think about it. As his hand moved slowly, centimetre my inch up my leg, sometimes on top of my thigh, sometimes round on the outside, sometimes gently trying to push my other leg aside so it might feel some of the warmth of my inner thigh – I was still wearing my School Tights, remember, I slightly parted my legs and felt his hand, soft and smooth unlike the older, wrinkled, knobbly hands of the other Men who'd been there, slid towards my crotch – where he would find his was barred by the three layers I wore: a pair of knickers to ensure my tights didn't sag or slip down, the tights themselves, and another, smaller, wispier, more fragrant and feminine pair of panties covering my bottom and my See You Next Tuesday. My Mum had bought the outer, stouter, knickers from M&S of course, where every Scottish Housewife and some of their daughters always bought their underwear in those days. I had sneakily bought myself some under-panties from Top Shop! And the ones I was wearing were ivory coloured. Almost the same as my skin.
And he was just touching the first gusset when his phone rang, and rang, and rang and he eventually pulled himself away, face crimson with embarrassment: “I'm dreadfully sorry, Teri, I'll need to answer that, it's my Father, please, I'm so sorry, stay just where you are, I'll be back as soon as possible!” And he actually said the words, rather than the asap that most people used. I hoped he'd be even sooner: PDQ – Pretty Damn Quick!
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