Delia Remembers

It was whilst reading the Notices in the local paper that Delia saw that her old friend, and one-time Mayor of the town, had died from a heart attack, leaving a wife and two married children. Sitting in her chair, glass of wine at her side, Delia's mind recalled the events of very many years previously. Society rules were very different then.

After leaving the local Art College, Delia worked in the studio of a small textile design firm. She overcame the tedium of the repetitive work over her light-box with fantasies of the promised joy of copulation or, if she wasn't feeling particularly randy, of stunning dramatic performances in the great plays of Shakespeare at the Old Vic Theatre. She loved to imagine the sound of tumultuous applause ringing in her ears as an alternative to the imaginary feeling of a man thrusting his large cock up and down inside her aching body.

She wouldn't let Johnnie, her boyfriend, have intercourse with her yet, of course, even though they were now engaged. She had hoped to be still a virgin on their wedding night. That was expected of her. Anyway, providing Johnnie really thought she was, she would be to him. Besides, she was afraid that her mother might just be right in her warning that Johnnie may lose interest in her if she gave way to his sexual lust before marrying him.

But, alas, she no longer was a virgin. At their joint eighteenth birthday party, given by Roly and their friends at Roly's home. Drinks, starting with punch, were flowing. Neither Delia nor Johnnie were used to much alcohol and both got a bit unsteady fairly quickly. Silly games were played and there was much kissing all round in Postman's Knock and similar games most of which required the lights to be turned out. Breasts were eagerly fondled by sweaty hands, and erections groped for the thrill of feeling a cock.

Before turning to the food, Roly decided to play the game of Murder. It was a quiet and lengthier affair, requiring lights to be turned out throughout the house except the lounge. Johnnie, to his disappointment, found that he had drawn the card of the Detective which meant he had to stay in the sitting room by the fire and could only be involved when the so-called murder had been committed. So, Delia decided to find a quiet spot upstairs for a rest to sober up a bit.

On the staircase her hand was taken in another and she found herself guided into the darkened box-room by the host's cousin who had been staying with Roly over Christmas. She and Johnnie had not met Leslie before. He was a silent, confident, tall nineteen-year old, a very handsome youth. And he knew it! He had been rather unconstrained with his kisses, and his roaming hands had strayed into forbidden territory during postman's knock. In the dark box room, without a word, he put his arms round Delia, pushed her against the wall, pinning her by the weight of his body, and kissed her.

She was rather too tipsy and confused to object. In fact Delia enjoyed being kissed, so she responded by pressing her hand into the hair at the back of his head, pushing her tongue between his lips. During the lengthy open-mouthed kiss, it became more sensual as they sagged down the wall until Delia was squatting on her bottom, in a knees-up position with Leslie kneeling between them still exploring her mouth with his tongue.

Unaware of what was happening, Delia didn't realise that Leslie had somehow unfastened her bra until she felt him fondling her breasts. She had no idea how he had managed it, but he had. She liked her breasts being caressed, as well. Heigh ho! The sensation was different to feeling Johnnie's fingers manipulating her nipples, she thought, responding by returning his passionate kiss.

In her fuddled state she became vaguely aware of his fingers exploring her groin. Leslie had pushed the hem of her skirt to the top of her thighs and pushed the crotch of her loose knickers to one side. She was very wet between the thighs. He was kissing her fiercely, nibbling at her nipples with the fingers of the other hand. Leslie had unbuttoned his flies, took her hand and placed it over his stiff shaft.

In her semi-intoxicated state, her curiosity was sufficiently aroused for her to explore it's shape and fondle it's length! This was only the third penis she'd felt. Delia's fascination overcame her modesty. Her next awareness was of Leslie lying over her, between her parted legs, his knees prising her thighs apart. She felt her large swollen sex lips parted by a blunt prodding at her opening, now dripping with excitement. She suddenly felt him press into her, stretching her opening until she was filled to the full.

At first her fuddled brain didn't quite fathom what had happened. There was no pain, just a sensation of being filled up. Then she became aware that he was pushing in and out of her. It suddenly struck her! Oh no! My God! She was being fucked!

'No!' she whimpered to him. 'No! Don't! Please! Come out! Get off!'

'You were made to be fucked. You want it. I can tell,' he whispered.

And she struggled hard in an effort to push him off her, but her arms and legs were pinned to the floor by his weight. He ignored her wishes, continuing to thrust into her with strong firm strokes. Delia groaned with fright as her struggles continued until she tired, panting for breath. She gave up the struggle, gradually becoming aware of the sensation and the enjoyment of being filled to bursting with a hard penis.

She began to relax and marvel at the wonderful bursting sensation. This wasn't the least like she'd imagined it would be. Friends had told her how painful it would be the first time. It wasn't in the least! She found herself pushing into him and joined in with the rhythm of his strokes. It was exhilarating. Leslie suddenly jerked heavily at her and then subsided with a long sigh of relief.

After a brief pause he said 'Thanks love,' and withdrew from her. 'I'm supposed to be the murderer, so I'd better go and do some murdering.'

He stood up, fiddled with his trousers, and was gone. Delia was panting for breath but rapidly sobered up. My God! she thought. He's fucked me! I've been violated! She placed the palm of her hand between her legs to soothe the wounded part. It was sticky and warm. How the hell did that happen? As realisation dawned she became angry. He raped me, she said to herself, he bloody raped me! How dare he? Then, she thought, what on earth would my mother say if she knew?

What on earth will Johnnie say if he finds out? Neither event would bare thinking about. 'And I don't even know the fellow,' she said to herself. Delia's emotions were confused, but she began to realise that she felt strangely unclean. Dirty, even. She rolled onto her front and started to beat the floor with her fists in an outrage. No, no, no, no, no! she wailed to herself. Tears of anger welled up in her eyes.

Suddenly, she wanted to go home, climb into a bath of hot water and wash every trace of him from her body. She felt sorry for herself and wanted to cry. But, she lay quietly on the floor, and got accustomed to the fact that her body had been invaded against her wishes; OK, she thought, I might have been a bit squiffy, I might even have encouraged the petting, but not that! Even though I enjoyed it.

She considered the consequences carefully. No-one must know! She would never be able to lift her head in their community of friends again without shame. To cry rape wouldn't help. For a start, she wouldn't be believed. No one ever did! They would all think she'd let him take her, encouraged him even, probably due to the drink, and was now regretting it. She could only hope that Leslie would keep his mouth shut. As she sat there musing

The silence of the house was broken with shouts of 'Game's up! Into the drawing room everybody! Put your clothes back on and get in here!' Guffaws all round. Delia finally managed to grit her teeth and leave the box-room. She felt sure that everyone would see immediately that she had been ravished, but she went quietly into the sitting room.

After the game, when Johnnie had entertained the party with much humour and laughter at his mock deductions in the style of Hercule Poirot, French accent and all, he declared Leslie the murderer. There was applause for Johnnie as Delia's eyes met Leslie's furtively and briefly, but long enough for her to recognise the mockery in his. After supper, Delia cuddled up with Johnnie on the settee of the darkened lounge. His hand was up her skirt.

'My goodness, darling, you're soaking wet tonight!' he muttered.

But Delia remained quiet, her eyes on Leslie, who was busy necking with Roly's girl friend, Rita. Surprisingly, Rita was pretty drunk and squirming. Delia could just see Leslie's hand pushed up her skirt, groping at her inner thighs. To her annoyance, she felt vaguely jealous. She rolled over and gave Johnnie ardent kisses and fondled him with a great show of passion.

Eventually, those who had not gone home dropped off into intoxicated sleeps. Before Delia went into a fitful doze, she caught sight of Leslie lying over Rita, his bottom slowly rising and falling. Surely, he wasn't doing it with her! But he was! Delia was astonished.

In the early hours of the morning, with everyone snoring and sleeping on carpet, settees and in chairs, she awoke dimly trying to focus her mind on reality. Memories of the previous evening stirred within her and the shame of her drunken behaviour. She lay there and couldn't quite remember whether she had egged Leslie on or not. She was sure in her own mind that she had been raped but felt that she might have avoided it had she really wanted to. Perhaps she had shown him some encouragement.

She sat up quietly, not to disturb the others and picked her way carefully across the room, lit by a single small table-lamp by the radiogram, to get to the down-stairs toilet. After flushing the toilet, she rubbed some toothpaste over her teeth and gums, washed her mouth out and splashed water on her face to freshen herself, whilst cistern filled. As she came out of the door feeling a bit more refreshed, she was startled to see Roly, tousle-haired in a paisley-patterned silk dressing gown, stood at the bottom of the staircase.

'Oh, it's you!' she whispered. 'For a second I thought it was Leslie.'

'No, it's only me, Just wondered who was prowling about.' And Roly took her in his arms and gave her a cuddle and kissed her neck.

'It's a bit early for passion, Roly' she chuckled holding him tightly.

'Oh, it's never too early for that!' he smiled. After a pause he added 'Leslie tells me that you were passionate enough last night!'

Delia went pale and her heart stopped. Her worst fears were realised. She didn't know what to say. She had thought and hoped it that it would be a secret Leslie and she would keep to themselves. Delia glanced up at Roly.

'Sorry Roly! He raped me!' she said simply, 'when I was a bit too far gone to stop him.' Roly smiled again.

'That's not the way he tells it,' he said softly, 'he reckons you practically begged him to take you. And that you thoroughly enjoyed it.'

'Oh, my God!' she thought, 'what a liar! How on earth am I going to get out of this mess?' She said aloud, 'well, he would say that, wouldn't he? He's a damned liar, that's what. He wouldn't want you to think he'd raped a helpless girl, would he? I'm furious with him. I struggled. I tried to stop him but he was too strong for me.'

She realised that it all sounded a bit lame. 'Ah, well! I don't suppose you believe me. You men are all the same. Stick up for each other, no matter what.'

She made to go back into the drawing-room but Roly took her hand and pulled her back. She glared at Roly.

'But he wasn't too bothered about who saw him doing it to Rita afterwards,' she blurted. Roly looked at her for a few seconds.

'I know,' he said at last, 'he made a great play of telling me. I'd already told him that we were all washed up anyway. Rita and I finished last night before supper. That's why he felt free to maul her and, presumably, why she encouraged him. She'd never allow me to even feel her breasts. She wanted me to feel jealous I suppose.'

It was Delia's turn to pause. 'Oh, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. Come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea.'

He filled the kettle in silence as Delia got the cups ready. Without looking at Delia he said with a frown,

'I don't suppose you've told Johnnie about it yet?' Delia started.

'You're joking,' she whispered back fiercely.

'No, I don't suppose you'll want the engagement to be broken off before it's started. And I don't suppose the news would be received particularly well among our friends. Well, I'd better keep my counsel, then.' Delia looked at him horrified.

'You'd never tell him, surely!' she said with urgency. 'Oh, no! Please, Roly! You can't do that to your best friend!' Roly frowned again.

'Well! If I really thought you hadn't encouraged Leslie, but he's so sure about it himself.' He paused to scoop tea into the pot. 'I'll tell you what! Let me have the same favour from you and I'll promise not to say anything to Johnnie.'

Delia was totally dumbfounded. She sank onto a chair at the kitchen table and looked at Roly with utter disbelief.

'You must be having me on, Roly. You can't mean what you say, surely.' She laughed nervously. 'Tell me it's a joke!' Roly frowned with sincerity.

'Well, why not? I've always fancied you, Delia, and I think you've got a sneaking fancy for me.'

She couldn't believe it. The arrogance of the man, but she had to admit to herself that he was probably right! She had fancied him.

'But you're his best pal!' she spluttered. 'Pals don't do that sort of thing to each other!'

'Ah! There you're wrong. You know the saying. All's fair in love and war.'

Roly came to her, lifted her off the chair, and kissed her ardently.

'And what about Johnnie?' Delia asked as they broke for breath.

'He'll never know,' he said. 'Besides, I've agreed to be the best man at your wedding.' Delia felt a little sick at the sheer hypocrisy of it all. The thought of Isabella's dilemma when Angelo promised her her brother's life in exchange for her virginity, came to mind. So what's new? Her situation was similar to Isabella's, if not quite as dramatic.

'You'll need some time to think it over, I expect.'

The situation was pretty hopeless. It was not that she found Roly repulsive. She was very fond of Roly and had fancied him when they first met. She still did if she was honest with herself, but it was the arrangement he was suggesting which repelled her.

'There's nothing to think over, if I want to keep Johnnie, is there? What do you want to do?'

Well!

The following day Delia felt depressed and devastated with guilt. She was no longer a virgin, but it was very different feeling from the romantic scenario of seduction she had fantasised about for many years. It had only taken one careless and unguarded moment. Early that evening, as she prepared to go out, her mother asked her where she was going.

'You don't usually see Johnnie on a Sunday.' she said.

'No, I'm not seeing Johnnie, I'm popping up to Roly's for an hour or so,' she said. 'His parents are away and Rita wants me to chaperon. Anyway, I think there's some sort of row brewing between them. Don't ask me what, though, 'cause I don't know.'

Her mother snorted. 'I shouldn't think Roly needs to be chaperoned. He seems to me a reliable and level headed young man. I must say, I prefer him to your Johnnie, but that's your affair. I hope Rita's not going to ditch him. He's too good a catch, I would think. But it's nothing to do with me. Don't be late.'

Even if she knew the truth, Delia thought, she wouldn't believe it. It was Johnnie her mother didn't trust, and he's about the only guy I know that respects my wishes and I can trust being alone with.

Roly had told Johnnie that he couldn't see him that Sunday night, so, in spite of her mother's views, Delia reluctantly became Roly's mistress. It was with great relief that her period started two days later, so she could stop worrying about the consequences of her indiscretion.

Arriving at Roly's house, she found him wearing a silk dressing-gown. Delia was ushered upstairs to his private sitting room. He made it clear at their first assignation, over a glass of Sandeman English sherry, that he wasn't expecting them to fall in love; all he was after was sex in a civilised atmosphere, preferably to the sounds of Chopin, with the lights down low.

He knew that Delia wasn't in love with him and that she was probably an unwilling accomplice in his sexual experiments. He thought it was wise for sensible people of their age to gain some experience of the opposite sex with a person they know and respect, without stooping to degrading fumblings in dark alleys and cinemas with near strangers. And, he reasoned, since Delia was no longer a virgin, she could have no real objection on chastity grounds except, perhaps, in respect of Johnnie who would expect her to remain innocent for him.

Still, Johnnie need never know and, besides, didn't Delia find the demands of the flesh a deterrent to concentrating on other important things in life? Consequently he required to satisfy his sexual urge at least once a week to prevent him becoming too pre-occupied with sex. A healthy, open relationship in comfort was far better for both concerned, he said. She would find Roly to be a calculating, matter-of-fact sort of lover.

Delia told him that she thought his friend Peggy was his confidant and partner in matters of sex, but he said that was not the case, even though he had tried over several months to persuade her to share his interest in these matters. Peggy had confided to Delia that her own preoccupation in male genitals was insatiable, so she had decided to take up nursing to satisfy her passion. Delia was surprised that she had refused Roly's attention.

Peggy never discovered why. Roly managed to put Delia at her ease with his smooth talk before asking her to visit the bathroom to remove her underwear. Perhaps she would wash her genitals in the bidet before they started. It would be more hygienic, he suggested. She kept her knickers off to avoid any tell-tale stains for her mother to find.

When she went back to the room, Roly had turned out the lights with the exception of a small desk lamp. They sat together in the large arm-chair, she across his lap. He started to caress and kiss her. His kisses were not very passionate. To help in overcoming her acute embarrassment Delia imagined to herself that she taking part in her favourite role-playing game with Johnnie, in which she pretended to be a prostitute, tempting him with her body.

She enjoyed kissing. It usually turned her on. So, she returned his kisses with a certain amount of fervour. Roly's fingers fondled behind her ear which increased her excitement, then nibbled the lobe whilst his hand slipped into her bra to clasp her pliant breast. 'This is nicer than I expected,' she thought, basking in the enjoyment of being kissed, nibbled, and her nipples fondled.

After her nipples were fully aroused, Roly unbuttoned her blouse, unhooked the front fastenings of her bra, her large breasts falling free as if with relief at being released from their straight-jacket. Whilst Roly transferred his attention to her ample dark areolae and nipples, Delia fumbled at his flies finding them already open, his manhood stiff, at the ready for her.

It was on the small side when compared with Johnnie's, but smooth and solid. She fondled his small testicles and stroked his inner thighs. Roly's bottom began to tense and flex. 'Gosh, he's going to come already,' she thought.

'I think we're ready for a change of position.' Roly said as he stood, removing his trousers and underwear. Delia lay back in the arm-chair, her blouse and bra already draped over her shoulders, unbuttoning the side fastenings of her skirt. Roly's open dressing gown showed his aroused penis pushing out from its mass of brown curly hair. Delia's eyes fastened onto the object with keen interest, confirming what she had felt. She couldn't see it clearly in the subdued light, but it was not too big and the testicles were tightly puckered.