Grace and Callum

A note: I've never created a story in this style before; where it's written in the first person but with alternating characters. We'll see how it goes.

This is a heterosexual young love story, so if you are looking for incest or cross-dressers, maybe this isn't for you. I would ask though, even if you don't normally comment on stories, to leave a few words at the end. Without feedback, I'm in the dark as to whether I'm doing the right thing or not. Thank you. xxx

Prologue:

Callum and Grace are your classic nerds. They exist to learn, whether that be mathematics, science, music, poetry, the arts or any other academic subject. Sport, especially competitive sport, holds no interest though they do recognise the importance of a healthy lifestyle and diet. Instead, they swim, cycle and occasionally run. Callum helps at his father's farm in Somerset so is naturally strong with unkempt curly brown hair. Grace is the daughter of the Reverend Charles Martin, vicar of the 13^th-century church at Little Comingford. Despite shunning makeup, she is potentially pretty with green eyes but conceals it by wearing black-framed spectacles and her blonde hair swept back tightly in a ponytail. Some people find her brusque. Boys generally view her as cold and unapproachable.

Both are a little over eighteen and are approaching the end of their second year of 6^th Form at Minehead Community Academy where both are predicted to graduate with 4 excellent A-levels. As a result, they both have provisional places at Oxford, though at different colleges. As often happens, nerds stick with nerds. They've been friends since the age of eleven though Grace refers to Callum as her 'academic associate'. They sit together, eat lunch together and study at each other's homes. Grace, living two villages further away from school than Callum, always saves him a seat on the school bus, not that anyone else would be interested in sitting next to her.

.....

Grace:

Where the hell was he? Not even a text message. I checked around my room again. Perfect, as always, though the Anderson Trophy for student of the year could do with a polish. Then, through my open bedroom window, I heard Dexter bark. I smiled. Callum is the only person he ever barks at. There was a clunk as he leaned his bike against the old cast iron drainpipe, followed by the rattle of his key and the creak of the kitchen door. Being three hundred years old, everything in this house creaks. He has a key because as mother put it, "You spend more time here than I do, Callum."

That was factually correct. Mother has a small apartment in Bristol where she stays when working as a QC at the law firm of Dexter, Willmott and Hepplethwaite. Actually, following the demise of Her Majesty, that should be KC - King's Counsel, not Queen's Counsel, but I still think of her as a QC. Sometimes, if she's involved in a major case at the Crown Court, I don't see her for weeks.

In my mind, I could see Callum taking off his trainers and leaving them on yesterday's copy of The Times by the kitchen door. His mother had trained him well. Then the stairs creaked and he knocked on my bedroom door. He always knocks. "Come in!" I called, checking myself in the mirror. Why had I started doing that?

Breathless, he burst in saying, "Bloody dog, mad as a bucket of bloody frogs." Despite being easily the most intelligent boy I'd ever known, he still spoke like the son of a Somerset farmer.

I wrinkled my nose and said, "You're late and you smell of cows."

"Bloody hikers left the gate of the top meadow open. Nine out on the road. Had to stop and get 'em back in. Some of 'em needed a shove."

"Phone not working?"

"Not without battery power. Can I plug it in?"

I nodded towards the iPhone cable on my dressing table.

"Thanks. Your mum and dad not about?"

"Up at the church, Palm Sunday tomorrow, you ought to come."

"You know me, I go to the Christmas Carol service to keep mum and me nan happy. That's enough religion for me."

"It's the only day of the year I get to see you in a suit."

"Got a new one for my cousin's wedding next month. Mum said the arms and legs were too short on my old one."

"You've shot up this last year or so." He had too. One of those odd facts you learn; a standard English doorway is 6'6" high, and he passed through with about four inches to spare. "Cello or violin? I got both out."

He sat on my bed and said, "Cello I think, I played my violin last night."

.....

Callum:

Bloody hikers. Bloody cows. Shouldn't complain, tourists boost the local economy and buy bread, cheese, cream and cider from our farm shop. Still..., bloody hikers and bloody cows. I watched Grace move the two music stands into place and open the drawer of the office filing cabinet in the corner. Gone was her usual baggy school uniform and her stare that could extinguish a blazing fire.

But we got on okay. Grace helped me with my slight weakness in biology, whilst I was able to support her in mathematics. Together we made a good team and even liked each other to a degree. Away from school, she relaxed and could be kind and funny. She once confided in me that her demeanour at school was largely an act, designed to ensure that she was left alone. By then though, I'd figured that out for myself.

This afternoon, in anticipation of our bike ride later, she was in spandex shorts, contact lenses and a tight t-shirt that accentuated her incredibly firm-looking B-cup breasts that didn't seem to move whatever she did. And her ass. Oh my god, what a pert ass! The miles I'd cycled behind staring at that! And, to be honest, the vast amount of jizz I'd shot over my chest as I imagined kissing those breasts and buttocks. But our relationship wasn't like that. I knew with absolute certainty that any attempt by me to introduce affection into our relationship would drive a wedge between us. In the seven years we'd been friends, we'd never even shared a hug.

"Bach or Schubert?" said Grace looking over her shoulder. We practiced here because of her neatly filed collection of sheet music.

"Bach I think. How about Sleepers Wake?" I said, waiting for her to uncase her cello and pass it over.

We practiced that for an hour before switching to Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream. "You were a bit shit today," she said when we'd finished. Grace believed in honesty in all things.

"Tired arms. Moved about three tons of old railway sleepers this morning. We're building a new silage clamp. Your tyres pumped up?"

"Uh huh, though when I go down a gear it skips two."

Grace isn't very mechanically minded. "I'll tweak and lube your rear derailleur," I said.

"Sounds very rude," she laughed. She lights up when she laughs.

As always, I rode behind, as a gentleman should, to protect the lady from traffic. It also meant that I could watch her strong legs and ass as she rose out of the saddle to drive up the hills. I smiled to myself, recalling the reaction of Mrs Bradshaw, our English teacher, when some years ago I'd submitted a poem entitled 'The life and times of a bicycle saddle'. Her response was a letter to my parents but my dad thought it was hilarious. At Dunster, we stopped at the Castle Tea Rooms for tea and cream scones.

.....

Grace:

As we locked our bikes to the iron railings I thought about our ride. Why had I done that? Of course, I'd long known the real reason for Callum acting as rear gunner as he called it, but never before had I deliberately wiggled my ass for him. How strange. Equally strange was the slippery wetness I could feel down below and it wasn't sweat. Knowing that he was watching me had been quite..., arousing.

"Afternoon you two," said Mrs Cutler, "I saw your mother in the post office yesterday, Grace. She's looking well. How's your father?"

"Just getting over a cold but you know him, he keeps going."

"That's good, and how about you Callum, where's your brother now?"

"Goodwill visit to the US east coast. He's on that new aircraft carrier."

"Well, so long as he's safe. The usual or I've got some really nice carrot cake?"

"How about both?" I said, "We've earned it after 25 miles."

"Don't know you do it around here with them hills. Tea, scones and carrot cake coming up."

Callum stretched back in his chair and said, "Not long now and we'll be finished with school. Just the exams to go." Why did his muscles stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt make me feel all tingly?

"Thank god," I said, "It'll be nice to be surrounded by intelligent people, not the illiterate in-bred yokels that live around here."

Callum chuckled then frowned slightly and said, "Hey, I'm a yokel! Anyway, new subject, can you dance?"

"You mean formal dancing? Like the waltz and the tango?"

"No."

"I've done folk dancing, but only because I was forced to."

"No, I mean modern dancing, like in a nightclub."

"Me? In a nightclub? Have you taken leave of your senses? Why would you even think that?"

He shrugged, "Just a thought."

"Something must have prompted it."

"Well, we'll be finishing school soon. There's the end-of-school prom first Saturday in July. You wanna go?

I roared with laughter and said, "Me? To the school prom? Are you insane?"

"Oh, go on, you wouldn't have to dance if you don't want to."

"You're asking me to the prom? Why? I can think of at least a dozen girls who would say yes to you."

"They're not you. Look, you'll never see 99% of them again. Go out with a bang and let your hair down. Please go with me? I'll arrange a limo for us."

Normally, I'd have refused outright but he was like a pleading puppy. Against my better judgement, I heard myself say, "No dancing, no silly prom dress, and definitely no limo."

"Agreed," he grinned.

Fuck.

.....

Callum:

As spring gave way to early summer, we only had to attend school for exams. Grace and I spent more and more time together, sometimes revising but often cycling, walking or listening to music. We were..., well..., just naturally at ease together. July came and Grace hadn't mentioned the prom. Should I raise it or not? I began to worry that she'd forgotten about it until on the Thursday she said, "So, this shindig on Saturday, are you picking me up?"

"Well yeah. It starts at 7.30 in the school gym so I thought we'd aim to arrive at eight. My dad said he'll pay for taxis back."

"Okay."

That was it, conversation over. My father and I collected her in his car at 7.40. I guess I should have expected it, but Grace was wearing her black spectacles, hair pulled back in her ponytail, and what looked like her old grandmother's dress. Oh well. At the entrance, our names were checked off a list and we were given green wristbands indicating that we were over eighteen and could drink alcohol. Under eighteens were made to wear red ones. We were allocated a table with three other green wrist-banded couples who, after brief introductions, chose to pretty much ignore us. Grace gave no indication of a willingness to dance so I didn't push it. She did though, down two large glasses of white wine and a beer in the first hour.

By nine the place was heaving, the dancefloor full and Grace excused herself to the bathroom. I spent the time skimming my phone and reading the news. Distracted, I didn't notice the passage of time. Adam, who was sitting next to me said, "Hey, looks like you've lost your date." My phone showed 9.32pm. where the hell was she? Can there be anything worse than your prom date upping sticks a going home? I could see that the others around the table were whispering.

At that moment, three things coincided; I stood to see if I could see her, the band were resetting between songs and a murmur spread through the crowd which seemed to slowly part. People at other tables began to stand to see what the fuss was about. Then I saw her, the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She was languidly walking across the dance floor in a figure-hugging little black dress with plunging neckline exposing ⅔rds of her firm breasts. Her hair moved over her shoulders like silky golden water as she slowly walked in black high heels. Ten feet from me, with the room now virtually silent, she stopped, feet slightly apart. Very slowly, she looked up from under her fringe. Her emerald green eyes, accentuated by a dusting of copper eye shadow and black liner, seemed to glow. Her lips glistened as she slowly licked them. Locking her eyes on mine, she raised her right hand and beckoned me forwards.

"Who the fuck's that?" I heard someone say. I knew exactly who it was.

"Grace?" I gasped, almost stumbling over her vacant chair. In front of her, I was lost for words. Seductively, she linked her fingers behind my neck, pulled me forwards and slid her tongue into my mouth. Around us, as the band began to play Chris de Burgh's Lady in Red, everyone began to holler, clap and whistle.

We stood there for two or three minutes, our tongues sliding together, acting as a blockage whilst others danced slowly around us. Embarrassingly, I got hard. My attempt to back away was countered by Grace sliding her hands to my buttocks and pulling me against her. Then she began to sway to the music, effectively grinding herself on me. Holy shit! Reluctantly, we broke the kiss and Grace put her head against my shoulder. "Hello, I'm Grace," she said.

Her tactic was clear. This was the new Grace. "Um..., hello, I'm Callum," I said, "Pleased to meet you. God, you're so beautiful."

.....

Grace:

I'd thought about what Callum had said for over a month. "You'll never see 99% of them again. Go out with a bang, let your hair down." He was right. If I was going to change, this was my opportunity. You see, I'd been in love with him for years. Not quite from the day we'd met but almost. I was under no illusion that our intelligence had brought us together. We were unique at the school. But now we'd be off to Oxford in September. Yes, it was the same university but studying different subjects at different colleges. He'd be surrounded by highly intelligent girls, many of them pretty I'm sure. If I wanted him, I needed to act now.

I did it all in secret; buying the clothes, learning make-up off YouTube, practicing walking in high heels. Mother caught me one day trying on the black dress. I'll never forget the conversation.

"Grace, what are you wearing?" she said, her arms full of clean bedlinen for my bedroom.

Embarrassed, I blurted, "It's for the prom."

"You're going to the prom? Who with, Callum?"

"Yes, mother."

"You've known him a long time. Are you developing feelings for him?"

"I'm way past that stage, mother."

"I see. And does he feel the same way?"

"I don't know, he's never said anything."

"And this is your plan to capture his heart?"

"I suppose so."

"Well, if you're going to give a boy your virginity, I can't think of a better one."

"Mother!" I squealed.

She smiled, "You think you're going to snare him with a kiss and a cuddle?"

"It worked for you and father."

"Don't you believe it," she laughed, "We were at it like rabbits two weeks after we met at university."

Shocked, I said, "But in his sermons..., he talks about chastity and the sanctity of marriage."

"Yes, well, not all men of God practice what they preach, but don't emulate me and do it in the back of a Ford Granada."

The next day I made an appointment with Dr Peters to have contraceptive injections.

I don't know why I chose the dramatic entrance that I did. Maybe I wanted to draw a definitive line between Grace Mk1 and Grace Mk2. I wanted the world's eyes on me as I made the change. It took quite a bit of planning. Being in charge of the music library in the music department meant that I was trusted with a set of keys so I could tidy the library and file new music without disturbance. The Dior dress came from a retro clothes shop in Taunton and my shoes from eBay. All my bras were visible in the dress so I chose to forgo a bra. My only underwear was a black thong from Victoria's Secret by mail order. The morning of the prom, with my dress in a zip-up carrier and my other accoutrements in a bag, I caught the bus into Minehead, slipped unnoticed past the volunteers setting up the gym and secreted everything including a make-up mirror in one of the music rooms. All was ready.

Oh, one other thing. Like a good student, I carried out research. Every night in bed I watched an hour of online pornography. Although lacking practical experience, I was now familiar with the hand job, blow job, cunnilingus, cream pies and sixty-nine. Of the positions, missionary, doggy and cowgirl looked most appealing but I'd let Callum decide. The likelihood of us not having sex never entered my mind.

I must admit I was terrified and had no idea how Callum would react. Feeling his erection against me and hearing his words was a truly joyous moment. Now, as we shuffled slowly to the lilting song, he nuzzled my neck and sighed, "God, you smell nice."

That had been a gift from mother. Before departing that morning with my dress and accessories, she came into my bedroom and handed me a small gift-wrapped box. A bottle of Chanel No5 eau-de-parfum. In the music room, whilst hurriedly changing, I dabbed some behind my ears and between my breasts.

I smiled at Callum's compliment and used the cover of the dim lighting to reach between us and grip his erect shaft through his trousers. He moaned and squeezed my ass. We danced continuously until the band took another break and the buffet was declared open. "Hungry?" said Callum, trying to hide his hardness from those around.

"No," I said, "Have you got your phone?"

"Yeah."

"Then order us a taxi."

"Where are we going?"

"My bedroom. I'll see you in the music department."

.....

Callum:

Her bedroom? If her parents were away she hadn't mentioned it. I caught up with her putting things into a bag and folding her original frumpy dress. "Fifteen minutes," I said, "The driver will send me a text when he's outside."

She looked up and said, "Good, lock the door and let your parents know you won't be home tonight." Did she mean....? Quickly, I sent my mum a text saying I was sleeping over at Grace's. It wasn't the first time I'd stayed there.

Before I'd had a chance to put my phone down, Grace was on me, pinning me against the wall and saying in an oddly husky voice, "I hope you're in the mood to fuck because I am."

Who was this? "Here?" I said, swallowing and feeling her fumbling with my belt and zipper.

"Don't be silly, but I want to see what I'm getting into." We kissed again somewhat frantically for a few minutes, breathing through our noses. With my right hand on her left breast, she pushed down my trousers and boxers, letting my cock spring free. "Now let's have a look, shall we?" she said sinking to her knees.

What the fuck was happening? This couldn't all be down to the alcohol; she hadn't drunk that much. She seemed to pause and examine my cock that was sticking up at 45⁰. "Mmmm..., that'll do nicely," she said, wrapping her fingers around it. I moaned as her hand slid up and down, then even louder when she leaned forward and licked off my accumulation of pre-cum.

"Grace, what's going on?" I said, "I mean, I'm loving it but this isn't you."

She looked up, blinked and said, "No it isn't. That Grace has gone forever. There's a new Grace in town and she wants to have fun. Don't worry, I'm not drunk, this isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. If you haven't figured it out yet, I love you, Callum." I'd wondered if any girl would ever say that to me but never expected her to be on her knees holding my cock and licking her lips!

"Christ, Grace, I love you too but...., ohhhhhh jeez!"

Coherent conversation is difficult when the hottest girl in town is sliding her lips down your cock. I shuddered at the feeling of my twitching shaft being encased by a warm mouth and soft lips. "I..., I...., don't think I can last long," I stammered.