Third Time Getting Lucky

Tom looked at me. "I'm not moving!" he said, loud and clear.

"Good answer," I agreed.

We tried to ignore Cassie and Mike for the rest of the night. They did the same, though I believe we were much more chaste than they were. We remained mainly clothed, even.

I got Tom to unhook my bra and, slowly and giggling, we managed to wriggle me out of it without the sheets falling off. I replaced my arms in my sleeves. Before Tom could slide a hand up my top, I stopped him.

"Let's take our jeans off. Just the jeans, just to be more comfortable sleeping? I don't know what's in your pockets..." Keys, judging by the lumpiness in my hip. At least he'd left his Leatherman downstairs.

Later, the joke about "is that a banana in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?" came to mind. But that side wasn't painful when it dug in, so I didn't mind.

We managed this feat of contortion, though it involved some sitting up in the freezing air. I thought I could see my breath, all silvery, in the dark. We both jumped back into the bed together and lay clutching each other, me shivering. He stroked my hair. I liked it.

Our kisses got more gentle, sleepily exploring, our first desperation ebbing away. His legs, firm and slightly furry, were much warmer than mine, and I slowly relaxed into the larger warm body holding me securely. I put my scarf round my neck, to prevent an arthritic tension headache. He didn't object. We practised snuggling together, getting those knobbly bits out of the way, and soon had the hang of it, practically forced to by the shape of the ancient mattress.

All perfectly chaste, really. Even if my mother would, I'm sure, have been shocked, especially as the firm projection in his boxers was touching my own pants and making me get moist. I'd hold off for tonight, but I promised myself that the next night, I wanted to feel that cock properly! And to see if he could do anything about my wet pussy.

I wondered what he'd done with women before, and what I should tell him.

I slept remarkably well, though finding a toilet -- not in the nearest bathroom, it turned out -- was a most unpleasant contrast to my warm bed. We stayed dozing until the weak sun warmed the room to a more pleasant temperature, and Mike had gone downstairs. Cassie was still out like a light.

"G-good morning, Karen." I didn't even need to lip-read to understand that.

"Morning Tom," I replied groggily. "Sleep well?"

"Ex-ceptionally well. I had excellent company." He smiled, which was the important part of the message.

We could hear clanging of pans and lots of voices downstairs, but saw no reason to move. We moved back into a kiss. Tom slowly reached his hand under my top, giving me every chance to object. I didn't. On the contrary, I rolled round so my breast was conveniently underneath his hand.

I'd wanted this, for much of the previous evening. I sighed in satisfaction. He pushed me round further so I was on my back, and he could straddle me and play gently with both breasts at once.

It wasn't a totally new concept, but a sober man doing it, looking like the cat who'd got the cream? Definitely a level up in pure pleasure. I was starting to moan quietly, when the door opened. I was glad Tom's back was to the door.

"D'you want any breakfast? There's pancakes if you fry them yourselves," Ben called in.

"Have to do everything round here," I muttered.

We realised we were in fact ravenous, so reluctantly we parted, and got up and dressed again.

"What are you doing next weekend?" I asked him, once I'd put my ears back in.

"Um...driving d, down to s, s, see you?"

"Right answer! As an extra incentive, I can offer not only a double bed in a private room, but also... wait for it... central heating!"

"Ooh! I won't need you in the bed then!" He mouthed something else at me I couldn't hear, which he had to repeat a few times before I realised it was 'Joke!'.

Mostly, I understood him very well, but finding he never once said 'never mind', when I didn't understand what he said, really made me relax with him.

I wondered what people had told him about me.

We had similar ideas, it turned out, on generally hanging out together for the rest of the weekend while still socialising with the others. I fried up a couple dozen more pancakes, knocked back coffee and juice until I felt more human, and all fifty or so of us -- including Mike's female cousin and a few of her friends, who took attention away from me and the other girls -- spent the day relaxing in the grounds. We didn't know, then, that Gareth and Finn were experimenting with al fresco sex in the forest!

We had more shooting competitions -- when everyone used my tactics, I was no longer outstanding, but, having been the butt of insults from PE teachers for years, I'd take it. Lunch was mainly leftovers and food that didn't need cooking, but in the afternoon Rich acquired some assistants, and made another six loaves of bread.

That second night we were down to about thirty people. The pot on the Aga was about two feet high and nearly as big across. The smell of stew was outstanding, possibly assisted by Rich's idea of cleaning up being to find all glasses containing dregs of wine and to tip them in, along with the ends of bottles. It was even colder than the previous evening, and drizzly, so all eating and partying took place in the kitchen and lounge, where we all fit reasonably well.

The wine and beer seemed in no danger of running out. Finn passed round a bottle of Baileys, and swore when he realised Tom and I both loved the stuff. Someone started up drinking games, which seemed a bit unnecessary. Probably Alec. In the light of his recent sulking and clearly feeling entitled to a girl, his penchant for getting everyone drunk started to seem rather dodgy. I looked round for Helen and Cassie but they seemed fine -- Cassie was near Mike, and Abs and Edwin were on either side of Helen, both looking protective. Mike's sister and her two friends were chatting to Rich and Gareth, as well as Ben, Delia and Charlie, so they'd be safe enough.

Tom and I joined in with a round of wink murder and a couple games of Werewolf. I wasn't surprised that he suddenly decided he needed a drink or the facilities when the rounds of Fuzzy Duck and other tongue twisters came up, just as I always made an excuse when games like Chinese Whispers started. The moans of primary school classmates, that I always ruined the game, still hurt.

Then it moved to poker for pennies, followed by the obligatory semi-serious demands for strip poker. I was perfectly content with this -- I'm reasonable at poker, wasn't really bothered about my body being seen, and thirty guys and girls in their late teens were pleasant eye candy. Then I noticed Tom, tugging at my sleeve where people couldn't see.

I looked questioningly at him.

"I. I. something reallypreferblurble." Bad angle for lip-reading.

"You don't want to play poker?"

He nodded, relieved.

I shrugged. "OK. Got a better idea?"

We started walking back to the kitchen. He did think about saying something, but didn't. We found a bottle of Baileys being ignored, despite it being half full, and helped ourselves generously. It was a small social gathering here, but good conversation -- the best parties always end up in the kitchen, after all -- and was just about cosy round the Aga, which we kept well topped up with logs.

"Not so crowded, tonight," Steve observed. Someone sitting near the stove mentioned that Joe and Steven and a couple others had gone home. Suddenly, Tom's eyes lit up and he beckoned me out of the room. Once back in the passage he whispered, urgently, "They had one of the smaller bedrooms last night..."

We went upstairs, where the rooms definitely weren't obeying the usual rule of being warmer the higher you go but were spewing out all the heat they had, out through chimneys and cracks. But indeed, the end room was empty of anyone and anything, except for a double bed, rumpled sheet, and a pile of blankets that I wasn't going to inspect too closely. I grinned.

"You're a genius! Shall we camp out here for the night? If you're sure you don't want to join in for strip poker?"

He laughed, blue eyes bright. "I think, you'd be too good at poker for there to be any point for me! I'm really not interested in watching the blokes get their kit off. Quite enough of that in school changing rooms..." He reddened. "I was, k, k, kinda, hopingthestripping could happen anyway?"

I was trying to nod and smile and show my wholehearted agreement with this plan, only it really was fucking freezing. "Great idea, only, not sure goose pimples are a good look. So might be better going for a more 'warm up the bed first' thing?"

He gave a small Gallic shrug. "Still better entertainment than seeing Alec and Rich or Finn naked, I assure you! I'm afraid I didn't bring a hot water bottle."

It suddenly occurred to me that the chunky metal objects being used as door stops might possibly have been the original bed irons for the house. Those late night historical documentaries on BBC2 had their uses! Certainly the mysterious old metal could be used for the purpose. I grabbed my bag from the hall and got an old towel out.

"Give me five minutes -- can you guard the room? Actually I'll set the irons in the fire and come back." I chose two lumps of iron which didn't look too rusty or dirty, and went down to put them inside the Aga's hot oven to get hot. As long as they didn't stay too long, it should be possible to wrap them in the towel to carry back upstairs.

I picked up the Baileys bottle when no-one was looking, and returned up the stairs. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, the only illumination being from the hall window downstairs, where light shone up towards our curtain-less window. Tom was reclining back in the bed. "Ah! I brushed my teeth already while you were gone! Oh, s-s-s...od it!" He took a swig. I figured that if we were kissing, Baileys and clean teeth would be better than a taste of stew, so went out to brush mine, too. There was even a clean glass in the bathroom, so I stole it and offered Tom a glass of Baileys instead.

"How incredibly civilised. Th-ank you." I went downstairs and extracted the bed irons without burning myself, though I'd needed an extra oven glove and my towel might not recover. Back in our secret lair, dropping the things just before scorching my hand, I shoved the hot metal, still in the towel, under the blankets.

"Pure genius. Definitely a reason to go for an intelligent woman!" Tom observed whilst warming his hands under the blanket.

What a charmer.

He removed his trainers and tried and failed to wedge one under the door. "Have to be my old T-shirt, then," as he rummaged in his bag to find the top he'd worn the day before. It filled the gap pretty well, and experimentally turning the door-handle showed that it would at least stop someone coming in by accident, unless they hurled their weight at the door.

He turned back, pleased with himself and his solution to another problem, and gave me a huge hug. We started to kiss again, though he was slightly too tall for that to be easy, standing. And kissing distracted me from focusing on where the walls were, making it impossible for me to stay parallel to them. I had to close my eyes and rely on clinging onto him. Basically, kissing is something I prefer to sit down for!

He spoke quietly, but the gesture was unmistakable: "..something mumble clothes off, then?"

I suddenly felt embarrassed about my physical awkwardness. I'm fine being naked, but the getting naked was more of an issue. I couldn't do any moves or anything like a stripper. Luckily, he reassured me. "Not like a strip-tease," - his action suggested it would be fine if that did happen - "Just, just, I want to see what I haven't yet. Please? I'll help you, first."

I held out my arms so he could pull off my top, my polo-neck, my vest. He ran his hands over the front and back of my bra, clearly liking my breasts in it, then round to the back where he fumbled with the hooks before finally releasing it and allowing it to fall forwards. I stepped back from him so it fell to the floor, and adopted my best posture, slightly nervous. Actually, really nervous. Unlike with Ed, this time I cared what a man thought of my body.

Tom stepped back too, but his expression was pure gleeful grin as he looked me up and down. "Wow!"

As he came forward I anticipated he would grab my breasts, but no -- he reached round me to hug me to him, warming me up and holding me close, and only then reached up to fondle them as he'd been doing first thing that morning. It made me feel appreciated as a person, not just a pair of tits, as I nuzzled them into his soft top.

"'Moment," he said, and raised his arms above his head. He swiftly un-layered his top half -- fleece and jumper off, then a smart polo shirt, and underneath a t-shirt that hadn't been intended to be seen, which he pulled up over his arms to show off his body.

And a very nice chest it was too. Canoeing and swimming and indoor climbing walls had given him a six-pack gym-goers would kill for, and youth prevented a beer belly so far. Some scars from harsh spills from the canoe onto rocks. Not much hair. His chest was firm under my exploring fingers.

We stayed close, partly to keep touching, mainly for the body heat. Another long kiss, really fighting our tongues and exploring how the other reacted, battling for submission and neither of us ceding. It occurred to me that I was supposed to let him be the dominant one, but he seemed to be having fun anyway.

He might not have control of the kisses, but he had the advantage of me when it came to remaining standing, which I was only managing by hanging onto him. His longer arms reached down, caressed my arse, and then tugged my jeans down. After initial resistance, they slid down my thighs and bunched below my knees.

I felt more exposed in my pants than I would have done naked. Having my legs effectively tied together doubled that feeling of embarrassment, which was somehow also horribly erotic. I could feel my pants getting damp, and as Tom knelt down in front of me, he'd be able to see that. And to smell it, as he pushed his face into the gap between my knees and ran it upwards, stopping to kiss me over my clit as his hands cupped my buttocks, firmly holding me towards his face.

I moaned out loud. It was taking all my self-control not to thrust my cunt into his face, simply because I knew we'd fall over. And I'd look like a total slut, but I suspected he'd be fine with that. I guessed that he'd been with at least one woman before, probably not much more, and he'd figured out what he liked, but right now he was very effectively conveying the message that it was me he wanted to be with.

"G-gorgeous," he breathed, standing up. In a rare moment of machismo, he picked me up by my waist, dangled me over his shoulder almost in a fireman's lift, and carted me over to the bed where he lay back and dropped my weight astride him. He reached round to my bottom, which he curved his hands round and fondled happily through the thin cotton. Eventually I wriggled sideways to land on the bed bedside him, and the cold surface had me scurrying to get under the blankets. My preparation, with the hot irons, made this bed toasty warm inside, even without a topless man. Just as well Tom was aware enough to hold an ankle and get my boots off, followed by my jeans. He nuzzled my thighs again, but I rolled over to get warm under the covers.

He hastily sat back down on the bed, cursed the iron lump he'd sat on, shuffled over and pulled off his socks and jeans and came to join me. It was so quick I didn't have a chance to admire his legs, but different and thus clean boxers was a good sign in a man! We carefully shifted the irons to the outer edges of the bed, and rolled together -- the mattress was saggy so that happened whether we liked it or not -- and let our hands roam all over each other.

Tom was superficially similar to Ed with his sturdy build, similar height and colouring, but while Ed had been fairly solid overall, his back and chest were flat. Tom had defined muscles -- nothing extreme, but a distinct difference. Though the main difference was mentally -- Ed had given me the impression that I was a prize, he'd played for and won, and only during the night had he come round to realising I was an individual, not just yet another woman.

Tom was almost the opposite -- he'd got to know my personality first, in the total absence of even knowing what I looked like, and clearly wanted to be with me as a person. Now, thankfully, he was letting himself treat me as a woman, or rather, finally I was getting to be a sex object.

It made a huge difference. Mostly because even as I got naked with Ed I knew it was going to be a one-night stand. Now, however, I was already looking forward to seeing Tom again -- hopefully somewhere warmer!

On the plus side, here, there wasn't anyone right on the other side of a thin wall...

As Tom kneaded my breasts, he tried squeezing my nipples gently. It was like an 'on' switch for my cunt. I moaned and then cried out, 'Oh, god!' when he did it again, thrusting my groin upwards against him. And his cloth-covered cock brushed against my damp pants, a delicate pressure that sent my mind flying away with pleasure.

He looked concerned when I whimpered, but immediately realised that I was fine. Very much fine. He lowered a hand to my crotch, and I did the same to his, putting my hand cautiously round the tent in his shorts. There was clearly something going for slow gentle touches, as he gasped and made a groaning noise in the back of his throat. When it got too much for me, I pulled away and settled myself comfortably to grip his cock harder.

His cock was totally vertical now, sticking up with the end just visible above his waistband. I left his boxers in place and held him through them, rubbing my thumb across the rows of elastic onto his tip, again, and again.

He swore, and shouted.

Exploding a word out loudly worked to get round the stutter, but the result was pretty much the same as from any bloke who was about to come: "Oh FUCK!... GOD! GOD! YES!"

Suddenly my hand was full of wet, sticky heat, with more running back down to soak his boxers. Instinctively I wiped my hand on a dry part of them, then apologised.

"It's OK," he assured me, raising his back off the mattress so he could shimmy out of them. "B-better than a wet patch on the bed!" A fair point. I tried to catch a look under the blankets, but only got a teasing glimpse before his groin fell into the darkness again. He lay down on his side to face me, grinning. As we snuggled up, his softened cock rubbed against me, not quite where it would have maximum effect, but strangely intimate.

"You OK?" I didn't understand. "Me, naked? Bed?" He added some visual gestures.

I realised I was just wearing knickers, in bed with a naked man. Whom I'd just made come. Some might jump to conclusions from all that, about what I would be up for.

Tom didn't. It was refreshing.

"Um, yeah. Um. I might keep my pants on tonight though."

He nodded. "Yeah. Keep some surprises for the second date." We both knew that it was more about not enabling random penetration that a dodgy bloke might 'accidentally' try. He reached over and pulled my knickers up snugly, and stroked over the gusset. It was so amazingly sensitive I couldn't imagine what it would feel like without the protection of fabric. Sure, Ed had been there, but I'd been pretty drunk, and this connection was totally different -- so many gentle touches sensitising my skin all over, making me wanting more and more of it, the more I got...