Winter Fires Ch. 03

Chapter 3

On Friday, at seven o'clock on the dot, Simon rang Marianne's number. A strange voice answered.

"Hello. May I help you?"

The voice was cultured, assured, deep yet feminine. Simon realized it must be Marianne's mother.

"Oh, hello. Um, it's Simon, can I speak to Marianne, please?"

"Hold on a moment, I'll see if she's here," came the answer. Simon thought it odd that her mother wouldn't know if she was there or not, but let it pass.

"Wait a moment, she's just coming to the phone," he heard. Then he heard the handset being passed over, before Marianne's voice came to him.

"Simon, hi! Right on time, I see!" she told him, chuckling.

"Yes, well, you did say tonight at seven," he answered.

"Uh-huh. Look, I've got a surprise for you. Can you pick me up here in an hour?"

"Surprise? Er, sure, I'll be there at eight then."

"I look forward to it!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon had to scramble to be ready in time to catch a bus that would get him there on time, but he made it. He was actually five minutes early, but didn't think Marianne would mind overmuch.

He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and he was greeted by an older, still attractive lady.

"Hello, you must be Simon. I'm Marianne's mother, but you can call me Tina. Come in, she's nearly ready."

He was shown into the small entrance hall. She looked him up and down for a moment. "I can see why she's taken with you. You're a lucky young man." Tina excused herself, saying she was watching 'The Sweeney' on television, and he was left to himself for a moment.

The Simmons' home was small but neat, clean and tidy. There were pictures on almost all the walls, the wallpaper was flowery and the carpet a deep pink. Simon wondered if there was a Mr. Simmons at all – the place seemed very feminine. He also wondered what Mrs. Simmons ('Tina,' he reminded himself) had meant…

His speculations came to an abrupt halt when Marianne started down the stairs. He saw her legs first, well, her feet (clean, nearly new trainers) and calves (muscular yet feminine) before the denim skirt came into view. She wore a violet cotton top that hugged her figure, showing off her wonderful bosom. She ducked her face to see him sooner as she descended, a bright smile lighting up her face as they saw each other.

As soon as she was off the stairs she skipped to him, putting her arms around him. They kissed, and once more Simon felt the world slip away unnoticed.

She broke the kiss, pecked him again and stepped back. "Here, take this," she told him, handing him a bag that was in the corner at the bottom of the stairwell. "But don't look inside," she admonished, as he started to do just that, "it's part of the surprise!"

Marianne called out, "I'm off then Mum!"

Her mother answered, "Have a good time then, Marianne. Be careful!"

Marianne rolled her eyes at Simon, grinning, but replied, "I will Mum. See you!" and opened the door, ushering Simon out.

Once outside, he asked her, "Where are we going?"

"To start with, back to your place. You're going to need a few things."

"Such as?" asked Simon, confused. He'd just come from home!

"Oh, a toothbrush, underwear, stuff like that. I have the key to my friend Julie's flat. She's gone up to her mother's in Manchester for the weekend. The flat's just up the road from you, the other side of the traffic lights, we can be there in five minutes after you've picked up your stuff – and we've got it all weekend!"

Simon's jaw dropped! Marianne just watched him, eyes challenging him to say something. Then what would happen over the weekend registered, and his eyes lit up.

He closed his mouth. "That's cool," he said, "I'm off duty this weekend. Which is lucky, by the way." Marianne's smirk told him luck had little to do with it. "Okay, so you checked. Let's go catch a bus." Marianne nodded in approval, and they set off. She extended her arm, and Simon took her hand. They walked to the bus stop like that, hand in hand.

"Who'd you speak to at the station?" Simon asked.

"Duh! I asked Patty, who checked with John, of course." She pecked him on the cheek. "Dope!" she called him, but she smiled to reduce the sting.

Once at the bus stop, he asked, "What's in the bag?"

"I told you, it's part of the surprise and I won't tell you what's in it!" she answered. Then she moved up close to him, put her arms around him and tilted her head in a clear invitation. Once they began kissing, all thought of the bag and it's contents flew out of Simon's head.

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon almost barged his way through the door, shouted "Only me, Mum!" and dashed up the stairs. He grabbed a bag and started rummaging through his drawers for underwear, pillaging his wardrobe for a spare shirt and jeans. He practically ran into the bathroom and picked up his shaving kit and a washcloth. He was about to leave when he remembered soap!

"So this is what your room looks like," came Marianne's silky contralto. Simon felt like he'd jumped about three feet, then he saw her, just inside his room. It was a mess, with the drawers open and clothes everywhere. "Er…"

"That's okay, it won't take two ticks to clear things up. I'll hand them to you and you can put them away," she said, apparently calm, but Simon could tell she was almost bubbling over with laughter – it was in her eyes.

Sooner than he'd have expected the room was tidy. Marianne stood up straight and looked around the room.

While it was definitely a young man's room, at least he'd taken down the Led Zeppelin posters, and the somewhat cheesy 'girly' pictures – all safely clothed, but revealingly so – had come down too. Football posters, including one large one featuring the West Ham United star, Trevor Brooking, had replaced them.

Simon's Fire Brigade kit was safely put away, except for his helmet, which was on the table next to his bed. There were several shelves of books, and several more with LP's and cassettes.

The pallid sunlight came through a small window directly onto Simon as he stood there. Marianne looked at him again, and she said, "Goodness, you look wonderful when you're highlighted like that!" and stepped close to him.

"How many girls have you had up here, then, Simon?" she purred. One hand went around his neck, pulling him closer, the other went to the front of his jeans.

"One or two," he said. 'Only one or two,' he thought, but Marianne whispered, "I'll bet…" into his ear as she pulled him to the bed.

"We can't – I haven't shut the door!" he told her and she giggled as he broke free. "Don't forget to lock it!" she told him.

He shut the door and turned. "There's no lock. Mum knows that she's to knock if it's closed," he told her with a rakish grin. He advanced towards her and she lay back on his bed, watching him through lowered lashes.

With a growl he leapt on her and she squealed in delight. Quickly their kissing became an all-out groping session. He wormed a hand under her top and felt her breasts through her bra. She undid the clip of his jeans and felt inside his underwear, investigating his semi-erect manhood – which instantly reached full staff. She moaned appreciatively into his mouth as they kept exploring each other.

She broke the kiss. "Too many clothes!" she told him and whipped off her top. He didn't answer except to begin stripping off his clothing too.

His first sight of her bosom took his breath away. Her breasts jutted firmly with upward-pointing dark nipples that begged for attention, begging that Simon couldn't resist. He leant forward and kissed first one, then the other, before pulling back and looking at Marianne with some embarrassment for a moment. She grinned and pulled at his jeans again, so he stood, whipped off his T-Shirt, kicked off his trainers, turned his back ('Why did I do that?') and dropped his jeans and underwear in one.

He turned back around to find Marianne in only her dainty white cotton panties. She was smiling, a smile that grew broader as she saw his stiff penis for the first time. Few young men are able to resist that sort of appreciation, and Simon was certainly not one of them.

"Come here, big boy!" she growled at him, beckoning.

Simon stood still for a moment, and then burst into laughter. "Big boy!" he guffawed, and then she put her hand over her mouth and giggled herself. The mood was shattered, and they fell against each other on the bed, laughing at one another. Simon's erection fell and Marianne's nipples retracted. The two of them ended up lying on the bed next to one another with broad smiles, just enjoying being next to each other.

"That has to be one of the worst clichés of them all!" he told her.

"I know, I know, I just couldn't stop the words!" she giggled. "I suppose it could have been worse. I could have said something about your big fire-hose!" That set them both off with more giggles.

But then Marianne reached out and down to feel Simon's penis. It was half-hard as, after all, he was lying next to an almost naked girl. She stroked it, lightly.

"It is quite big, though," she told him.

"No, it's not, really," he replied, once more secretly pleased that she would say so. He reached across to her breast, cupping it, sliding the palm of his hand over the delicious curve it presented. He felt her nipple perk up and stand straight under his palm. "Your, er, your breasts are lovely, too, you know."

She looked at her tits. The way she was laying, on her side, gravity pulled them towards the bed of course, but not much. Her large dark nipples stood proudly erect. "I like my knockers," she said, abstractly. "They're not too big so that they get in the way, but they're definitely there. For a long time, until I was almost sixteen, I wondered if I was going to get much there at all. Is it like that for guys, Simon?"

"You mean for cocks? Yeah, I guess. I mean, I've always had one, of course. Well, duh! But it did get bigger as I got older. It's not that long, though."

Once more, Marianne giggled. "Looks and feels long enough, buster! Besides, it's the width, not the length. Hasn't any girl told you that before?"

Simon rolled closer and kissed her. "Not as such, no. But I'm glad you like…" He growled deep in his throat, and kissed her again, a kiss that she returned with equal and increasing fervour. Hands began moving, legs slid over each other and pelvises were thrust…

"Let me get these off, Simon," Marianne whispered into his ear. He nodded, and she briefly disengaged to slide her panties over her smooth, lovely legs. He watched, fascinated, as she briefly twirled them around a finger, then tossed them over the side of the bed.

Conflicting needs warred within Simon. He wanted to make love to her, so badly, but Marianne hadn't said she was on the Pill and he had no condoms. He could try to pull out… but he didn't think he could control himself that well. He really didn't want to chance making her pregnant – but he really, really wanted his dick inside this insanely sexy girl. Now. He had to ask…

"Marianne, are you on the Pill?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Silly boy, of course I am – I'm a modern girl!" Her expression changed, her own need evidently as bad as his. "Please, Simon, make love to me?" she said in a smaller, more hesitant voice than he'd heard from her before.

His fears banished, Simon waited no longer. He rolled on top, placed himself at her entrance and pushed inside Marianne. She was wet and open, but still he found her hot and tight, and could only enter her slowly.

It took him several short thrusts but he finally felt her soft curly pubic hair against his groin. It felt like his cock was inside a steam bath, one that gripped and rippled against him. Marianne smiled up, pupils dilated in pleasure, and murmured, "Mmmm. Wonderful. Now, make love to me, Simon. Please!"

Slowly at first the two moved against each other, finding a rhythm, and then with increasing passion Simon began pounding into her. Marianne met every thrust of his with her own, grinding herself against him at each peak. He felt his blood pounding, his vision narrowing, he felt his cock moving deeply inside her hot, wet sheath with each thrust. Quickly, far too soon, he felt himself reaching the point of no return, and he began to grunt and force himself as deeply into her as possible.

Finally, with a cry that came from deep within, he held himself deep inside her and felt his orgasm pulse, eyes screwed tightly shut. He held himself like this for several seconds before the almost spastic impulse left him and he drew back, rolling to one side to take the weight off his partner. He held her as she held him, tightly at first, then relaxing until his arms merely held her gently to him. He stroked her back, kissed her, then wiped an errant strand of wet hair away from her forehead.

"Thanks, Marianne."

"Mmm. That's okay, Simon."

They lay quietly together for a minute or two.

He felt her hand on his manhood again. It was still wet and slippery with their combined juices, and she stroked it, lightly at first.

"When do you think you'll be ready to go again, Simon?" she asked him. "Only, you left me a bit, well, sort've high and wet, here."

Simon was almost dozing alongside her, but forced himself to wakefulness.

"Gah. Huh?"

"Oh, I'm just astounded by your breathtaking wittiness!" she snarled. Then she smiled apologetically at him. She pulled her hand from his penis and swirled it around in his sparse blonde chest hair. "Sorry. Um, delicate question. You're not all that experienced, are you?" He opened his eyes fully and looked at her warily. "I mean, it's okay," she went on quickly, "It doesn't matter. But, well, I didn't come, but I got close. And now I really need it…"

Now Simon felt bad. He felt the frown on his forehead, heard the concern in his own voice as he asked her, "What do you want me to do, Marianne? Just tell me, help me, and I'll do my best." He gently stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger.

"Mmmm. Just stroke me to begin with, and play with my tits a bit. We'll see what comes up after that…" she smiled.

Soon she went back to stroking what had come up. "Hmm, quick recovery. I like that…" she whispered into his ear, just before she licked it. To Simon, it was insanely erotic, the slow, sensuous feel of her tongue at his sensitive earlobe was delicious.

He heard her whispering into his ear again, "Now, I'm getting pretty worked up. There are other places that'll do it for me – I love to have my ears stroked, my neck nuzzled and there are a few other places you can try and discover sometime. But now, I want this," wiggling his erection, "inside me. But I'm going to be on top, this time."

"On top?" Simon asked, but followed Marianne's cue and rolled to his back. Marianne straddled him, took his dick in one hand and wiped the head of his cock against her opening again, thoroughly coating it in the wetness there before inserting him. She sank, deliciously slowly, down onto him. To Simon, it seemed the journey would take forever. Marianne finally sighed with pleasure once her groin came to rest against his.

"Let's take this slowly, okay?" she told him. She began to rock slowly back and forth on him, grinding the top of her slit against the root of his erection. She kept this up for some time before asking him, "Please. Please, Simon, feel my tits, oh, feel me…"

Simon reached forward and began to play with her breasts, stroking, pulling on the nipples, gently. "Harder, Simon!" she urged, and he pulled a little harder. Marianne, her face, neck and the top of her chest flushed a vivid pink, took her nipples in her own fingers and pulled, twisting harder than Simon ever would have. He ran his fingertips over her sides, from her shoulders slowly down to her waist. Marianne began to lift herself up and then plunge down again, still grinding against him, stimulating herself against him on each thrust.

"Oh! Oh! Oohhh!" she cried, still moving, and Simon could tell she was getting close. Her vaginal walls were fluttering against him as they moved. He began to thrust upwards against her as she descended, and within a few minutes she stiffened, silently rigid in her ecstasy. Simon kept forcing himself into her hot liquid depths, feeling her internal muscles gripping him in spasm and he could hold back no longer. With a deep, heartfelt groan he poured himself into her before she fell onto him, spent. Simon was himself incapable of movement, relaxing, enjoying that wonderful after-climax feeling, and just enjoying the sensation of her sweat-slick flesh against his.

Eventually she rolled away from him. Their combined fluids drained from her, quickly wetting the top cover underneath her. Simon rolled to his side, panting, caressing her flank with one hand while gently kissing her face.

"Wow," Simon said, his throat thick, once he had recovered.

"Yeah, wow." They lay there, Simon cuddled up against her side, while she got her own breathing under control.

"Can you get me a glass of water, please?" she croaked. Simon dutifully rose, donned his jeans and padded out to fetch two glasses.

His mother was in the kitchen. She looked up from the pot she was stirring as Simon padded in, bare-chested and barefoot. She caught Simon's eye and lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin on her face. Simon ducked, blushed but grinned at his mother as he poured the water.

"Well, you finally brought a girl home then," she said.

"Yeah, it kind've just… happened," he told her. She chuckled, saying, "I thought it might've done!"

Simon went even redder. "Mum!" But she waved him away. "Better get back to her, Simon. She's obviously thirsty!"

Red in the face and muttering under his breath, Simon did as he was bid. Returning to his room he knocked, called "Only me!" and entered. He found Marianne, still naked on top of his bed, her top held against her with one hand while the other covered between her legs. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she tossed the top back onto the floor and sat up.

They drank, savouring the cool water. Finally Marianne looked at the mess they'd made of his bed.

"Oops! We'd best change that. Where's your mum keep the bedding? Where do you put the washing?" She stood. "Oh, and I guess, can I use your bathroom first? You sort've filled me up, if you see what I mean." Indeed, her thighs were damp and Simon could see the results of their lovemaking trickling down one of them.

"Best put some clothes on. Mum's downstairs, but she could come up at any moment – she saw me in the kitchen, and worked out what'd happened."

Marianne chuckled again, that delightfully deep throaty chuckle that Simon was already coming to love hearing. She started to get dressed, leaving off her underwear. "It wouldn't have been difficult, Simon, with you dressed like that, and smelling so strongly of sex!"

Simon went red, again.

"What, you didn't think she'd recognise the smell?"

"I just don't think of my mum 'n dad doing it, that's all!"

"Duh! They obviously have done! You got any brothers or sisters?"

"Just me," he replied, "and yes, I know they've done it at least once, and in the abstract I know they'll have done it more than that. But these are my parents, you know?"

"Hah! If you're anything to go by, I bet your mum 'n dad do it every night – twice!"

"Shut up!" he laughed, throwing a pillow at her. She dodged it, and once more asked where the bathroom was. "Second door on the left!" he told her, and flopped back onto his bed – only to stand up once more when he felt the wet patch on it.