The Bottom Line (5 page)

Kissing Barbara had never been a problem. I remembered her as one of the most perfect kissers I had ever met. The problem was that it never went beyond kissing. There was no outrage, no utterance of the threats that, from such a tall and powerful girl would have been taken seriously, not even a steely chill. She would quietly move the hand from wherever it was considered intrusive and then continue kissing. And if the hand returned, she simply removed it again.

I leaned towards her and proffered my lips, soft and loose but not parted. She met me in similar style and our mouths remained engaged for a few enticing seconds. Then she slipped a hand round the back of my neck and pulled me closer, at the same time opening her mouth and teasing my lips with her tongue. Instantly my prick began to jump to attention, just as it always used to. I put my arms around her waist and drew her closer, kissing more intimately as I did so but keeping my body away from hers, as I had always been required to.

The one liberty she used to allow me was a hand on her bottom, on top of whatever clothes she was wearing, gently stroking but never squeezing, so almost without thinking about it I slid one hand down from her waist and let it rest on the upper curve of her buttock. She moved towards me as though to accommodate my hand more easily and then, suddenly, pulled me close to her, so that my erection was pressed firmly and unmistakably against her tummy.

We paused for breath and she opened her eyes to look at me, smiling as she did so and grinding her body provocatively against mine. I moved my hand from its resting place and felt under the waistband of her trousers. It dared to slip inside her panties also, but there was no resistance this time, and I was able to clutch one of her globes as we resumed saying hello, a process that seemed to need quite a long time. Then I moved both my hands to a position at her waist and gradually slid them upwards until they were under her arms and I could vaguely feel with the heel of my palms the soft swell of her breasts.

There was no resistance, either from Barbara or apparently from the soft flesh that gave the impression of being unrestrained. I stopped kissing and moved my torso away from hers so I had room to bring my hands back and fondle her more deliberately. There was perhaps not quite as much of her as I had expected and her nipples remained undetectable within her suit, but the flesh I cupped had a delicious yielding quality.

I continued to press my prick against her while feeling her breasts through her clothing and she, cooperative at last, took off my jacket and undid my tie, tossing them both carelessly towards the chair that had earlier received my coat. Then she resumed kissing me, but differently this time, flicking my lips with her tongue and looking at me with an ambiguous expression as she slowly removed my shirt. My fingers edged towards the zip on her shell-suit but she shook her head. ‘No,' she said, ‘just kiss me. Close your eyes and kiss me. I'll do that for you.'

I could feel her unzipping her top as she kissed me and opened my eyes in the hope of seeing what was on offer, but she pressed herself against me. ‘Come on,' she said, ‘no cheating... no peeping. There's plenty of time, isn't there?'

So I let her continue until I heard the garment dropping to the floor and felt her lean momentarily away and then press her breasts against my chest. I was conscious of the warmth, of the softness, and of the hard buds that were her nipples as she squirmed against me. I squeezed against her, getting both hands inside her pants and digging my fingers into her bum to get her as close as I could.

We continued like that for a while and I thought, briefly, that I might come too soon if she didn't stop, but she must have sensed my anxiety because she disengaged and purred just one intoxicating word. ‘Bed?'

‘Bed,' I echoed like an imbecile. ‘Yes, please, let's go to bed.'

‘Before we do,' she said, ‘I need to warn you - I shan't have an orgasm.' I began to say something in defence of my prowess as a lover, but she put a finger over my lips, sealing them. ‘Don't worry,' she whispered, ‘I've never had an orgasm. It's no big deal. I don't mind sex but it's no big thing for me. Just carry on kissing me while you... you know, while you do it, will you?'

Again I tried to speak but the finger continued to do its job. ‘No questions,' she insisted, ‘at least not yet. When you've finished you can ask me anything you like and I'll answer if I can. Okay?'

I mumbled something about it being okay if that was what she wanted, and followed her into the bedroom, where the covers of a double bed, with a handsome brass bedstead, were turned back. There were no words as we removed the clothing we still had on, then she motioned me to lie down and knelt over me, swinging her breasts just above my face; large white breasts with soft pink nipples outlined by large areolas.

‘Right then,' she said, ‘this is what you've wanted all these years, so you'd better make the most of them.' Which is precisely what I did, feeling and fondling, nuzzling and nipping, pinching and pulling until I realised she was completely passive, not apparently objecting to what I was doing but apparently getting nothing from it, either. I left one hand where it was and began to move the other down her belly and between her legs, until she stopped me.

‘No,' she said, ‘I don't like that. Tell me when you're ready and I'll do it instead.'

Emotionally the mood had all but gone, but I was still stiff. ‘Come on, then,' I said, moving above her as I spoke ‘We'd better change position.'

She reached into the drawer of a bedside cabinet and withdrew a small tube, from which she squirted a small blob of jelly onto her fingers, pushing them unselfconsciously between her legs. Then she lay down and opened her legs wide.

‘Don't forget,' she said, ‘I need plenty of kissing.' I positioned myself above her and took my prick in one hand, guiding it between her legs without touching her by hand. She had lubricated herself well and I had no difficulty in locating the precise spot. I pushed and her lips parted slightly; another push and I could feel myself entering her; it took a third push before I could get right inside and sense just how tight she was. I must have looked alarmed at this, despite the grip she had on me, which was no less than sensational; certainly the tightest fanny I'd ever screwed.

‘Don't worry,' she said, ‘you won't hurt me. Lie right on top of me.'

So I did as I was told, flattening myself on top of her, French-kissing her as softly as I could while I fucked her as hard as I could. I came with a great burst of energy, exploding inside her yet feeling curiously unsatisfied, then lying limply on top of her for what seemed an age as she continued to kiss my slack lips.

Some time later she pushed me off and, as I lay there, fetched a sponge and cleaned me up. As she stood up she gave a little shimmy and grinned at me. ‘Were they worth waiting for?' she asked, and I didn't quite know what to say. ‘Don't worry,' she continued, ‘it doesn't really matter. I just felt I owed you that.'

I look a deep breath, feeling somewhat hurt, belittled by her indifference toward me. ‘If it's so easy now,' I asked, ‘and if I mean so little to you, why were you so determined not to give me anything at all six or seven years ago?'

She smiled slightly coyly as she stood there naked, her breasts full and her pubic hair glistening between her legs. ‘Couldn't you work it out for yourself?' she asked. ‘I was five feet nine inches tall, I had a thirty-eight-inch bust and a face like a burst boot. What do you think boys were after when they went out with me? There was only one thing most of them wanted... well, maybe two things.'

‘What rubbish,' I snapped. ‘To start with, there's nothing wrong with your face. You've got fabulous skin and your smile would melt icebergs.'

‘Maybe,' she continued, ‘but I'm not exactly the Venus de Milo, am I?'

‘So who wants the Venus de Milo?' I replied. ‘I spent a hell of a lot of time with you when we were teenagers, without even thinking of getting anything. It wasn't until you kissed me after that New Year's Eve party that I started getting ideas.'

‘I know,' she said, ‘but I just had to be sure you weren't like all the rest. And sex has never really turned me on anyway, except for the kissing. I always liked kissing you - I just didn't want to cheapen things by going any further.'

‘So why didn't you say anything back then?' I asked. ‘I could have accepted it. I just thought you weren't really interested in me.'

‘Interested?' she echoed. ‘Interested? I'd have done anything you wanted me to. I'd have married you if you'd asked me. For a time I thought you would.'

‘You said to me once that the very idea of getting into bed with a man was disgusting,' I countered. ‘I never knew whether you meant it or whether you were just warning me off. That's why I tried to find out.'

‘Oh yeah,' she said. ‘Don't worry, I've heard all the excuses.'

‘Sorry,' I replied. ‘I did fancy them, it's true. But I thought we'd been friends so long that you'd trust me. It's not as if I'd have tried to rape you if you'd let me have a quick feel, would I?'

‘No, I suppose not,' she conceded. ‘But I never quite had the confidence to let you. I wanted to. After all, I never tried to slap your face, did I?'

I acknowledged that this was true. ‘So are you saying I should have tried harder?' I asked. ‘Was it really all my fault?'

‘No, of course it wasn't,' she said. ‘It was my fault. Even though I didn't really like it, I should have let you find out what I was like for yourself.'

‘So why did you marry Frank?' I asked. ‘Wasn't he interested in sex? Didn't the famous boobs appeal to him? And when you've explained all that, you can tell me why you sent me that card without Frank's name on it.'

‘I married Frank because he was a smashing bloke,' she said. ‘I loved him and don't forget I didn't get married until four years after you'd vanished to university. It took me a long time to get over how stupid I'd been. And then I only had him for a year.'

‘And Frank?' I persisted. ‘This smashing bloke of yours. Didn't he want sex with you?'

‘Don't be so cheap, Graham,' she flashed. ‘Frank really was a nice man. Of course he wanted sex with me, but what he most wanted was a baby, and when we found out we couldn't have children he more or less lost interest in me. I used to...' She stopped and a tear slowly ran down her cheek. I gave her a handkerchief.

‘You used to...?' I gently probed.

‘I used to help him sometimes,' she said. ‘I let him play with me but he didn't, you know...' I must have shaken my head. ‘He didn't come inside me. He even stopped touching me once I'd found out how to
help
him.'

‘I'm sorry,' I whispered. ‘It's not really any of my business, is it?'

‘Oh yes,' she countered, ‘I think it is. I invited you to make it your business when I sent you the card. I thought that if I just signed it
Barbara
, you'd be intrigued.'

‘I was. Although, actually, I knew already about Frank's heart attack, from Philip.' Philip was a mutual friend from our teenage years. ‘I meant to write to you and felt mean for not doing, but I thought you'd probably prefer me not to. But when I got your card I thought it might be an invitation to get in touch.'

‘It was,' she confessed, smiling knowingly. ‘And it worked, didn't it? In more ways than one.'

We continued talking for hours after that, back to the ready intimacy of our teens, before even we started snogging and possibly spoiling things. Barbara had prepared a snack and she opened a bottle of chilled white wine. We sat together on her settee, nibbling and sipping, she with her head tucked into my shoulder. For a time thoughts of sex were completely forgotten - but only for a time.

‘Are you staying overnight?' she asked. ‘I rather hoped you might. I'd like to sleep with you... in the literal sense. Nights are lonely since Frank died, and I feel I can trust you to look after me.'

But when it was time for us to turn the lights out she waited for me to get into bed, then took off her dressing gown and knelt over me again. ‘So what do you think?' she whispered. ‘Do my breasts live up to your long-held expectations? I hope you're not too disappointed.'

‘Disappointed?' I said. ‘Why should I be disappointed? You have a fabulous pair of boobs, just as I always imagined they would be.'

‘No,' she said, ‘they're not really. I used to wear tight clothes to deliberately emphasise my figure.'

‘Oh, did you?' I said. ‘So, really you wanted the lads to notice you and try to get their hands on you?'

‘I was very insecure,' she said. ‘Yes, of course I wanted them to notice me, so I used my best assets to their best advantage. And yet I knew even then that I wasn't really interested.'

‘Were you more attracted to...?'

‘You don't even need to ask,' she interrupted. ‘No, I wasn't attracted to other women. I'm not a lesbian. I much prefer the company of men. I just don't have much of a sex drive. When I said the idea of getting into bed with a man was disgusting, I meant it. That's why I was so lucky with Frank. Getting into bed with him was so we could just go to sleep.'