"Why won't you ever do what you're told?" C shouted at me in fury.
"I do. I just don't like dancing and a ball is about dancing by definition," I answered.
"Well, I like dancing and you have to do what I want! Don't be so fucking timid!" she said.
"I'm not going to dance!" I said, standing up to her, for once. The ball issue was dominating our lives. The College Ball, which only happened every three years, was in ninth week, for a start. This meant that I would have to stay up at college an extra week, when what I really wanted to do was get home to my family. You might have thought that the extra time with my lovely, if volatile, girlfriend might be welcomed but, increasingly she was becoming depressed and erratic. She still enjoyed sex and, in fact, we were doing it more often, as she seemed to need it. A need for confirmation of her desirability, I thought. It was almost as if she couldn't control her passion. One part of me (guess which) was enjoying her new drive but another part of me realised that this was an attempt to compensate for some sort of other hole in her life.
"If you don't take me to the ball I'll get someone else to take me and then I'll have sex with them and you will be forgotten, you useless bastard!" she said. She started to cry. This was another increasingly common situation. Passion followed by tears.
It had all been going so well. After May Day, C was in a very good mood, buoyed by her excellent results in our exams. That weekend we had had our first really nice weather at Oxford. We went shopping and C bought me a book of Arthur Rackham's illustrations for Wagner's Ring. This was a lovely present and I bought her some antique lace in Little Clarendon Street, which she was going to use in a pair of French knickers she was planning to make. We had soup for lunch in The Nosebag (one of the few places to eat in Oxford then that is still there today) opposite the Oxford Union. She gave me a soupy kiss at the table, surprisingly.
In the afternoon, C and I walked in the sunshine to the river, through Christchurch Meadows and watched all the idiots rowing up and down. C worked herself up by imagining, out loud, what their communal showers were like afterwards and by the time we got back to College she was ready for 'a rough one' as she put it. We didn't even go up to my room, as she decided we would do it in the showers at the basement of my staircase. I knew what she was thinking about! Our height difference made stand up sex difficult but we solved this by her standing in the shower stall and me standing on the floor next to it. I only had to bend my knees a bit to enter her sopping pussy. She certainly was worked up. Neither of us came but she enjoyed it, especially when I put my hands under her bottom, lifted her up so that she could put her legs around my waist and banged her against the tiles. We finished each other off up in my room with me holding her wrists again. She seemed to like being restrained.
"So how many of the crew did you get through, in your mind?" I asked her. She laughed.
"Just one. One per fuck. You have to take me eight more times to manage the whole crew!" She thought it would be fun to be tied up and we looked at the rope fire escape in my bedroom but the rope was too thick, old and inflexible to go around her small wrists. She wanted to rub the rope between her legs but we decided it was too grubby. She said we needed to find a nice crew of girls for me to fantasise about. "Nine naked girls in the shower, all rubbing their soapy bodies up against you. Stroking your cock, fingering your arse and licking your balls. They'd probably be stroking each other and themselves while you take the first one up against the tiles."
"Sounds like you should help me out in there!" I said. She thought that this was an excellent concept and then we discussed the College ladies first eight which had a number of very attractive girls in it. One was another redhead (well, more of a strawberry blonde) with long legs and C fantasised about them sixty-nining each other. I wan't sure how easy it would be for the five foot two (nearly) inch C to service the five foot nine inch S but didn't say anything.
On Saturday evening I told C to put a nice dress on (she had brought some different ones from home for the summer, although she complained most were still in storage) as I told her I was taking her out to dinner. She overdressed again, in a floaty, grey chiffon number with more sequins on it. I didn't tell her where we were going but took her to La Sorbonne. I was a bit worried about this, as it had caused the bust up between us when I took K there but she was delighted. I had had to book in advance, of course, as you couldn't get a table if you just turned up but C liked the fact that it was a surprise. The restaurant was packed, again, mainly with Americans, this time. I had grenouille, for the first time, which C thought was very brave of me but they were delicious, although they looked odd as they were so patently pairs of little legs. They were served in batter with garlic butter. Then we both had steak au poivre, which I had not had before. This was a huge piece of steak (no nouvelle cuisine in those days), which we had with ratatouille, one of C's favourites. We finished with Crêpe Suzette, which was a speciality of the place. We drank a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, which cost an eye-watering £9.50, although they had a bottle of Chateau Margaux on the list at £145. The whole meal cost just over £40 and although C offered to pay half, as K had done, I wouldn't let her, to her obvious delight.
We had another energetic one back in my room afterwards, although we both stank of garlic, despite a lot of teeth cleaning, so avoided too much kissing. We did it about six times that weekend (I couldn't manage nine) but Monday to Wednesday we had to get our heads down on the Tort and Contract.
However, several other social events, in what was an academically less pressured term, reared their (to me) ugly heads. There was a proposed Tort versus Contract first year's darts match in the bar. Fortunately, there were four of us, including C, A and L ,who had never even held a dart let alone thrown one. We did not relish having to do this for the first time in front of a bunch of drunken rugby players in the bar. None of us went to the subterranean College bar, largely because it was full of drunken rugby players. I think I only went there once in my three years.
Next up was the proposed first year versus second year lawyers cricket match. C, A, L and I (who were now known by the other lawyers as 'The Gang of Four') all thought that this was an even worse prospect than the darts match. I had never played cricket, except once at junior school where I remember being hit by the ball (I had no hand to eye co-ordination) and it being very painful. Cricket, I decided, was dangerous if you didn't know what you were doing. I avoided it at senior school by doing athletics instead. C was even less sporty than I was but the other girls in the year had all played rounders, hockey or lacrosse at school. We thought that given there were four of us we could effectively sabotage this ghastly proposal, as there were only eleven lawyers in each year.
The next issue was more problematic, because unlike darts and cricket this was something C did want to do. Punting. With the warm weather the punts had appeared at Magdalen Bridge. Punting looks easy but isn't. D, the person with the room next door to mine, had fallen into the river that weekend from a punt and he was president of the punt club. One of the other first year lawyers had done it that weekend and said 'never again', having pulled just about every muscle in his body. The sticky mud at the bottom of the river would snatch the pole from your hands, people would try to pull it up and invariably fall into the river. Also, collisions were common, whereupon people would fall into the river. Some people fell into the river just trying to climb into the punt. Everyone else in the punt got showered with water as the pole was pulled out of the river. The problem was that C really wanted to sit in a punt in a flowery dress and have a man propel her effortlessly across the water. It was all part of her Brideshead Revisted image of Oxford. She loved Brideshead Revisted, a book I hadn't read and had no desire to read, but she was always going on about it. In the end C cajoled L, A and some others to go punting. I stayed in College. A fell into the river.
The work that week was very intense and we spent most of our waking hours in the College law library. One of the lawyers, who had matriculated the previous year but had dropped out and had come back for our year, was making an Airfix model kit of a Flying Fortress in the college law library. We hung it up from the ceiling of the law library but it was soon removed by some of the third years, who had no sense of humour.
Things went from bad to worse on the ball front when we discovered that we had to form tables of eight for dinner. K was going but suggesting we join her table didn't go down too well. Our other close friends, A and L, didn't have any girls to go with and were going home at the end of term. The tickets were going on sale that week and I was still wavering, hence C's outburst at me.
"You can forget about any more sex until you buy the ticket and I am not paying half!" she said, that Thursday. Having just paid £13 for my new law book and £40 for dinner I wasn't too keen on the outlay for something I knew I would hate.
"It's probably worth it just to calm her down," said K a couple of days later. I had done her a pen and ink drawing of college for her birthday present and she was deciding where to put it on her wall. H, a very pretty language student, turned up and admired my drawing and wondered why I hadn't done art instead of law. I was starting to wonder the same thing. H, had long brown hair, a delicate, almost elfin face and, in her summer dress, an extremely impressive bust. She was one of those rare slim girls with large breasts. I tried not to look at them but she was displaying them quite assertively and she caught me looking at her and grinned. She commissioned me to do a similar drawing of College for £15. This would pay nearly half of my ball ticket, as K pointed out. H said that they were looking for another couple to fill their table at the ball and would hold the place for us. I knew when I was beaten, so went to the Lodge and bought the ticket. That afternoon I went to Selfridges and Debenhams department stores and bought some things for C.
"Where's my ball ticket?" hissed C at dinner. "They are selling out! If we miss out I will never speak to you again!" After dinner I invited her up to my room but she said she didn't want to go. I told her I had something for her. She asked, as usual, whether she could eat it and whether it was brown. I said yes, so she grudgingly trudged up the stairs to my room. I gave her a half pound bag of chocolate coated Brazil nuts from Selfridges and she perked up immediately.
"Take your clothes off!" I said. She said sex would cost a lot more than a bag of chocolate coated Brazil nuts. Even a half pound bag. I told her that if she didn't take her clothes off I would take them off for her. She dared me to try. I grabbed her leg and tipped her over onto the rug. She squirmed and wriggled and even scratched as I pulled her skirt off and removed her knickers. She kicked me in the leg, so I spanked her, quite hard. She yelled. I stopped.
"Don't be useless!" she said. "Work harder!" I sat astride her hips and undid the buttons of her blouse and pushed her bra up to reveal her breasts. She looked aroused and excited. "Are you going to ravish me?" she asked.
"I haven't decided!" I said. She undid the buttons of my shirt and then promptly scratched my chest with her sharp fingernails. "You little bitch!" I said, meaning it. She bit the fleshy part of my thumb enough to leave teeth marks. "Right! That's it!" I said. I leant across and opened my desk drawer and took out the bag from Debenhams. I pulled out the red curtain-tie cord I had bought earlier. It was about half an inch in diameter and was like silken rope.
"You're not going to tie me up!" she said, giving me a look which said that was exactly what she wanted. I rolled her over onto her front and pulled her blouse and bra off so that she was naked. I sat astride her lower back and tied her wrists together, over her head. She struggled until I was finding it difficult to tie the knot and then she helpfully stopped moving until she was secure. I stood up and looked at her lying on the floor. She was sweating and looked pink. She spread her thighs and presented her pussy and anus to me.
"Get up!" I said.
"It's difficult with my wrists tied!" I stuck my hands under her armpits (she had started shaving them over Easter because of the sleeveless dresses she had brought back) and yanked her to her feet. I pushed her into the bedroom and made her sit at the foot of the bed. I then tied her wrists to the top of my metal bedstead. with her arms over her head. She pulled at her bonds but she was actually very tightly tied and the bed was heavy. She spread her legs again and thrust her orange pussy at me.
"I'm going out!" I announced. She said I couldn't leave her like that. I said I could and would. "I'm going to get a Yorkie," I said, planning to visit the chocolate vending machine and let her wriggle for five minutes.
"Get me a Lion Bar!" she said, as I closed the door on her. I went downstairs and walked across the quad to get to the vending machine next to the law library. I ran into A and L who invited me for tea,
"Where is C?" asked L. "She's tied up," I answered. I told L I could only stay for one tea as I had things to do. We talked about the cricket match and L told me that the lawyers had found some other first years to take our places on the team, which was a relief. I spent about forty five minutes there and thought I better get back to C. On my way back to my staircase I ran into H who wanted to show me the exact view of College she wanted me to draw. This involved leaving the College and going into the square so she could show me the view she wanted. We then discussed the size and whether she wanted it in pencil or ink. On the way back we met K, who stopped and chatted. She asked where C was. I told her she was a bit tied up.
"Not literally, I hope!" said K. I must have blushed as she squealed. "These two's love life is just too much!" she said to H.
"So I gather," said H. looking at me curiously. By the time I got back to my room I had been gone well over an hour. I half expected to find an empty room and C, Houdini like, gone, leaving the pile of red curtain rope behind. But, no, she was still there tied to the bed. I went into my room and the first thing I saw was a wet pool on my lino floor. "You were so long that I had to piss!" said C. She had just gone all over my floor.
"You could have waited!" I said, appalled.
"Didn't know how long you'd be. I knew you were punishing me for being a bitch. You could have been hours. I didn't want to hold it as it's bad for the bladder. I don't want cystitis or something." I sighed and went down to the scout's pantry for some paper towels. This wasn't like her little piss on the rug before. This was a huge one. I made her sit in it while I sluiced hot water on the floor from the kettle. "Shit! That's hot!" she said as some of it flowed to her bottom. Eventually, I cleared the mess up, wiped her down too and then took her down to the shower in my dressing gown and washed her bottom half, making sure she went under the water when it was still cold. She squealed again. "I'm sorry if I have been a bitch about the ball," she said, when I had got her washed and dried and back into my room. "I just really, really want to go!"
"And now you shall go to the ball!" I said, opening my drawer and pulling out the ticket which I waved at her. She squealed with delight.
"Come here and have a kiss!" she said. "Or shall I go straight to dicking you? Or would you like to take me up the arse?"
"A kiss would be lovely!" I said, pulling my dressing gown off her.
Over the next weeks C would blow hot and cold. Some days she was affectionate and friendly and some days she was distant and tense. She would explode at imagined slights and not just with me. K persuaded her to go to the doctor who diagnosed clinical depression and gave her some pills. These seemed to work. Her mood, like the weather, became sunnier, We both found the hot weather effected our libidos. Even when we were working hard on an essay she would pop over to my room for a 'frolic'. She had a series of sundresses with tight tops, underneath which she didn't wear a bra so she would, basically, be wearing just a dress and knickers. She would come and sit on my lap and I would put my hand up her dress and slip my fingers past her knicker crotch and frig her. She would come, give me a kiss and leave to go back to work. I even did this to her in the Bodleian Law Library once; frigged her to climax and then we both went back to our desks, my fingers reeking of her musky smell. She stopped wearing the knickers, even, so that I could get access to her at all times. We were having sex twice a day, every day, except at the weekends when it was three or even four times.
Because our tutorials were on Fridays it meant we could have the weekend off. We took a bus out to Abingdon, a little market town and had lunch. We went to some antique shops as she was looking for a chamber pot although we couldn't find one and eventually got one in Oxford.
"Are you going to put plants in it?" asked the lady in the antique shop. "That's what many people do."
"No, it's so we can piss in it after sex without having to go downstairs to the loo," C answered.
"Oh!" said the lady.
"Let's try it out!" said C when we got back to my room. "Let's make love first, though!" Interestingly, she was now using the term, 'make love' much more than 'having sex' or 'fucking'' (which she tended to reserve for 'rough ones', especially when I tied her to the bedstead, which she really enjoyed, especially if I teased her with the feather first). I called her 'lovely' much more and told her I loved her and she glowed with pleasure. That afternoon we had a long gentle session with lots of kissing and stroking. She came first while I licked her lovely pussy and came again when I penetrated her. We lay in bed, afterwards, and she told me about the ball dress which she had decided to make herself, not having found anything suitable in her diminutive size. She and K had found one suitable dress but it was over £175 so she didn't get it. She had brought some dark copper coloured silk, which certainly set off her hair and pale skin. It was going to be off the shoulder with a big full skirt. She had lovely shoulders and delicate clavicles. "Time to try out the pot!" she said, sliding out of bed. I stayed in bed while she went into my living room. "You have to watch me!" she called out. I climbed out of bed and found her squatting over the pot with her knees apart. I could see her stream going into the pot and she grinned at me all the way through the process.
"It's much more genuinely nineteenth century artist's garret," I admitted. She nodded approvingly. She knelt in front of me and held the pot up for me. By the time I had finished there was quite a lot in there. She put the pot down, carefully and sucked my prick into her mouth.
"Salty!" she said, popping off. We had to carefully empty it into the Tupperware piss flask and take it down to the loo in its Athena bag, though. "In the old days you'd just throw it out the window!" she said. Given that someone in college had gotten in trouble for knocking their milk carton out onto the High, I said that that probably wasn't a good idea. We swilled some boiling water around in it and put it under my bed, where I hoped the scout wouldn't notice it. C suggested I do a drawing of her on the pot which I said I would, She reminded me that it was her pot, though, and I was just looking after it for her. I readily agreed and had no desire to own a chamber pot. It was all just part of her exhibitionism.
We had already had to decide if we wanted to become a solicitor or barrister and apply to either bar school or law school. This was a bit odd given we had only done Roman and Criminal Law when we had to decide. The next stage of our ongoing legal education was getting articles to a law firm for two years after law school. All the big firms visited Oxford to try to attract the best candidates and C and I went to a number of these presentations. I found them very depressing, as the City law firms made it clear that you worked fifteen hour days and over the weekend. All the young lawyers they brought with them looked tired and stressed and the job seemed impossibly high pressured. They kept emphasising how competitive it was and I thought it didn't sound like my sort of thing at all. C thought it was just her, although they did keep saying how you needed to be able to get on with people, which I thought would be a problem for her. She had had to apologise to her scout for snapping at him and calling him a 'fucking idiot yokel' when he accidentally knocked something off the precarious pile of stuff on her desk. Her tutor had called her in and said the scout had complained. He then gave her a lecture about keeping the standards of her work up as less able students were writing better essays. This had sent her into a cold fury.
"What a fucking cunt!" she said to me as we sat outside at the Head of the River pub. after the law firm presentation." I'm sick of people telling me what to do!" I knew the feeling.
"They do it because they care about you," I said.
"No they don't. No one cares about me!" she said.
"I care about you!" I said. "A lot."
"No you don't. You only like me because I open my legs for you but you have been nice lately." She gave me a gin flavoured kiss. "Let's get you home and pump some spunk out of you!"
I was finding that, while dense, I was quite good at Tort and Contract and my tutorials were easier than the previous term's work. Still difficult but easier. The fact that the work was in English not Latin helped, of course.
C went back to Birmingham for a weekend, half way through term and I found myself with a free weekend. Oddly, I missed her but also was relieved she wasn't there, being demanding, for a few days. I decided to take my camera down to the river and take some pictures. It was another nice day and just as I was leaving College I ran into H, the busty language student, who was wearing another, even more low cut, summer dress. I made a conscious effort to look at her face.
"Do you like my new dress?" she asked, giving me a twirl.
"It's lovely!" I said. "Very colourful (it was, like many women's clothes of the period, a floral print). Fits you beautifully!" I said, rather naughtily. She looked down at her bust and then up at me and grinned. I hadn't spent a lot of time with H on her own before but I had delivered the drawing of college to her the previous week and she was delighted with it. She told me that she had had it professionally framed. C, when she found out that H had commissioned a picture from me, wanted one too. I'd asked her what she would like; a ballerina or a picture of college, perhaps. 'A chariot race', she had answered. In pen and ink. It would take me over a year to complete.
As we went down towards the Botanical Gardens we spotted an ice cream van and I bought H a Mr Whippy 99 cone with a chocolate flake in it. I half hoped she would spill some on her bust but she didn't. As we watched the rowers training, she said that it was Eights Week the following week and and I should go to the college boathouse to watch. I told her about my miserable rowing experience at school and that I wasn't interested in rowing. When they discovered which school I had been to, several people from the College boat club tried to persuade me to join, on the basis that even my limited experience at one of the top rowing schools in the country was still better than the people who hadn't rowed anywhere. Our College boat club wasn't exactly a rowing powerhouse. All the good rowers (some from my school) went to Oriel or St Edmund Hall.
"It's not really about rowing, it's just an excuse to dress up and drink Pimm's said H. C and I were due to go to the Oxford Law Society strawberry and Pimm's party but I had no idea what Pimm's was. H said it was a lovely summer drink but when she said it had bits of cucumber in it I wasn't at all sure. She said she would get me one right now and we walked on to the Head of the River, where she bought us two half pints. It tasted like lemonade but had a kick and the glass had fruit, cucumber and mint in it. It really was lovely. We had another one and got quite inebriated (Pimm's is much stronger than it tastes). The Head of the River was on the Thames but a few hundred yards along the bank the River Cherwell joined it and this was the river that led back to the Botanical Gardens and Magdalen Bridge. We walked back along the path under the trees. We sat on the bank under a tree watching the people punting. H took off her sandals, pulled up the hem of her dress and dabbled her feet in the water. It reminded me of sitting with A at Runnymede, four years previously. Maybe it was those memories of past passions (as well as the Pimm's) that made me, daringly, put my arm around H's waist. She didn't flinch or object. We sat, waiting for someone to fall off their punt. We didn't see anyone, although we heard someone up the river going into the water with a splash. She turned to me and laughed and I leant in and kissed her. She kissed me back and we sat and kissed for a minute or so. She smelt of warm body and a light, floral perfume. She put her arms around my waist but I decided I better not touch her too much. I stroked her cotton clad thigh. She brushed her hand over the straining groin of my trousers.
"You're lovely!" I said, desperately wondering if I could risk stroking her bust.
"You have a girlfriend!" she answered. "Albeit a difficult one." She patted my leg and stood up. "Time to go!" When we got back to college I invited her up to my room for tea and biscuits. "I've had a lovely afternoon but I think we both know that would be a very bad idea," she said, squeezing my arm. She looked around warily and gave me a quick kiss. I went up to my room on my own, disappointed, conscious of the effect of the Pimm's and put the kettle on. I thought about H and was just thinking about taking my trousers off and having a nice wank, while thinking about her bust, when there was a knock on the door. I panicked that it was C and went into my bedroom to look at myself in the mirror to see if I had any lipstick on my face, except H hadn't been wearing lipstick. I suddenly felt guilty. I hadn't been dealing with some girl who had made a move on me; I had initiated the kissing. Fortunately, it was K.
"I hear you have been having a lovely walk and drinks with H," she said.
"Please don't tell C, whatever you do!" I said, in a panic. C, at least ,liked K but didn't like H and the way she 'flaunted her bust'.
"How lovely a walk was it?" asked K, suspiciously. She told me that H seemed quite drunk and kept saying how nice I was. "C might actually kill you. Crime of Passion. I wouldn't put it past her!" said K. I told her that we had just had too much Pimm's and we weren't used to it. "You don't realise the effect you have on women!" said K. She told me about another girl in College who had been asking her if C and I had broken up or whether we were still seeing each other. "Be careful!"
C returned from Birmingham in a grump again. She really didn't get on with her mother. She said she didn't want to have sex as it was her period and she felt awful and had stomach cramps. Usually she was very aroused during her period so I took it as an excuse and let her be. I told her that H and I had had a walk down by the river and said that I would take her to Eights week and buy her Pimm's. She ignored the H comment, fortunately, other than saying something about 'all tits and no brain'', but started to make plans for her Eights Week outfit. I said that hats for ladies were de riguer and she got very excited. We went down to college dinner and her mood gradually lightened. It turned out that she hadn't eaten for twenty four hours, so that might explain the stomach cramps.
"Different pain," she said but was in a better mood after dinner and we went back to K's room for a glass of Port. She gave me a nice goodnight kiss and said she would be ''accessible' in a couple of days. I told her not to worry and wait until she was ready. In the interim she had another depressive patch and we didn't have sex for some time. The beginning of Eight's Week was the following weekend and we were both staggered by the number of people crowding into the College boat houses along the river. You could stand on the roof or on balconies and watch the racing. The river was narrow, so racing was done by letting ranked boats go at timed intervals. The aim was to catch and overlap the one in front which would give you a 'bump'. Sometimes the boats did actually hit each other. People running and on bikes would charge along the towpath trying to keep up with the eights. People in the boathouses would shout and cheer and drink lots of Pimm's. C had a new multi coloured summer dress on with a straw hat and had woven fresh flower around the brim. She drank a lot of Pimm's and flirted with men and women. The College boat club Pimm's was a lot stronger than what we had got in the pub and C was getting quite flushed and loud. K and I managed to get her back to College before she completely embarrassed herself,
The following Saturday my mother and sister came to see me for the day and we had lunch without C, who decided to make herself scarce as she was frightened of my sister. After my family had gone, C and I went for a walk along the river, where I had been with H. I felt a slight frisson when we passed the place where H and I had kissed. C was in a good mood until it started to rain. It didn't just rain it absolutely poured. We ran back to College, completely soaked to the skin. We hung her white summer dress over a chair and put the gas fire on to try to dry it. There was a knock on the door and when C heard it was K she invited her in, even though she was completely naked. K looked at her and shook her head. K made C put my dressing gown on. I had already changed. C said that she and K needed to go punting as there was a place on the Cherwell called Parson's Pleasure where men went to sunbathe naked and you could float past it. K thought this sounded awful but C, as ever, was insistent. There used to be a similar area for women but it had closed about ten years earlier. K and C did get along to see it but C, who had been expecting fit, naked rowers found that everyone there was an elderly don, to her disappointment.
That night Lincoln College had their Summer Event (they didn't call it a ball) and the pounding music from right next door drove C from her room. My room was no quieter so she disappeared to the room of one of the girl's who had a room in Old Quad and slept there. The next day the weather was better so C and I went to the Law Society strawberries and Pimm's party at Lady Margaret Hall, On the way we passed an exhibition of paintings up on the railings of the University Parks. C pointed out that most of them weren't nearly as good as mine. My reputation for being the College artist was growing and I got several commissions to do drawings, which helped my income. Lady Margaret Hall had lovely gardens that went down to the river and C, now wary of the effect of Pimm's, confined herself to two small plastic cups. She was in a good mood again when we walked back to college, although she still dropped her arm from mine when we got into Radcliffe Square.
That night we managed to get into the nice bathroom again and had a candlelit bath. C used the soles of her feet to massage my cock, which was a new one. I was conscious it was my turn to think of a new 'kink' as C liked to call them. She was getting less and less interested in normal sex and wanted to be tied up, spanked and treated roughly. Although I had enjoyed some of these sessions it wasn't what I wanted to do. I preferred slow, gentle foreplay and kissing but we seemed to have less and less time as the end of term approached. C seemed less keen on kissing, too.
One evening we couldn't get into Hall as the netball team had won the Oxford cuppers and they were being given a special dinner. We went out for a Chinese at the Opium Den in George Street, which was very good and at £8 for two a lot cheaper than La Sorbonne. C was impressed that I could use chopsticks and I showed her how to use them. We walked back down New Inn Hall Street and she seemed to be looking for something. There was an unlit alley down the side of the Methodist chapel and she pushed me in there for s kiss. We snogged away for a bit and then she started to fumble with my fly.
"Take me here!" she said, unzipping me. I told her that we were out in public, next to a church and someone could appear at any moment. She squatted in front of me and started to suck my flaccid prick. She wasn't drunk as we had only had green tea with dinner. It was dark down the alley but the main street had people going up and down it as it wasn't that late.
"We mustn't!" I said.
"Yes we really must!" she said. She bent over and flicked the bottom of her dress over her naked bottom. She wasn't wearing knickers again. "I'll brace on the wall and you take me from behind!" I pushed myself back inside my trousers, as I was too alarmed to get stiff and dragged her out into the light. "You're a coward!" she shouted and stomped off. We had been having such a nice evening until that point. I decided not to chase after her but went back to College by another route. My heart was pounding and when I got back I saw her light was on but decided not to go and find her. I crept up past her room to see K and tell her what had happened. K told me to go up to my room and she would come up in case C heard us talking from below. K told me that C had stopped taking the pills her doctor had given her. She didn't want to become reliant on them, which I sort of understood, but the mood swings were returning.
The next day C acted as if nothing had happened. We went to see my school friend S at Magdalen, for tea. He had a friend with him and I took an instant dislike to him. He was a smarmy, public school type and C flirted with him outrageously. Worse, he flirted back and ignored me completely. He invited C, not me, to dinner at Magdalen.
"What a creepy git!" I said, as we walked back up the High, afterwards.
"I thought he was charming!" said C.
"He was oily and insincere. I take it you aren't going to dinner with him," I said.
"I am. You take me for granted. He would be very attentive!" she said. "I'm sure he is a good dancer!"
On the last two days of term everyone had to attend Principal's Collections: a short, verbal report on your work to date. You had to wear your gown and go into Hall, individually, where the principal, the Chaplain and the senior tutor sat at High Table. Your subject tutors were also there and then gave a brief summary of your progress, or lack of it, to the Principal, not you. You were referred to in the third person. This was easily the most terrifying experience of my life to date. I had to walk up the length of Hall and stand in front of High Table, facing the tutors. The Principal had a distractingly delicious looking sandwich in front of him. The Chaplain was there, I assumed, in case you broke down in tears. The tutor I didn't like, who had snubbed me before the holiday when he had wished C a good vacation, talked about 'disappointing essays' and 'lack of engagement'. Fortunately, my new tutor, the one with the Piranesi prints and the boxed sets of Haydn, stood up for me and said my work was increasingly good and even 'impressive' of late. The Principal looked at the two tutors and indicated that there seemed to be a difference of opinion. He asked the third tutor, who had taken me for Roman Law in the first term, for his view. The College Senior Tutor (who was not a lawyer), who had looked bored until this point, looked interested as there seemed to be some stress between the law tutors. The Roman Law tutor (the one who C fancied) said that my Roman Law, considering I didn't have good Latin, had been rather good.
"However," he continued, "that is not the issue with him. He is not the best lawyer in College but neither is he the worst. More worrying is his intense relationship with C." He called her Miss E, rather than using her first name. I was shocked by this statement. What had it to do with my academic performance? He then went on to describe C as quite the most promising lawyer to join College for years. Her academic background was impeccable and her entrance exam and interview had been stellar. Our 'relationship' was well known but he feared that this relationship was 'detracting her from top academic performance' and it would be better if she be allowed to reach her full potential 'without distraction'. The horrible tutor nodded in agreement. The nice one frowned. I was flabbergasted. I had not expected this. I looked at the Chaplain for moral support but he was looking away, no doubt because I didn't go to chapel.
"Do you have anything to say?" asked the Principal having agreed about C's potential. The Principal was a lawyer too.
"No!" I replied. "Thank you," I nodded at the nice tutor, ignored the others and walked out, shaking.
"How did it go?" asked C, waiting outside. "You'll soon find out!" I said. She looked puzzled. I went out into the quad to get some air. C came out later and I could tell by her face that she had had a similar discussion. She looked furious.
"How did it go?" asked the Airfix kit building lawyer.
"Piss off!" said C. He retreated, quickly. Everyone knew about her moods. I had overheard someone suggesting, once, that she actually had an evil twin and the two alternated living in College. We stood outside hall in Old Quad as our tutors left to go into the Senior Common Room, just behind us. "Let's go and have a bath together!" she said loudly to me, as they walked behind us. She knew they would overhear her.
We went back to her room to get some bubble bath, knowing that no-one would be in the nice bathroom at lunchtime, she told me that they had, indeed, banged on about our 'intense relationship' too, saying she was wasting a precious opportunity. She had been a lot more forthright than I had and had told them that it was none of their business who she had a relationship with, We had a nice bath and then went back to my room and had sex all afternoon until it was dinner time.
"Tell me that you love me!" she said again, her head on my chest.
"I do love you. You are lovely!" I said again. I was now coming to the conclusion that I didn't love her at all; not by her all consuming, emotional, definition, anyway
"Just keep saying it!"
"Tell me about your ball dress!" This cheered her up and she told me it was progressing well but it was taking an age to make as she had to hand stitch it as she hadn't got her sewing machine. Still, we had nearly a week until the ball. I intended to get all my holiday reading done during ninth week.
The next day the nice law tutor caught me in the lodge and invited me back to his study. I was nervous and wary but he gave me a glass of sherry and put on Haydn's 'Hen' symphony, which it is impossible to feel tense to. He apologised for the Principal's Collection and said he had spoken to the Principal about me. I thanked him for sticking up for me. He told me that, as I no doubt knew, C had said, during her Principal's Collection, that I was actually the only thing keeping her together, as she had real stresses in her home life. I explained that she was, essentially, homeless, as her mother, hadn't found a house still and much of her things were in storage. She would have to go back to another rented house over the holidays. I didn't mention the mood swings and the prescription anti-depressants as, anyway, lots of people at Oxford, especially the women, seemed to be on those, due to stress. C, actually hadn't told me that she had said that I was the only think keeping her together but it was nice to know, I supposed.
After I left his room I went to Sainsbury's and bought some strawberry's and cream and a half bottle of rose wine. I spotted something else there and got that too. I put the cream and the wine in the fridge in the scout's's pantry and hoped no-one would pinch them. C appeared at my room at about four o'clock, announcing that she had come for tea and biscuits. I told her I had something nicer and went down to the fridge and brought up the wine, cream and strawberries. She was delighted She sat cross-legged on my floor, eating her strawberries and cream, looking at my May Playboy and admiring a shot of Martha Thomsen caressing her pussy. We soon knocked back the half bottle of rose and I wished I had bought a whole bottle but the Sainsbury's half bottles were good value for 99p.
"I should have saved some cream and I could have put some on your cock!" she said.
"Wait here!" I said.
"Have you got more cream?"
"Yes!" I shot downstairs. I ran back up again and went into my room, brandishing the can of aerosol cream I had bought in Sainsbury's. C was already naked, still sat cross-legged on my rug. She had only been wearing a sundress with no underwear, again.
"What fun!" she said, beaming. We decided against playing with the aerosol cream on my rug as it would be difficult to get it out but C reasoned that my sheet would be easy to wash, so we pulled the pillow and duvet off the bed and set too, spraying each other and getting covered in the sweet (actually too sweet for me, really) stuff. "Next time we must get one each!" she said as I carefully squirted a spiral pile on one breast before licking it off. Since she had been on the pill she had gone up a cup size.
"I don't know if I could eat a whole can of it," I said after giving her a creamy kiss.
"Do my bottom!" she said rolling over. I squirted her round cheeks and kissed and licked away. "Here!" she pointed at her anus and parted her legs, I sprayed a blob on it but the cream was starting to get warm and it dribbled over her perineum and pussy too. I added another squirt. "Now lick it all up!" I lapped away at her pussy first and worked my way upwards to the fleshy bridge of her perineum, She giggled and said the cream really added something to the process. My tongue started to flick over her anus, for the first time. "Fucking hell!" she sighed. "That's excellent!" I'd soon lapped away all the cream but kept licking her sphincter. I slipped a finger up her arse and started to move it in and out while carrying on licking her rim. It became the first and only time I made her come through anal stimulation alone. "How could I ever give you up!" she said, eventually after I extracted my finger. She rolled over and I licked my finger. She grinned and asked if there was any cream left. I shook the can. There seemed to be a bit, still. "On your back! I am going to turn your cock into an eclair!"
An hour later we were down in the subterranean laundry room, putting my sheets into the washing machine. I had a clean one in my wardrobe but the under sheet had got soaked too so we decided to put everything in. On the way there we ran into A coming out of the adjoining staircase. He looked at the Sainsbury's bags and knew what that meant. It was the same for everyone.
"Washing day?" he asked.
"Just his sheets!" said C. "They're covered in cream!" A looked baffled and then shocked and we left him standing there.
Although I usually left my normal washing in the machine to go and do other things, there had been a couple of incidents of sheets disappearing recently, so we stayed in the laundry. It was hot and had a particular smell which was a combination of washing powder and damp. There were a couple of wooden chairs and I sat down on one and C sat on the other and we talked about what we would do for ninth week and the ball. We knew there would be a steel band but C hadn't heard of the main band playing. The much reviled Keble, for example, had the famous Ronnie Scott's jazz group and sixties favourites, Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames. C was trying to calculate how much time finishing her dress would take and how much time she would have for doing the holiday reading list. The washing machine finished and C took all the bedding out and put it in the spin dryer, C came over to my chair and sat astride me, facing me, so we could kiss. I ran my hand up her thigh under her dress and cupped her bare bottom.. As we kissed, I gently fingered her pussy, which was in its usual dripping state. She reached down and started to unzip my trousers.
"We can't!" I said.
"What have I told you about being timid!" she said, undoing the button at my waist, she had her hand delving inside my pants, I was already erect so she only needed to raise her bottom, wriggle forward and drop onto me. I had my fingers touching her entrance where I was sliding in and out of her, as I liked feeling where I entered her. She started to bounce more assertively and I slipped my finger up her arsehole again. "Fuck, fuck fuck!" gasped C. The door banged open, It was F, the first year who was having a thing with another first year, E.
"Oh my God! Sorry!" he said, staring at us. I couldn't do anything as I was literally in the process of spurting up inside C.
"AAH!" said C, her insides gripping me. The spin dryer had just stopped, winding down in a descending whine.
"I'll come back in twenty minutes!" said F.
"Five! said C nodding at the spin dyer. "We're all done!" I thought C would be appalled that we had been caught 'at it' but she seemed excited and delighted. I ventured that F probably wouldn't tell everyone, given he was in a relationship within our law group too. He and E hadn't been quizzed by the tutors but maybe they didn't know about them. C said she hoped he did tell and that it got back to the tutors. She thought she might mention it to L as then everyone in the College would know within the day.
"Does that mean I can hold your hand in College, now?" I asked.
"Forget it!" she said. I sighed.
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