This part, part 8, continues my reminiscences, of my sexual journey during my first overseas deployment with the UK armed forces. It turned out much longer than intended, but I needed to write what I remembered, for me. I think it still works for others, but I’m sure you’ll let me know, one way or the other.
As an old man, in my seventies, who has been given the nod by my doctors that my days are numbered, I spend a lot of time looking back at my life. Recalling what I have done and achieved. Regretting the things I should have done and did not do. I do not suppose for a moment this is unusual, but when it happens to you, it takes it out of you, initially at least.
I never planned on these thoughts going public. It was just a few scrappy notes for my own consumption. The ramblings of an old man, as it were. But one of the individuals concerned saw those notes. They thought that others may identify with some of the situations and suggested I tidy them up into a story and post them on your forum.
This part, part 8, continues my reminiscences, of my sexual journey during my first overseas deployment with the UK armed forces. It turned out much longer than intended, but I needed to write what I remembered, for me. I think it still works for others, but I’m sure you’ll let me know, one way or the other.
If you are expecting beginning to end, dirty, perverted sex, it is not for you, you do not have to read it. Bug out now…no hard feelings. And I do not profess to be a literary genius; so, if my writing style and grammar offend you, you know where the ‘close’ button is!
Part 8 – Service Brats
It was late Autumn 1975, and in a couple of weeks, I would be one year into my tour of duty on the Mediterranean Island of Cyprus, serving with the UK armed forces; with another eighteen months to two years remaining until ‘Tourex’. I’d arrived just four months after the Turkish occupation of the North, which had led to political unrest and the evacuation of many British service families back to the UK, to be replaced by hundreds of single, mostly male, personnel.
However, a year on, things had stabilised to the point that it was considered safe to start married accompanied postings again. This meant that families started to return to reoccupy the married pads, bringing wives and ‘service brats’ back to the SBA.
At first glance the term Service Brat, or sometimes ‘Pad Brat’ would appear offensive to attach to the offspring of serving members, but it is actually quite the opposite. The term has its roots in the 1920s when families first started accompanying UK servicemen overseas. They were formally referred to as ‘British Regiment Attached Travellers’ (or BRATs). The acronym has stuck. Far from being considered an insult, it is mostly worn as a badge of honour, as it usually indicates the wearer is well disciplined, well educated and worldly wise, having often experienced life of several different countries among different cultures. Not bratty at all.
The MoD provides school facilities at major overseas bases, but only up to O’Level/GCSE age, so most Pad Brats are no more than 16-years of age. But daughters of serving personnel are considered dependent to age 19-years, so occasionally older girls, still living with their parents, accompany their families. Such was the case with Sally.
Sally was the daughter of one of my Seniors, and I first met her when she came with her parents to our unit social club one night. She was 18-years old, and had just completed A-Levels at school in the UK. She had secured a university place, but like many her age, had decided to defer, and take a gap year to ‘unwind’ before starting to study again. She had chosen to accompany her olds to Cyprus when they offered, but had plans to do a bit of travel in the region while she was there.
Needless to say, the single blokes were on her like flies on shit almost as soon as she walked through the door. After spending an hour or so stood at the bar with her folks, warding off advances from the lechers, while they were chatting with friends, Sally noticed that the comfy chairs at the table opposite where my silver tongued mate, Chris and I were sat, had been vacated. She pointed this out to parents, who nodded, and the three of them came over and asked to join us. I knew dad well, but had never met mum or Sally before. Introductions were made, and we started chatting, getting to know each other a little.
Now I should explain. Sally was no beauty Queen; not unpleasant by any means, just pretty plain. She was dressed in what might be described as quite ‘frumpy’ clothes, a roll neck sweater and pleated skirt, which mostly hid her figure, though it was evident there were quite large breasts under there somewhere. Her dark brown hair hung to just below her shoulders and quite heavy framed spectacles covered her eyes. Think Velma from Scooby Doo, and you’re not far off the mark. (Perhaps that’s a bit unkind, but you can see where I’m heading, Velma could be pretty hot when the clothes came off. I’ve seen the videos!)
It was obvious from the word go, that Chris had decided he was going to make a play for her anyway. He had the knack of chatting up females, without them realising they were being dragged into his web. This time he had to be a bit careful, as obviously her olds were right there too. But even so, he dominated the conversation with her, and had elicited most of her life story, and hopes and dreams for the future, etc., before too long. But before he could move in for the kill, he was thwarted, by mum and dad announcing it was time to go, as he had an early start in the morning (plotting something shitty for us grunts to do, no doubt.) Draining the last of their drinks, they bid us goodnight and headed for home.
It was to be a couple of weeks before we would see Sally again. Chris and I were once more hanging out at the unit bar, when she walked in. This time, not with parents, but in the company of another girl about her own age. The pair bought their drinks at the bar then, glancing about spotted us at our table. After a quick whispered exchange, they headed over and asked to join us. Sally introduced the new girl as Julie.
Julie, who Sal had only met a few days earlier herself, was a pretty girl, with Asian features. Her waist long black hair, was held from her face by an Alice band. She wore a white T-shirt, over tight, flared, denim jeans, both of which highlighted a lithe body. She was a first year university student, who had finished her classes early, to enable her to fly out to join her own parents for the upcoming Christmas and New Year break. She would be returning to her studies when the holidays were over.
I could sense immediately that Chris was conflicted. Did he drop his attempts to get into Sally’s knickers, or abandon a potentially longer term gig, in favour of a shorter fling, with the ‘hotter’ girl.
He hedged his bets for most of the evening, as we all sat and chatted. We bought the girls a couple of drinks, nothing excessive for a change, and spent a very pleasant evening in female company, drawing many a jealous glance from the wolf pack at the bar. Free from the hindrance of parental presence, Sally was much more open and flirty than she was the last time we met, and was quite drawn to Chris’s patter. She silently signalled her availability to him.
As closing time approached, Chris had made his choice and asked Sally if she would like to go out with him. It was a bit insensitive to openly do so in front of Julie like that, but it did give me the opening to ask the latter if she would like to partner me on a double date with them. Both accepted the offer and arrangements were made. Chris and I would be on the nights of our shift cycle for the next few days, but would be off duty for three days from that Friday onwards. We agreed to meet there, at the unit bar, for a quick drink, before heading into town for a meal, and would then play it by ear. The unspoken agreement between Chris and I was, as always, if one of us was to get lucky, we’d split and do our own things.
Come date night, as the appointed time neared, I sought out Chris, but he was not in his room. His room mates told me he’d gone out around lunchtime and they hadn’t seen him since. I assumed he’d meet me at the bar, so headed in that direction. I got myself a Keo beer and propped up the counter waiting for the others to arrive. Shortly, fashionably 10-15 minutes late, Sally arrived, on her own.
We looked quizzically at each other. Yes, like Chris, Julie was AWOL. Her parents had told Sal she had gone out shortly before she called, so we believed she was en route to join us. Sally accepted a drink, choosing a non-alcoholic beverage, and we sat to await the wayward pair.
By the time we had finished our drinks, some 30-40 minutes later, it was evident that we’d both been stood up. I know what you’re thinking, I was way ahead of you there; Chris and Julie had made alternate arrangements together. That turned out not to be the case. They’d both just decided that their chosen dates were not for them after all, and blown us off. Their loss. At least, it was Chris’s loss as it turned out. I never saw Julie again. Chris got a severe ear bending from Sal the next time they met, where she left him in no doubt what he’d missed out on.
So, what did we do now? Well, the choice was made for me by Sally. “Well,” she said “I was looking forward to a night on the town, and I still intent to have one. Looks like your stuck with me Titus.” Was that a bad thing on my part? No? When Sally arrived earlier, I’d noted that she was looking a lot more desirable than previously. Her hair was brushed and burnished to a sheen and clipped back behind her ears, exposing her face. Gone were the glasses (contacts it transpired), completely changing her features. She wore a soft knit thigh length dress, which accentuated her shape and the quite low neckline showed the deep cleavage between her, as suspected, quite large tits. All in all, worth a squirt, in my opinion.
The plan had been for us to eat at the Chinese restaurant, the only one in Limassol at that time, as far as I m aware. So we decided to stick with that. We grabbed a taxi into town, arriving at the eatery late for our booking, and obviously two covers light. It wasn’t an issue though, as they were immediately able to seat us at a double, while another group, who had been waiting, took our larger table.
We ordered our food and a bottle of wine, and tried to engage in conversation. As I’ve said previously, I’m not good at the chat up routine, so it was a bit strained at first, but as the wine started to loosen us up a bit, it got easier to talk to her. She had ambitions to become a doctor, but her exam results had not been quite good enough for med school straight off. But with a suitable bachelors degree to her name, she would be okay. So after her gap year, she was starting a BSc in biology; human biology she stressed, the study of men and women!
This led her in to observing the huge disparity between the numbers of single males and females. That the girls were lucky, that they could have their pick, but that it must be hard for you guys to “get lucky”. Then totally out of the blue she asked “Do you get lucky, Titus?”. I nearly choked on my chow mien. I didn’t know how to respond to that and said nothing. She too remained silent for a moment or two, then pressed me, “Well?”
I mumbled a reply to the effect that, she was right, it was very difficult to establish any sort of relationship, when the odds were so stacked against us. Especially when you were not particularly comfortable in coming forward, like me. I certainly was not going to tell her about my fairly recent encounters with sex workers. Sally just smirked at me, nodded and went back to her food, saying nothing more for a while.
What had just happened? Did she just ask me if I was getting laid? Was she hinting that she might be the one to lay me? I was confused. I was aroused. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I could feel my cock starting to thicken at the thought of having sex, any kind of sex, with Sally. I bumbled my way through the rest of the meal, desert and coffee. I could see the waiter hovering, willing us to free up the table so they could seat another couple. I obliged, paid the bill and we left the restaurant.
The night was still young, the weather was still warm and dry, so at my suggestion, we started to stroll up the bypass, towards the area where the majority of the night clubs and discotheques were located. It was about a twenty minute walk. Instinctively I offered my arm to Sally, which she took in her hands, leaning close against my right hand side as we walked. First contact had been made.
Over the next two or three hours, we took in several of the clubs. I purposely avoided the strip joints that we would sometimes frequent, and where I’d not that long ago ‘bought’ a handjob from one of the girls who performed there. We ended up at one of the most popular venues, Traffic I think it was called, where there would always be a mixed clientele of Cypriots and all branches of the UK armed forces. Despite the mix, I’d never seen any trouble there, save from the odd drunk squaddie, who was usually removed swiftly by their buddies.
As usual at that time on a Friday night, the place was heaving, but we managed to find a couple of empty seats in the back of the hall and ordered a couple of drinks from a passing waiter. I would have been happy just to sit and watch the crowd. If you’ve read the earlier parts of my story, you will be aware I have a strong dislike for dancing, especially to that 1970s disco shit. Sally, of course had other ideas.
No sooner had we settled, than she had me up on the dance floor, to join the melee of electric wrestling that was going on. I hated it. I have no rhythm whatsoever, and knew I looked a total gimp trying to dance in time to the music. But in reality, no one gave a toss for what I was doing. They were all either enjoying dancing, or enjoying ogling their partner’s gyrations and bouncing boobs, as was I.
Reminding me very much of my first date with Sandie, back at my training camp, the tempo of the music changed, as the DJ switched to the smooch songs. Without conscious thought, Sally and I drifted into each others' arms. She held me tightly against her, pressing her generous breasts against my chest, so I could feel her stiffening nipples through the thin material of her dress and my shirt. As we moved together, her mound would occasionally rub against my groin, gently massaging my tackle.
The closeness and friction of her body was having an impact on me. My cock soon stiffened, bulging between us. Sally felt it rise and pulled my lower body harder against her, and ground her hips to purposely stimulate me. After a prolonged dry spell, it was glorious. I could easily have let her continue and bring me off like that, but as I felt my cum rising I broke the contact. Cuming in my pants the first time she came near me would not have been a good look. As I drew back, she gave me a confused glance, I simply said “Too much, for now.” She understood, and gave a knowing grin. She pulled me back to her, but mostly kept clear of my erection, giving me time to recover my cool.
We stuck it out until about 1am, occasionally returning to the dance floor, where she would reignite my arousal, getting me more used to her touch, and increasing my self-control back to more normal levels. During our last bout of dancing, when she lifted her face towards me, I leant in for the kiss, which she accepted willingly, parting her lips slightly to allow my tongue to enter and toy briefly with hers. A positive step in the right direction, for sure.
When we left the club, we were lucky enough to grab a hovering taxi almost straight away. Sally gave the driver her address (her parents gaff actually) on the ‘patch’. He quoted the fare, which we accepted, and off we set.
No sooner had we pulled away from the kerb, than Sally went back in for the kiss. It was more intense this time, and as we embraced, our hands started to roam over the others body. Before long, I felt her hand rub softly across my groin, feeling my rising cock. She rubbed me through my trousers for a bit, before asking me “is it okay?” I assumed she meant was I under control, but I may have been wrong. Without saying anything else, I felt her unfasten my trousers and drag my turgid penis out of its confinement and start slowly pumping me. Things escalated way beyond my wildest dreams.
Breaking our kiss, Sally slid away from me on the wide back seat of the cab, and lowered her head to my lap. Without further preamble, she fully retracted my foreskin and engulfed my hard on with her warm, wet mouth. I was taken unaware by this unexpected turn of events and groaned loudly at the fantastic feeling. Looking up, I saw the taxi driver had heard me, and had glanced round quickly to see what was wrong. His lascivious scowl indicated he knew exactly what was ‘wrong’; not a first for him by any means I’d wager.
As Sally started to tongue my bell end and slowly bob her head on me, I saw the cabbie adjust his rear view mirror so he could observe the action. When I managed to make eye contact with him, I gestured for him to keep his on the road. He just leered back and shook his head. I had brief visions of him driving us off the road and us all dying in a fireball, as we barrelled into one of the deep storm drains that bordered the road. Obviously that did not happen, but what a way to go. Hmmm, food for thought in my current position.
Fuck it! If he wanted to perv on us, so be it. I was not going to give up getting blown for his benefit. I closed my eyes, tried to ignore him and went with the flow. Sally was being so gentle in her ministrations, that remarkably I did not feel the need for imminent release. Secretly I was quite pleased with myself for not popping my wad already. I rested my hand softly on the back of Sal’s head. Not to try and force her deeper. More just an acknowledgment of what she was doing and how good it felt.
I was lost in my own little world, oblivious to everything, other than Sally’s mouth on my cock. She must have being working on me far longer than I realised, because when I opened my eyes briefly and glanced around, I noticed that we would very soon be at the VCP at our end of the garrison complex, where we would have to ID ourselves to the sentries. I tapped Sally on the shoulder, and told her she’d have to stop and why. Reluctantly she released me and sat up. My rampant pole did not want to go back in my pants at first, and I only just managed to put it away by the time we reached the VCP.
The formalities completed, we were driven directly to Sally’s home. It was approaching 2am, and most of the street was in darkness. Sal headed to the house, and turned to wait for me while I paid off the taxi. I was very tempted to ask for a discount, in view of the show we’d put on, but knew it was a non-starter.
The taxi left and I went to say my goodbyes to Sally. I knew there was no chance of being invited in that night, so I fully expected to shortly be heading back, alone, to my block, to work off my frustrations by hand. However, Sally took my hand and led me to her front porch, which was actually located at the side of the property. There was no outside light on, so the porch was in deep shadow.
She immediately embraced me again, going in for a passionate kiss. “Now, where were we when we were so rudely interrupted?” She quipped. With that, she turned me so my arse was resting on the low brick wall that enclosed the, otherwise open, porch, with my legs extended in front of me. Hitching up the hem of her dress to the top of her thighs, enabled her to straddle my legs, bringing her mound close to my groin. Once again, she opened my trousers and extracted my penis. As she started to tease me back to hardness once more, I couldn’t help omitting a low, loud groan. Sally quickly shhed me. I doubted anyone was awake to hear me, but point taken, keep it down.
I was fully hard again and Sally started to jerk me in earnest. She started just how I like it, by rolling my foreskin back and forth over my glans, before wetting her hand with her saliva and rubbing directly on my purple helmet. I’d peaked a couple of times already that night, only to have the pop shot ripped away from me. Hopefully that would not happen again.
As Sal continued to work my cock, I realised her cleavage was right in front of my eyes, calling for me to dive in. I reached out and caressed her breasts over her clothes. They were fantastic, and I felt the nipples harden through the thin bra and dress material. I just had to have more. I just had to see them.
Reaching into the neckline of her dress, I pulled at it. The stretchy material allowed me to pull it off her shoulders and partway down her arms, fully exposing her bra encased tits. It also restricted her arm movements somewhat, but not enough to ruin her wanking stroke. Next, I pushed up her bra, releasing her breasts from all coverings. It was too dark there to really see the full glory of her breasts, but the dark did not stop me from first rolling her nipples between my thumb and first fingers, then taking them, in turn, into my mouth and sucking and gently nibbling them. It was her turn to groan loudly. I resisted the temptation to shh her. It might not have gone down well.
Sally continued to masturbate me. I continued to mouth her baps, but now emboldened by her willingness thus far, I reached down under her dress, found and started to massage up and down her cleft through her knickers, getting more groans from her. I went for broke and moved my hand inside her pants, searching for her clitoris. I’d barely touch her bare vag, when Sally grabbed my hand and stopped my advance. “Not tonight” she said, “Not out here. And you need this more than me right now anyway.” Wow…that must be against the girl rule book surely.
Reluctantly I backed out, not wanting to risk another ruined orgasm. Sally backed away from me slightly, to improve her grip on my cock, and redoubled her efforts. She was going for the money shot now, and as she furiously jerked me, her tits bounced erotically, in rhythm with her stroke. That was enough to breach the dam. I warned her I was going to cum, just before the first spurt shot out of me, followed rapidly by several more. They all ended up on the front of my shirt and trousers. She continued to milk the last few drops from me, until I had no more to give. Done, she lifted and examined her sticky hand. I could tell she was trying to work out how to clean it off, so I told her to wipe it on my shirt; a bit more wouldn’t make much difference.
After a brief interlude, we both sorted out our undress, and both accepted things had run their course, for that night at least. So, we prepared to say goodnight, for real that time. There had been a couple of hints that there could be repeats to come, but to make sure, I asked Sal if she wanted to see me again. In mock fury she answered, “After what I’ve done for you tonight, you’re fucking right I want to see you again, for my turn.” It was said in jest, but it was a valid point.
There was usually a ‘film night’ in the unit bar each Sunday, so we arranged to meet there for that. I went in for a final hug and kiss, but she blocked me with her hand, reminding me of my spunky shirt front, which she didn’t want transferred to the front of her dress. So a quick peck on the lips had to suffice.
We finally parted ways, and I set out on the, mercifully short, walk back to my block, quietly praying I wouldn’t meet up with an MP patrol en route. I’d done nothing wrong, really. But I didn’t want to explain my soiled clothing and have to divulge who I’d been with, to confirm nothing non-consensual had occurred. I got back to the block without incident. Part of me desperately wanted to confront Chris, to tell him what a shit he was for dumping out on Sally. But in reality I knew what I really wanted, was to give him a blow by blow account of the night he’d missed out on. But I was not going there! I was not going to ‘kiss and tell’ and potentially embarrass Sally and her family. What happened in the taxi and front porch, would stay in the taxi and front porch!
Sunday night came too slowly for me. I smiled broadly as Sally entered the bar. But my smile turned to a grimace when I saw her mother and father, one of my bosses, with her. Sal returned the grimace, as if to say ‘I know, but there was nothing I could do about it.’ I went to her to say hi, receiving a quick kiss on the lips. Dad bought a round of drinks, which to my surprise included me; it seems I’d been accepted as a suitable consort for his eldest daughter (Sally had two younger teenage sisters.) We went to grab seats for film night, with me sat one side of Sally and her olds the other.
We enjoyed the film, it was A Clockwork Orange, which I’d not seen before, but have always liked since. The delivery of a movie in our club was always a bit clunky. Done on a single 16mm projector, requiring numerous reel changes, and often frequent breakdowns. During one enforced interval, mum and dad went off to use the facilities. Immediately Sally apologised profusely for her parents being there. They had planned to come themselves anyway, so it would not really have been practical to come separately. I told her it was okay, but she responded saying it was not, “…I wanted to have you alone”, and teasingly lightly ran her hand across my crotch.
The parents returned, the film restarted and we settled back down, with Sally hugging my arm. She would dig her nails into me, quite hard, as scenes of Alex DeLarge’s brutal aversion therapy unfolded. My concentration on the film had drifted, as my imagination centred on the thought of being alone again with Sally, as she’d mentioned. Where would that have gone, I wondered.
Anyway, sexually, the evening was a bust, but at least I’d established acceptance by her family. More than I realised it turned out, when mum cornered me and thanked me for ‘rescuing’ her daughter Friday night (if only she knew…or perhaps she did), and that she’d be having strong words with ‘that bastard Chris’ when she saw him next. She then stunned me by inviting me to tea at their home one evening, Sally knew she was asking she added when she saw my hesitation. I would be back on shift the next day (we did three days, three nights, 12- hour shifts) but we arranged a day during my next rest days.
I didn’t see much of Sally during that shift cycle. We did meet briefly for coffee at the NAAFI Café while I was waiting to go on on my first night shift, but that was it. But most of my time was, as is usual mid cycle, either working, preparing for work (washing, pressing and polishing) or sleeping off nights. So when ‘tea date’ day came I was really looking forward to it, and dreading it at the same time. A trip into the lions den.
So it was the following Sunday I pitched up at Chez Sally, armed, like any good suitor, with a bottle of wine and flowers for the mother. As I stood in the porch, waiting for the door to be answered, my mind flashed back to the previous weekend. I quickly had to flush that memory from my mind, as I could feel stirring in the trouser region. The mum answered the door, and was surprised when I proffered the gifts; surely that was meet the parents 101, even if you already actually knew them. She showed me into the lounge, where dad was sat, and offered me a seat on the sofa. He greeted me politely. I was used to addressing him as ‘Sir’ at work, so continued to do so; he did not discourage that. We made small talk, but I’m sure he felt as uneasy with the situation as I was.
Fortunately, within a couple of minutes, Sally came downstairs to join us. She looked really nice, with her hair pinned back and with contacts in, just as she had been the previous Friday. She was wearing a plain, white, button through blouse and a denim skirt. Her legs were bare and she had flip-flops on her feet. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and sat down next to me on the sofa.
With Sally in the mix, the conversation got easier and the tension lifted significantly, but I can’t say I was sorry when Sir/Dad was called out to get the grill going. As soon as he left, Sally grabbed and kissed me firmly. She could sense my discomfort and told me to just relax and follow her lead. Easier said than done, but I tried my best. She hugged me close and we just sat in companionable silence caressing each other gently, but not to the extent that we would become too aroused. Just enjoying each other’s company.
Before not too long, mum stuck her head in the door and called us to the table to eat, and on her way back to the kitchen, called up the stairs to hail Sally’s siblings. When they joined us in the dining room, I saw that the sisters were both in their mid teens and both very similar in appearance to Sally. Introductions were made (I don’t recall their names now). Thereafter they took little notice of Sally or I, they were more interested in discussing the current ‘scandal’ at school, and an upcoming Christmas party at the garrison youth club.
The meal was served. Typical Cypriot fare; shafftalia, souvlakia and grilled halloumi cheese, with loads of Greek salad and dips. There was also a couple of bottles of wine on the table, the one I’d bought and another. I was told not to stand on ceremony, to dig in and help myself to food and drink, which I did, but made sure the ladies served themselves first, earning me a nod of appreciation from mum and dad.
The food was good and a couple of glasses of wine relaxed us all. Even the younger girls were allowed a small glassful, which was nice in my opinion. As we ate, we talked about everything and nothing. They asked about my past and my future aspirations. When I stated I hoped to make a full career in the military, but that my immediate goal was to finish this tour, then get back onto my advanced technical training, Sir nodded his approval. Smarty points were being added to my scoresheet all the time it seemed.
When we’d eaten our fill, the youngsters asked to be excused (yes we did that back then) and disappeared back up to their shared room, no doubt to continue the character assassination of some poor school ‘friends’ characters. Mum rose and started clearing the table. I offered to help with the washing up, etc., but the offer was declined “Thanks, but no. You’re our guest. You and Sally just go and do your own thing”. I was a little surprised when Sally announced we were going to her room to “listen to music” I expected resistance, but none came. But then again, Sal was an adult after all.
We went upstairs to Sally’s room, entered and she closed the door behind us. She went to her portable radio/tape player, and inserted a cassette. Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon, one of my favourite albums as it happened. The room was furnished with typical MoD married pad items, including two of the issued narrow single beds, pushed together to form a make shift double. There were very few personal items, other than the mandatory make up and toiletries, some books and her music player and tapes. She said most of her stuff was still in storage in the UK. She hadn’t made up her mind yet how long she would be staying, so hadn’t bothered to dress her room up at the moment. The thought of her leaving soon was not a good one and made me more determined to make the most of what time I had with her.
With nowhere else to sit, we inevitably gravitated towards the bed, sitting with our backs to the headboard. To break the ice, Sally had grabbed a family photo album and began flicking through it, describing what we saw. Growing up a service brat, she’d been with her parents on several overseas deployments, including Hong Kong and Germany, even on an exchange posting to the USA. I was quite envious and hoped I might one day get similar posts, though sadly, many of the better locations got closed down before I got the opportunity.
The pretence over, we started to kiss and pet. Touching each other all over our clothed bodies. Sally rubbed my genitals through my trousers and when she got the desired rise out of me, she unzipped me and went to extract my cock to play with. I grabbed her hand in panic and reminded her that her parents were only downstairs, as if she didn’t know! “Relax,” she said, “They won’t come up here this early, and they certainly won’t come in my room without my permission. It’s not as if we’re going to fuck up here, with them all home.”
So, the limits had been set. Fucking was out, but other forms of sex seemed to be on the table still. I was still uneasy, but I let go of her hand, allowing her to continue freeing my erect penis. It was the first time she had seen it in the light, and she spent a few moments examining it from all angles. I’ve never pretended I had anything special, but she seemed satisfied with what she found and started to gently jerk me off, adding a sort of twisting motion at the top of each stroke, causing me to sharply draw breath at the feeling.
Not to be outdone, I again moved my hand under Sally’s skirt and into the waistband of her knickers. This time there was no resistance and I advanced my touch, past her soft bushy mound, until I felt the outer lips of her vulva. As she continued to wank me, I caressed her sex. Running my fingers along each side of her body lips, then along her parting, drawing a soft groan. I started to apply gentle pressure, allowing my finger to tease into her deeper, feeling her moist interior for the first time.
Without warning, Sally dropped my dick, reached under her skirt, and pulled down her pants, slipping them off and tossing them off the bed onto the floor, before parting her legs to give me full access to her. Resuming our mutual masturbation, I returned my hand and pressed my fingers into her cleft. I sought and found her clitoris, circling it with my finger tip, feeling it engorge in its fleshy hood. Sally was wriggling her hips now, telling me I was doing okay.
As I stimulated her, I could feel my own climax was not a million miles away. As the feeling rose higher, I recalled Sally’s words from the previous Friday, after she bought me off in that porch, “…I want to see you again, for my turn.” It had been said, tongue in cheek, but it was a valid expectation. I needed to abort my own orgasm, for now at least, and concentrate on hers.
I reminded her of this and pulling away from her grasp, I moved to kneel between her legs. Overcoming a slight resistance, I lifted and separated her knees opening her fully, then lifted the hem of her denim skirt above her waist. She lifted her arse off the bed momentarily to allow me to pull it up, completely. With the skirt out of the way, Sally’s swimsuit area was fully bared to my gaze. On the scale of 1-10, it was a definite 10 (though on reflection, what vulva isn’t a 10!). Capped by a fairly sparse dark bush, her by now plump and pink, outer lips were parted, to reveal her silky, wet inner labia. Her clitoris, erect from my touch, peeked delicately from under its protective hood. At its base, her vaginal opening was prominently visible, inviting me to penetrate it somehow. I was happy to oblige.
Shifting down to bring my face level with Sally’s crotch, I plunged my tongue into her gaping hole. Her hips raised several inches off the bed and her hands gripped the back of my head, holding my mouth firmly against her. I tongued her vagina for several minutes, before moving my mouth upwards, sucking on and nibbling on her labia, and ending with my lips sealed over her hooded clit. When correctly positioned, I pursed my lips and sucked in for all I was worth, causing her legs to tremble and a series of gasps and moans to be omitted, which she stifled with a pillow.
I could tell when she was getting near, so doubled down my efforts, lapping and sucking her clitoris, and adding a finger or two to seek her G-spot, which judging by the, “oh yes, right there!” exclamation I found.
When you find a winning combination, stick with it, they say. So I did. Moments later Sally arched her back, thrust her fanny hard into my face and convulsed in orgasm, screaming loudly into her pillow, and gushing into my mouth. I panicked that her noise would be heard throughout the house and waited for the door to be flung open and an irate father to drag me, cock still hanging out, into the street and beat the shit out of me. But it didn’t happen. Either nobody heard us, or they chose to ignore what was happening.
As Sally came down from her high, I moved from between her legs and lay back down beside her. She in turn rolled to her side, placed one leg across my thighs, her head on my chest and snuggled up to me. She made no attempt to cover herself and I could feel her damp pubes nestling my leg. It did not seem to matter to me that my hard dick was still waving in the air, it just seemed right not to expect Sal to wank me off, just because I had made her cum. I would have absolutely loved to have fucked her there and then but already knew that was not on the agenda. For once I was content to just cuddle up with her for a while, saving our subsequent move for the next time, hopefully in the right place to do the full dance with no pants.
As soon as I was able, I tucked myself back in my pants, at the same time pulling Sally’s skirt down to hide her semi-nudity. She did not object or protest, indicating to me she was content to call it a wrap there too. I lay with her, gently stroking her hair and started giving it the nodding dog syndrome. I must of dozed, but came to with a start when the auto-reverse on the radio cassette player restarted the Floyd for the third, or was it the fourth, time. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was well past 10pm. I didn’t want to outstay my welcome and piss off her parents, so I told Sal I thought it was time I was leaving her family in peace for the night. She agreed it was probably for the best, moved off me and I made ready to leave.
After a quick bathroom pit stop, to adjust my disheveled clothing, I took Sally’s hand as she accompanied me downstairs. The lounge door was open slightly, so we went in briefly, so I could thank mum and dad for their hospitality and bid them goodnight. Part off me still worried we’d been overheard, but there was absolutely no indication that was the case, and they pleasantly returned my goodbyes, adding we’ll see you again soon. I hoped that was the case. I did wonder if I’d be summoned to Sir’s office later for that bollocking or beating (metaphorical beating that is. I could have ended up with all sorts of shit duties as a reprisal), but that never happened. We’d got away with it.
We paused in the porch again to say our own good nights to each other. As we embraced and kissed, a thought went through me. I didn’t recall Sally putting her pants back on, was she still commando? Curiosity got the better of me, I just hads ‘t know. Reaching down I slid my hands up the back of her skirt, and bingo!, I encountered bare bum cheeks. She was still sans panties. I pinched her bum, making her giggle. Reaching round, I placed my hand on her mound and tickled her still damp lower lips. She let me get away with it for half a minute or so, then swatted my hand away. She gave me a final kiss on my lips and said “Next time, both of us, eh! Now go!”. She was right, I had to go, before my motor started up again.
Over the next few weeks, we found ourselves in that very familiar rut. We wanted sex, but with her living in the family home and me in a crowded barrack block, we had no comfortable venues for it. We had a couple of repeat performances in her bedroom, but there were always other family members present, so Sally would not go all the way. Neither would she entertain a quick shag in a dark corner somewhere, and I had to respect that. Then opportunity knocked in an unexpected way.
Sally was not working and her savings were dwindling and needed topping up. The festive party season was upon us, and she let it be known that she was available to babysit/childmind for party goers. She immediately got several bookings and mostly got the okay to ‘bring her boyfriend to keep her company’ when she asked, even though the householders must have known what we would use their couches for. (That’s undoubtedly why some refused permission. We often forgot our elders were young and horny once too.)
Our first joint session was in officer country. The home of a youngish junior RAF officer, with a three year old child. They were going to a formal mess function, and were not expected to be home until the early hours. When we arrived, junior had long since been in bed and asleep. They rarely woke during the night we were told, so our task was really just to be a responsible presence (???) in case of emergency. As they left, sir turned and gave me ‘the look’, saying ‘I’ve got your number son, not in my house you don’t’. But tough mate, we would.
At first, we were captivated by a novelty, a television. There was only a very limited service in Cyprus in 1975 and, of course, the vast majority of programming was in Greek. Hence most people didn’t bother with a TV. There were however a few English language or dubbed offerings. We got lucky and an English film was on, which we watched as we munched the supper we had been left. There was a couple of bottles of Keo in the fridge, next to our food. We weren’t certain if they were left for us, but we drank them anyway.
When the film finished, Sally went upstairs to use the bathroom and do a room check on our charge. I used the downstairs facilities and returned to the couch. Sal returned and reported all was quiet upstairs, the kid was fast asleep. She curled up beside me on the settee, with her head in my lap. I idly draped my arm across her body and grasped her upper arm. The TV program had changed to a Greek soap opera which, even with the English subtitles, was incomprehensible.
I soon got bored trying to decipher the family dramas being enacted on the screen. It was time to get the ball rolling anyway. Sally was wearing a stretchy long sleeve top, under a knitted waistcoat and her denim skirt again. I moved my hand from her arm, to caress the side of her left breast; and felt no bra. I knew for a fact she had been wearing one at the start of the evening, as I’d felt the strap as my arm was around her as we walked to the house. She must have divested herself of it when she used the bathroom. I groped more of her boob to be sure. She grinned up at me and told me it was now in her bag, in the hall, with her pants. A quick flip up of her skirt by me confirmed this, though she slapped my hand and pulled the hem back down again.
She rolled onto her back, head still in my lap bringing both of her tits within my grasp. I reached down with both hands and rubbed my palms over them, feeling the nipples stiffen and become visible through the material of her top, inviting me to roll them between my thumbs and forefingers, getting a soft groan from her. Reaching down I pulled at her tops and she sat upright, allowing me to remove both the waistcoat and top, exposing her glorious, pink tipped breasts to me, which I continued to tease as we roughly kissed and explored each others mouths.
Shifting her position again, Sally was able to unfasten and unzip my jeans, and like she had, I lifted to allow her to remove them, along with my underpants. I removed my own shirt too leaving me fully naked with her for the first time. My cock was already standing proud, when she started to pull me, whilst cupping and gently squeezing my bollocks with her other hand.
As was my, perhaps selfish, norm. I would let her wank me to a climax, in the hope of subsequently holding out longer when I finally got to penetrate her. It was not totally one sided though, as the lack of knickers gave me easy access to her vulva, and I was able to masturbate her too. After several minutes of this mutual stimulation, her convulsing thighs and frantic panting told me she had reached a small orgasm, tipping me over the edge too. I warned her I was about to cum, and she placed her second hand over the head of my penis, to prevent me shooting on the furniture. My spunk instead covered her palm and dripped onto my groin, matting in my pubic hair.
After a few minutes to catch our breaths, Sally dashed to the downstairs bog, tits bouncing freely, to wash my seed off and bought me back some tissue to clean myself up with. I wondered for a moment if that was going to be it, but before rejoining me on the couch, she stood before me, unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She too now was fully nude for the first time before me. She looked magnificent. her figure was really womanly. Heavy pink crowned breasts, narrowing to a flat midriff, before widening again to broad hips and large, but not fat, thighs.
I gestured for her to turn around, to which she did an exaggerated pirouette, with arms held over her head, ballerina style, all the time giggling at what she was doing. The rear view was as enticing as the front, but when she was facing me again, my gaze locked onto her crotch. Below her dark pubic bush, her body lips were prominently displayed, pink and inflamed from my earlier touch. They were parted slightly, exposing the damp rose coloured labia within.
I had to taste her again. From my seat on the couch, her sex was level with my face, so grasping her bum cheeks, I drew her towards me. I extended my tongue, and licked her slit from bottom to top, ending with my lips clamped over her clitoris. She growled and hissed like a cornered mountain lion as I started to circle her clit with my tongue and occasionally moved down to thrust it as far as I could into her vagina. She held my head, keeping my face firmly planted on her vulva and thrust her hips forward to further the contact. After several more minutes of my licking and sucking, her legs again started to tremble, as another ,orgasm spread throughout her body. Two for two. Unusually for me, I was on a winning streak tonight.
When her senses returned, Sally flopped onto the sofa again kissing and licking all around my mouth, apparently tasting her own secretions on my face. I found that really arousing, and my semi hardened to full mast, ready for its next round. The time had come for the much awaited consummation of our fledgling relationship. I retrieved my trousers from the floor and fumbled in the pocket for the Durex packet. When Sal saw this, she told me there was no need. Apparently UK law had changed sometime last year (1974) to allow single girls, over 18, to be prescribed The Pill, purely for contraception, not only for medical need, as was the case before that. Being sexually active (no surprise to me there), she had signed up straight away.
Okay, new territory for me here. This would be my first ‘bareback’ bang. My heart fluttered a little at the prospect and for some reason I suddenly felt very nervous too. All sorts of stupid shit went through my mind. Was the pill really safe. Had she remembered to take hers that day. What if…what if…what if!
For fuck sake Titus, grow up a voice told me. It’s safer than rubbers, which break and slip off easily. And you can trust her to use it as directed, it’s her that would get pregnant otherwise, not you. Just grow the fuck up and fuck the girl, like she wants.
Suitably chastised, by myself, I moved towards Sally. She had placed my folded shirt under her bum, to catch any leakage I guess, and positioned herself leaning back on the couch, with her open thighs right at the edge of the seat cushion, ready to take me in. Positioning my self between her legs, I leaned over her and advanced my aching penis to her opening, missing with the first shot. Sally took hold of me and guided me into her, then gently pulled me down, causing me to slide fully into her, still soaking wet, interior.
I don’t care what anyone says to the contrary. You CAN tell the difference between wearing a condom and not. That first feeling of a tight, wet, hot vagina, gripping my unsheathed penis was beyond anything I could have imagined. Some also say a woman’s mouth is an equal sensation. Nah! As wonderful as the oral act can be, there is, in my view, no real comparison.
Anyway, once I’d overcome the initial splendour of raw vaginal penetration, I started to move my cock in and out, and my motion was reciprocated. Our rhythm synchronised and the tempo slowly increased, as we fucked away. Despite my earlier emission, I knew I was not going to last long. Sally, it seemed, was still on the edge from the earlier cunnilingus, and I felt her twitch several times, with accompanying gasps and groans. She admitted later it was not full-blown orgasms, but was very pleasurable, none the less.
I held out as long as I could, but reached the point of no return. I warned Sally I was about to cum, to give her the opportunity to tell me to pull out, but she held my arse more firmly, and thrust her hips up at me even harder. With that, I ejaculated copiously, directly into a vagina for the first time in my life. The feel of my squirts triggered another ripple of pleasure in Sally too, judging by her groans and trembling thighs. I kept thrusting as long as I could, to allow her to get all she could out of the encounter.
Spent, I finally stopped my pumping, and collapsed into Sally’s arms. Quickly she pushed me off of her, cupped her hand over her vagina and dashed to the cloakroom again. Some minutes later, she returned to the lounge, this time wearing her knickers, retrieved from her bag, but still topless. To catch any seepage she told me. She was so practically minded, and practiced perhaps.
After half an hour or so of just hugging, gently touching and caressing each other, lost in our own thoughts (I hoped hers were as positive as mine), Sally suggested we should get dressed, just in case! It seemed a sound idea to me. Pulling my shirt back on, I noted a large damp patch on one side of it. I sincerely hoped it would dry sufficiently not to be noticeable when sir and his wife returned. Hopefully they would be too pissed and horny to worry, even if it was.
When fully dressed, Sal went to check on junior again. Still fast asleep and breathing deeply, thankfully. She then went to the kitchen and made us each a coffee, and we settled down to await their return, occasionally stealing a quick kiss or gentle touch, to let the other know we were still there.
At more or less the notified time. The householders came home. They were indeed very merry, but not falling down drunk. I was certain the room stank of our sex, but no comment was made, even if it registered. I excused myself to the cloakroom, for ‘one for the road’, and also to dispose of my soiled tissue, which I’d just found on the floor beside the couch, while Sally concluded her financial transaction (bless her, she offered me a cut of the fee for ‘helping her’, but of course I declined.)
As I walked her home, I desperately wanted to tell her that tonight had been the best sex I’d ever had, but did not know if that would have been a crass move, so remained stumm. We didn’t linger at the door that night. It was very late and there was no need for furtive fumbling, so we just said our goodbyes and I left to walk back to my block.
Sitting on babies provided our primary sex venue over that next couple of months. The festive season in particular was particularly fruitful. It was also a good earner for Sally, enabling her to recharge her coffers. The downside, if there actually was one, was that it meant I had to forsake several functions of my own, that I had expected to attend. But when you consider the choices were, fuck Sally or get pissed with the blokes, there was really no contest. We saw in the new year (1976) naked, in a bath together, after a particularly satisfying sex session, in someone else’s home. Sally’s idea of course.
We would still supplement our needs, with mutual masturbation and oral, in Sally’s bedroom between childminding tasks, or when I was refused permission to join her by the child’s parents. It did happen, and Sally would not entertain my ‘sneaking in’ on those occasions. We never did fuck in her own house. It sometimes baffled me that she would not do the dirty there, with her own family members in (even if mum and dad were out and only her sisters were home), but she was perfectly happy to get naked and fuck my brains out with other people’s kids not a million miles away?
February would see my 20th birthday, and the onus was on me to mark this milestone by funding a disco and curry supper in the unit club. I told Sally about this, and asked if she thought it might be a good idea to also make the event fancy dress, playfully suggesting we could go as Adam and Eve. She fell silent. I immediately knew something was up; normally she would slap me for a suggestion like that.
After a bit of prompting she opened up. She reminded me that part of her plan was to use Cyprus as a base to do some gap year travelling. She had now confirmed plans with a UK based former school friend, to take in several destinations over a three month period. They were to start in Egypt, where they would meet up and head out from there. She would be leaving before my birthday.
I was really pissed off that she had kept these arrangements from me til now. She claimed that she was leaving it until nearer the day, so as not to spoil what time we had left together. I had inadvertently fucked that idea up. Sally said she wanted things to carry on, as if she had said nothing, until she left, that she wouldn’t be gone for ever. But I pointed out that if she wanted to travel more extensively, she’d be off again soon, then when her gap year was over, she’d be off to uni, where she would be gone forever, as far as I was concerned.
No, much as I loved her and loved having sex with her, I could not pretend that everything was hunky dory and just plough on. I had known that she would be leaving Cyprus in the autumn, but was not prepared for this, right now. I told her I needed time to think things through, I’d talk to her the following day, and left without our customary embrace and kiss. I went straight to the bar and got thoroughly pissed.
Come the cold light of the following day, hangover notwithstanding, I had made my decision. I was going to dump Sally. That would be another new first for me, one I never thought would happen. I met up with her later, as arranged, and laid my cards on the table. If we hung it out until the bitter end it would be purely for the sake of sex. And as fantastic as that was, it was not really a good idea, it would just be mechanical fucking. In my opinion it would be easier on us both if we just ended things there. (I know what you’re thinking…mechanical fucking is good fucking too, you may be right.)
She cried, I teared up and my resolve nearly cracked. But I stood firm. I had no previous experience of being the ‘dumper’ and didn’t know how to do it. So I simply hugged her tightly for half a minute, kissed her on the cheek, turned and walked away, not looking back. A shity way to dump someone? Probably, but what is a good way?
I was like the proverbial bear with a sore head for the next few weeks. I drank far too much, even considered another trip to that premises off Heroes Square, but knew that was just rebound lust, and forgot that stupid idea. I purposely avoided putting myself in situations where I might meet Sally, until I knew she had left on her travels.
Despite what had happened, I could not hate Sally. We’d had great fun and great sex together, and in retrospect, I think I probably had actually fallen in love with her. But we were both still young, and life must go on (well, until you’re told by your doctor it won’t go on much longer, at least!). I truly hoped she would have fantastic experiences, and perhaps fantastic sex too, on her travels and fulfil her ambition to become a doctor.
They say “When one door closes, another door opens.” For me, for once, that would be true. I just had to wait a few more weeks until…well that’s another story.