I
Only a few of use knew the place. Behind the music room, past the tennis courts, then a snaking, furtive path under the apple trees, where the short grass of the sports fields gave way to untended meadow. To the far side of the school grounds, a hundred yards from any watching eyes. Then down the slope, and through a barbed wire fence that your boyfriend had to hold for you as you squeezed through, hoping you didn't catch your skirt on one of the points. Safe now, you held hands as
you descended through the trees into a deep valley. There was a little brook, sparkling in the June sunshine. And a patch of cool grass beside the water, surrounded on all sides by thick woods, where we lay down in perfect secrecy.
Let me tell you about Joshua. Beautiful Joshua. New to the school that year. Not tall, but broad-shouldered. His flashing smile, his bright blue eyes. His shock of beach blond hair. Josh in his sports kit, which didn’t seemed big enough to contain him, the shorts hugging the muscles of his thighs. There was a picture of him going the rounds. Socks around his ankles. One sleeve rolled right up to his shoulder. His arms and legs tanned by a Mediterranean sun. It was passed round the girls of the class from phone to phone till we all had this little trophy of him. In little groups, we wondered idly whether Josh really needed a shirt on to play sport. We followed him down the corridors, admiring his muscular ass. We imagined the touch of his lips. Whenever he was distracted, we inspected the impressive bulge between his legs. Alone in bed at night, we kissed his picture with tender passion, and stripped off our pyjamas, humped our pillows until they were soaked with sweat, and whispered, “Oh Josh, I love you Josh,” as we squirted our cum into the bedsheets.
All of use were in love with Josh, But it was me he took to the river. Little Sophie Williams. The shy pale girl with the skinny legs and the perfect tits. Sixteen-years-old, and still a virgin. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Wouldn’t have said ‘Hi’ to Josh in a million years, not until Mrs Miller put him next to me in Math class and told me to coach him. He wasn’t the brightest, my Josh.
One thing led to another. Hands brushed accidentally together. Tapping my knee when he wanted help, then my thigh. A game of footsie in the school canteen, his socks sliding up my bare legs. And once, pushed together in a crowded corridor, he grasped me by the waist as I was flung backwards against him, and he held me tight for a few seconds with my arm between his legs, and I felt it for the first time.
When the time came, I was quivering like a birch leaf in the summer breeze, but he took my hand and led me and I had no power to resist him in my body or in my soul.
II
So we lie on the grass beside the chuckling brook, listening for the faint sound of voices. The intense summer heat melts my inhibitions. I push off my shoes and socks and lie flat, feel the long grass tickling my thighs. My knee-length plaid skirt is unflatteringly long, but in the bathroom at break time, like the other girls I have folded the waistband over and over, three times, four times, wanting all the boys to see me, but Josh above all.
Now I can feel the summer breeze caressing my skin and a sense of freedom flows through me. I let down my long brown hair, laugh as the strands blew over my face, and close my eyes. The wind blows into my sleeve and billows under my blouse, teasing my braless breasts. I feel my skirt floating upward and the coolness between my legs.
I sigh in pleasure, feeling exposed, wondering if Josh has his eyes open, wanting him to be watching me. Yawning, I stretched my arms high above my head, leave them lying there on the grass, and open my legs a little more.