Surprisingly there was no catastrophic self-annihilation when I woke up on the Thursday morning. In fact, quite the opposite. I was overcome with panic when the thought crossed my mind that one of Neville's tadpoles had defied the odds, but the panic turned into a kind of sinister excitement. I got out of bed basking in the glory of still having Neville's baby juice rotting inside of me. I slipped on my bathrobe and headed to the kitchen cupboard where I kept my contraceptive pills. I read the leaflet and it stated that proper use of the pill can be up to 99% effective, and low as 90% if used incorrectly. In the year or so I had taken the pill I probably only forgot to take it a handful of times, so I guess I was in the 99% bracket. There was still that 1% chance, however, and I seemed to cling onto that. I was buzzing for the next three days and giving birth to Neville's child appealed to me more and more.

Saturday evening and along came Len. His obsession with my arse continued. He did cum in my pussy, but the essence of it seemed very hollow compared to Neville. I was a million miles from my special place and if truth be known I found it all a bit predictable and boring. There was a 1% chance he could pollinate my baby chamber, but it didn't have the same kind of appeal...in fact I would most certainly have it aborted. After our bedroom Olympics, and whist getting dressed, Len asked me what I was wearing for the Ladies Social Section Christmas fundraiser.

Each year on the Tuesday before Christmas Day the Ladies Social Section held a charity fundraising night. Middies was a small club and didn't have catering facilities, so the women prepared food from home and brought it to the club to sell. I never prepared any food, it was my job to wait on the tables and raise money by collecting tips. It used to get very busy and maybe one of the few times a year whereby the housewives took time off from cooking tea for their hubby.
I was confused my Len's question. I smiled and replied, "Clothes hopefully". Len looked at me, smiled, and said, "Why don't you dress up as a French maid, Janice will like that, all you need is a black blouse, short white skirt, white hat, and stockings". It didn't resonate at all well with me. Where I came from stockings and suspenders equalled slut and I had flashbacks to the old sluts I used to see in the seedy nightclub. "I don't think so", I replied. I could tell Len was miffed, I hated letting him down, it made me feel guilty and in the wrong. He shrugged his shoulders and suggested he'd try and find someone else. "Okay, I said, if I was to do it, where am I supposed to get that stuff from?" ... "You've over a week to sort something out", Len answered before he left.

 

I begrudgingly started rummaged through my wardrobe and drawers to see what I could find. I had a dark blue blouse, and I had a white frilly hat I used to wear when in the sun. I didn't even entertain the idea of stockings, so all I wanted was a white skirt, which I picked up from the market the following Tuesday, the day of the event.

 

The following Saturday was the same, Len came over and spent most of the time pummelling my 17-year-old arse. He asked if I had sorted some clothing out. I merely answered with a, "You'll have to wait and see". 

I went out of my way to please Len but when I saw him in the club all he could say was that my skirt was too long for a French maid, and "I see you didn't go with stockings like I asked". He went on to ignore me for the rest of the evening. The night was a success, but I never enjoyed it. It weighed heavily on my mind for the next couple of days. The next time I would see him would be Christmas Eve evening in Middies but considering how jam packed the club gets on Christmas Eve, and he would be with Janice and their clique, we wouldn't have the opportunity to talk, and I wouldn't be able to apologise.

 

 

 

 

Christmas Eve morning and I was washing the pots in the sink. The back gate opened, and Len came through holding a carrier bag. I was so relieved to see him and opened the kitchen door. He told me he came bearing gifts and for a split second I thought he had bought me a nice Christmas present. He reached into the bag and pulled out a small Santa costume. When I say costume, it consisted of a small jacket and hat. The picture on front of the polythene bag showed a buxom brunette flashing her white knickers, leg and cleavage. "It's a small so it should fit. You can wear it tonight", Len continued. I was mortified but I managed to force a smile and say, "Thanks". I couldn't help but think that Len was out to humiliate me, his way of revenge.

As soon as Len left, I shot upstairs and tried it on. It was two sizes too big for me and the already the low white woolly neckline went down almost as far as my belly button and then fastened only by a couple inch of Velcro. It looked hideous on me. Adding to that it was only the fourth day of my period, I was still heavy and what if blood stained through my knickers, people would see. I thought I might as well just wear my bra and knickers for what good that would do me. I decided not to wear it and inform Len I was 'on' and it was miles too big.

I was comfortable with that decision right up until 5:30pm when I needed to get ready. I just knew Len would be annoyed with me if I didn't wear it. I tried it back on. I thought I may have been overreacting before, but I wasn't, it was clearly shocking and inappropriate. I considered wearing shorts and a t-shirt under it, but I knew Len wouldn't approve. He saw the same picture as me and she certainly wasn't wearing a t-shirt or shorts. I had an idea to use safety pins. I hunted around for some and found four. I attached two to the collar and two at the bottom. It wasn't perfect but at least it meant I wouldn't be showing my bra and knickers.
I entered the club with my mum and dad. A couple of elderly women at the bar complimented me on my attire but I am sure they were only being kind. I walked past where Len was sitting, hoping to seek approval but his expression mirrored the one when he saw me wearing the French maid costume. It didn't help when Janice hollered "Are you supposed to be Father Christmas? You look like an underfed pixy". Her clique found it amusing but I felt humiliated. Even my own mum and dad laughed.

 

An hour or so later Len collared me outside of the toilets. He was coming out of the gents as I was heading for the ladies. "Why the safety pins", he asked. "It's way too big and it shows off my bra", I answered meekly, "Take it off then", he replied, and that's all he said before teetering back to the bar. I was left feeling exasperated. I was the only person in the building who wasn't enjoying themselves. After changing my tampon, I sat on the toilet seat, released a disgruntled sigh and took out the safety pins, even the lower ones. The material was so flimsy it just slid off my legs...and then of course was the showing of my bra and skinny pallid chest. I took off my bra to see what it would look like. It looked pathetic, a huge canyon where others had a cleavage and even my navel was showing. One consolation, however, the friction between my nipples and material seemed to prevent it gaping wide open. I wanted to see what it was like in the mirror and waited patiently before I exited the cubicle. I gazed in the mirror. I could see the curves of my tiny tits, either side of a of a vast flat chasm. I was showing a lot of flesh but figured I could hold the lapels together if need be. At that precise point, Margaret, the wife of the club's treasurer, and who sat with us, entered the toilets. "I think you look very festive, May", but she only saw me from the side. I smiled and swiftly scooped up my bra and bag from the cubicle floor before she had the chance to see them, and me properly. I couldn't wait to get out of the toilets and into the small corridor where I bunged my bra into my handbag. The door to the club opened and out popped two women. One was a woman named Ann. Her husband was Vin, the guy I saw in the seedy nightclub when Frank had his fingers in my pussy.

In my mind, Vin had told her things about me, and my liaison with Len. Len assured me Vin would keep things to himself, but I wasn't convinced. Vin sat at the opposite side of the club to us, and being it was a case of us and them, I had doubts about not being talked about. It didn't help when Ann and her friend Jacki saw me before I had chance to gather the lapels together. I threw them a quick smile and headed into the club. I held together my top but dropped my hand momentarily when seeing Len. I walked awkwardly to my seat, and when sitting down, the bottom of my costume slipped away from my legs. My mum saw it and looked embarrassed for me. Two other guys, the treasurer Ken, and committee man Jim were sitting opposite me, with a bird's eye view, so presumably they got a flash of my knickers too. I remained in my seat, not daring to get up. For others the drinks were flowing but for me I only had two half pints of lager and lime before 10pm. "Here he is", shouted my dad. I looked around and saw Paul, my brother, approaching. My spirits suddenly lifted. He stood between Ken and Jim and asked what everyone was having. "Mine's a vodka and orange, you can get me a double if you want". Paul looked at me and in typical fashion replied, "I'll get you a triple if you like, as long as you pay for it yourself".

Paul returned with a tray full of drinks. My dad made room on his table so Paul could put it down. Jim returned to his table carrying an empty beer crate. Ken dragged his chair further to one side and Jim put the beer crate between Ken's chair and my dad. "Sit down here next your dad", Jim said to Paul.

Sitting on beer crates was common practice at Middies when it was full. There was also an unwritten rule that ladies sat on the backrest, and the guys on the chairs on the opposite side of the table. I was sat next to my mum on the left, and Irene, Jim's wife on my right. I was also sat opposite Paul and being there was a gap between tables, he had an unobstructed view of me, and we were practically toe to toe. It somehow didn't seem to matter if Paul saw jam juice seeping through my panty crotch.
The next drink made me more relaxed, but I needed the toilet. I had been holding it in for the past couple of hours. I snuck out when Paul was at the bar. I was about to open the door that led to the toilets when a hand reached over my shoulder and pushed it open. "A little dickie bird has told me you haven't got anything on under that". I knew straight away it was a guy called Bob, the thick Geordie accent gave it away.

Bob never had a specific area of the club where he always sat. He was at home sitting with the Caribbean guys as he was anywhere. He was a real character, mid-thirties, the preverbal comedian, and notorious flirt. He was marmite, if folk liked him, they loved him. If they disliked him, he was a fouled mouth Geordie yob. My dad tolerated him, but then there were a lot of folk my dad would only tolerate. I never had much to do with him, but I knew he was sitting with Len and Mick's lot (Mick the one who fingered me in Yugoslavia). I doubt Bob would have chosen to sit there, more a case the room was full and there was an empty space. I figured Len may have been controlling towards me, but I was shocked he told Bob about me not wearing anything under my costume.

"Let us have a sneaky look", he said in the corridor. He moved my hand away from my top and opened it. It happened so fast, but I doubt I would have offered any resistance had he given me six-month notice. I allowed him a couple of seconds, "Do you mind?", I said smiling, "Not if you don't, bonnie lass", He replied before opening the door to the toilets.

I sat on the toilet thinking about what just happened and why did I let him do it ... not to mention the fact I had to face him again. I returned to my seat, clinging on to my costume, and glancing at Bob on my way. My dad informed me that Mick wanted to know if any of us wanted to stay in the club for a couple more drinks after it closed. He also went on to say that none of them were stopping. I looked across at Paul and asked if he was. He replied, "Can do if you want".

Only five of us, and the steward John, stayed behind. I got the impression Mick was hoping for more. He was on the committee and arranged it all. We sat next to the bar where the Caribbean guys usually sit. I was sat against the back rest, opposite Paul. Mick was sitting next to me, Bob next to Paul, and a relative loner called Reg stood at the bar. John wanted to turn the pumps off and shut the bar, so he could join us. It meant we had to get the drinks we needed there and then. I only wanted a vodka and orange. I was already feeling fairly drunk and much more the room would have been spinning. Paul got a whiskey, the other guys pints and chasers. A few minutes in, and Bob put his arm on the back of Paul's chair, "Hey, you know she ain't got owt on under that", he said to Paul. Paul forced a smile but clearly embarrassed. "Aye" said Mick, "What's all this about you forgetting to put your shirt on?" I was too drunk to feel embarrassed. "You're not supposed to wear a top under it", I replied. "Then why are you holding it together?", shouted John, "Because it's too big for me", I answered. "Too much of a coward", laughed Mick. "I'm not", I said, slapping him on the thigh. Bob moved across the table and sat next to me. He grabbed my hand, "Come on, let go then", he instructed. It took a short while, but I allowed him to move away my hand. He proceeded to carefully open it so just to conceal my nipples. "You enjoying yourself?", Reg shouted to Bob from the bar, "You do know that's her brother across from you", he continued, "The best part about growing up was spying on my big sister" ... "She's my little sister", Paul injected. With that, Mick reached across and uncovered my right boob, "I'd say little, I've seen cats with bigger tits". I gazed down at my exposed boob whilst Mick was showing it off. All I could think about was Paul, and him staring at me. I was fully aware my boob was still exposed after Mick had moved his hand, but I was a little sozzled and felt naughty, so pretended I hadn't noticed. I caught a glimpse of Paul as I reached out for my drink and spotted him sneaking a peak. I'm sure everyone saw I still had my tit out, but maybe they were more than happy it was still out.

As previously mentioned, my breasts had been the blight of my life. I absolutely hated them and had so ever since they sprouted up like a pair of strawberries randomly glued to a pale skinny torso. I hated using the showers at school and seeing all the developing curves on the other girls. Most of all I hated my sister whose larger bra was far fuller at 11-years-old than I was at 13, but I was on fire my pussy was on fire, and if Bob had asked me to show my hideous tiny to tits to every man and his dog, I would have done it.

"Pass me drink over", Bob said to Paul. Now I had Bob to my left, Mick to my right, and Paul facing me, but my legs was under the table. Bob put his hand under the table on to my fleshy thigh and started to stroke. I was so willing for his hand to reach my crotch but also needed to tell him I was on my period. Bob was chatting away normally, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, my heart was fluttering so profoundly I felt queasy. Mick must have known something was going on because he had a quick look. I hoped and prayed he wouldn't say anything. He didn't and a few moments later he began to stroke the outside of my right thigh with the outside of his finger. I was totally impervious of what was being said, then suddenly Bob fingers connected with my pussy. My legs jerked and Mick moved his hand away but only for a moment. I was beginning to smell the sickly sweet smell of period juice. I didn't want to ruin things but I needed to tell him. I steadied his hand "I'm on my period", I said quietly. When I say quietly, I was never good at whispering and sure Paul and Mick heard. Bob took a swig of his drink and then discreetly moved my hand away before rubbing at my crotch. I allowed him to do this but was concerned he never heard what I had to say. That's as far as it went until a little later on.

Paul, Bob, Mick, and I walked home together. Mick lived towards the top of my street, Bob lived on a street that ran parallel to mine and could access it via a ginnel at the bottom of my street. Paul of course lived only a few houses further down, across the road. We said goodbye to Mick, and then Paul. Bob walked me to my door. We chatted for a short while and then kissed, only it turned out to be a full-blown snog. "Let's go inside", Bob said. I was wondering if he had heard what I said in the club. "I'm on my period", I reiterated ... "A little bit of blood never hurt anyone". All I could think of then, was what kind of state the room was in. I wasn't the most hygienic or tidiest of people. I opened the door and we snogged in the hallway. I led him up the stairs and into my bed. I kept my knickers on as we cavorted on the bed. He pulled them down, fingered me and then I could feel my tampon being tugged out. Bob held it aloft and pretended to put it in his mouth. "That's disgusting", I said. "Not as disgusting as going down on me after I've fucked you", he replied as he got on top of me. Bob fucked me. I'd like to say it was fantastic but my pussy felt bloated and dry.

I awoke at 8am on the dot and feeling fresh as a daisy. I re-ran the night before in my head and searched for the voice that would usually make me feel like the most evil and debauched girl in the world, but it wasn't there. I had a couple of ‘Oh my god' feelings, like having Paul seeing my boob, and Bob pulling my tampon out, but it hardly registered on the Richter scale of shame, in fact it dented far heavily in the scale of downright naughtiness. Was this the new me? I thought and began to write down the guys I had sexual contact with...even forgetting John, the guy who took my cherry.

My family came around at 10:30am to give my grandmother and I presents. There was an atmosphere between me and Paul, but whereas he appeared awkward, I felt very smug. I was 99% certain he was still a virgin and got off on imagining my breast was the first he had seen in real life. Midday and my uncle, aunt, and Neville paid a visit to see my grandmother. I needed to speak to Neville alone and so I waited in the kitchen to catch him on his return from the toilet. I asked him to come over during the week. I knew he was off work. He worked in the coalmine and they usually had two weeks at Christmas off. We arranged for the Wednesday.