It has taken much sadness to have me live where I live now, in my parents old home, high on a hill on the rolling Sussex downs. They bought the house when it was literally, a farm. Now, most of the fields have been built on and the house itself, although it retains a large garden, backs onto a wooded area that is part of a newly built girl's boarding school. Every room is, for me, bitter-sweet. The house still has memories in every room, and I could not bring myself to change a thing when I moved back in after they died. (Actually, my mother died of cancer, and very rapidly too, and my father, not being able to bear life without her set off on his own self arranged journey to meet the woman he had lived with and loved for over 50 years.)
I am single by choice.
The spring announces the transition to summer quite markedly here. Somehow, with no warning, one just knows that it is summer. I unpacked one of the sun loungers from its long winter hibernation and stretched out on it reading and dozing, and breathing in the scent of the garden. I don't know when I first heard them, but a small sound roused me and fixed my attention on the small wood at the end of the garden. A giggle, perhaps?
I sat up and listened intently for some minutes before the breeze brought a disjointed conversation to me. 'In here.... quick.... oh FUCK... did she see?'
I smiled. Someone was skiving off school, or out of a class. I did the same thing when I was at school, and sometimes, I too worried that my hasty flight had been seen by a school prefect or teacher.
Curious, I edged down my garden to the very outskirts of the wood. Movement. I ducked back behind a large pampas grass and the conversation became clearer. 'Yes, in here. No one can see from here.'
Some cracking of dried twigs and more giggling. 'FUCK I hate brambles!'
'Oh you baby!'
'I'm bleeding! Look!'
'So? It'll stop.'
They obviously settled down near me as there were no more movement sounds, but I dared not move myself. I could hear them so clearly.
'So? Now what?'
'So NOW we don't have that boring Latin afternoon is what. I forged a couple of notes for the teacher. She is so far up herself she won't bother that we aren't there.'
'I should have gone to the toilet at lunchtime.'
'So? Piss here. No-one will see.'
'Yeah, I guess'
'Geez! You shave?'
'You shouldn't be looking!'
'What are you, some fucking lesbian?'
'NO! I just don't like umm you know... sticky pubes like when you get horny? Or when your period is early? YUCK!'
'Still, it looks cool though. UGH... your knickers! You dirty bitch, your horny aren't you?'
'So what if I am?'
'So you need a fuck!'
'Yeah, well I'm not going to get one of those any time soon so I will just have to help myself.'
'Seriously, I don't mind if you uh.. you know.. if you need to?'
'No, you go ahead..'
'Fuck, I wanna do it too!'
(Breathless) 'uhhhh so... go for it!'
'HAH.. my knickers are as creamy as yours!'
No silence now, little moans, sighs, and the odd 'Ohh shit'
'What are you doing?'
'Shhhh... just lie back'
'Ohhh.... ohhhh fuck... OHHHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUCKKKK'
'Was that the first time another girl made you cum?'
'It's the first time ANYONE else made me cum'
'Can I ... do it to you?'
'I'd be disappointed if you didn't.'
More moans, whispered obscenities, and a very clearly punctuated orgasm.
'Does this make us lesbians.'
'Oh, I hope so'!
And me, behind my pampass grass, crouching, straining to hear every last word, my panties stuck to my own wet pussy, and finally, giving in to the overwhelming urge to urinate, I squatted there, and wet myself like a teenager all over again.
Then, as I knew they were still there, I masturbated to a loud climax, hoping against hope that they would at least listen to me, and perhaps even creep forward to see.
The next time I hear sounds in the woods, I will try to make sure they see me, for being watched while I masturbate has long been a fantasy of mine. It is time it became reality.