This is a stand-alone story about Richie and Laura from the Educating Laura series. It takes place a few days after the end of Educating Laura Ch.6.
Laura’s college mate Richie, a guy generally assumed to be an arrogant dickhead, became a close friend with benefits over the summer.
They also become close to Andy and Ali who worked at the summer camp Laura volunteered at, and Laura’s been enjoying exploring all sorts of sexual things like threesomes and bondage. But not, so far, anal sex. She’s returned to college; Richie is spending the last three weeks of vacation working in London, staying with Ali and Andy. There’s some references to BDSM having happened, but no real BDSM in this story beyond discussion of roles.
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Richie summed up his weekend when Ali quizzed him: “Went and visited Laura’s place. I said, I’d like to try anal with her sometime. She says, ‘go on’.
“I told her, she’s never had anything bigger than a finger there, so my cock is hardly one she’d want to start with! But then, right, she pulls out this big butt plug and goes, all innocent, ‘But I’ve taken this…?’
“She took me, too. She’s lots of fun, Laura is. We’ll have to do it again, some time.”
For Richie, it was a long speech.
Laura could describe the same weekend with much, much, more detail. Interested in her version? Read on.
***
I’d dozed on the train, got the bus back to college, acquired my keys from the genial porter. All college porters were hired for two skills: being sage uncle-type figures for students to spill their woes to, and their ability to deter or intervene in fights. Most were retired military; some had been ex-wrestlers before taking up their bowler hats.
“Good to have you back, young Laura. You pop in and say hello to us each day, you hear?” Checking I’d be all right during the three weeks before most students returned.
I plodded down the road to my new house. We’d tacitly agreed I’d have a top floor room, next to my friend Sanj, with a shower-room to ourselves. The lads would have the three rooms below. I was thankful for the college cleaner who would keep their bathroom in a state where I could enjoy a bath. I’d lay money that Gavin and the others would never clean toilets voluntarily.
Having unpacked my rucksack and placed my new plant on the windowsill, I hit Sainsbury’s to stock up on food. I nodded at some grad students I recognised, decanted my haul in the kitchen, then headed out. At the Materials Science department I bought previous exam papers, a photocopying card and my new book list, before repeating myself in the Chemistry building.
I found two books matching forthcoming lectures, so tried making notes in the common room next to the library. I was happily distracted at four o’clock when students and staff invaded, enticed by cake and coffee.
Around six, I left, having skimmed the newspapers and the amusing back page of New Scientist for the last half hour. Back in my new home, alone, I cooked a mound of roasted veg and made a thick tomato pasta sauce. I wasn’t vegetarian, just that was the easiest way to be cheap and avoid food poisoning. büyükesat escort While it simmered, I phoned Andy and Ali, truthfully reassuring them I wasn’t lonely — though equally when they suggested visiting in three weeks’ time, I was enthusiastic.
I unpacked my boxes I’d left in storage, then twiddled my thumbs.
No telly. Gavin said he’d bring one.
Didn’t feel like reading.
I chose to have a luxurious hot bath. The tub was old, Victorian; broad and deep. Chipped enamel, but wonderful to float in if you shut your eyes and no-one else had been using up the hot water.
I relaxed in aquatic bliss. I’d missed a good soak, over the summer. I could and did take time conditioning my long hair, exfoliating, depilating, shaving — all the grooming I hadn’t had facilities for during the last three months, living in a field.
And I could try my new toys, which I’d bought from that sex shop the day before.
I’d been readily persuaded to buy two toys. One vibrator with spokes to stop it sliding inside, its controls on the end of a long cable. And a more substantial butt plug, about the size of a cock, in circumference. Condoms I had in abundance, given societies’ desperation to give them away, but I’d agreed a bottle of lubricant would be needed. The cute lass in the shop had easily convinced me me to upsize. The concept of a pint of lube amused me.
Some years earlier, a hot bath had helped me relax enough to slide a tampon in for the first time. It might also work for the anal plug.
Hair turbanned in a towel, pyjamas on, I lowered my pyjama trousers. I caught sight of my arse in the bathroom mirror, and gasped. It was mostly purple-pink smears on my white skin, now, as Tuesday’s bruising faded. Various marks, faint lines showing red, betrayed an implement. Some yellow, mild bruises, round the sides. Nearly all gone, already.
Would I be sad to have these visible reminders all go? Yes.
It was hard to remember that my month of sexual discovery and new sexual ‘family’ was real, not just fantasy.
At least Richie was turning up on the weekend. By Saturday morning, he’d promised. He’d warned Friday might be cancelled if experiments worked and needed documentation.
Or if the train or coach were too expensive. It looked like Rich valued my company at around fifteen pounds. The guy’s frank honesty, which he had never learnt to hide, amused me.
My bare bottom exposed, the rest of me decently under wraps, those butterflies in my guts swarmed, warning I was being horribly sexual.
Nudity is sort of wholesome, whatever your intentions. The naffness of Health I doubted he was old enough to be a postdoc. He gave me the two-sentence version, plus another couple sentences when I didn’t run away.
“Cool,” I said, not being able to make any more intelligent comment.
“Intermittently, yes. When you’ve got yet another meaningless result, not so much! No, let me get this — it’s only 20p a cup! I need to sit down with my supervisors and plan what to try next. Oh, hi, Maggie!”
“Oh, it’s you, Dominic.” Maggie was about forty, clearly the çankaya escort matriarch technician whom everyone went to with problems. I ended up chatting to her and Dominic for half an hour. When she left, morose over her workload, Dominic asked if I’d like him to look at the offending question.
I did.
He furrowed his brow, trying to be tactful. “It’s prediction of equilibrium constants?” I squirmed, feeling my stupidity. “It’s fairly straightforward second-year stuff. Don’t you remember?”
In relief, I told him. “Well, no. Seeing as what I haven’t done second year yet.”
“What? Oh! Shit, in that case… Blimey, you’ve aced this first part, then. Right. How it works, right, this energy is divided…”
I got the general gist, I thought.
“But seriously, love, why are you working so hard in the hols if you’re only approaching second year?”
“I haven’t been! Not until yesterday. But for… reasons, I’ve had to come back to college early, nowhere’s going to employ me for only two, three weeks, might as well get ahead with work as much as possible.”
“You want a bit of work? Paid, I mean?”
“I would. Why?”
“Not promising anything, mind, but come with me. Find Maggie again. One reason she was so grumpy is, the junior technician’s just been fired. Chris the apprentice is off on holiday for the next two weeks, cos we made him promise to come back before all the undergrads invade again… Sorry, no insult intended!”
“None taken. Sure.”
Dom steered me into Maggie’s domain, the prep room between two large labs. “Mags? You were after another pair of hands?”
A long but constructive discussion ensued. We agreed I’d turn up each day, do glass-washing, fetching and carrying, and in between I’d get to hang out in the lab, get a bit of experience of higher-level lab work, people to chat to, help with my studies, and get a few quid — ‘beer money’ — as well as people buying me lunch and coffees. All cash-in-hand, probably involving the lab head making dodgy expenses claims to cover the costs. Not my problem.
By the end of the afternoon, my head span with names, safety rules, and chemical equilibrium equations. The lab head had lectured that course recently, so pointed me at exercises from a maths textbook. I had space at a side bench to sit and work, with intermittent calls of “Laura! Could you empty the washing tray, please?” “Hey, Laura? Could you track down another condenser like this? Martin Eng’s lab on the third floor should have some. Actually, get two.” “Laura, let me show you where to find…” “Laura, can you go order six teas, two coffees, whatever you have, see you down there in a mo, keep the change.”
Then we went down the pub. I tore myself away after a few, promising to return on Monday. The team were very grateful. Win-win: they got a dogsbody to keep everything functioning, I got both experience and a place to be. The money was a mere bonus, though I’d need it in due course.
Once back across town, home, I was sober again. And tonight — maybe — I’d get Richie!
I ate the last of my chili, then nipped to the off-licence for wine cebeci escort and a carton of ice-cream. Might as well enjoy having both fridge and freezer to myself! That’s what I told myself, trying to fend off loneliness.
Then at 10pm, a text from Richie: ‘Setting off now. Don’t wait up.’
He’d forgotten I wasn’t in halls, now. No doubt the porters had keys, but they wouldn’t let him into someone else’s house!
‘I’ll have to let you in, divot.’
‘Ah. Should I wait till tomorrow?’
‘No! I may doze in the front room — hammer on the window if I don’t hear the doorbell.’
‘If you’re sure. It’ll be after midnight.’
‘I’ll cope. Travel safe.’
I picked up my new book. I’d splashed out on the latest Terry Pratchett paperback, and sprawled along the sofa with my Häagen-Dazs and a spoon.
Half-way through the book, I snuggled up with the cushions and closed my eyes.
Until I was jarred awake. The doorbell was being pressed repeatedly. I opened the door, recognising the distorted shape through the spyhole. Richie nodded at me and walked in.
“All right, Rich?”
“Yeah.” He looked around. “You’re right, this is like Andy’s place, only better maintained.”
“Lovely to see you, too.”
Startled, Richie shuffled awkwardly, then decided to give me a hug, like how I’d taught him, a month earlier.
“That’s better. Though it’s me, remember — a bit of indecent groping is allowed.”
I should have known I’d be squashed as he gripped tightly, one hand on my arse. I squeaked when it got a bit much, both from needing a breath, and from my bum still being sore from where he and Ali had had at it on Tuesday.
He let me drop. My compressed lungs reinflated.
“What now?” he asked.
“Bed. D’you want a drink to take up?”
He found himself a glass of water, and followed me up the stairs.
“I stole the mattress from the room next door, for you. Seeing as no-one else is in the house for another three weeks or so.”
“The attic? Huh.” He looked round. “Looks kinda like Andy’s bedsit, only with more space.’
It hadn’t occurred to me when I chose the room, but I probably did associate attics with happiness, now.
Richie spoke again. “So, what’s driving you right now? You want to get fucked, or want to be obedient, or just want to go to sleep?” Getting to the nub of things, as was so characteristic of the guy.
“What I want… Well, doesn’t matter. I need sleep. It’s been a long day.” I’d tell him about my new job in the morning.
“OK. Just answer the question. What would you want if you weren’t too tired?”
I thought. “Good, obedient girls get off eventually, right? I’d like that, but not until after breakfast.”
“Priorities. Good boundaries. I like that. See you in the morning.”
Richie rolled over and went to sleep. None of this kissing or anything that might suggest we were anything other than friends. Friends drawn close by mutual instincts. Family, we’d all decided, after that final night camping. Well, I’d never choose the git as a boyfriend, for sure.
I woke up when Richie returned from a shower, bollock-naked and drying his long hair with a towel. It had reached mid-back length; he must have been letting his hair grow out during sixth-form, not just since leaving like several of the lads. I watched without moving, mostly at how his balls and substantial cock moved as he rubbed his head dry.