Going Up and Going Down Read Online Free

from the
playing field, Alex had his finger poking up the leg of my knickers. He’d been
feeling around my newly acquired pubes trying to locate my fanny, and his hard
little dick was poking out of his fly-hole for all to see.
    It further
didn’t help matters that I was more sexually aware than they were. Without
wanting to sound too cocky, the lads all seemed to fancy me (and some were so
much better than Alex at finding and fingering my hole), and I was pretty much
attracted to a lot of them, but mainly the older ones. Word also got around
thanks to James Barton, that he had fucked me in the P.E. storeroom; one
particular Friday lunchtime (it was true, he took my virginity and I was
fourteen years old). That certainly didn’t help my cause with the bullies! I
tended to have a lot less bother with the bitches if I ignored the lads
completely, so I tried hard to do so most of the time, at least when other
girls were around.
    Whatever the
reasons for the bullying, I was well and truly alone at school. I never told
Mum and Dad about any of it. I didn’t want to be a cry baby, and most of all I
didn’t want to give the bullies the satisfaction of letting them know they’d
got to me. I just took the slappings and never once ran away - I’m made of
tougher stuff than that. Quite a few of the teachers were aware I was having a
tough time and they would make sure the bullies noticed their presence when on
duty on the school playing field. I always tried not to let it bother me, but
sometimes I would silently cry myself to sleep and vow to keep in the
background and unnoticed the next day at school. Surprisingly enough my lessons
never suffered and I determined to get my revenge on the bullies by making sure
my exam results were second to none. I left school with 3 ‘A’ levels, all ‘A’
grades in Maths, English and Geography, meeting the entry requirements of the
London School of Economics.
    University was
a whole new ball game. Although I felt quite shy and wary for the first month
or two, I managed to make some genuine friends and one in particular, Roberta,
known to her friends as Bobbie, became my first ever close friend. We worked
hard, played hard, smoked some weed (nothing worse than that though) and life
was good. Again I never had to go short of money and I didn’t need any student
loans - Dad paid for everything.
    Bobbie was
always so tired. She worked in a bar three or four nights a week to help pay
her way through Uni. I was amazed at how she always managed to get to her
lectures on time. Her Mum would come down every couple of months to visit,
staying in a hotel just around the corner from Bobbie’s student flat which she
shared with two others. She (Bobbie) hadn’t seen her Dad in eight years. Shame
really, he would have been so proud of her. She was pretty, well-mannered, very
amiable and extremely intelligent. Her degree was just a formality. Yes! I
loved Bobbie to bits. She was the first female who had ever liked me and this
was a big thrill for me – being liked instead of tolerated. We had so much in
common - our love of music, men, visiting the City’s art galleries, fashion and
generally having good time.
    It was during
my second year at Uni that I met and fell in love. I wasn’t out with Bobbie that
particular night as she was working at the bar as usual. I was with some other
friends who were taking the same degree course in Accountancy and Economics. We
had decided to try out a new wine bar that had recently opened not too far from
the main university building and the student flats. We had already downed a
bottle of vodka between us before leaving my flat and were just getting our
night into full swing when a gang of four or five dons walked in, ordered their
drinks then came straight to our table and made themselves at home. Anna, Beth
and Jennifer (my friends), mouths gaping in surprise at suddenly being
surrounded by so much testosterone, were soon lapping up the attention of the
guys. One