We spent the next hour sitting around the garden (fully dressed) playing draughts and reading. I lost count of the arguments they had because of her dress sense. The next few days were quite uneventful apart from Thelma whispering “My cunt is dripping!” or “I’ve just fingered myself…do you want to smell my fingers?” when ever she walked past me out of earshot of my parents. Every chance I got I ‘accidentally bumped into her coming out of the bathroom’ or carefully hid next to her bedroom door when it was carelessly left open as she got dressed or undressed. In due course she raised herself onto her elbows and blew me a kiss. In due course she raised herself onto her elbows and blew me a kiss. Thelma on her part wore sexy clothing that clung to her curves and according to Dad ‘her skirts were always too short and she showed too much …up top’.
