Hetty Williams

I first met her on the top deck of the ‘192’ bus, going from Woolwich to Plumstead Common.
I had got on at the terminus, which was outside the Co-op and she had got on at the market.
I had been sitting at the back beside the stairs and was having a quiet drag. Keeping one eye on the mirror for the conductor and waving like a lunatic to disperse the smoke, which I had just learned to competently blow down my nose; so that it looked like I was inhaling like real smokers did.

I watched her run up the stairs and even in – or maybe because of – the small convex mirror; I could see her breasts bouncing like two water balloons inside her school blouse. I sat with my mouth open, nose-smoke-blowing forgotten. That’s how she found me as she got to the top of the stairs.

‘You OK?’ she enquired

‘Hey? Me? Oh yea, I was just …err watching the smoke…err blowing balloons; I mean, smoke rings…you know?

She laughed

‘Have you got a spare fag; I’m gasping’, she gasped dramatically.

‘I’ve only got one left’, I lied; regaining my composure immediately and wondering why she seemed to be looking out through the back window, rather than directly at me.

‘Fuck me!’ she said.

‘I could do that alright!’ I ventured.

‘I’ll do you a deal; you give me a fag and I’ll give you a shag!’

‘Wha...hey?’ I mumbled; bravado in tatters.

‘A shag; fuck...you know, you put your cock in my cunt, groan and grunt – while you try and get your balls in too, cum, pull out, get tongue-tied and embarrassed, lose interest, put your cock away, gimme a fag and fuck off to tell your mates what a slut I am and what a great man you are!’

‘I wouldn’t do that!’ I spluttered.

‘You wouldn’t shag me?’

‘No...Yea; I mean, I wouldn’t tell everyone what a slut you were...I wouldn’t think you were a slut I mean ...and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone...but I wouldn’t anyway!’ I babbled; sounding like a complete tool.

‘Don’t matter anyway! I’d just tell everyone that you had a cock like a midget’s little finger and that you had never done it before!’

It was around this time that two things struck me;
One: she had a terrible squint; her left eye was trying to see what was going on in her right ear-hole
Two: I ...err...had never done it before!

‘Ha-ha,’ I smaned, trying to make it sound convincing.

‘Well, are we on then?’ she demanded, putting her hands on her hips – making her tits stand out even more – while seeming to look over my left shoulder.

‘Yea, I suppose’, trying to look not the least bit bothered while my cock made like a flag pole in my underpants.

‘Shift over...are you going all the way?’ she asked.

‘Why? When do you want me too stop?

‘On the bus, I mean’, she laughed, tut-tut-ting and casting her good eye up in the air; the other one, with the squint just kind of went diagonally, up into the corner.

‘Oh, right...well I live in Camdale Road’.

‘That’s beside the Graveyard isn’t it?’ she enquired.

‘Yea!’

‘Perfect, I’ve done it there before’, she smiled.

I nearly asked, how many times but I was too excited to give a fuck.

-----------------------------------------------

The bus stopped right beside the Cemetery gate. There was a road running all the way through and walkers and drivers alike used it as a short cut to Abbey Wood road.
As we walked in through the gate, she asked me my name;

‘If I’m gonna have your cock up me, I think I should at least know your name, don’t you?’

We exchanged names and I found out that hers was Hetty. I thought it strange and had never heard it before. She told me it had been her Granny’s name and she liked it. I told her that I liked it too. In truth, I didn’t care what she was called, I was going to get my hole for the price of a fag; I was nearly walking on air; albeit on three legs.

‘I know a good spot, over in the trees’; Hetty informed me matter-of-factly.

I tried to comment but my throat had gone dryer than a nun’s crack, I croaked something like; ‘That’s nice!’

Hetty led me off the road way and into a small copse of trees. It was dark – not pitch black or anything – due to the sun not getting through the heavy foliage.

‘Well, this is it!’ she stated.

Hetty put her hands up under her school skirt and whipped off her knickers, faster than a rat going up a drainpipe. I was trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I still hadn’t seen anything because her skirt had fallen down again.

‘I suppose you wanna see these as well; they all do!’ ...and she started unbuttoning her blouse. The ‘all’ was a bit disconcerting.
Her tits were huge; at least I thought they were, with surprisingly small nipples. My cock was that stiff, that you could have hung wet towels on it and watched the steam rise.

‘Come on then, get your cock out, she said. I wanna see what it looks like before you start; I know what it will look like afterwards’, she smaned.

I fumbled round for a minute and had to bend forward to make the necessary room to get my swollen weapon out in the air. I stood there half covering it with my hands and sighing with sudden relief. It started twitching as if it were having a look around the place, while I stood staring at those great tits.

‘Move your mits, I wanna see him’, she said giggling.

I obliged, feeling like a bit of a twat but with excitement outweighing embarrassment..

‘NOT BAD, she declared approvingly, giving my cock her good eye’s full attention. Come on then.’

Without further ado and even less ceremony, Hetty sat down, then lay back, drawing her legs up and grasping a knee with each hand, spread her legs and showed me a piece of heaven, that I had only ever seen in Mark Weaver’s dad’s magazine.

I knew it was going to happen and there was nothing I could do about it; my cock exploded! The shot of spunk from the first spasm must have travelled ten feet distance and I swear that the crows in the upper branches were ducking.
I was like a fireman with too much pressure on his hose. I was jerking around firing cum in every direction, making ‘Ugh, ugh’ sounds, with my teeth stripped and my eyes crossing even worse than Hetty’s.
I eventually ran out of ammunition and toppled forward onto my knees, then all the way onto my forehead; gasping and almost crying with embarrassment and temper.

In the background, I could hear Hetty sobbing and I looked up and blinking, squinted over at her in shame. She was sat up, with her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on her hands squinting back at me and laughing her tits off. As I drew all the way up to my knees and sat there open mouthed, she started into fresh peels of laughter. She started pointing about three yards to my left and I spun around, sure that someone had observed my cum-dancing. There was no-one, it had just been Hetty’s squint putting her aim off line; more laughter!
I was too fucked to care.

‘Come over here, you poor sod’, said Hetty, in between grabbing a lungful of air, when the opportunity arose.

I felt like telling her, that I already had; and there, and there, and there...
‘I can’t ‘, I whimpered.

‘Course you can, don’t be daft!’

‘I can’t, I repeated...My legs won’t work!’

‘Well, your cock certainly works; fucking hell; you could have put out a fire with that lot!’ She laughed, borrowing my analogy.

She got up instead and came to me. She knelt down in front of me and put her arms around my neck. Hetty kissed me and told me that I had, ‘reminded her of Bruce Forsythe on speed!’ She pulled my face down to her tits, grabbed my hand and placed it between her legs...

‘Have a feel of that; it’ll have you right in no time.’ She whispered

She was right! It was wet and warm and when I slipped a finger into the warmth, I was rewarded with a gasp and a little jerk from her.
I was amazed (and we’re talking fucking totally) to feel my cock stir. I thought he was a dead duck until at least Christmas. Lazarus strolling out of the funeral house asking the birds, why he was wearing a sheet and enquiring, what was for tea; didn’t cause as much surprise.
I looked up and opened my mouth to say something but got it filled with Hetty’s tongue, which threw another shot of life into the old one-eyed monster.
In the matter of a few seconds, I felt like Superman, having just had a large chunk of Kryptonite removed from his drawers; I was back in the game!

-----------------------------------------------

After about five minutes of petting, kissing, tit squeezing, tongue swapping, pussy fondling and ball squeezing, I was starting to squirm and in danger of re-spraying the local fauna with a second episode of my ‘Fireman Sam’ act.
Hetty, sensing explosion was imminent, fell back, dragging me with her. She grabbed my cock and guided it to where it needed to be.
I slid into her and discovered what all the fuss was about. This was NOT the same as a soapy hand in the shower and as for a wooly sock in bed.... It was like moving up from a Sunday pub team to the first division.
I wanted to stay here forever. Forever however, lasted about ten seconds, when my second load was deposited deep into Hetty’s tight(ish) moist (swamp-like) pussy.

I flopped forward and lay with my head on her generous tits and would have been quite willing to stay there for at least one eternity. Hetty deemed – and rightly so – that she had kept her part of the bargain and tapping me on the back of the head, stated...

‘I’ll take that fag now, if it’s alright with you.’

‘Oh...yea, sure!’

I got up and tucked my equipment away out of sight. I hunted in my pocket, pulled out the fag packet and opened it. There were four ciggies left. I took one out for myself and handed the packet to Hetty.

‘Wow, all for me?’

‘Yea! That was great, thanks!’ Do you get that bus home every evening from school?’ I asked as casually as I could.

‘Everyday, except Wednesday, when I’ve got hockey practice’, she replied

‘Might see you tomorrow then, if that’s alright?

‘Today is Tuesday, Dippy! I’ll see you Thursday though...if you like...and if you have some fags?

‘Ill get some alright, don’t worry about that’, I promised.

‘OK, it’s a date! She came over to me, kissed me on the cheek.
‘I gotta run, I’m gonna be late...bye!

‘Bye Hetty.’

---------------------------------------------

Hetty Williams, whom I later learned was better known as ‘Raleigh’ among the less grateful in society, was basically a nice girl. She might have been a bit on the plump side of curvy and been in possession of a rather prominent squint but her heart – unlike her left eye – was in the right place.

She had given me ten seconds of heaven that first evening.
There would be several more escapades into the cemetery and by the time Hetty had moved on to other extremely willing premature ejaculating smokers, she had worked me up to almost half a minute.

She gave a lot of enjoyment – not too mention education - to a lot of lads; often for less than a couple of drags of a ‘Number 6’.
I often think, that when she looks back now, she must feel like one of them birds that sold a painting for a fiver, only too see it turn up on the ‘Antiques Road Show’ years later, with an estimated value of a million quid.

I always thought she was worth a million and if I ever see her again, I’ll tell her.