chipper

Virginity was just an accident waiting to unhappen, but never did. Down the street the two sisters circled, lazily messing on their bikes, scooting from the road up onto the pavement round the phone box at the huts and back down to the privet hedge. The sun began to soften the tar on the pavement outside Summy’s house and it was too hot to even think about playing a game of heidy-kicks. We’d first spotted them, a few days before, sneaking looks at us from upstairs, the four-in-a-block house, whose door looked onto the slope of the dump behind the huts. Cammy stole an Embassy mild from his mum’s packet. Jim was on twos-up. Summy was on thirds. They sat bum to bum on the jutting stone ledge, a natural seat that the other wooden huts lacked, with their backs against the white concrete panels of the garage. A pall of smoke followed the fag along, sucking the life out of it, until Summy was shaking his fag hand to show he was corking it, burning his fingers and saying ‘Oh, Oh, Oh,’ to show he was also burning his mouth and making us laugh. I stood a few feet from them kicked a stone down the slope and eyed it gaining speed and bouncing off the tussocks of long grass near the den we’d built.

Our den at the bottom of the slope had a corrugated iron roof. The buckled wire fence that ran beneath the sycamore of the back garden also ran parallel to the other wall, a battered panelled door lying sideway, and was the only part of our den guaranteed not to fall down. Flaps of carpet held in place by common brick cornered our doors. If we could get Wendy The Wanking Machine, or Wilma inside and away from the older men they had a tendency to like, they would jerk us off, skiing, two at a time, but it wasn’t always easy. If Wendy was feeling especially charitable her blue Bay City Roller jumper with two thin white bars and yellowing bra cups would be squidged up over the rough pebbles of her breasts and her denims hastily unzipped and pant pulled down so we could poke her. It was pick and mix and sometimes if there were too many boys, all we’d get was a blind grope, a hand, or head pushed roughly away and then the shop was shut. Her brother Rab, however, had half the odds and ends we got. He’d need to get a wank from Wilma, or Wullie as we called her, who had bigger tits than Wendy and was perhaps the better fighter.

That day I’d seen the elder of the two girls squinting down at us through the shade of long dark hair then quickly looking away. The younger girl had a slightly longer chin than what I took to be her sister, but wore the same quaint patterned dress with little red bud flowers as if they’d come from Laura Ingall land. She leaned over the wall and looked at us as if for what seemed the longest time as if she was short-sighted, or a bit daft. ‘What you doin’?’ She giggled. Her hand swept up and through her hair, which was cut at the neck and shorter than her sisters.

‘Nothin’!’ Summy stood up, his neck craning sideways as if to get a better look at them. ‘Whit you doin’?’

Cammy and Jim scrambled to their feet. I took a step and then another, crabwise, and stood behind them.

‘Nothin.’ The older girls spoke, looking at her younger sister for encouragement. ‘We’re staying with our auntie.’ Her voice was as hesitant as an orange-tip butterfly.

‘Long for?’ Summy chuckled.

He was good at talking to girls and didn’t seem to care that they hated him.

‘Dunno.’ The older girl reached out and brushed her hand up and down her sister’s shoulder and kept it protectively there.

‘Want me to show you something nice?’ Summy bared his best green-tinged rictus smile, but nobody was looking at his face. A semi-boner poked out of his blue patterned Ranger’s shorts.

Jim smirked at the girls. Cammy shook his head and grinned at me in disbelief. We understood each other too well. We talked about it all the time, with such longing that it seemed there were no spaces in our brains left to think about anything else. Almost anything could give us a hard-on, from the nicely crocheted sheets that covered piano legs in Victorian times to shinnying up a goal post. Super-glue was patented from between the sheets of scud magazines that periodically found its way to the dump and then to our den, but we didn’t believe Summy would flash his cock at someone we’d never met.

The older girl pinched her lips together; her face dark tanned as a Mediterranean. ‘No thanks.’ Her neck moved lazily from side to side and she smiled with perfect Playboy teeth.

‘I do.’ The younger girl’s laugh bubbled up from her throat, too big for her thin shoulders, bent her over and hung in the air.

‘Kiera!’ The older sister laughed too and swatted her gently on the back of the head.

We grinned up at them and at each other like fools, even as they scrambled away through the door and into the darkness of their aunt’s house.

‘Did you see the tits on that one?’ Jim shook his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t even think she was wearing a bra.’

‘Aye,’ I said. ‘The nipples nearly poked me right in the eye.’

‘If I had tits I’d spent the rest of my life sucking them till there was nothing left.’ Summy kicked the fag doubt away. ‘Then I’d start again.’

‘Shut it.’ Cammy laughed along with the rest of us. He pushed Summy who snaggle- footed stumbled against me.

‘Fuck off.’ I pushed Summy away and back towards Cammy and we walked up the hill together our sunburnt backs peeling in the sun.

The girl’s bikes were Chippers, with the same system of gears and the big thick wheel at the back and the wee wheel at the front. Chippers were like Choppers only cheaper and smaller. I went to get my bike the black boneshaker which had been left in our back garden. I wheeled it round to the front and met Summy, with his Chopper. He’d got a new bike cause his Da was rich and worked for the Shah. Cammy and Jim had to share a racing bike with thin wheels and ram’s horn-type handlebars. The boneshaker because of its weight was the fastest bike going downhill, but the brakes didn’t work so I had to scuff my sannies to stop it going too fast as we cycled down to the huts. We played mad chases on our bikes nipping in and out of the girl’s path until we clipped each other’s wheels. Panting for breath our bikes were flung in a careless heap on the grass of the triangle, across from the huts.
Kiera, the younger of the girls was more daring and seemed not to care if she crashed into us or not and we learned from her that the older girl was called Julie. Both of them sat about two-feet away from us, foreheads shiny with sweat, shoulders touching. They dressed more like twins than sisters and wore the same outfit of matching blue shorts with a tan frilly blouses, buttoned with outsized white buttons almost to the neck, with short cap sleeves.

Kiera held a buttercup under Julie’s chin. The older girl’s long neck stretched as she lifted her chin and her tits poked out at the same time as Kiera said ‘you like butter?’ We watched transfixed by the flickering gold haze. ‘You like butter! Kiera’s voice jumped up a notch as she concluded her sister did.

Kiera slid and crawled over her sister’s coltish legs. I was sitting nearest and she pulled at my arm to help her along and support herself, the girlish smell of her making me conscious of how much sweating I’d done, and how I stunk. She held up the buttercup and I moved my head to the side so that she could put it underneath my chin. ‘You like butter?’ Her light-green eyes had yellow flecks and she seemed to know what I was thinking. My face bloomed redder than Stalinist Russia. As she crawled closer she bit at her bottom lip and her expression seemed to say don’t worry I won’t hurt you. ‘You like butter!’ her eyes moving and gold flecks flickering onto Cammy and then Jim, picking out her next victim.
We got on our bikes and the girls followed us. The boneshaker was unstoppable going downhill, I burst through the open gates of St Stephen’s, my primary school and out into the playground. I’d be moving to secondary after the summer holidays. It was Jim’s turn to give Cammy a backy on the racer, they came through the gates next. Summy followed behind the girls. We circled the playground and round by the gravel pitch. That’s where we split. Summy went towards the main office building and circled through the gaps between the jerry-built huts. The girls cycled behind us. Then I took the boneshaker right and Jim took the racer left and swooped in behind them. Summy kept straight on standing up on his pedals to get through the long grass between the huts and fenced off railway with a screen of gorse tendrils pushing through it

The girls jerked their bikes sideways to cycle away, but we were too quick. I pulled the younger of the two girls from her bike. Jim helped me hold her. She struggled at first, but became limp, as we bundled her to the ground. Cammy and Summy pulled the older sister to the ground. We watched each other to see who would do what next. Summy unbuttoned Julie’s shirt and put his hand up under her bra, pulling out cotton wool. The younger girls squirmed and tried to snake away, but Jim and me pulled at her arms. Kiera bit on her lip as she scrutinised me unbuttoning her trousers and lifted her bum so we could tug her pants down. I stroked at her fanny and worked a finger up until it was sticky. Jim kneeled over her and he poked her too. She was what we called a baldy-chicken, with no hair down there. Jim pulled down his shorts, he’d a hard-on and started whacking off.
I’d a boner too.

‘I’ll ride her fist.’ Jim looked at me. ‘Hold her legs.’

I peered through the haze of grass at Summy who had found enough tit to suck on and was making strangulated noises. Cammy was sitting beside her, his hand bulging in Julie’s pants as if he was searching for toffees.

Kiera looked as if she was about to cry. ‘Nah,’ I said, ‘we better not.’