A/N: The area this story takes place in is fictional. This work is fiction and hasn't ocurred in real life. Any resemblances to other stories are purely coincidental. ~ I still sort of remember the feeling of being new to the school. Fresh from London and supposed to attend some boarding school in York. So what if my father comes from York? I don't care. Anyway – this took place in 2006, and I was sixteen. I'm turning eighteen in three weeks as of me writing this. My name is James William Blackburn. Guess how many people has teased me about my name being James Bond when they knew my initials? That's right, too many. Now I shouldn't get you all bored with this droning talk, and get on with the story. As I wrote earlier, I was sent to this boarding school in York, being forced to move from London. Hate that place, but I still felt a tad bit down as I got in the car that was going to drive me there. My possessions were – as appropriate – sent by train together with my father's valet. Yeah – I know my father's a bit old-fashioned, but hey – I don't blame him. Our family's been brainwashed about that for... Quite many years now. A couple of centuries or so, eh? I don't really care that much – sure, we're like, richer than... Let's see – just about most people in London – and while I'm no Daniel Radcliffe by far, becoming rich by wearing a pair of glasses and waving a pointy stick in the air, I'm not poor either. I have a hard time staying on track, haven't I? Where was I? Yeah, I arrived in York about two weeks before school began, so that I could explore the town for a bit. Father's valet, Bertram, was supposed to stay there until school began, and apparently he had been strictly ordered by my mother not to let me go anywhere that might put me in bad company, and I was by no means allowed to see any girls. This might seem strange – a valet supposed to be in charge of his employer's son, but my father isn't really as he's supposed to be, and my mother? We'll, she's busy seeing to it that my father doesn't get any stupid ideas. They're both a bit eccentric, but hey – I won't blame them, so were my grandparents. After just a couple of days, I got tired of having Bertram following me everywhere I went, so I decided just to stay indoors until I could figure out some way to 'give him the slip'. Then one morning – like 9 A.M, or something, he went out to get something from some nearby store. I got up, got dressed and left a note saying that I had gone for a stroll. I also 'forgot' to bring my cell. How convenient, aye? At first I just roamed around, checking the stores and seeing if I could find myself a new t-shirt, and I found one with a cartoon James Bond and the text ”Shaken, not stirred”, below. I paid for it and when I was about to leave, I saw this hot blonde girl in a tight shirt and a skirt barely reaching below her buttocks. Isn't that interesting? She was rather short – I estimated her height to be around 5'5” or so, and slenderly built, which wasn't very much compared to my 6'2” and fairly large body. I was a boxer, after all. Despite my supposedly 'good manners', I couldn't help but to follow her with my eyes as she walked around, looking for something to buy. Now, as a sidenote, they had sent me the class photos for all the classes, and the school ranged from age 13 to age 18. The evening before, I had studied the photos, and I was quite sure that this beauty was one of the hotties I had seen on the pictures. Chuckling softly to myself, I approached her casually. “What-ho...Abby?” I said, imitating Hugh Laurie as Bertie Wooster. “Um, who are you?” she asked, turning to face me. “And how do you know my name?” I gave her a quick smile. “My name's Bond. James Bond,” I said, this time imitating no one else than Sean Connery. Then, in a lighter, more humourous tone, I added; “Almost, anyway. James Blackburn. I believe we're going to be in the same class for the next three years.” “Oh, you're the new guy that Mr. Payard told us about before last half ended, aren't you?” Abby asked. “No idea. Never met the guy, and I haven't developed psychic features yet. People in my family don't get it until they hit at least sixty-five, and by then they're too demented to remember why they're bending over to grab what they dropped.” That more or less broke the wall between us, and she started laughing. “So,” she asked, “What are you going to do today?” “No idea. Usually I have a valet watching me all the time, so I haven't had any time to myself. I guess I'll just stroll around for a bit before I return to the hotel for tea. Isn't very much to do when you've got a fifty-eight years old hanging around you.” “Guess you're right. Couldn't we go get something to drink? I'm thirsting to death.” “Sure. You lead the way,” I told her. A while later, we sat in a caf?She drank some normal Coke while I had Pepsi, and being the gentleman that I supposedly am, I paid for all of it. We talked about music and school, mostly, but after a while she asked about me moving away from London. “Moving... Yeah, right. I was sent here without any say in it, just because my father wants me to attend his old school. Stupid tradition if you ask me,” I said. She asked me about my friends in London, and we soon stumbled upon if I had any girlfriend. I explained that I had broken up with my ex-girlfriend shortly after learning about me moving to York. “And since then I've been on my own. Sure – there's been one or two kisses, but nothing real. And now I'm here,” I said. “Yep. Now you're here,” Abby replied. “How about you? You got a boyfriend?” “Are you trying to bed me this soon? We've only just met each other,” she said, twinkle in her eye. Apparently Abby wasn't an innocent angel, despite the cute face, small nose and mouth. “Why not? You'd like it, I'd like it,” I answered with a short smile. “Oh, yes? You seem quite sure.” “Someone has to do that, eh?” “So... You care to prove it?” her voice was a whisper now. I chuckled softly. “What have you got in mind, Abby?” I asked. “Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said, winking. “Let's go to my place and continue this conversation, shall we?” I nodded. I hadn't even known Abby for three hours yet, and she already wanted me to sleep with her? York wasn't as bad as I'd thought. Her place was quite big – a two-story house in white and pale yellow, with red roof. There was a garage, but no cars, so I suspected that her parents were at work. I was right. “Mum and dad are working, and my brother's sleeping at a friend's, so the house is all empty for at least six hours,” Abby grinned. “I believe that would be enough time, yes.” I took off my blazer and my shoes, following her to their living room, where she seated herself in the couch, motioning for me to join her. “What was that about me trying to bed you already?” I asked, chuckling as she snuggled up closer to me. “I don't know. You're the one wanting to bed me, not the other way around,” Abby replied, grinning. I gently began massaging her neck and shoulders as she stretched out on the couch, her back resting on my chest. Occasionally, I added a light kiss to the side of her neck that made a light gasp escape her lips. This was probably turning me on nearly as much as it turned Abby on. I was just about to slip a hand into her shirt when her phone rang, and she had to get up, and I could clearly hear what she was saying from the hallway. “It's Abby. Hi mum... A business trip? Where to? Yeah, I'll stay at Linda's or something.” When Abby got back into the living room, she was smiling. “My parents have been sent on a business trip, so they won't be home until Monday, and my brother's staying at his friend's until Sunday, so I'll have the house for myself. Say – wouldn't you want to keep me company for tonight?” “That doesn't sound too bad, does it?” I chuckled. “I'll drop by the hotel and pick up some stuff later.” “Now, where were we?” Abby asked, getting up in the couch again, laying her head in my lap. I began stroking her hair, hoping that she wouldn't feel my hard-on too much. Not too surprisingly, she did, and that made her grin again. She was pretty when she grinned, I'll have to admit. “I say,” she said, getting up in a sitting position so that she could face me. “I think someone fancies me.” “Why, yes, I do, Abby.” Abby snuggled close to me again, kissing me gently, to which I responded by catching her tongue in my mouth, toying with it with my own. My arms wandered around her waist as we separated to breathe. We kissed again as I let one hand slide down to her buttocks, which I gave a light pinch before sliding them up her front, pausing just below her right breast. They were rather large for someone her size, but not large compared to most women. Carefully I placed a hand on her breast as I kissed down the pale skin of her neck, waiting for her approval before continuing. I was a gentleman after all. She moaned into my mouth, which I took as a sign that she wanted me to continue – something that I gladly did. I fondled her breast through her shirt and bra for a while, before she gently leaned forward, saying in a low voice: “How about my room?” She rose and I followed her up the stairs. In the hallway outside her room, there were a couple of expensive paintings, and a copy of Mona Lisa. Seemingly, Abby's parents were much like his own mother – art-lovers. She gently pushed me down onto her bed before proceeding to striptease in front of me. Soon she stood in only black lace panties and a black lace bra, both with purple borders. I was still sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her lovely body. She was, as I've mentioned, slender, and she didn't seem to weigh much as she seated herself in my lap, her buttocks rubbing my boner through my trousers. I easily unclasped her bra, letting her perky breasts flow freely. Her nipples were pink, and looked very inviting. I teased her, kissing around her nipples and sometimes gave one of them a deft lick, causing her to shudder with pleasure and anticipation. My balls felt like they were about to burst, but I didn't want to hasten anything, so after I had kissed up and down her belly twice, I pulled her panties down, revealing her 'treasure'. My kisses continued, but I avoided the areas that gave her the most pleasure, such as her clit. She grew increasingly frustrated with each passing minute, so when I thrust my tongue straight into her, she almost came at once. Instead, I focused on her clitoris, and I soon had her moaning rather... Loud? When I finally allowed her to come, I almost thought that she had fainted, but now I desperately needed to release the pressure in my balls. “Abby?” I said. “I think you owe me one.” “Mhm,” she agreed. “Definately.” I got undressed properly – socks first, the shirt, then trousers, and at last my boxers. Now, saying that I'm small is to be a liar, and as your mothers have told you, lying is bad. I adjusted my position on her bed as she took her place with her mouth in between my legs. She expertly ran her tongue up and down my shaft and took it in her mouth. The sight and feeling of her going down on me was too much, and I came in her mouth. Surprisingly, she swallowed it all. I had a feeling that this wouldn't be a bad weekend.
