AMATEUR XXX STORIES

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ALPHABETICAL SEX STORY LISTINGS:

A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - I - J - K - L - M - N - O - P - Q - R - S - T - U - V - W - X - Y - Z

IOU 1 hurt she was Her friends knew



WARNING: This story includes sexually explicit material.



Please note any unfamiliar spellings and phrases may be due to the

fact I am English, not American.

I would like to thank Morgan for all his help

Any and all comments, including constructive criticisms, would be

most appreciated. Please send to artemis55@hotmail.com

This work is copyrighted by the author. You may download and keep

one copy for your personal use as long as my byline and e-mail

address and this paragraph remain on the copy. Any posting or

reposting on a website or to a newsgroup requires my permission

first (but I'll probably say yes). This story should not, under any

circumstances be used to make a profit by anyone other than the author

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This story is set in the north-east of England so I thought I would

provide a few notes on the background geography I mention.

M5, M6, M1 & A1 :- These are major motorways (or Interstates I've been

told Americans call them) linking south-west England with the

north-east. I spent most of September driving up and down them and

that's when I came up with this story.

Metro Centre :- A large shopping centre south of Newcastle near the A1.

When it was built about ten years ago it was the largest in Europe.

Someone calculated that if you just walked along every hallway without

going into a single shop it would take over two and a half hours.

Quayside :- Part of the city of Newcastle near the river where most of

the pubs and clubs are.

Teeside Park :- Specially built leisure park just outside

Stockton-on-Tees. There's a 12 screen cinema, bowling alley, bar,

bingo, fast food places, gym etc...

W.H.Smiths :- A chain of shops selling newspapers, magazines, books,

music, cards, pens etc. Some shops have started an honesty box scheme.

If you are in a hurry instead of having to queue at the till to pay for

your newspaper you just put the correct amount in the box provided.

Also Ulrika Johnston is a well known tv personality in this country who

was first noticed when she was a weather-girl. Kate Adie is a respected

newsreporter for the BBC

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REPOST NOTE: I started writing this after 'Back to Reality'. The

trouble was that life was being a bit of a nightmare. For six

weeks I spent every weekend driving the length and breadth of England.

I scribbled bits of this as I sat in traffic jams on motorways for

hours, with my husband snoring besides me. Not the best creative

enviroment. Then I got 'flu and my writing got worse as I felt rougher.

By the time I finished writing this I hated it and just wanted to see

the back of it, so I didn't go back and rework the middle as I orginally intended. I was surprised how many people liked this. One day when I have some spare time I may rewrite it.

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I.O.U.

Chapter 1

There's nothing quite like the familiar feeling you get when you're

travelling home. Ellie always found it easy to tell when she was

nearing home. The roads became narrower, the weather colder and the

countryside wilder. After three years in the south she had become

accustomed to a gentler way of living. No one hurried or rushed to do

anything; they strolled along speaking slowly in their soft drawled

accents. The countryside consisted of curved rolling hills covered

with neat multicoloured square fields that gave it the appearance of a

partly downloaded picture. The roads were wide and spacious, the M5

and M6 three lanes wide and cutting as smoothly through the countryside

as a hot spoon through ice cream. Maybe it was the warmer weather,

which was evidenced by the plentiful palm trees and vineyards, which

made it seem almost like a different country, definitely a different

culture.

The further north she drove the more the changes became obvious. The

countryside became more vertical and unyielding. The fields were no

longer neat squares but haphazard shapes forced to fit the lie of the

land. The brooding outline of the Pennines and the bleakness of the

moors crowded along the horizon. The A1 was squeezed for the majority

of the way into two cramped lanes and compelled to twist and turn to

the dictates of the land.

When she stopped for petrol, people were speaking in the familiar

hurried accents of the north, clipping their words and talking on top

of each other, urgently waving their hands to emphasise their point.

The air was colder and fresher, with a sharp edge to it. She took a

deep breath and felt it burn down into her lungs. She was close to

home. She felt the tingle of excitement that can only be caused by

returning to the place you grew up.

She began to recognise the names on the signs and soon she was driving

down roads that she knew so well she could predict every curve and dip.

She swung round the last roundabout and through the double bends to see

the familiar view of her town.

Middleton was a mixed hodgepodge of houses huddled on a hilltop, like a

group of school kids watching a fight, with the half built housing

estate and the industrial park the new kids hovering on the edges.

Unfortunately the victim in the centre was the railway, once the

lifeblood of the local economy until it had been beaten down by

government cuts and recessions, eventually dying out altogether nearly

twenty years ago. The old engine sheds, tattered reminders of the

past, were now home to various small businesses, which struggled

valiantly to succeed. In some ways they had been fortunate since the

railways had been the first of the north's industries to die. By the

time the shipyards and coal mines had also been closed Middleton had

already started to revive with the help of numerous grants and aid

schemes. Ellie could hardly remember the day the engine sheds closed

although there was an annual fete to remind everyone.

She followed the familiar route through the streets, noting small

changes along the way, and pulled into the driveway of her parent's

house. Before she had even had chance to put on the handbrake, her

door was yanked open and her two best friends were pulling her out of

the car. She was smothered by a big hug from them both and knew she

was definitely home.

"Do you know how long we've been waiting for you?" asked Beth, a big

grin on her face. "Lizzy here insisted we would be late so we've been

sitting in her car for the past hour. With only one tape to listen to.

And do you know what that was?"

"Abba!" laughed Ellie.

"Exactly. I thought I was going to go insane."

"You just don't have any musical appreciation," Lizzy said, trying to

sound indignant. "Abba are one of the pioneers of modern pop music

and..."

"Oh no, I don't believe you're still saying that. Three years at

Cambridge and you haven't changed at all."

"Yes I have. I've got a degree. So now I'm officially a computer geek

with the qualification to prove it. Anyway you can't talk. You've

hardly changed, either."

"I'm an inch taller and I am now qualified to use the English language

and watch TV."

"And it took three years for you two to prove you could do that. I

don't know, kids today. They've never had it so good," laughed Beth,

rolling her eyes.

"Be quiet grandma and help me get unpacked. You wouldn't believe how

much junk I've managed to pick up in the last three years. Hey why

were you lot sitting in the car? Surely you weren't too scared to

spend an hour with my parents." For the first time since she had

arrived her friends stopped grinning.

"Um, they're not here Ellie," Lizzy said.

"They went off on a cruise, up the Nile I think," Beth added.

"Oh. It's a good job I've got a key then, isn't it." Ellie smiled

brightly, trying not to show how hurt she was. Her friends knew her

too well to be fooled but they also knew better than to offer sympathy.

"Fish it out then and lets get on. We've got plans," Beth said,

smiling again. "We have to celebrate the three of us being back

together."

"So what's the plan?"

"We thought we'd wait until tomorrow to go into Newcastle and see how

many of the old gang you remember. Tonight we're going to dump your

clutter, whip round to Lizzy's to pick up a specially prepared take out

with all our favourites, then we're going to all crash at my place,

just like we used to."

"You mean sloppy videos, popcorn, chocolate and gossip all night."

"You bet!"

"Well what are we waiting for. Grab a box."

* * *

Some hours later Ellie was drowsily sprawled on Beth's bedroom floor

thinking once again how lucky she was to have two such good friends.

From the first day of school when they had discovered they all had the

same name they had been fast friends. She dreaded to think how lonely

she would have been otherwise. She had been an unwelcome surprise to

her parents, who had presumed that when her mother entered the

menopause they no longer needed contraception. They had taken care of

her physical needs generously but had seen no reason to alter their

retirement plans. All of Ellie's happiest times had been spent either

in Beth's cluttered council house, fighting and playing with her four

brothers, or in Lizzy's flat, helping to prepare food for the take

away.

Both Beth and Lizzy had to work the next morning so Carl, Beth's

younger brother gave Ellie a lift back to her empty house. Dreading

the sterile silence, especially after the chaotic noisiness of Beth's

house, Ellie made him come in and have a cup of tea. He had grown

since she had last seen him and started to fill out.

"How tall are you now Carl? You're taller than me so you must be

somewhere around six foot."

"Six one last time I was measured. I've been taller than Beth for

about two years, and of course I've been taller than Lizzy since I was

about fourteen, but I've been looking forward to being able to look

down on you. Thought I'd never get there."

"Well don't get too cocky. I can still remember helping to bathe you."

"Do you? Well anytime you want to refresh your memories you're welcome

to scrub my back." Ellie laughed at him, slightly surprised to realise

he was flirting with her.

"Do you remember when we used to baby-sit you?" she asked.

"Of course. Talk about child labour, you three used to make me wait on

you hand and foot."

"That's not how I remember it. We used to have to bribe you to do the

slightest little thing. Some of the things you asked for were

ridiculous and you always wanted them in writing. Do you remember when

you wanted me to teach you how to do handstands and you ended up

putting your foot through the window?."

"How could I forget? Mum was furious and because you took the blame

you made me run around after you all for the rest of the week."

"So you did. You made a pretty good slave once we trained you."

"Thank you, I think." He hesitated for a moment, turning slightly

pink. "I don't suppose you remember this bribe do you?" He handed her

a tattered square of paper. On the front in faded red crayon were

printed the letters IOU.

Memories came flooding back. They had been sitting around one

evening, experimenting with make-up and talking about boys as usual.

They were having an intense discussion about how to tell when to have

sex while they painted their nails. Carl had been helping out with

cotton wool and getting drinks. As serious as only as only a

twelve-year-old can be he had announced that he didn't think he would

ever have sex. Trying not to laugh at him they had discovered that he

had tried to kiss a girl and she had pushed him away. It had been

enough to convince him that he would never have a girlfriend. As

seriously as they could they had assured him that they would never let

that happen. Ellie clearly remembered personally guaranteeing that he

would have sex by the time he was eighteen, and him solemnly replying:

'Can I have that in writing'

Opening the square of paper she saw her own teenage writing, with all

the unnecessary loops and curls she had thought looked so grown up: 'I

promise that if Carl Robinson hasn't had sex by the time he is eighteen

I will go to bed with him. Signed Elizabeth Hawkins.'

Copyright 1998 Vickie Morgan

E-mail artemis55@hotmail.com