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The past two weeks had simply flown-by . . . recovering from two bank-holidays and trying to keep pace with all the late appointments at work. Both D and S had called several mornings each whilst I was on the bus into the office (one immediately after the other on one of the mornings!!). Although the timing was difficult, I’d agreed to meet with S on Wednesday as he was coming into the West End for a meeting. D has also asked if I could “pop round for a meal”, and he sounded not only disappointed but also a little sulky when I told him I couldn’t get away from another late meeting at work.

I’d agreed to meet S at a bar not far from the office and after a quick drink we decided to eat there rather than our usual in Hampstead. S was clearly not his usual happy-self and I assumed it was because his meeting had gone badly. I had to almost squeeze out of him that things weren’t happy at home. Over the years I’ve known him he’s always seemed to be quite accepting of the, (for me), unnatural coldness of his relationship with his wife. Usually shrugging his shoulders and making jokes about things, but now he was telling me he was finder it harder and harder to keep his patience and put-up with things.

We talked all through the meal and I did my best to cheer him up and try and point-out that all our relationships go through times of argument and frustration and that, actually, I could understand some of the views of “the other side”. Even trying to change the subject to the children didn’t seem to help much, with him saying things like he’d always intended to leave as soon as the children were of the age they were at now. I smacked his hand and told him to stop being so silly and stupid . . . it had lasted this long, things would soon return to normal. “Just give each other some space”.

As we walked to the Underground, I squeezed his arm (J reminded me afterwards that we were really close to my office and I was walking along the street arm-in-arm with ‘another man’!!!). The tube was quite crowded for the first few stops and we had to sit opposite one another, I caught his eye and winked at him and sitting pertly in my seat with my hands on my knees I teasingly nudged my legs just a fraction open and then tightly clasped them closed again. Not wide! And only for a fleeting second! And only when I was sure it was just him looking over at me. I rolled my eyes and then twitched my legs again. He frowned at me with his eyebrows a couple of times . . . but I could tell he was grinning inside really. The carriage emptied when we stopped at Kings Cross and I moved across to sit next to him, squeezing his hand and whispering in his ear “cheer up” . . . and flicking my tongue there just to emphasize my words. I chatted non-stop about my latest assignment as we walked to his car from the station and for the short journey to the hotel. And once we were inside our room I was determined to make him think about nothing else but . . . me!!!

As I undressed and ran the shower he remembered we hadn’t got any wine. “Room service then please!” I tutted at him as I stood at the bathroom door holding one hand up on the door frame and the other on my hip, and then turning round to wiggle my bottom at him before I pulled back the shower curtain.

He joined me a few minutes later. I got out and stood by the side of the bath, with my towel wrapped around me, insisting that he needed his back soaped . . . and then telling him “bottom as well please, open your legs!” I could tell as I reached between them and soaped under and round and forwards . . . and upwards . . . that he wasn’t thinking about ‘home’ now.

We giggled and pulled and pushed our way to the bed, laughing and wrestling each other as I tried to push him off me and push him onto his back. Then . . . there was a loud knock on the door . . . we’d forgotten about Room Service. S grabbed my towel to wrap it around his waist to answer the door. I jumped off the bed to stand back against the wall, round the corner and out of view from the door. We both burst-out laughing after he closed the door and carried the tray with the bottle and glasses to the table. I pulled the towel off him as he poured and said “I hope you hid your bump when you were taking the tray from him” . . . more laughter as we climbed back onto the bed with our glasses.

S pulled the pillows up against the wall so that we could sit back and sip at our wine, him caressing my tummy with his free hand and me stroking his willy with mine. He leant forward to release a dribble of wine from his mouth onto my nipple. I knew it was coming but the sensation still made me jump . . . but I eagerly twisted to offer my other breast to his next sip. We took it in turns to sip from our glass and turn to share our mouthful with a wet and releasing kiss. “Mmm, empty” I said holding my, now, empty glass out towards him. He filled me up and said “don’t give me any more, I’ve got to drive home”. I giggled and let him turn away to put the bottle down on his bedside table. I took another large sip and as he turned back to me I handed my glass to him and then slid down his tummy to swallow his willy into my mouth, swilling the wine over him and sucking him up and down as I swallowed. He was gasping and shuddering. I licked at him and then down to gently suck-up the bubbles of the wine from his balls. He gasped louder when I lifted up and reached for my glass again, “more please”.

We played like this until another glass had been drained. I was giggling (and tipsy) and dribbling splashes over his chest and tummy and licking them up again. And then sucking him into me, releasing a little burst of the wine, before swallowing again and lifting away to let him plop out of my mouth, before holding his balls in my hand and licking at them with quick laps, trying to stop him squirming from side to side as I told him “let me . . . waste not want not!”.

I knew I was tipsy already, but also really, really worked up . . . and it was obvious that he was as well. I rolled away and sat-up to pull him down the bed by his legs. “What are you doing?” he asked as he tried to resist at first. “What do think I’m doing” I said to him as I lifted upwards and sat down on him “I’m fucking you, that’s what”. We were both rocking up and down at each other and I was trying to exaggerate my thrusts by twisting and pushing forwards and downwards against him as he pushed up. He was holding my waist, I was pushing down on his chest. We were both groaning and gasping in time with our thrusts. He told me he wanted me to sit on his face, but I said “I don’t want” and tried bouncing on him harder. But then I heard that change in his tone when he gasped out “you have to come off now”. I lifted off and then slid my tummy down on him. He hugged his arms around my back, pulling me down against him, I could tell from his grunti ng that he was coming . . . before I felt it squelching between us.

I couldn’t stop giggling for a few moments, wrestling against him as he was squeezing me tightly and not letting go. Eventually he released his grip and we rolled over onto our sides, snuggling up against one another, exchanging whispers and kisses.

We dozed for a while . . . I stirred first, we were cuddled together with his leg nestled warmly between mine . . . he opened his eyes when I kissed him gently on the nose. We lay in the same position grinning at each other and then exchanging tonguing kisses. He began rubbing his leg slowly, I gripped it tighter. He slid his free hand down over my nipple and I felt myself responding by pushing back against the palm of his hand . . . and rubbing my pussy back harder against the movements of his leg. Our kisses parted as we paused for breath and I rolled back more onto my back. As our legs came apart with my rolling backwards he slid his hand straight down over my tummy to my lips. I was moaning quite loudly now as he adjusted himself to slide down and start flicking his tongue from one nipple to the other. I felt myself spreading my legs open, encouraging his fingers without having to ask. He was sucking at my nipples now and I was lifting myself slightly from side to side, e mphasizing when one had had enough for a moment and that the other now needed his attention. His fingers were just lovely, stroking and sliding . . . I lifted his hand up to my mouth to suck at his finger tips and taste myself, before pushing his hand back down . . . and gasping with the delight of the sensation of feeling them pushing in again.

He sat up to then slide down the bed on his stomach. I lifted my leg up over his shoulder to let his tongue slide over me and start flicking, and then sucking, at me above his fingers. I had to clasp the palms of my hands over my breasts to replace the pressure that had disappeared from the departure of his mouth. I knew I was writhing and twisting from side to side in time with the rhythm of his fingers and his tongue and mouth. He sat up and then turned me over onto my tummy. I tried to protest . . . “I don’t want, I liked just what you were doing”, but it happened so quickly I was already on my tummy . . . and then I felt his tongue!!!

I knew I was making a lot of noise. I reached up to pull the pillow down under my chin, biting my mouth into the pillow to muffle my moans. I could still feel his fingers under me, I was pushing myself down onto his hand, pushing and pumping it into the bed as his other hand was pulling at my cheeks . . . and that tongue was sliding and twirling and swirling!!!

My convulsions were so quick and sudden that my legs accidentally lashed out and pushed him away. I knew I’d kicked his tummy and thighs as I pulled myself up into my ‘recovery ball’ (as J calls it), but I couldn’t apologise . . . I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak, or put the words together. He knows what I’m like when I get like that though, and I felt him laying down behind me and cuddling into me . . . but without putting his arms around me just yet . . . he knows about that too.

The warmth and smoothness of his stomach against my back was disturbed after what seemed like just a few minutes though by the sound of my alarm beeping. He sat up and found my phone on the bedside table to pause it for me, I was swearing and asking him to check the time “it can’t be that time already!”. He cuddled back into me, I allowed his arms around me now, and he told me it really was. We lay for another two pauses on the alarm though, neither of us wanting to move, but knowing we had to . . .

On the journey home he was chatting about the Saturday that I’d called him round when J had had to go off to work. “Is he working this Saturday” he asked. I laughed and told him I didn’t think so. He reminded me how we used to have an occasional ‘duvet day’ and hadn’t done one for such a long time. I told him I’d look at the diary and see what I could do. Our kisses goodnight were lovely and quite passionate again . . . until I realised he’d stopped almost right outside our house and not round the corner as he was supposed to!!!

J was stretched out on the sofa when I came in, laying flat on his back. I giggled at his nakedness “how long have you been like that?” I asked him. He sat up to help me off with my dress, “probably around the same time you were” he teased.

Best wishes – Edith