Foreplay

We went on a date the day before. Kissed on a quaint stone bridge in the middle of the quaint little town where I was staying at the time. A shirtless man, lounging on the bank of the river below, saw us kiss. He whistled lewdly, which made her blush, pull her knit cap over her face for a moment, giggle. Then she gripped the front of my shirt and asked if we could go somewhere more private.

We walked to a park and kissed for another half hour, lips numb and tingling. She was shorter than me and would push up on her tiptoes as far as she could in order to reach me.

I was working as an actor in a haunted house at the time, and so after half an hour I had to leave. It was an evening shift, which began in daylight and stretched way out into pitch-black night. By the time I had finished, exhausted, she had messaged me. Her housemates would be out tomorrow morning, she said. Would I come around? As soon as I got up?

When she met me outside her flat she wore loose cotton pyjama bottoms and a baggy jumper. It was an outfit which wasn’t overtly sexual at all, but which was loose and thin. When she went up on tiptoes to kiss me I could feel her breasts and her warm soft body through it. I could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She had chosen clothes, I realised, that were easy to remove.

She had also tidied her room. Shut the cat in the kitchen. Made her bed and put on some music and left the door to the bedroom ajar. All these little preparations were, in the moment, as exciting to me as flesh, as touch.

We kissed on her bed, both of us kneeling. “It’s been a while,” she said, “since I did this. So… you know… I might not be any good.” Another nervous giggle, like a hiccup.

She had shaved every part of her body, and she was soft and incredibly wet. I licked her cunt and fucked her once facing her and once from behind. She moaned throughout, breathy whispers, clutching tightly whatever part of me she could reach.

Afterwards she asked me to lie on top of her, all my weight on her body. “Are you okay?” she whispered shakily into my ear.

“Are you?” I replied.

She nodded. We cuddled on her bed until I had to go to work, but I came back the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that as well. However much we fucked she always wanted more, even when she was sore and aching from it.

A month of glorious, filthy, unrestrained fucking later she confessed that when she said it had been a while since she did this, she meant, in fact, that it had been more than three years.