Keeping Up Appearances

Note: Whilst Gwendolyn refers to Whittaker as her uncle, they are not blood relatives. This is all part of the game to them. Both are well above legal age.

***

“Come.”

The room was stifling hot, a fire that had lain dormant all day, was now purring contentedly in the grate and the heat made the smoke curling from Whittaker’s cigar hang thickly in the air. He was facing the window, his back to her, watching the late evening lovers take the air.

“Did you have a pleasant evening?” He didn’t turn around.

Gwendolyn took off her jacket and shoes. “Quite.”
“Did he try anything?”

She laughed and made her way through his tightly-packed office to the window, whose ledge was just wide enough for her to perch on.

“He was a gentleman – he was the gentleman he was paid to be.” Here she reached forward and took the cigar from his hand. She took a long drag and when he took it off her, blew languid smoke rings into the air, kicking her feet into his thigh. He caught one and held it as he smoked, her toes contained in his fist.

“You’re drunk.” he said after a while.

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The Watcher

First Anita adjusted the drapes, casually, naked from a long, hot shower. Out of the corner of her eye the lights from the apartment opposite flickered on as she heard the bedroom door open and shut behind her.

He was there again. But as she came closer to the window to catch a glimpse, the light was extinguished, and her heart fell a little. No audience tonight. She sighed and turned to her husband, standing in the doorway, removing his sweater.

“Ready?” He asked quietly. She nodded, when the doorbell rang.

“I suppose I’ll answer it, you’re hardly dressed appropriately.”

They shared a small smile before Alan turned and headed downstairs to see who it was.

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Pool

I had a dream last night. This is a version of it.

I’m lying on my stomach in the shallow end of the pool. It’s barely a pool really, it’s a complex – a simulated beach with a funfair thrown on top, I am hidden far away but still the screams of children hurtling along the chutes and slides above my head filters through. It is hardly peaceful here.

Still, I am alone. I am serene. I half-know what is going to happen as I lie in the gentle waves, pert bum sticking out of the water, breasts thrusts out of my two piece swimming costume. As I am thinking about this, They arrive. Two men, the handsome, gregarious, laddy type. Thick around the neck and upper body, they approach me, talking amongst themselves but looking over again and again.

“Look at those tits.” one says, talking at me, not to me. He has dark hair. There are noises of agreement.

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Fuck You [Redacted]

That there are, at this very moment, molecules of me in your atmosphere, makes me laugh.

If you reach into your handbag, sitting innocently on the passenger seat, you are within millimetres of me, of my cunt. Of the time I sat, dripping wet and writhing with anxious arousal, with my bare backside nestled neatly next to him as he drove us home. This I know, but you do not.

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Work Drinks

This is the sequel of a sort to Girlfriends

***

I’d noticed her before, all bossiness and tits.

Not her friend, though. She was new. A dark-haired piece in a too-small dress. It clung to her body, to everywhere. Stomach rolls, and fat acres of thigh.

They might as well have been on a date, ignoring the rest of us, crammed in the smallest bar of the pub because the Christmas do hadn’t been booked until October. I turned back to the knot of management behind me and when I next allowed my gaze to flutter over to those women, they were still talking, avoiding the rest of us. They could have been on a date. Lesbian canoodling on the company dollar.

I snorted into my pint and, catching Jay’s eye, went to join in with the departmental singalong of We Are the Champions. And every so often, I’d turn back and look at them, at their heads bent together, still ignoring the rest of us. I must have known.

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Girlfriends

“There are approximately a hundred coffee shops on this street, next time you could be more specific?”

She rolled her eyes and indicated the latte on the table before me.

 “I got you the usual didn’t I? I apologised that I didn’t realise there was a branch of Caffe Nero at either end. I bought you a brownie.”

The cake had a thick layer of white chocolate coating the top.  

 “Forgiven, then.” I gave in and sat down next to her. Our booth was the furthest from the front door, partially hidden behind the awkward angle of a wall to nowhere between the counter and the kitchen.

 She sipped her tea and broke the corner off my brownie.

 “I should bloody well hope so.” The chocolate disappeared between her lips, but one or two crumbs fell and landed on her breasts. She was wearing a velvety top which was very low cut, even for her.

 “Meeting someone?” I asked idly. She looked at me a bit funny.

 “Yes. You.”

 “Oh.” I said. I think I blushed, even though I didn’t know why. I shifted my gaze from her cleavage to the plate in front of me with difficulty.

 Sometimes in the course of a text conversation – often late at night – our interactions get flirty. Friendly compliments seem to be become slightly tinged with something else. I’ve been asked to critique tasteful nudes before she sent them to her partners. She would listen as I described in a little too much focus how wet a one night stand had made me, or the rush of blood through my body when my boss stood over me, ogling my tits and demeaning me in full view of my colleagues. How I wanted to jump him right then and there. I stopped abruptly and apologised for oversharing but she wanted me to go on, falteringly admitting how turned on she was.

 Something changed. Neither of us knew why but neither wanted to stop it.

 We talked about work for a bit, just a general catch up really.

“I got fitted for a new bra. For the first time in my life, I’m wearing matching top and bottoms!” She was gleeful, like a child. I’d noticed the corner lick of lace when I was staring at her breasts, earlier.

“Let’s see!” I said, half joking half desperate all of a sudden and she grinned, made a great show of looking about her to make sure the coast was clear and then suddenly the warm velvet ripples of her bodice had melted away and her breasts were all I could see, creamy-white and caressed by pale blue and black lace. The material was flimsy, her nipples extremely visible even in the unreliable cafe light. She slowly made herself presentable again. Sipped her coffee. I couldn’t really think straight. Of course I couldn’t.

“Now you.” She said, neutrally. A passing waitress slowed her steps, wondering if we were trying to flag her down but she went merrily on her way when she saw neither one of us needed her.

“I don’t match.”

She didn’t say anything; instead she reached over matter of factly as the waitress vanished behind us, and brazenly snaked her hand inside the collar of my blouse, finding my shapeless, mumsy bra with my nipples pressed tightly against the ancient fabric.

Her face was very close, I could feel her breath on my neck, her shoulder and thigh pressed very firmly against my own. She took my hand, lying uselessly in my lap, and drew it towards her, between her legs, under her skirt and up, between her thighs where the sister in black lace was damp and fragrant.

Her lips left a glossy red heart on my neck.

“I don’t care.” She whispered.

Switch

So, the two protagonists from Meet Me There were not contained to that tale alone. I think this is from earlier on in their story. Enjoy.

***

Looking back, it all started to go a bit weird when we decided to buy a strap-on.

I met her in Tesco’s. Of course, where else? Where do people usually meet perfect whirlwinds of women who paw at you incessantly and make you glow? Lidl?

I was fingering a stalk of broccoli. Deciding; was I feeling virtuous enough to eat green things, or was I going to get chips on the way home? She was hiding behind a stack of Easter eggs, pretending to be a bunny. As you do. She did look slightly ashamed when she noticed me staring at her. She was wearing shorts, even though it had been snowing all day.

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In Summer

Is it exhibitionism in your own back garden? In your own space, technically away from the prying eyes of the neighbours but if they happened to hear the scuffle, a moan that escapes a fraction louder than intended, or glance from their bedroom window as his hand moves lower….. What then?

Less than a week is nothing. It’s no time at all to be apart. It’s especially nothing when you don’t stop your steady trickle of conversation and lewd photography. The usual morning sweethearts and goodnight my loves had carried on as normal, even though he was in another country, and on a minimal time difference. Still, I ran into his arms when I got off the bus and stood on my tiptoes gripping him tightly in the middle of the pavement, not wanting to let him go. Turns out a week might be too long, regardless.

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Meet Me There

For girls who enjoy dominant AF girls

She cornered me after half an hour threading through the sticky, endless darkness. Her fingers laced through mine and dragging me to somewhere even darker, thicker with the scent of new leather, sugar and sex.

“I told you I’d come and you know why I came.” She whispered urgently, taking my hands and placing them on the hem of her tiny mini dress. “No knickers. No obstacles. No rules. No boys.”

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Blurs

I don’t remember why I wrote this exactly. I know I wrote it for someone who wasn’t much impressed with it, but I like it well enough.

Consensual, caring BDSM. All characters over 18. No one is a blood relative. NSFW. 18+ only. Copyright me.

“I’m scared.” I say, looking at the bed nervously.

“I’m not.” He replies, half-smiling.

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