Fiction – Serenity, part 3

Find part 1 here

Find part 2 here

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As Dave ran his finger gently over the crease between her shoe and her foot, Serenity cried out in pain. It felt to her as though his finger was a scalpel, cutting further into the wound of her bleeding foot.

“Oh God, sorry.”

He blushed.

“Let me kiss it better”.

Bending over, he brushed his lips over the arch of her foot. Serenity held her breath. The pain was still there, but there was something soothing about the way his lips caressed her tender skin, and she started to relax ever so slightly.

“Better?” he mumbled, not taking his mouth away from her foot. “A bit”, she responded, slightly distracted by the sensation of his warm breath on her skin.

For the first time since coming home on Friday night, Serenity started to forget a little about the pain in her foot and feel more herself. She took the opportunity to survey the back of Dave’s head properly for the first time. He was good-looking, of that there was no doubt. Not her normal type though. He had the physique of a cyclist – tall, lean and  muscular, and a friendly, open, slightly weather-beaten face under sun-bleached hair that seemed contrary to the normal pallor of most other night-owl barmen she knew.

Serenity shifted slightly on the couch, running her eyes down his back, to where his t-shirt met his belted jeans. The movement caused her robe to open slightly, revealing more thigh, but she resisted the automatic reflex to close it again.

Sensing the movement, Dave looked up quizzically. “Do I need to kiss the rest of your legs better too?” he smirked. She giggled. “Well, it might take my mind off my feet…”

Dave grabbed a calf in each hand and kissed her knees playfully. “Here? And here….and here….and, oh, and here?” With that he moved slowly and surely up the inside of her left thigh, stopping only to glance up at Serenity’s face and make a mental note of the hardening outline of her nipples under her robe.

The goosebumps on her legs followed his progress further up her thighs as sticky juices seeped from her pussy in anticipation of where his mouth was heading. As he reached the edge of her robe, he snapped at it playfully and looked her directly in the eyes for the first time.

His eyes flashed at her, a deep, dark blue. Yes, they were friendly and open, but she also saw a hunger and an intensity in them that she realised she had not seen in anyone for a long time. The look was both provocative and searching, and she knew instantly what it meant.

Almost involuntarily she parted her legs slightly wider, causing the robe to fall open and expose her glistening cunt to his gaze.

“Good girl”, he whispered.

Her lips parted and her breathing grew heavier as she could no longer hide her arousal.

“But you’re not really a good girl, are you Serenity?” he continued in the same, soothing tone, “you’re a very bad girl, aren’t you? I watch you, you know. Watch the way you flirt outrageously with any man that takes your fancy. I watch the way you use your body to lure them into your little trap. Then you devour them and spit them out, don’t you?”

She nodded silently. His tone changed.

“Slut.”

A wave of emotion washed over Serenity at that moment. Her heart pounded faster, and her lips formed into a smile of relief. Finally somebody had dared say it to her face. She felt…recognised?…in a way she had never experienced before. It simultaneously calmed and emboldened her, as the balance of power seemed to have palpably shifted.

She nodded again.

She didn’t expect his next move, which was to take his middle finger and plunge it deep into her dripping pussy. She held her breath and awaited his approval, which he gave with a curt nod, and the addition of a second finger. As he proceeded to rub his thumb over her pulsating clit, she realised she was almost forgetting about the pain in her feet. Almost, but not quite.

“You’re holding back”, he stated calmly.

“It’s…my feet” she groaned, the strangest mix of pain and pleasure causing her to shiver.

He continued to rub her clit, but looked thoughtful.  “There’s nothing I’d like better than to bury my face in your cunt and lick you until to scream my name. I don’t think that’s what you need though. You’re obviously still being punished, and I think we need to make sure that punishment is seen through to the end, don’t you?”

Still apparently lost for words, Serenity simply nodded for a third time.

“Turn over”

Fear and anticipation began to rise inside her. As Dave showed no sign of removing his fingers from between her legs, she rolled over awkwardly, as best she could. She was glad her face was pushed into the cushions of the settee, as it meant she could hide the rising redness in her cheeks.

Dave lifted up her legs and slid himself onto the sofa underneath them, pushing her robe further up her back and exposing her backside fully.

“Do your feet still hurt?”

She muffled an affirmative, as he withdrew his fingers from her cunt, and placed his hand gently on her bottom, running it speculatively over her cheeks and upper thighs.

The combination of the slight suffocating effect of the cushions, and the tightening of her chest with expectation meant her breathing grew shallower and more urgent.

Dave’s soothing tone came back. “Sssshhh…it’s ok”. His hands continued to run over her backside, tracking the swell and curves of her body with each finger in turn, then gently fanning her cheeks with his palm. Slowly, and gently he replenished his fingers with the natural lubrication of her pussy, before testing the skin of her anus with his index finger.

She tensed, waiting for the intrusion, but it didn’t come. Instead, he lifted his palm and slapped it down tentatively on her right buttock, causing her to pant with the same rhythm. When no protest came, he smacked his palm down harder, once, then twice in quick succession.

Serenity had never felt such helplessness. She knew she could tell him to stop at any point, but her body seemed unable to make her actually do so. It was as though her will had dislocated itself from her brain, and something primal had taken over. All she wanted was for the pain to stop, and yet, all she wanted was for him to carry on.

The slight stinging on her right buttock left behind a tingly heat as he turned his attention to the left one, again smacking his palm down hard three times in quick succession.

Once he had finished the spanking, he waited, gazing at the red marks on her dark skin with satisfaction.

Now, finally, with all her concentration on the pain on her behind, the pain in her feet drifted out of her mind, and she suddenly found she could no longer hold herself together. Her body convulsed, and tears started to stream down her face. Dave pulled her up and towards him, gathering her in his arms, and holding her tight as he waited for the roller-coaster of emotions to leave her body.

They sat there like that for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them speaking, until finally she kicked off her shoes and held him closer.

THE END.

Fiction – Chemistry Studies

This is a story I wrote some time ago now that was originally published on the “Wordejaculation” site, which is now sadly defunct. Time to republish it (and another piece that I’ll post another time) here, I think.

_______

It was the summer of 2003. The summer when people finally started believing in global warming. The hottest summer in 500 years.

I was in my final year at university, sharing a flat with two others – Nickie, a med student who we never saw as she was always off doing whatever it is medical students do, and Rob,  who, like me, was in the final stages of finishing his Chemistry degree. He and I had been pretty much inseparable since Fresher’s Week, when we first bonded over Tequila slammers and a love of dancing “ironically” to Beyonce’s chart topper Crazy In Love.

Rob was a walking, talking cliché – tall, dark, handsome, athletic. He had the gift of the gab and was utterly charming. I don’t think there was a girl in our year that didn’t throw herself at him at one point or another. Ironically, this made me both incredibly popular with those who thought getting in with me meant getting close to Rob, and unpopular with those who couldn’t understand our platonic relationship and were jealous of how much time we spent together.

It was around the end of May that Rob started seeing Charlotte. He had of course been out with girls before, but I knew from the beginning that this was new. Charlotte was very different to the clean-cut  girls with blonde swishy hair that seemed his normal type. She was half French; petite, olive skinned with long dark hair and the most amazing pert round breasts and peachy arse I had ever seen.

One hot and sticky Monday, I let myself in to the flat to hear laughter coming from Rob’s bedroom. I put away my shopping, and headed for my room. As I passed Rob’s room, I noticed the door was slightly ajar and caught a good view of the bed, where the two of them were lying dressed only in their underwear, with Charlotte’s back towards me. I caught a glimpse of her round cheeks in the tiniest of frilly knickers and something made me stop and admire the two of them. The next thing I knew, Rob was pulling her towards him, kissing her neck and running his hands up her thighs.

My head told me to disappear and leave them to it, but I remained rooted to the spot. He slowly slipped her bra strap off her shoulder and started kissing her collarbone. She giggled as his mouth moved lower towards her right breast and one hand moved from the outside of her thigh to the inside, while the other moved to undo the clasp of her bra.

I was frozen; barely daring to breathe as I glimpsed the silhouette of her right breast, before Rob hungrily started sucking the nipple. Charlotte moaned slightly as Rob also cupped his hand around her left breast. I willed them to move around so I could see everything that was happening, but of course they were completely oblivious to both me and the increasing dampness between my legs.

As Rob continued to focus on her breasts, Charlotte ran her hand along his arm, across his chest and down towards the soft fluff of his navel. She let her fingers linger, teasing the short hair, and playfully sticking her fingers in his belly button before slowly running her index finger along the inside of the waistband of his boxer shorts. As she shifted slightly onto her left buttock, I saw the outline of Rob’s hard, erect cock straining at the fabric, with a delicious, barely imperceptible wet patch where his cock had dribbled. Charlotte’s hand wandered further inside his boxer shorts and I could just make out the way her finger ran up and down his shaft.  As she grasped it with both hands and pulled it out of his shorts, I had to stifle a moan. My pussy was dripping at this point, and I pressed my hand between my legs in the vain hope of – what? – certainly not stopping myself, I was well past that point by now!

Still kissing, sucking, stroking and teasing, they pulled off their last remaining items of clothing. They were now completely naked. They were such an amazing looking couple, and I could not get enough of the sight of both of them. I held my breath, silently willing them on to the next level. As Charlotte went up on her knees, I saw Rob’s cock, rigid and glistening through her thighs. As she gently rubbed her pussy against its tip, I felt my own hand lift up the flimsy dress I was wearing, push aside my soaking knickers, and push my fingers deep into my own juices. I stifled a moan as my fingers found my clit and furiously began to rub.

In front of me, Rob had grabbed Charlotte’s waist and pushed her down hard onto his cock. As she slid up and down, her movements hinting at the pleasure she was experiencing, I felt myself attempting to mimic the sensation by thrusting my fingers deep inside myself. The way her breasts moved, the way she thrust her head back and closed her eyes – these were things I felt for myself. I felt every movement of his hands exploring her body, felt his fingertips tracing her nipples, and felt every thrust of his hot prick as it carved through me. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying out as their lovemaking grew more frenzied. I staggered backwards, leant against the wall and gave in to the delicious sensations – my fingers on my clit, thrusting into my pussy and rubbing my nipples. As I felt the first shudder of orgasm tingling in my legs and my cunt, I opened my eyes for a final glimpse of the couple in front of me and drank in the view of her tits, and his cock. Charlotte let out a long, deep moan that instantly told me her climax too was close. Rob thrust into her one last time, and all three of us came with a delicious sigh.

I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, too embarrassed to face the pair of them. It was only when I heard Charlotte leave that I dared venture into the kitchen, where I found Rob sipping a bottle of beer and flicking through the local paper.

He looked up as I came in, and grinned.

“Good afternoon?”
“Yeah, not bad” I mumbled, my face flushing at the thought of what I had seen and what I had done.
He looked at me thoughtfully and then said; “Well, maybe next time you would like to join us…”

That, however, is another story.

In Praise of the Humble Condom

A piece on the BBC News website today uses the opening of a new Thai restaurant called “Cabbages and Condoms” as a starting point for a discussion of why people are still embarrassed about buying condoms.

At this point I have to hold my hands up that my partner and I have used condoms for many years now. I’ve tried pretty much everything else over the years – the pill, the mini-pill, contraceptive injections, contraceptive implants…but all have disagreed with me in one way or another (intermittent bleeding, mood swings, numbness, pain, you name it), so we’ve always come back to “French letters”, and I have to say, I’ve kind of got fond of the little buggers over the years.

The humble condom gets a bad press, so I think it’s time I did a little bit of marketing in its favour. You see, apart from the obvious no side effects thing (assuming you don’t have a latex allergy), there are many other advantages to the humble Johnny over other methods of contraception:

1) The big one – no STDs. Probably not so much of a consideration if you are in a long-term relationship and you are sure of each others’ clean bill of health, but certainly a big pro nonetheless.

2) The reassurance that you know it’s working. I’m a sceptical kinda gal that likes to be sure – and who’s to say you took your pill on time? A condom gives you the extra reassurance that something is stopping the whole baby-making thing.

3) No wet patch. Yes, yes, I know – filthy, dirty sex is fabulous. All that squelching and bodily fluids…cum everywhere…mmmmm….but sometimes, just sometimes, it’s nice not to have to cup your hands under yourself and rush to the toilet to clean yourself up while hoping you don’t spill drops all over the carpet on the way. Or point your bum in the air to make sure it doesn’t dribble all over the sheets. (Waterproof mattress protector. Just saying.) Or rush off to the shower to get it off your cleavage. Think of the water you’re saving!

4) Easy to get hold of. If you’re really that embarrassed about sticking them in your basket with the bread and milk, just do your shopping online! You don’t even have to brave the embarrassment of paying for them at the checkout. Sorted.

5) Condoms are fun! Ribbing, flavours, different sizes – even glow in the dark ones. Have a giggle putting them on together (am I selling this to you yet?).

5a) They can in some instances enhance female pleasure – add a bit of ribbing for extra friction, and don’t forget that they can make some guys last longer…

6) They double up as handy balloons or water bombs.

So there you have it, my top reasons for condom lovin’. Now go slip one on and do the dirty. Cleanly.

Will You Still Lust Me Tomorrow?

There comes a time in our lives when the realisation hits that we are no longer in the first bloom of youth. For some, it is earlier than for others. What happens to love and lust as we get older? Does our perception of what is attractive change? Does a winning smile take precedence over a rock-hard set of abs? Does a good sense of humour make up for drooping breasts? No longer does a penis stand as proud as it once did. No longer is a pussy pink and juicy.

Is love more important than lust as we get older?

Will you still need me,
Will you still feed me?
When I’m 64?

Fiction – Construction

(As an aside, this one should probably also be known as The One In Which I Think I Probably Watch Too Much Porn, as it involves frankly slightly ridiculous stereotypes of big burly men in hard hats, and normally features a 70s-style soundtrack in my head when I play the scenario through.)

________

“Eurgh. Thursday.” thought Jo, as her eyes started to focus on the room around her, and her ears protested at the hard-core dance music that appeared to be emanating from her clock radio. “Too early. Always too fucking early.”

She rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she mentally made a note to make more effort to take her make-up off before going to bed. Just like she did every other morning. Squinting in the bright sunlight, she rummaged around in the bathroom cabinet for painkillers, and quickly downed them with icy water from the tap.

The shower was the one thing that worked in her pokey flat, and she stripped off and climbed into it,  luxuriating in the way the hard driving rivulets of water stung her body into a state that might actually pass as alertness. As she absentmindedly soaped herself with lemon-scented shower gel, she played back the events of the night before. There had been wine. Yes, lots of wine. Eurgh. Then shots with that group of guys. Double eurgh. No wonder her head was throbbing.

She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the hook on the back of the door. It would have to be instant coffee again – she really should get round to getting a new machine. Mornings like this were made for proper coffee; strong, dark and invigorating. The list of things that were already going wrong was getting longer, and it wasn’t even 7.30 yet.

Jo threw a slice of stale bread in the toaster and went to grab some clothes. She rummaged in her wardrobe and found the first top that looked like it might be vaguely presentable, and teamed it with a flared navy skirt. Simple, yet at least fairly smart for the office. Glancing at the overflowing laundry basket next to her wardrobe, she quickly decided against underwear. It was forecast to be a reasonably warm day anyway, and maybe some fresh air would do her some good – whatever it was blowing.

A slice of toast and some of her favourite songs on the radio helped lift her mood and she felt a little more human. Lashings of mascara and a slick of lipgloss ensured she also looked it. Jo grabbed her keys and her bag and headed out of the door to the bus stop. For once she wasn’t even going to be late!

It seemed everyone was out of town for the summer, and thankfully the bus had plenty of seats for a change. She put her bag down and collapsed onto the nearest one. The other passengers on the bus were the usual mix of elderly and commuters – no school kids at this time of year, thank God – the usual combination of strangers and familiar commuting faces. There was the woman who wore that awful pink lipstick that really didn’t suit her skin tone, and behind her the man that she occasionally bumped into at the corner shop being bullied into buying icecreams for his kids.

She didn’t recognise the man sat facing the back of the bus diagonally to her. He was maybe in his early 60s, Jo thought, with a shock of white hair and a dress-sense that seemed more up-to-date than his age implied. He was still handsome, and Jo could tell he’d obviously been a real heart-breaker in his youth. Or maybe he still was?

Her mental image made her unconsciously smile, and she blushed as she realised he was looking straight at her with a quizzical look in his eyes. She’d obviously made her interest in him too clear. Jo shifted uncomfortably in her seat and crossed, then re-crossed her legs. The movement reminded her of the fact she was not wearing underwear, and created a slight stickiness at the very top of her inner thigh. Older foxy man was now blatantly checking out her legs! Dirty old man!

Jo glanced out of the window and realised she was only two stops away from the office, when at the same time a wicked thought ran through her mind. Surreptitiously she tried to see if she could guess where her opposite number would be getting off. Dressed like that she supposed the likelihood was pretty big that he would be going further into the centre of town. She figured she was therefore pretty safe in what she wanted to do.

One more stop to go. She had to time it right or she would lose her nerve completely. Her stomach churned and she felt inwardly giddy. She’d never done anything like this. Well, not when sober anyway…

As the bus rounded the corner that meant she had a couple of hundred yards to her stop, Jo casually dropped her hands onto her lap. Gathering the soft fabric of her skirt in her fingers, she glanced around to ensure that the man opposite was the only person who would be able to see what she was doing. He was staring idly out of the window, and she wondered if he would actually even notice.

With one sure, slow movement she slid the fabric of her skirt up her thighs and quickly uncrossed her legs, exposing her cunt. She held her breath and blushed  a deep red as the man opposite turned his head because of the movement, and caught what must have been a full view of her glistening pussy.

The look of surprise and delight on his face would stay with Jo long after she got off the bus. That would give him something to tell his grandchildren, she thought…

___

The episode on the bus had made her giddy with excitement, and she practically skipped into the office. All morning she had to try to contain the fits of giggles that seemed to want to explode out of her at the most inopportune moments. Thankfully the office was suffering from the same empty August syndrome as the bus, and she spent most of the morning uninterrupted. Even though the whole thing had only lasted seconds, the arousal that had resulted from her little flash on the bus was acute, and she used quiet periods at her desk and trips to the bathroom to dip her fingers up her skirt into her dripping juices. It only made her hornier.

When it was time for her lunch break, Jo was glad to leave the office – she felt sure it was blindingly obvious to the few colleagues that were left what the only thing on her mind was that day. At one point she was convinced she was so flushed that the office maintenance guy was going to ask her if she had a fever.

She dashed out to the nearest sandwich bar and walked over the small green square that she liked to frequent in the summer, where she sat down on the grass and wolfed down her sandwich with a voracious appetite.

However, no amount of chicken salad on wholemeal could do anything to appease the hunger in her cunt. It was getting beyond a joke. Everywhere she looked she could see hot young office workers of both sexes flirting in the sun. She started to wonder if she was going to have to seduce Ben the IT geek in the stationery cupboard on her return to the office, things were getting that desperate. And all because of some stranger who was probably old enough to be her grandfather!

On her way back to the office, Jo realised that there finally seemed to be movement at the derelict office block across the road. She could see various men in hard hats pointing at sheaves of paper. About time too, the place was a complete eyesore, thought Jo.

She was staring absent-mindedly at the building, when she realised that one of the men was walking purposefully towards her, and smiling in recognition. Jo racked her brains as to where she might know him from, when finally it dawned on her that he had been one of the group that she and her friend had been drinking with in the nightclub the previous evening. She groaned inwardly as she wondered whether she had made a fool of herself, but reading the expression on his face decided against it.

He was maybe just under 6 foot, with floppy blond hair and deep brown eyes that twinkled out from under his hard hat. She could tell from the tan on his face and forearms that he spent a lot of time outside. Her eyes were drawn to the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. She had no control over the throbbing that instantly started up between her legs.

“Hi”, the man said as he got close, “it’s Jo, isn’t it? We met last night, at Fifth Avenue? I’m Greg”. As Jo opened her mouth to respond, he leaned in and grinned conspiratorially “I loved the fact you weren’t wearing any underwear”. “Fuck”, thought Jo, as she blushed bright red, then hesitated for a split second, before laughing and whispering back “I’m not wearing any now either”.

Had she really just said that? What was wrong with her? First flashing at respectable older gentlemen, and now this? She had to concede that Greg was a damn sight hotter than Ben the IT geek though…

She looked at the bemused expression on Greg’s face as he processed this piece of information. Jo guessed he hadn’t quite expected that reaction. She weighed up her next move. In for a penny, and all that… “want me to show you?” she breathed.

Greg’s grin grew wider. “Follow me”, he said, and led her round the back of the building. As she walked behind him, Jo had the chance to survey the way his jeans cupped his buttocks as he walked. With every step Jo made up her mind further that she desperately needed to get her hands on that body.

The back of the building contained a small courtyard, with sorry-looking raised beds that must once have contained flowers. Greg gestured to them; “hop up there” he beckoned, throwing his hard hat to the ground. She did as she was told, hoiking her skirt up around her hips at the same time, and spreading her legs. “I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear” she laughed.

Greg grabbed her right thigh with his left hand while the other desperately scratched at the buckle of his belt. With a swift movement, he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and pulled out his already erect cock. Jo’s pussy spasmed at the sight, and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him towards her. With a slow, soft movement, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as he thrust his cock into her throbbing pussy with the same slow motion. Jo gasped as her aching cunt finally got its fill.

Greg’s movements were slow and steady at first, then grew wilder and less hesitant as  he responded to Jo’s moans. She wrapped her thighs tightly around his hips and drew his full length into her, willing each thrust deeper and harder.  Greg did not last long – his orgasm came quick and hard, and they clung together, panting for a few seconds. Finally he looked at her. “Sorry”, he mumbled, aware that his own orgasm had not waited for Jo’s. “That’s ok”, she smiled, shifting her buttocks on the uncomfortable wooden logs. She glanced up briefly to where she knew another man in a hard hat had been watching. “We can always try again later…”

Initiation, Part 2

I know, I know…so much for getting this one finished quickly…sorry part 2 has taken so long, dreaded Real Life and all that…Anyone that missed part one

________

 

I blushed and slowly started unbuttoning my blouse to reveal the lace of my bra and the swell of my breasts. “Don’t stop”, she said, as I hesitated, and I meekly undid the rest of the buttons. “You have great tits”, she said admiringly, “I’d love to play with them”.  The reply almost sounded as if it was from someone else’s mouth; “Why don’t you?”. To say my stomach was doing somersaults really didn’t do it justice – I don’t think I’d ever felt the same mix of nervousness and arousal.

Sarah knelt on the floor in front of me and slowly cupped my left breast. A shiver went through me as she moved her thumb in slow circling movements over the delicate fabric of my bra. Her thumb found my nipple and her forefinger moved to meet it, squeezing my nipple between her digits. She looked at me questioningly. I bit my lip, silently signalling her to continue.

She slid down the fabric of my cup and toyed with the hard bud underneath, and I gasped as her skin met mine. It felt different to a man’s touch – softer, somehow – yet the effect was the same. As my breathing grew heavier, her touch grew more forceful. Suddenly, without waiting for an invitation, she leant over and took my nipple in her mouth, gently biting it with her teeth. Her tongue swirled around my nipple, and her hand exposed my right breast. Her mouth seemed to plant butterfly kisses all over my breasts , simultaneously sucking and licking. By this point my arousal was no longer hesitant- I was completely lost in the sensation. That it was a woman giving me this pleasure simply no longer seemed relevant.

I squirmed slightly as I felt a familiar and welcome moisture seeping into the sheer fabric of my knickers. As though sensing my thoughts, Sarah stopped with her attention on my exposed breasts, and moved her hands to my knees. She looked me deep in the eyes as she slowly moved my skirt up my legs towards my hips. She paused briefly before starting to  gently stroke the inside of my thigh. An involuntary cry escaped me as I willed her higher. She took her time, however, teasing me, stroking me, only causing the moistness between my legs to grow, until I wriggled so much that my skirt made its way up over my hips almost by itself. Thankful for the fact I had worn hold-ups that day, I parted my legs almost mechanically, and very gently and deliberately, she pushed my gusset to one side, exposing my wet juicy pussy to her view.

Even I could smell the warm, musky scent of my cunt – I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was doing to her as her face hovered closer. Sarah, however, was calm personified, and thoughtfully stroked my outer lips. I trembled and held my breath as her fingers pressed closer into my pussy, stroking my inner lips and circling my clit. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before – the strange familiarity of her touch, as though it was my own, mingled with the knowledge that it was a stranger’s, was driving me crazy.

When it seemed like I could barely contain my arousal, she leant forward and breathed the smallest of breaths on my swollen clit. The cooling breeze on my hot lips made me shiver involuntarily.

Sarah looked me in the eyes, arched an eyebrow and smirked as she took in my flushed cheeks, erect nipples and dripping cunt. Still wordless, she licked her lips, and bent forward to do the same to mine, running her tongue in a long, slow channel from my opening to my clit, where she lingered, gently swirling it in her mouth.

I couldn’t contain my moans any more now, and as her tongue continued to flick at my clit I grew more and more agitated, willing myself to orgasm with her face between my legs. Still licking with a steady rhythm, Sarah eased two fingers into my soaking pussy, thrusting and licking more skillfully than any man I had ever known, and I shuddered to a release right there on the toilet seat in the partner’s lavatories at work as a senior partner worked her magic.

Still wordless, Sarah waited for my shaking to subside, before moving up from between my legs and kissing me full on the mouth. The mixture of lipstick and my own juices was intoxicating, and from that moment on, I knew I was hooked.

Don’t put that in your mouth, you don’t know where it’s been!

A little while ago, I watched a documentary about a 17 year old thinking of “giving up” her virginity. Firstly, I have to say I was impressed with the maturity that both she and her parents approached the matter. I certainly made a few notes on how to deal with things for when my kids are old enough. Secondly, however, I have to admit that I did also find her matter-of-factness about the whole thing rather intimidating. I get the impression I spent more time fretting about whether to wear my green top or my pink top on a night out than I think she did on the whole “I’m going to go get myself laid” thing.

Anyway, I digress. We followed said teen at the end of her first “girls’ holiday” to somewhere warm and Balearic. Had she done the deed, asked the presenter? No, came the response, but she did give someone a blow job behind a nightclub – and get this; SHE WASN’T EVEN PARTICULARLY DRUNK.

I have to say I was astounded. To go from nought to blow-job in a week is certainly impressive, but it left me wondering why. Part of me understands the logic of “it’s not sex unless there’s penetration” thinking of it, yet I couldn’t help wondering what possessed an apparently reasonably intelligent young woman to suck on the first random cock that was conveniently near her mouth? There was certainly no mention of the favour having been returned at any point, for example.

Don’t get me wrong, I love sucking on a nice juicy cock as much as the next girl (maybe more, depending who she is), but I couldn’t help thinking that the order was somehow slightly wrong. You see, in my yoof, the general turn of events went something like – snogging, groping, heavy petting/fingering, penetration, and only then oral sex.

To me, there’s an added intimacy to oral sex that would mean I probably wouldn’t dream of partaking in a one-night stand, whether behind a night club or not. (I can’t be the only one thinking SWEATY, UNWASHED cock here either, can I?). Don’t even get me started on the subject of protection…at least you can demand a condom if getting properly down and dirty (and let’s face it, I don’t know anybody who has ever used a flavoured condom during a blow job).

A straw poll of…er…my hairdresser has confiremed to me that I’m not completely alone in this thinking.

Am I missing something, or just showing my age?