off is akin to concrete holding off a squirt of silly string. But even so, this is a lot to take – and he tells us just that in lovely wavering words.
‘Oh my God ,’ he says, and there’s a note of delicious contempt in there – as though Andy is just the most disgusting beast to ever walk the earth.
And maybe I am, too. Is that what you’re thinking, Gabe?
‘Come on, babe,’ Andy says. ‘Stand up. Let him get a look at your snatch.’
Apparently I am a disgusting beast, because I stand up when Andy tells me to. I clamber up Gabe’s body on wobbly legs, one hand clasped in Andy’s – so thoughtful. And then he leads me back until I’m right up against the table, and watches Gabe watch him as he pushes my skirt up my thighs.
And pulls my knickers down my legs.
I think it’s the part of me that wants to resist Andy, that climbs up on to the table and spreads my legs. It’s definitely that part that makes me tell Gabe, ‘Fuck me, fuck me now.’
Even though that’s technically obeying Andy’s directive. But then, I don’t look at Andy when I say it, and it’s not him who Gabe’s obeying in that moment, and although I seem to like being a dirty whore, ordered around like I’m nothing, I think I liked having the final word, too.
I like it when Gabe steps towards me, and looks down on my bare, glistening cunt. I think about how lewd I must look, and heat strips me down to nothing. Go on , I think, go on , but he only stands over me, cock pointing at my body, eyes all over me at once.
‘Give it to her,’ Andy says, but I’m not sure Gabe’s really hearing him, any longer. He puts a hand on my body without having to be told or asked or anything, and strokes downwards from collarbone to stomach, skimming my breasts as he goes.
I have to put my head back – the swell of pleasure is too intense.
‘Fuck me, please fuck me,’ I say, but he doesn’t. He shoves my skirt right up with one hand, and jerks himself roughly, with the other.
And when he comes, with a startled gasp that thrills me to the core, he spurts all over my sweet little wet pussy, in thick, heavy ribbons.
Chapter Seven
H E DOESN’T SAY a word about what went on between us and him and what-have-you, when he walks in the next day. His lips are sealed. His face and body and everything else are sealed, too. He couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he donned rubber underwear and did seven hundred lunges.
But I press on. I make him a cup of coffee. I stay with him in the shop, and make pleasing small talk until he starts to unwind and forget that we did a weird threesome the day before. That Andy jerked off all over the place he had jerked off all over, like a dog, marking me.
Then said see you again , as though we’d all had a nice tea party with cake and crumpets, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if we repeated the experience some time soon? I don’t think Gabe thinks it would be wonderful if we repeated the experience some time soon. I’m only glad Andy didn’t try to fuck me, because I don’t know where that would have ended up.
I’m not sure how jealous Gabe is. I’m not sure if it’s just the sex that disturbed him, or the humiliation, or some sort of unholy association of all three.
So I go with small talk, and not thinking about how his face looks, when he comes. Works like a charm, every time. Works even better if you start talking to him about his favourite books – though of course by favourite, I don’t mean his real favourites.
He’s a big fan of Charles Dickens, apparently. He tells me he used to imagine himself living in those times – well of course! Everything so repressed, and straight-laced! But then he says, quite unexpectedly, ‘I don’t think I’d have lasted five minutes.’
I turn from the window – the trinket shop across the way is still selling those stupid red penis-looking lampshades – and look right at him, for the first time this morning. He’s sitting at the desk, meticulously
‘Oh my God ,’ he says, and there’s a note of delicious contempt in there – as though Andy is just the most disgusting beast to ever walk the earth.
And maybe I am, too. Is that what you’re thinking, Gabe?
‘Come on, babe,’ Andy says. ‘Stand up. Let him get a look at your snatch.’
Apparently I am a disgusting beast, because I stand up when Andy tells me to. I clamber up Gabe’s body on wobbly legs, one hand clasped in Andy’s – so thoughtful. And then he leads me back until I’m right up against the table, and watches Gabe watch him as he pushes my skirt up my thighs.
And pulls my knickers down my legs.
I think it’s the part of me that wants to resist Andy, that climbs up on to the table and spreads my legs. It’s definitely that part that makes me tell Gabe, ‘Fuck me, fuck me now.’
Even though that’s technically obeying Andy’s directive. But then, I don’t look at Andy when I say it, and it’s not him who Gabe’s obeying in that moment, and although I seem to like being a dirty whore, ordered around like I’m nothing, I think I liked having the final word, too.
I like it when Gabe steps towards me, and looks down on my bare, glistening cunt. I think about how lewd I must look, and heat strips me down to nothing. Go on , I think, go on , but he only stands over me, cock pointing at my body, eyes all over me at once.
‘Give it to her,’ Andy says, but I’m not sure Gabe’s really hearing him, any longer. He puts a hand on my body without having to be told or asked or anything, and strokes downwards from collarbone to stomach, skimming my breasts as he goes.
I have to put my head back – the swell of pleasure is too intense.
‘Fuck me, please fuck me,’ I say, but he doesn’t. He shoves my skirt right up with one hand, and jerks himself roughly, with the other.
And when he comes, with a startled gasp that thrills me to the core, he spurts all over my sweet little wet pussy, in thick, heavy ribbons.
Chapter Seven
H E DOESN’T SAY a word about what went on between us and him and what-have-you, when he walks in the next day. His lips are sealed. His face and body and everything else are sealed, too. He couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he donned rubber underwear and did seven hundred lunges.
But I press on. I make him a cup of coffee. I stay with him in the shop, and make pleasing small talk until he starts to unwind and forget that we did a weird threesome the day before. That Andy jerked off all over the place he had jerked off all over, like a dog, marking me.
Then said see you again , as though we’d all had a nice tea party with cake and crumpets, and wouldn’t it be wonderful if we repeated the experience some time soon? I don’t think Gabe thinks it would be wonderful if we repeated the experience some time soon. I’m only glad Andy didn’t try to fuck me, because I don’t know where that would have ended up.
I’m not sure how jealous Gabe is. I’m not sure if it’s just the sex that disturbed him, or the humiliation, or some sort of unholy association of all three.
So I go with small talk, and not thinking about how his face looks, when he comes. Works like a charm, every time. Works even better if you start talking to him about his favourite books – though of course by favourite, I don’t mean his real favourites.
He’s a big fan of Charles Dickens, apparently. He tells me he used to imagine himself living in those times – well of course! Everything so repressed, and straight-laced! But then he says, quite unexpectedly, ‘I don’t think I’d have lasted five minutes.’
I turn from the window – the trinket shop across the way is still selling those stupid red penis-looking lampshades – and look right at him, for the first time this morning. He’s sitting at the desk, meticulously
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