asleep and Joshua
reading in bed, Emily and I settled down and watched the DVD.
Well, that was bollocks, I said as the credits rolled.
Tuesday, 8th January
The next week passed in a haze.
Life returned to normal. But for me, it was far from normal. Not a
waking moment passed without my thoughts turning to Dawn, wondering
what she was doing at the moment, wondering whether she was
thinking of me. Visual snatches of our intimacy would appear in my
mind, involuntarily, at the most inopportune moments. So,
Robin , Heather would be saying, have you assessed the
re-gradings for the Scale Four call centre posts yet? And
whilst grappling for an excuse, my brain put an image of Dawn into
my mind, riding me, juddering up and down on my shaft, her tits
bouncing, her eyes half closed in ecstasy. Hey, Rob , Paul
called out. Do you know how to freeze-frame a spreadsheet? Whilst the only freeze-frame I could think of was one of Dawn on
her knees half way down the bed, my cock disappearing into her
mouth, her fingers curled round my shaft.
Dawn, meanwhile, had started
her work in Ipswich. She texted me just the once, reminding me to
return the DVDs to the library.
Friday, 18th January
I felt bereft, knowing Dawn was
far away in Ipswich. Work is normal – Heather, fortunately, has
been in meeting after meeting, so we haven’t seen too much of her;
Ernie is on the up – having been smiled at, apparently, by Marjorie
in Accounts; Karen’s now fretting about the bridesmaids’ dresses
(and making frequent furtive calls); Sean is back from his
parachuting and humming all day long; and even Paul seems
suspiciously upbeat (he must have got one over on his ex-wife and
her new boyfriend).
In the meantime, I’ve tried not
to think of Dawn and, as a result, thought of her during every
waking moment. I long to see her, to hear her voice, to smell her
fragrance. Thursday, I received a text – my heart went into
overdrive. It was Emily – could I take a detour on my way home for
a loaf of bread. Rendered useless by disappointment, I went to the
disabled loo and locked myself in whilst trying to recover my
sanity. Only the rattle of the door handle brought me to my senses.
Opening the door, I found Sean, waiting outside. I smiled weakly,
aware of having been caught somewhere I shouldn’t have been.
Finally, today at lunchtime, I
got a text from Dawn, asking if I fancied popping round after work.
I almost punched the air. Heaven! I couldn’t wait and counted the
hours. Meanwhile, it was a tough day, and it was a relief to get to
Dawn’s and settle down. It’s strange how I’ve adapted her flat as a
sort of second home. Dawn made me soup and gave me a plate of
stuffed vine leaves. Snuggled up together, we watched a bit of crap
primetime TV, which I always hate. I rather hoped we might migrate
into the bedroom. After an hour or so, when I could no longer bear
the TV mystic and his magical powers, I declared I should go home.
It did the trick. No, don’t go, hon. Stay a while longer. I’ll
make it worth your while.
Oh, Dawn, I don’t won’t you
to think I just come here for that. Perish the thought.
No, but while you’re
here , she said, sliding her fingers beneath my shirt. You’ve
been here all this time and you’ve not noticed that I’m not wearing
any knickers.
Oh? That certainly
caught my attention.
She rucked up her skirt a
little, exposing her slender, well-toned legs. Gently, I ran my
hand along her thigh, up and down, barely touching her skin. She
shuddered. My hand inched upwards. She kissed me hard, her hands
gripping my face, her tongue seeking out mine. With just one finger
now, I stroked the inside of her thigh, high up. She began to
squirm, wanting me to go higher still. I’m so fucking wet for
you, hon. No longer able to resist the temptation, my finger
brushed her clitoris. I licked my finger. She tensed up, readying
herself, opening her legs wider. I rubbed her clit in
reading in bed, Emily and I settled down and watched the DVD.
Well, that was bollocks, I said as the credits rolled.
Tuesday, 8th January
The next week passed in a haze.
Life returned to normal. But for me, it was far from normal. Not a
waking moment passed without my thoughts turning to Dawn, wondering
what she was doing at the moment, wondering whether she was
thinking of me. Visual snatches of our intimacy would appear in my
mind, involuntarily, at the most inopportune moments. So,
Robin , Heather would be saying, have you assessed the
re-gradings for the Scale Four call centre posts yet? And
whilst grappling for an excuse, my brain put an image of Dawn into
my mind, riding me, juddering up and down on my shaft, her tits
bouncing, her eyes half closed in ecstasy. Hey, Rob , Paul
called out. Do you know how to freeze-frame a spreadsheet? Whilst the only freeze-frame I could think of was one of Dawn on
her knees half way down the bed, my cock disappearing into her
mouth, her fingers curled round my shaft.
Dawn, meanwhile, had started
her work in Ipswich. She texted me just the once, reminding me to
return the DVDs to the library.
Friday, 18th January
I felt bereft, knowing Dawn was
far away in Ipswich. Work is normal – Heather, fortunately, has
been in meeting after meeting, so we haven’t seen too much of her;
Ernie is on the up – having been smiled at, apparently, by Marjorie
in Accounts; Karen’s now fretting about the bridesmaids’ dresses
(and making frequent furtive calls); Sean is back from his
parachuting and humming all day long; and even Paul seems
suspiciously upbeat (he must have got one over on his ex-wife and
her new boyfriend).
In the meantime, I’ve tried not
to think of Dawn and, as a result, thought of her during every
waking moment. I long to see her, to hear her voice, to smell her
fragrance. Thursday, I received a text – my heart went into
overdrive. It was Emily – could I take a detour on my way home for
a loaf of bread. Rendered useless by disappointment, I went to the
disabled loo and locked myself in whilst trying to recover my
sanity. Only the rattle of the door handle brought me to my senses.
Opening the door, I found Sean, waiting outside. I smiled weakly,
aware of having been caught somewhere I shouldn’t have been.
Finally, today at lunchtime, I
got a text from Dawn, asking if I fancied popping round after work.
I almost punched the air. Heaven! I couldn’t wait and counted the
hours. Meanwhile, it was a tough day, and it was a relief to get to
Dawn’s and settle down. It’s strange how I’ve adapted her flat as a
sort of second home. Dawn made me soup and gave me a plate of
stuffed vine leaves. Snuggled up together, we watched a bit of crap
primetime TV, which I always hate. I rather hoped we might migrate
into the bedroom. After an hour or so, when I could no longer bear
the TV mystic and his magical powers, I declared I should go home.
It did the trick. No, don’t go, hon. Stay a while longer. I’ll
make it worth your while.
Oh, Dawn, I don’t won’t you
to think I just come here for that. Perish the thought.
No, but while you’re
here , she said, sliding her fingers beneath my shirt. You’ve
been here all this time and you’ve not noticed that I’m not wearing
any knickers.
Oh? That certainly
caught my attention.
She rucked up her skirt a
little, exposing her slender, well-toned legs. Gently, I ran my
hand along her thigh, up and down, barely touching her skin. She
shuddered. My hand inched upwards. She kissed me hard, her hands
gripping my face, her tongue seeking out mine. With just one finger
now, I stroked the inside of her thigh, high up. She began to
squirm, wanting me to go higher still. I’m so fucking wet for
you, hon. No longer able to resist the temptation, my finger
brushed her clitoris. I licked my finger. She tensed up, readying
herself, opening her legs wider. I rubbed her clit in
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