Business lunch 

I’m at a workshop offsite, the usual excruciatingly bad team-building stuff except I’m the only one from my company. The team I’m in aren’t so bad but his messages come through and are a welcome distraction. I haven’t seen him for three months and miss his ridiculousness. I miss his cockiness; and his cock.

His messages are an absolute delight: he asks where I am and if I can slip away. But in a roundabout way, and I love him for it. An hour later we are in a cab to mine. The house is a tip, I don’t even have matching underwear on. But then I remember guys rarely care about that stuff. I leap on the bed and pull off my dress. He’s just taken his jacket off. I’m at just the right height to suck his cock, so get on with the business of unleashing it. I tease him, holding it until it hardens, he slips his hand into my pants and does the same. He forces his cock into my mouth and we both groan.

There are few cocks I enjoy returning to: barely a handful of those I sleep with. It is comforting like an adult pacifier. He thrusts into my mouth, grunting, holding my hair. He knows how I like to be used – I am putty in his hands. I adjust my position so I’m hanging off the edge of the bed and he crouches above me pumping. I have a great view of his ass, and I note the hairs are matted together from his morning shit, a few traces still remain. I splutter and he pulls out.

By now we are both naked. He doesn’t go down on me this time, I suspect because I haven’t shaved. I really want his cock inside me, but he is going to tease me royally. His fingers slip in and out of me, and he makes me lick them. Suddenly he asks for a condom. He grapples with it and then turns me around. He roughly pushes into me and reaches around me for my clit. He starts pushing further into me and I give way, the whole of my upper body crumpled on the bed. He pumps quickly, I manage to move with his rhythm. Slowly I pull up to support myself, my elbows holding me up. And push back on his cock, reverse riding it. I tell him I won’t come like this.

But I do. And I go back to work smelling of cock.

Ganache Panache

He is delivering me a cake for a colleague’s birthday. A ridiculous chocolate one with all the trimmings I ordered a week ago. I hadn’t expected him to stay and play but he notices I’m stressed and gives me a hug. He opens the lid of the box and the cake looks fantastic. He asks what’s up –  I tell him I’m trying to decide what to wear for a function the following evening so he asks if he can see the options.

He follows me upstairs and I try on a gold dress, a black one, a red one and a sparkly one. He lies on the bed, giving comments and opinions. I revel in it, loving the attention. He has another delivery to make tonight so he doesn’t have any time to stay. But as I move to show him out he quickly grabs my ass in front of the mirror and nuzzles my neck from behind so I cry out. his hand snakes under my dress and teases my pussy from my knickers. I groan again and we make it to the bed.

It’s a  quickie, and I know too quick for me to come. I ride him, enjoying his girth inside me. He bites my nipples, his beard tickling my breasts. I must look like the cat that’s got the cream. He takes me from behind, grabbing my ass and hips and pounding me. I feel used, and it feels good. I feel him come, shuddering and moaning.

He leaves and I shut the door, laughing to myself. I have a cake delivered and I’ve been fucked by the baker.


He has just been crowned my longest and most loyal FWB. It’s never straightforward; he’s definitely not at my beck and call. And he lives the other side of the city, so build in travel time and I’m the most hassle to get to, probably. We’re going on for coming up to two years now (yes I’m counting; so what?) and I’ve managed to get over thinking I was in love with him.

But an hour or two spent with him is always lemon meringue pie, with cream on top. Fish and chips with lots of vinegar. Scone with clotted cream and jam, all over your fingers. The perfect sized portion without being too sickly.

We go straight upstairs, no sofa talk this time. He wants to cut to the chase. He stalls a little, checking out my renovations and admiring my decorating. Whereas I’m wondering when he’s going to notice my suspenders.

We stand in my room, each waiting for the other to take charge. He grabs at me, feels my pussy through my dress. I reach for his belt and unhook it from his trousers. But he pushes me away. And then begins our dance.

His lips don’t leave my pussy for the next hour. I have barely touched his cock. We climb over each other, rocking, grinding, biting, sliding. I lose count of my orgasms. I feel like an animal, he is literally feeding on me. We 69 a couple of times, he cant take me deepthroating him, so I spin around and ask him to fuck me.

We start and are very quickly covered in sweat. He makes me stop, he’s too turned on. We lie across each other, scissored and he tells me my ass looks great from that angle. I giggle and slap his arm. He grabs my hands quickly and pushes them down on the bed. We try every position we normally do with a few new ones. He teases by saying he’s going to take my ass: he knows I will never let him. He’s too big for one.

We come together, me on top. It’s too hot and we clamber apart. We lie chatting, like old times. He tells me a long story about how he’s got rid of his dog. He loved that dog, I’d never expect him to do that. I ask about his family and correctly guess his sister is pregnant, a year after her marriage. It’s an oddly comforting conversation, like he’s revealing a little bit of himself to me.

He dresses to go, leaving me his vest which is dripping wet. I’ll wash it of course, and then he has something to come back for.


Some dom

I meet him in a bar in a part of town I know only a little. He is late; I wonder if he’s coming at all. He arrives dressed in black with a turtleneck, I joke he looks like the Milk Tray man. He has a lot to talk about, a ridiculous employment history spanning the forces, fashion and engineering. I feel awkward in comparison. After a while, I excuse myself to go to the loo and he grabs the inside of my leg – the fleshy part – very hard. I squeak in shock.

As I pee, I wonder if he has turned me on or not. I decide not, but I’m still intrigued. Back in my seat he talks about his stint as a barman at a sex club and his kink induction. His accent is an odd one and I ask him about it – the result of mixed parentage and growing up in several countries. I already know he’s a Dom but he starts to describe a few things and ask a few questions. One of which is whether my house has carpets as he wants to piss on my floor and see me lick it up. I’ve already discussed my limits but he’s pushing me. And then he asks me to accompany him into the park.

I’m going to point out its winter, dark and wet. I’m so aware that you, dear reader,  want to hear tales of sex and hilarity but I am not even slightly tempted. As a woman you go with your gut, it becomes instinct eventually. And my instinct is saying no.

We drink up, put our coats on and leave the pub. He’s also going to the tube station and we are travelling from the same platform. We do an awkward shuffle and he starts stroking my hair. I close my eyes, thinking he’s going to kiss me. How foolish. He pulls my hair, not down but backwards somehow and my eyes feel like they are bulging out of my head. Tears roll down my cheeks from the shock. All of this probably takes 20 seconds, but feels a lot longer. I reel, stagger to regain my composure and wrap my coat closer.

He mumbles something about not realising I’d react like that. I’ve already missed a few trains, I jump on the next one, confused and a little revulsed. My main fear is how many people saw that, oddly.

We make plans to see each other in a few days. But thankfully, I never hear from him again.