Playing House

I’ve finally pinned him down to see me. He’s in a very complicated situation involvingĀ  a nuisance neighbour and I don’t realise the enormity of the situation until I’m there and see the riot vans and the armed police. As a result we are using his friend’s house as a temporary base for the afternoon.

We meet in the park, it’s a beautiful day and I see him before he sees me. There is no picnic or plan, in fact I’ve already got lost and confused but here we are now. He looks tired, a little bloodshot in the eyes but even just to see him is everything to me. We walk to get ice-cream, he gives me a crisp note and lets me choose what I want. Like the proverbial kid in a sweet shop. We drive around for a while, as always he talks ten to the dozen and has about 15 things going on at once, his phone never stops and he knows everyone in the area. To be in the car with him eating ice-cream is enough for me, for now. I love him, after all. I just haven’t ever told him.

We get back to the house that he built for a friend. It’s not much from the outside and we go in the back way. The first thing I notice is the smell: fresh wood. The walls and ceilings are light Scandinavian pine. It’s beautiful, and I instantly relax. He shows me around, the stairs, a skylight – its like something out of a TV design programme. I’m open mouthed as I take in the detail, carefully going back down the stairs.

We settle down to watch some comedy – remember this is how he relaxes – and he lies his feet across me. I get orders to itch here, scratch there. He shows me how to massage his neck properly. We lie opposite each other and he starts to massage my feet. Wow. I’m shot back to the first time we met 18 months ago when he did the same, explaining sexual pressure points are in your feet. And then he pokes my pussy with his finger. I can feel it getting wetter as he strokes it over my knickers.

We both shift positions and he puts his head in my lap, still eyes on the TV, occasionally grasping my breast through my dress. The desire to take a photo of him like this is intense, I want to capture the moment and how he looks. I scratch his neck in the way he likes. I feel like I’m on holiday, in someone else’s house, with the boy in my lap. Lazy afternoons like this forever please.

We’ve spoken about me helping him shave his bits and I’m waiting for the cue. He leaps up and tells me he hasn’t showered yet – I mean no shit, I could tell. But I like a man who smells of man rather than aftershave.

He pulls off his clothes and is framed in the doorway. His dick, his beautiful dick hangs down and I take it all in. He starts the shower, telling me to find the clippers and I go scrambling everywhere for them. I pull off my dress and underwear and join him in the wet room. The floor is polished concrete and slippy. I have clippers in my hand and his beautiful thick dick in front of me. What could possibly go wrong?

Have I ever done this? I recall a guy doing it to me but never this way around. He holds his stalk out and he’s hard. He reaches down and kisses my breasts and I slide around a little. I switch on the clippers and start at the top. I don’t really want to shave off the hair, I like it. He’s not even particularly hairy, just a downy fuzz. We slip and slide around a bit and switch positions. I manage, with his help, to trim him how he wants.

I can’t remember which happens next: did he then shave me or did I kneel down and take his beautiful cock in my mouth?

I lick and suck the end then the length, a little like I had done with the ice cream earlier. He’s not 100% clean which is unusual for him, it’s not unpleasant but just a shock. Either way he’s showing me how to squeeze the end with my hand how he likes it, and is very soon grunting and spurting all over the floor, the white jets splattering on the black concrete floor.

He tells me he hasn’t come like that for a while. Oddly I don’t really care.


 

We go out to grab takeaway, a Lebanese and return back and eat it very quickly. It’s late now, around 8. He’s prepared some halloumi to go with it which also disappears. We chat a little bit about what’s been happening in each others lives. He’s poured me a glass of wine and I’m slowly drinking it when he tells me we’ve got to go.

I wasn’t expecting to or even sure if staying the night was possible. I grab my things and replace my clothes. I stalk out and he calls me back to say a proper goodbye but we don’t really do kissing.

Once again, I leave his house more disappointed than sated, the girl who always wants more.

 

The Teacher

He’s French, which is a surprise. I can’t quite place the accent at first but as he explains he’s from a small town near Bordeaux it unfurls from aural hieroglyphics into a recognisable Gallic twang.

One of our favourite all time fucks was French, so we kind of do an internal dance.

The drink at the pub is just a formality, after one we are riding a few stops back to mine.

He grabs me near the bed and we kiss softly, his stubble sexy against my lips. His hands smooth my body down, I grab his waist and feel how goddamn slim he is. I take off my jacket and his hands go over my breast, over the lace body I’m wearing. It’s too damn hot to be doing this so I switch on the fan and push him down on the bed, straddling him we kiss again and I grind into him.

I’ve already taken off my jeans and As I unpop the crotch of the body he gasps. Now I’m in my underwear, he’s fully clothed. I help him take off the shirt and then unbuckle his jeans. He’s hairy like a cartoon Frenchman with a thin silver chain around his neck. I pop off my bra and he buries his face in my breast, kneading them and sucking the nipples. Very soon he is pulling down his boxer shorts – red stripes – and I take him in my mouth. He’s got and oddly not hairy but no evidence of manscaping.

I tease a little and he groans, I take the length and then let it flop out. He makes noises like he loves it. I come up for a breather and we kiss, tongues of course. God he’s good at this. Now he’s pulling my knickers down and traces one finger down my cunt lips then buries his face there. Oh my goodness. A pleasure, sir.

I moan and writhe for a bit until he jumps up to get a condom. One if the first guys in a while to bring his own. He slides it on with an ease I haven’t seen in years and pushes his length inside. Oh good grief, what a glorious fit. Mon dieu indeed!

We missionary for a bit and it’s good, he knows how to move to get a good rhythm going and I fixate on how hairy his shoulders are for some reason. I ask if I can ride him and we switch, me sliding back onto his Gallic member and finding the sweet spot. Meanwhile he actually motor boats me, burying his face between my tits and really enjoying himself. Then grabs each one and licks and sucks and oh wow that’s it yes fuck oh god I’m coming that’s it!

I ride him for a bit longer then tell him to switch. Doggy style for him – as he grabs my hips I tell him to go harder and he explodes not long after.

We lie there for a bit and enjoy the fan. It’s begun to rain so I get up to close the window.

“You’ve got something stuck on you” he says as I peel off the condom wrapper from my ass.

I look at it “Large eh?”

It’s a Passante one but he’s pretty much punching above his weight. He’s a good size but by no means large.

Men eh? Especially French ones…