Chapter 3

I wasn’t very determined. On the contrary, I sighed and made a kind of languorous movement with my legs which he not unreasonably took as encouragement. He put his hand on the outside of my skirt, just at the top of my thigh, and began to rub it very slowly. He started pressing his hand in between my legs. I was sure he must be able to hear the beating of my heart.

His tongue was in my ear now, and I tried to keep from squirming. Then he whispered to me.

“Show me your bedroom.”

I couldn’t be bothered with playing the shy virgin any more. I took him by the hand, pulled him to his feet, and led him to my bed. He made me stand while he undressed me, calmly and efficiently. He left my knickers on, and I got into bed. He stripped quickly, taking everything off. I just caught a glimpse of his cock as he climbed in beside me.

He went to work on my ear again, this time the other side. He knew he’d struck pay-dirt there. I wriggled around a lot, and he tried to keep me still. He was enjoying driving me wild. After a while he put his arm under my head and gripped my wrist, while trapping my other arm beneath my body. He looked down and smiled at me, seeming to enjoy my helplessness. Then he took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and began to squeeze it. I gasped, and he let go. He took hold of the nipple again; by now it was as hard as a bullet. He squeezed it once more, twisting it too. I made a kind of moaning sound. How did he know so soon what I liked?

He bent his head and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking it at first then locking his teeth round it and biting gently. I made a little sound in the back of my throat. He bit me harder.

“Oh,” I said.

“Hurt?” he asked me.

“Mmm.”

“Stop it?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. Then I blushed. Shameless hussy, I thought.

He lowered his head and, again, took hold of my nipple.

“Oh, god,” I said.

At last I had to pull his head away. I could see his teeth-marks at the base of the nipple. He pushed on top of me and, without hesitation, drove his cock into me. I groaned. He fucked me with long, firm strokes, raising himself up on his hands to keep from crushing me and to give himself more leverage. I could tell how excited he was. I liked that, even though it meant he came too soon for me. He whispered in my ear if he could help me come too.

“Later, maybe,” I said. “There’s no rush.”

We lay in bed for an hour, talking, caressing. I went and got our wine glasses. When I came back he made me sit naked on the edge of the bed for a moment so that he could look at me. He put his hand over my breasts then let it trail down to my belly.

“It’s an extraordinarily sensual body,” he said. “I can’t remember feeling such desire.”

I blushed, feeling embarrassed at such fulsome praise. Bet you say that to all the girls, I thought. But it was good to hear it, all the same.

After a while we began to make love again. He went down on me which surprised me. My cunt was sticky from his semen. Not a lot of men care for that, in my experience. But he seemed, literally, to lap it up. I couldn’t quite manage to come with just his tongue on me, and he encouraged me to use my fingers, and it felt good that he wanted my pleasure and didn’t mind how I got it. And I wanted his; it surprised me just how much I wanted to please him. After I’d come, I pulled him on top to fuck me again.

We showered together, and I shyly washed his cock. It was a good size, possibly just a shade above average length and a nice thickness. I rinsed carefully under his foreskin and felt him getting big again, but I wouldn’t let him fuck me again. I don’t know why; I guess I just felt, leave him wanting more. I also thought he’d think less of me somehow if I wanted sex too much. I was wrong about that, as it turned out.

He took me out to dinner at my local Indian. I saw someone I knew, and I liked the way she looked at Roland with admiration. Afterwards we kissed warmly as I saw him off at the tube station. We both had early meetings in the morning.

We didn’t have sex again until the following weekend. Roland had to go to Germany on business, so we didn’t meet up until that Friday night. He took me to a swanky restaurant in Knightsbridge then back to his flat in the Barbican. I’d had several glasses of wine by then; and, besides, I’d been thinking about him all week. I was hungry for him.

I could tell he wanted it badly too. Yet instead of plunging in, he held back, teasing me. In bed I took hold of his cock and tried to draw him on top of me, but he got me in the same grip as last time, pinioning one of my arms underneath him and holding on to the other by the wrist.

“Fuck me,” I gasped.

“Greedy!” he said. He twisted my nipple. “Perhaps you should wait a little while.”