At first, not really keen on spending much time with her. Six weeks previously, we’d agreed to end it, things between us seemed continuously fractious, the excitement only a memory.
Her eyes looking levelly into mine. Another sip. Bringing her face closer. A smile. Then, well, I know you quite well and I think you’re looking tense. In fact, if I were your new girlfriend and I had the slightest awareness I’d give you a blowjob, because it’s obvious you need one.
This remark taking me back, its accuracy and directness being utterly typical of her, and part of her spell.
She going on. Well, here’s the deal. You’re not the only person sitting at this table that’s getting desperate for a blowjob. So if you want, I’ll do you if you’ll do me.
Let me think about that, was all I could think to say. Then, but thanks for the offer, only the very luckiest get your blowjobs. A little later, I think my body’s telling me what to do, I’ve just become unbelievably stiff. Smile from her, thought so.
Making arrangements to meet. Her place. Thinking to myself, I wonder if it’ll actually happen.
She meeting me at her door. Taking me by the hand, leading me straight to her bedroom. A familiar place now unfamiliar. Unbuttoning my jeans, pulling them down, sucking me. Stopping. Taking off her clothes in swift graceful moves. Me taking off mine. Easing onto the bed, sixty-nine.
Her orgasm sharp and prolonged, smothered grunts of relieved tension. My own following swiftly, giant clutching spasms, gobbets surging into her mouth. A short moment of silence. Panting, gulping, swallowing. She reaching for tissues, handing me one. Both of us wiping our lips and cheeks. Rearranging ourselves to hug. Minutes passing, possibly in sleep. Finally, getting up, dressing, smiling. Making plans to do it again.
Today, sipping coffee at the cafe, wishing she was here opposite me, having the same conversation.
